Hello to all on the 11th day of Christmas. Just for fun, here’s part of a Billy Collins poem I just discovered.
Hippos on Holiday
is not really the title of a movie
but if it were I would be sure to see it.
. . . .
I would drink my enormous Coke.
I would be both in my seat
and in the water playing with the hippos,
which is the way it is
with a truly great movie.
It’s the same way with a truly great book too, don’t you think? Or sometimes even with a mediocre one . . .
Dear Ones, I will be back in touch on January 4.
In the meantime,
prepare the nest of heart.
patch up the broken parts.
place more softness in the center.
sit and warm the home with prayer.
give the Christ a dwelling place.
(from Joyce Rupp, Fresh Bread)
Computer haiku, except that the second line of the second “haiku” doesn’t have enough syllables in it so it’s not a real haiku.
Yeah, I know, who cares. But I can’t help it. I taught English for many years.
Stay the patient course
Of little worth is your ire
The network is down
ABORTED effort:
Close all that you have.
You ask way too much.
We Episcopalians are in the season of Advent, when we wait for Jesus to be born. Once again. There’s no way for us to know what that will mean for us and for the world except that it will be good. We have to wait and watch in uncertainty.
Meanwhile, my daughter, H, is in surgery. The major part of the surgery is over and all went well. Every hour we get updates from T, her husband, and hope to hear soon that she is sleeping comfortably in the recovery room. Whew! And thank God.
So, how did we wait for this event? Last night //
Interruption/Update: H is in recovery, “tired but doing fine” according to T, who is my favorite son-in-law.
For various reasons my husband, R, and I will not be going up to their home in Austin until Sunday—she prefers it that way. I understand completely. During one of my hospitalizations after surgery a hospital chaplain and friend put a sign on my door saying NO VISITORS. CLERGY, THIS MEANS YOU TOO. I was exhausted and in pain, and it took more energy than I had to engage with people.
Our waiting as a whole family took place largely through texting. Last night T and S, their daughter, were in the house with H, their other daughter, G, was at college studying for her last final (which was today), R was in Mexico, and I was here in Houston. Thus the flurry of texts. Their content varied between humor and expressions of love. (Maybe I should say attempts at humor.) The important thing is that all of us were connected through the texts—we felt a part of what was going on.
We were connected, too, this morning. Through T’s updates, we all waited together, and now there is good news.
It’s certainly true that waiting for Jesus and waiting for a successful surgery are not the same thing. But I think our waiting—and I can speak here only out of my own experience—our waiting in uncertainty, anxiety, helplessness—our waiting with great love—I think this is not unlike the waiting of Advent.
The great poet Wendell Berry says
It gets darker and darker, and then Jesus is born.
That’s good news. That’s the gospel truth.
(from Barbara Brown Taylor, The Luminous Web):
As a believer in one God, I think everything is connected to everything else. What is exciting to me is that believers in science are beginning to think the same thing—not the God part but the connection part. . . .
The new science requires a radical change in how we conceive the world. It is no longer possible to see it as a collection of autonomous parts, as Newton did, existing separately while interacting. The deeper revelation is one of undivided wholeness, in which the observer is not separable from what is observed. Or in [Werner] Heisenberg’s words, “the common division of the world into subject and object, inner world and outer world, body and soul is no longer adequate.”
(from Walt Whitman, “Song of Myself”)
I celebrate myself, and sing myself,
And what I assume you shall assume,
For every atom belonging to me
as good as belongs to you.
These make me think of the bumper sticker I haven’t seen in a long time:
NOBODY’S FREE UNTIL EVERYBODY’S FREE.
[See last post.]
And here’s the thing: when I read something like this I instantly think the author is talking about those other folks, the ones I get so angry at. And he is. But usually he’s talking about me too.
It is not the differing opinions that is the cause of the present ruptures, but want of charity; it is not the variety of understandings, but the disunion of wills and affections . . .
All these mischiefs proceed not from this, that all men are not of one mind, for that is neither necessary nor possible, but that every opinion is made an article of faith, every article is a ground of a quarrel, every quarrel makes a faction, every faction is zealous, and all zeal pretends for God . . .
We, by this time, are come to that pass, we think we love not God except we hate our brother, and we have not the virtue of religion, unless we persecute all religions but our own . . .
(from Anglican bishop Jeremy Taylor, A Discourse of the Liberty of Prophesying, 1647)
. . . One and all.
And Paris continues, of course, that wonderful city. But it’s changed now, as it has had to change over and over again since it was settled 2,000 or so years ago. And we’re changed too—that’s inevitable whenever we let ourselves hear and see the reality of violence.
I don’t know how to talk about where we are today in our churches, our country, the smaller groups of which we are a part. I have no idea what steps we should take as a result of the Paris terror. I know some things though: (1) by and large Muslims are a great and holy people; (2) a very small percentage of Muslims are fanatics and terrorists who kill innocent people indiscriminately; (3) many, many more Muslims than Christians are murdered by ISIS.
I don’t know what to do about the “migrant situation” either. I do know that, really, there is no such thing as a “migrant situation.” What there is is the fact that every single migrant is a person, a human being, a beloved child of God.
Here are some words I’ve quoted before, from Ireneaus, Greek bishop and theologian, 2nd century CE:
Be kind, because every person you meet is carrying a heavy burden.
Actually, Paris is never mentioned in this post. But it speaks somewhat to how people react to violence. In these excerpts from my father’s war diary and in his letters to my mother, he is carefully writing two different versions of where he is and what he is doing. Wartime censorship limited how much he could write in a letter, but it’s still interesting to me to see the differences. I’m not sure what conclusions, if any, I draw from these facts.
Text in italics comes from the war diary; other text comes from letters. Text in brackets is information the editor has added. That’s me.
[June 6, D-day]
June 14 (D-Day +8)
Crossed channel un-escorted and , , , anchored off the coast of France in the morning. [He and his detachment landed on Omaha Beach.]
Started in search of XIX Corps Hq under the leadership of Capt. Tapers and several maps. It is generally believed that we crossed enemy lines.
June 14 (D-Day+8)
“I am reclining in the shade of a tree giving myself a nice rest. The weather is hot and the field across which I can see has some fine cattle grazing unconcernedly on it. Two calves are gamboling around.
The trip here was very uneventful and I had the interesting experience of being craft commander. I slept on the bridge and had a front seat to the trip.”
June 15
Capt. Tapers was taken by Col. Price to the front near Montmartin.
June 17
“I am now in the midst of an orchard. My bed is all arranged in a cozy ditch. I have just finished a refreshing shave with cold water from my helmet and all in all am still very comfortable.”
June 17
Departed Isigny for 30th Inf. Hq. . . Began house keeping in an orchard there. Made the acquaintance of Mme. James and established a steady supply of hot water. Camouflaged ourselves in trenches underneath the hedgerows.
[“The 30th Infantry Division was committed to its baptism of fire on 15 June 1944 . . . with its first HQ being established at a point just one mile south of Isigny, after leaving Omaha Beach.” (Battle of St. Lo, http://www.30thinfantry.org) ]
June 19
Kennard and Harvey went out with CIC men to hunt SNIPERS, interview people and shake many hands.
June 21
“Rain is most unpleasant of course but it is amazing how comparatively dry you can stay in a ditch by proper use of a shelter half and camouflage.
We find the people continually nice. They all seem glad to have us around although of course there are some recriminations.”
June 23
Motored to Ariel . . . Were about to partake of lunch in a nearby field when mortar fire began. Made a strategic withdrawal.
So Close to the Other Side 