Saturday, May 19, 2012

Pony Eggs and Other Stories


UNTIL A FEW DAYS AGO I did not know there was a saint named John the Dwarf, who was born around 339C.E. in Egypt and, at the age of eighteen, withdrew into the desert to live as a solitary monk. He discipled himself to a monk named Pambo who gave him a hunk of dry wood and told him to plant it and cultivate it until it became a living tree. This story reminds me of my Uncle Horace, whose father gave him an egg and told him it was a “pony egg.” “Take care of it and maybe it will hatch into a pony,” his father told him. It didn’t, but John the Dwarf fared better, because, after years of watering and cultivating his chunk of wood, it sprouted and became a flourishing tree. Pambo named it the “Tree of Obedience” and people used to make pilgrimages John the Dwarf’s hermitage to see it and seek his advice on spiritual matters.
Quite a few of John the Dwarf’s sayings have been preserved. Some are commonplace aphorisms, while others are enigmatic to the point where one wonders if John the Dwarf was amusing himself by messing with people’s heads. It is as if I became a solitary monk, and my “sayings” were recorded for posterity, and you were to read how “Abba Jonathan was sitting on the floor of his cell talking with some other monks, and one of them scratched his forehead. ‘Stop doing that,’ said Abba Jonathan.”
As I read these ancient anecdotes, it seems there is something vaguely familiar about them…
I know! Yoda! “If no mistake have you made, yet losing you are ... a different game you should play.” Now that is some potent spiritual advice! Come to think of it, Pambo’s instruction to the novice John the Dwarf also reminds me of the “wax on…wax off” scene in Karate Kid. These guru masters all seem to have gone to the same guru school.
Except for Uncle Horace’s father: he was just plain mean. Uncle Horace, after months of caring for the pony egg, dropped it and it broke. “Now you’ll never get a pony,” his father said.
Despite such harsh treatment, Uncle Horace grew up to be a kind, jolly, bald man who never did a mean thing, at least to my knowledge. I guess you could say the “chunk of dry wood” became a flourishing tree in his case, just as it did for John the Dwarf.

Examples of John the Dwarf Messing with our Heads
Abba John the Dwarf said, 'a house is not built by beginning at the top and working down. You must begin with the foundations in order to reach the top. They said to him, 'What does this saying mean?'
One day when Abba John was going up to Scetis with some other brothers, their guide lost his way for it was night time.  So the brothers said to Abba John, "What shall we do, Abba, in order not to die wandering about, for the brother has lost the way?"  The old man said to them, "If we speak to him, he will be filled with grief and shame.  But look here, I will pretend to be ill and say I cannot walk any more; then we can stay here till the dawn."  This he did.  The others said, "We will not go on either, but we will stay with you."  They sat there until the dawn, and in this way they did not upset the brother.  
And from Yoda the Jedi


Good relations with the Wookies, I have.
Concentrate all your fire on the nearest starship.
Mudhole? Slimy? My home this is!

Thursday, May 17, 2012

Listening for God: The Daily Office of Morning Prayer

"Seek not the voice of God, but hear
It in cracking ice, blowing reeds
And brethren's laughter.
Seek not the gifts of God, but
Find them in new bread, the
Darkness of dawn and brethren's love.
Seek not the vision of God, but spy His print on bee's wing,
Fish's fin and brother's heart.

 Abbot Nicholas and John the Dwarf, cited by Derek Webster


Friday, May 4, 2012

Big Old Skeleton: "Proof" of the Bible?


A friend from St. Stephen’s wondered what I thought of a web report regarding the supposed discovery, in Greece, of an oversized human skeleton that was being acclaimed as “proof” of passages in the Old Testament which refer to “people of great size” called nephalim. In Genesis these people are said to be the offspring of unions between the “sons of God” and fairest among the “daughters of humans.” (Genesis 4:1-6).

Interesting… first I had heard of it. Like you, I am skeptical of “huge discoveries” that the mainstream scientific community has not heard about, or that “a conspiracy exists to suppress the information,” along the lines of the Da Vinci Code,etc.
I am embarrassed, not impressed, by claims to have “proven the truth of the Bible” by discovering “the true remains of Noah’s ark” or things of that sort. My faith is not affected one way or another by such things, or by statues of the Virgin Mary that cry, or the “holy fire of Jerusalem” that spontaneously combusts every year on the Saturday before Easter. If anything, the willful credulousity of many  believers is a deterrent to authentic faith.
     But then, I suppose my own willingness to “suspend disbelief” with regard to the resurrection of Christ seems like gullibility to those who see no graceful pattern to their lives, do not think of trout and bass as gifts from an ingenious (if evasive) creator, and do not see anything divinely comical about passing out little pieces of bread and calling it “the body of Christ.”

Those fundamentalists and atheists are so deadly serious about everything!  


Sunday, April 29, 2012

Breaths Sung by Sweet Honey in the Rock











Breaths                                                              
Sung by Sweet Honey in the Rock


Those who have died have never, never left
The dead have a pact with the living
They are in the woman’s breast
They are in the wailing child
They are with us in our homes
They are with us in the crowd
The dead have a pact with the living

Listen more often to things than to beings
Listen more often to things than to beings
When the fire’s voice is heard
Tis the ancestors’ breath
In the voice of the waters
Ah-wsh        ah-wsh

Poem by Birago Diop

Wednesday, April 25, 2012

About Intercessory Prayer


TOWARD THE END OF the Office of Morning Prayer we observe a silence wherein people may pray for whatsoever they will. As a result of hearing these prayer concerns we learn a lot about each other in a very short time. Paradoxically, we often come to know each others’ grief, anxiety, and deep joy before we are certain of each others’ names!
Recently at that point in the Office we learned about one person’s close connection to a local family that has suffered violently at the hands of their own son. Others prayed for the group of homeless folk who were our guests for the week as part of the South Oakland Shelter. Alongside these weighty concerns, I prayed for the return of our cat, Bella, who ran away a week ago and has not returned. As these varied concerns are set before us, for a moment we get a glimpse of the world through God’s eyes, in all its tragedy and confusion and absurdity.
What do we expect our prayers to accomplish? I cannot even find my cat, how can I expect to do anything about monumental issues that oppress the world? I do not claim to know how God will go about responding to any of these concerns, I only know that when they are released into the flow of liturgical words and silence they do not just evaporate, they seem to swim, like fish, as if we were fly-fishermen engaged in the practice of “catch and release” while standing hip deep in a sacred stream. I only know, that is, that these concerns are being shared, and therefore, somehow, changed.
If that sounds too vague, I can report another prayer concern that is more straightforward: our oldest daughter, Caitlin, is a professional actress in New York, and for weeks I have been praying that a long string of disappointing auditions come to a happier resolution. A few days ago I learned that she will be performing in The Great American Trailer Park Musical in New Lebanon, New York! Does this somehow “prove that prayer works?” Of course not. Does it provide cause for rejoicing? You bet.
It is a good thing we do not understand how intercessory prayer works. If we knew for certain that our prayers could cause wounds to heal, or homeless people to find apartments, then what excuse could we find to justify not spending 24 hours a day praying for the world’s needs? If we stopped praying to eat lunch, or take a nap, we would be directly responsible for all the suffering not being relieved by our neglecting to pray! Thanks be to God for the mysterious indeterminacy of prayer.
Now, about that cat…
    Jonathan+
       

Saturday, April 7, 2012

"Alleluia," sing the frogs;
"Christ is risen," I reply.
"We are here but you can't see us."
"I believe it," I reply.

Love,
Jonathan+

Friday, April 6, 2012

The Fig Tree Incident



IT HAS BEEN gratifying to have so many companions at Morning Prayer this past week. We even ran out of booklets on one of the days.

So we peer over each other’s shoulders to perceive the liturgical text, recite the ordered verses, and observe the measured silences. It is a solemn, ritualized, yet profoundly natural response to the impending catastrophe of Holy Week. What else are we to do? Run around screeching and pulling out our hair? (In my case, that gesture would be particularly ill-advised). No, I can think of no more appropriate a thing to do, when faced with the collapse of all meaning and hope, than to acknowledge our condition with psalms and silences and gospel readings that resound under the high ceiling like words from the basement of time.

Speaking of gospel readings, I could not help but be struck by at the strange wisdom of lectionary-designers who, supposing that Holy Week congregations might be somewhat larger than at other times, use the opportunity to have us read about Jesus and the unproductive fig tree. Enigmatic? You bet… I am reluctant to admit that it comes across to me as if Jesus had a temper tantrum! A fig tree they passed had no fruit (even though it “was not the season for figs”) so he cursed it. When they passed by the same tree that evening (having ransacked the Temple in the interim) and found it withered, it almost seems as if Jesus was embarrassed at his earlier outburst and came up with a lame symbolic explanation to make it seem less petulant… that can’t be right, can it?

The transformative events of Holy Week do not fit neatly into a package. We approach them liturgically because to do so any other way would make us crazy. The fig tree episode strikes a discordant note, spoiling any notion we may have had that the crucifixion could be rendered into a tidy doctrine, or a grand symphony performed in a plush concert hall, instead of a ruthless execution carried out at The Place of a Skull.

NO MORNING PRAYER ON MONDAY! The church will be closed, so please don’t show up, and encourage others not to do so either.