Dust

Dust

We bless you, O Lord our God, creator of the Universe, for the gift of earth, from whence we come and to which we shall return. We ask your blessing on the ancient peoples who first enjoyed this land and ask your blessing upon us as we join the traditional stewards of this land in its ongoing care. And care for us, Lord, as we contemplate our mortality, our absolute dependence upon you, and as we prepare ourselves for life beyond death in the hope of the resurrection.

Remember that you are dust of the earth and to that earth you shall return.

(Reprinted from sermonoats, Monday, February 15, 2021)

majestic harmony

Psalm 104:25-35 (Coverdale)

25  So is the great and wide sea also *
 wherein are things creeping innumerable, both small and great beasts.
26  There go the ships, and there is that Leviathan *
 whom thou hast made to take his pastime therein.
27  These wait all upon thee *
 that thou mayest give them meat in due season.
28  When thou givest it them they gather it *
 and when thou openest thy hand they are filled with good.
29  When thou hidest thy face they are troubled *
 when thou takest away their breath they die, and are turned again to their dust.
30  When thou lettest thy breath go forth they shall be made *
 and thou shalt renew the face of the earth.
31  The glorious Majesty of the Lord shall endure for ever *
 the Lord shall rejoice in his works.
32  The earth shall tremble at the look of him *
 if he do but touch the hills, they shall smoke.
33  I will sing unto the Lord as long as I live *
 I will praise my God while I have my being.
34  And so shall my words please him *
 my joy shall be in the Lord.
35  As for sinners, they shall be consumed out of the earth, and the ungodly shall come to an end *
 praise thou the Lord, O my soul, praise the Lord.

Balance, proportion, harmony: day and night, land and sea, boat and sea creature, all are part of the progression of images of nature in harmony. What drives imbalance in this imagined world? Only humankind can break this Eden’s heart.

And so we do. But who shall free us from these bonds of sin? Only the same Spirit that breezed across the face of the waters of the primordial sea, only the Spirit that comes upon the assembled multitude of disciples like wind and tongues of flame, only the same Spirit that took Moses up into a cloud to receive the gift of Torah, only the same Spirit that Jesus, ascending into a cloud, bestowed upon his people.

Majestic in its sweep, magical in its harmony, the 104th psalm is a song of a world made by God and dependent on God. We, all creatures, depend on God for our being.

A marriage prayer in an old prayer book addresses God as “Creator and preserver of all humankind, Giver of all perpetual grace, Author of everlasting life” and in all those modes it is the Spirit that makes God known and makes the will of the Father and the obedience of the Son efficacious in our daily lives. 

We are confronted with a choice: to praise God and take our place in the natural order, or to consume ourselves with greed, ambition, folly, as we fend for ourselves – as if we could. All creatures, great and small, are part of the realm of God, made by God. Only humankind can ignore it - for a time. That is our unique freedom, a role we do not share. 

Unlike the lilies of the field, that gather not nor do they spin, humans are blessed - not cursed - to have a role in their own provision, in bringing forth bread for strength, wine for joy, oil to make faces shine, as co-creators in partnership with a heavenly partner. We alone can disrupt the harmony but we can also take conscious part in the song.

That is part of the message conveyed by the psalms, especially Psalm 104. 

In his visionary poetry William Blake conveys both the majesty and the mystery of God’s creative power. In one poem he calls us beyond the physical surface of things to its mystic meaning: what are the tents of Israel that shine so bright on the Red Sea shore? It seems that like the psalmist the poet sees a created world that has its source beyond itself, and to apprehend that source requires religion to mediate between other modes of perception and experience, including scientific, religious, aesthetic, and moral. That is, between cognitive - rational, emotional - affective, social-political, moral-ethical, and all other scopes of human experience, there can be one that, Spirit-infused, takes us past our own limits as creature or creatures, to apprehend in the light of divinity a purpose beyond the immediate, or indeed an inapprehensible mystery beyond the knowable.

Mock On, Mock On, Voltaire, Rousseau

Mock on, mock on, Voltaire, Rousseau;
Mock on, mock on; 'tis all in vain!
You throw the sand against the wind,
And the wind blows it back again.
And every sand becomes a gem
Reflected in the beams divine;
Blown back they blind the mocking eye,
But still in Israel's paths they shine.
The Atoms of Democritus
And Newton's Particles of Light
Are sands upon the Red Sea shore,
Where Israel's tents do shine so bright.

-- William Blake (1757 – 1827)

feast

Bring us to the feast, guests with all the saints,

at the marriage of the bride that is Creation,

to the holy groom Emmanuel.

Guide us to the overflowing abundance

of your unexpected presence

as we ourselves are wed to Eternity.

(© John Leech, 2022)

Creation Sunday

Psalm 24: 1-2

The earth is the Lord’s, and the fulness thereof; 

the world, and they that dwell therein. 

For he hath founded it upon the seas, 

and established it upon the floods. (KJV)

To God the Father, who created the world;

To God the Son, who redeemed the world;

To God the Holy Spirit, who sustains the world;

Be all praise and glory, now and forever. Amen.

(David Adam. The Rhythm of Life: Celtic Daily Prayer. London: Triangle/SPCK, 1996. 26.)

About 795 years ago a poor little man died in central Italy, surrounded by friends he called his “little brothers”. Worn out with work, travel, illness, and excessive self-deprivation, he died exhausted, as he had driven his frail frame beyond its ordinary powers. 

Indeed, at the end of his life he admitted, “I’ve been too hard on Brother Ass.”-- He called his body Brother Ass, like an overburdened burro. 

He called all created things his brother or sister, not just humans, though surely those, but the sun, the moon, the elements, animals … and at last even death.

He himself was known to his friends as Brother Francis, though as soon as he died he was acclaimed as a saint. 

Saint Francis is known for several things: his passion for the gospel, his embrace of poverty, his leadership of the religious orders known as Franciscans, his love for creation, and of course birdbaths.

We celebrate Creation Sunday on a Sunday close to October 4th, the feast of Saint Francis.

And it is only right. As we look at creation around us, all creatures, each other, ourselves, we look at them in part through Francis’ eyes. 

He regarded all things through the lens of his devotion to his Lord and because of that he embraced what is holy in all things.

This was not an easy road. 

Early in his career he asked God to grant him to know the pain and the love Jesus felt on the cross. And perhaps he did. 

What we remember today - without forgetting the pain of the passion - is the love that surrounds it.

The love of the passion: paradoxical, all-embracing. 

Today that love we particularly remember as we look with gratitude, hope, guilt, and a deepening desire to care, upon our fellow creatures, especially this fragile earth that is our home, and our creaturely neighbors, from fish and birds to sky and sea. 

How can we love our fellow creatures as God would have us love them - as family? Maybe seeing through the eyes of the little poor man of Assisi - Saint Francis - will help.

And so our hymn of the day - that we will sing together shortly - is based on his own song, the Canticle of the Creatures.

This morning we:

• Offer praise and gratitude for the ways God’s creation inspires, nourishes and heals us.
• Name our laments for the ways creation’s current crisis affects us and we pray for its healing.

Here is one such lament:

“Our Burning World” is a cry for help and a call to action about the global climate crisis, by Malcolm Guite:

Our burning world is turning in despair,

I hear her seething, sighing through the air:

‘Oh rouse yourself, this is your wake up call

For your pollution forms my funeral pall

My last ice lapses, slips into the sea,

Will you unfreeze your tears and weep from me?

Or are you sleeping still, taking your rest?

The hour has come, that puts you to the test,

Wake up to change at last, and change for good,

Repent, return, re-plant the sacred wood.

You are my children, I too am God’s child,

And we have both together been defiled,

But God hangs with us, on the hallowed tree

That we might both be rescued, both be free.’

Performed by Jonathan Rennert and the Choir of St. Michael's, Cornhill.

Music (c) Rhiannon Randle 2019-2020.

Text (c) Malcolm Guite 2019. Read more about the poem here: https://malcolmguite.wordpress.com/2020/02/15/our-burning-world-a-collaboration-with-rhiannon-randle/

The hour is late. The world is changing. And yet there is hope.

Among the poems that celebrate Creation, there is one that stands out. 

By Gerard Manley Hopkins, it is called “God’s Grandeur”:

The world is charged with the grandeur of God.

  It will flame out, like shining from shook foil;

  It gathers to a greatness, like the ooze of oil

 Crushed. Why do men then now not reck his rod?

 Generations have trod, have trod, have trod;

  And all is seared with trade; bleared, smeared with toil;

  And wears man's smudge and shares man's smell: the soil

 Is bare now, nor can foot feel, being shod.

 And for all this, nature is never spent;

  There lives the dearest freshness deep down things;

 And though the last lights off the black West went

  Oh, morning, at the brown brink eastward, springs --

 Because the Holy Ghost over the bent

  World broods with warm breast and with ah! bright wings.

Gerard Manley Hopkins, S.J. [1844 (Stratford, London) – 1889 (Dublin)]

https://www.poetry.com/poem/15857/god's-grandeur

https://youtu.be/HaFXYPGVcs8 

https://soundcloud.com/rhiannonrandle/our-burning-world-live

As much as we despair of further individual or common action to save our planet from the worst of extreme weather events, changing times of drought and flood, of hot weather and cold, indifference will not insulate us. 

There is hope. The game is not over yet. There is action we can take. 

And so this morning let us carry forth into the world our resolve to:

• Explore spiritual practices that help us notice God’s presence in our interaction with the outdoors.
• Consider ways that God may be calling us to be a part of restoring health to our planet, whether air, water, soil, plants, or animals.

[Some things to consider beyond celebration this morning (courtesy Elaine Dent, https://www.lss-elca.org/event/a-day-with-creation-as-companion/)] 

I’d like to ask you to join me in a litany, a proclamation of our care for creation:

Whatever befalls the earth befalls the children of the earth.

Every part of the earth is sacred.

The air is precious, for all of us share the same breath.

Every part of the earth is sacred.

This we know, the earth does not belong to us; we belong to the earth.

Every part of the earth is sacred.

This we know, all things are connected; like the blood that unites one family.

Every part of the earth is sacred.

Our God is the same God, whose compassion is equal for all;

Every part of the earth is sacred.

We did not weave the web of life; we are merely a strand in it.

Every part of the earth is sacred.

Whatever we do to the web we do to ourselves.

Every part of the earth is sacred.

For all belongs to our Creator.

(Adam, op. cit., 31. Adapted from a speech by Chief Seattle, 1854)

The holy and life-giving God,

teach you to reverence all his works,

to praise him in all you do,

to share in his work of creation,

and to live to his glory.

(Adam, op. cit., 30)

Creation Sunday sermon 2021 (October 3rd, at Lutheran Church of the Foothills, Tucson)

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=WNBJzE95sKE&t=7s

JRL+

Friends of St Francis

 

About 795 years ago a poor little man died in central Italy, surrounded by friends he called his “little brothers”. Worn out with work, travel, illness, and excessive self-deprivation, he died exhausted, as he had driven his frail frame beyond its ordinary powers. 

Indeed, at the end of his life he admitted, “I’ve been too hard on Brother Ass.”-- He called his body Brother Ass, like an overburdened burro. 

He called all created things his brother or sister, not just humans, though surely those, but the sun, the moon, the elements, animals … and at last even death.

He himself was known to his friends as Brother Francis, though as soon as he died he was acclaimed as a saint. 

Saint Francis is known for several things: his passion for the gospel, his embrace of poverty, his leadership of the religious orders known as Franciscans, his love for creation, and of course birdbaths.

We celebrate Creation Sunday on a Sunday close to October 4th, the feast of Saint Francis.

And it is only right. As we look at creation around us, all creatures, each other, ourselves, we look at them in part through Francis’ eyes. 

He regarded all things through the lens of his devotion to his Lord and because of that he embraced what is holy in all things.

This was not an easy road. 

Early in his career he asked God to grant him to know the pain and the love Jesus felt on the cross. And perhaps he did. 

What we remember today - without forgetting the pain of the passion - is the love that surrounds it.

The love of the passion: paradoxical, all-embracing. 

Today that love we particularly remember as we look with gratitude, hope, guilt, and a deepening desire to care, upon our fellow creatures, especially this fragile earth that is our home, and our creaturely neighbors, from fish and birds to sky and sea. 

How can we love our fellow creatures as God would have us love them - as family? Maybe seeing through the eyes of the little poor man of Assisi - Saint Francis - will help.

JRL+

Published as "Love all of God's creation", Arizona Daily Star, Home + Life, Keeping the Faith. October 10th 2021. E3. 

Creation Care Prayer

Here's a little prayer I wrote -

Creation Care - Invocation

May this day be holy, good, and peaceful.

May the creative spirit of the universe

enliven us with hope.

May the nurturing spirit of the universe

compel us to care for creation - and each other.

May the valiant spirit of the universe

imbue us with the fortitude

to see the truth,

and the wisdom

to act upon it.

JRL+

http://celtimergent.blogspot.com/2019/05/creation-care-prayers.html

State of the Planet

"The state of the planet is: broken."--UN secretary general this morning.

The planet is burning.

The planet is freezing.

The planet is drowning.

The planet is asphyxiating.

The planet is poisoned.

Humanity must turn away from its headlong course of environmental suicide.

What humanity has brought about, humanity can also help to heal.

The primary task of humanity for this century is to heal its relationship with the rest of nature.

That was the message this morning in the 'state of the planet' address by the UN secretary general.

What can we as churches, as people of God, do to bring healing to the planet?

* * *

António Guterres (UN Secretary-General) on the State of the Planet

2 Dec 2020 -  Speech by António Guterres, Secretary-General of the United Nations, on the State of the Planet at Columbia University (New York City).

http://webtv.un.org/live-now/watch/ant%C3%B3nio-guterres-un-secretary-general-on-the-state-of-the-planet/6213596409001/

common earth, common prayer, common justice

Let me sing for my beloved

 my love-song

 concerning his vineyard:

My beloved had a vineyard

 on a very fertile hill.

 He dug it and cleared it of stones,

   and planted it with choice vines;

   he built a watchtower

   in the midst of it,

 and hewed out a wine vat in it...

     -Isaiah 5:1-2a

In the name of God, Source of all Being, eternal Word, and holy Spirit: Amen.

Among the vineyards of Kenwood, California, there are mustard flowers growing in the spring, even ahead of the bud-break on the vines. Ancient watchtowers, made of wood, clamber over head. And in the fall the wine presses are at work. The whole valley richly smells of the crush of grapes. Wine is being made. Hoppers full of blue heavy juiced grapes fill and empty into vats. Trucks bring more. And that is how it is, at this time in a normal year. Not so anymore. Three years ago the valley was threatened by fire, wildfire that came quickly over the ridges from the valley to the east, blown along by dry hot winds through brush, trees, grass, and houses. Vineyards smoked. And the grapes were tainted. That was then, that is now. For the same areas are once again threatened, or consumed, by wildfire. Spreading quickly. Homes are lost. And the grapes are tainted, and once again fall to the ground, unharvested.

This brings home to me the Biblical images of the vineyard, the press, the tower, and the owner and the tenants. We are the tenants. In those stories, we have an image of our common earth, our common task, and hence our common prayer. 

We believers, believers in more than the surface of things, know there is more to the story than what we read in the news or hear through the air, know that God is good, creation is valuable, and we have to do something about this. It is our heritage and our stewardship. 

You may have noticed the prayer for the original stewards of this land that we say at the beginning of our gatherings. We remember those who came before us and their continuing traditions of care for the earth, and we join them in its care. We are planted in the garden, alongside other creatures, but we have a call to care for the earth. Knowingly, not just instinctively, we can act together for the common good of earth.

Today is the 18th Sunday after Pentecost; it is also the feast day of Saint Francis of Assisi. The birdbath saint. The one who seems to know and care for all creatures, and to talk to them more unselfconsciously than Doctor Doolittle. Among the creatures he cared about and looked after the most were his fellow human beings. His vocation as steward and teacher took early expression in his embrace of a beggar on the road with skin disease. Then young and impetuous and rich, he leapt down from his steed and gave the man a kiss. Breaking the taboos, breaking the rules, making his home then on with the poor. With us. 

For we are the poor and we are the wealthy. We live under glorious skies, and transcendent gloom. We have and we have not. We share and we do not. We care and we do not. It is our choice; and it is not.

We can do what is within our power, collectively, as the people of God, and individually as people of prayer, of power through our intentional stewardship of what has been given us.

Or we can be like those guys in Jesus' story.

Pretty much the whole thing had been handed to them. The vineyard they rented had already been developed, fenced and provided with watchtower and winepress. All they had to do was take care of it. And the harvest would come. And when it did, the landlord would be back. Were they ready? No. 

Are we?

That is the challenge before us, to be good stewards of what has been provided for us. And to 'bear fruit' as Jesus puts it, the fruit of the kingdom, the fruit that is more than agricultural produce but is the fruit of the spirit. And that means justice. For climate change is racial injustice. And to bend the arc of natural and human history back toward justice is going to take the work of all of us, each of us, in our individual and common work.

This past spring nature was bursting forth in all its glory, and we were shut down. In the middle of a pandemic the natural world continued on its way. And so in a sense the coronavirus was contained within our heads, within human motivations, concerns, and movements. Nature soared on alone. 

Until the fires began. In my neighborhood, on the evening of June 5th, as we watched the sunset, we could see lightning striking the hills to the west. 

That was the beginning of the Bighorn Fire, which lasted for five weeks, consuming much of the dry brush, grass, trees, and even saguaro in a wide swath of Mount Lemmon to our north. On occasion the winds would change and smoke would drift down to us. At night we could see the flames on the mountain and during the day the aircraft dowsing them.

Nature began to take a turn. Of course this was months after the coronavirus pandemic came to us. By Saint Patrick’s Day everyone had gotten the message: mask, distance, hand-wash, test, trace, treat, repeat. Eventually with permission we could gather outdoors in small numbers at a safe distance.

It was depressing! And unnerving. We have had several smoldering crises on top of each other this year. Climate change, which is a force multiplier for every other catastrophe, layered on top of the wildfire season - which had just really gotten going when the Bighorn Fire ended - as well as the coronavirus pandemic with its public health and economic and political effects.

Even the President now is in isolation as he announced Thursday night just after midnight that he and his wife had tested positive for coronavirus. Fourteen days at home, if all goes well.

[Please pray for the healing of those who are ill, for those who may have been exposed, for the healing of every person now suffering from COVID, and for all those who are mourning the loss of friends and family to the pandemic. Pray for healing of our nation, and for courage and resolve at this fragile and fraught time.

O God of heavenly powers, by the might of your command you drive away from our bodies all sickness and all infirmity: Be present in your goodness with your children, the President and First Lady, and all in the White House or Government who have been infected by this virus, that their weakness may be banished and their strength restored; and that, their health being renewed, they may bless your holy Name; through Jesus Christ our Lord. Amen.-- For Recovery from Sickness, Book of Common Prayer, p. 458]

So the world is not what it was, or what we thought it would be, and what it will become is in a limbo status of nascency, as ‘ordinary life’ seems suspended for the duration. But what if for now this is ordinary life? It is an extraordinary Ordinary Time in the church - as Ordinary Time is another name for the season after Pentecost. We call this the long green season - dysfunctionally in Tucson as it gets hotter and drier longer over the trending years.

I was home for the one great monsoon storm of this season - wasn’t that an exciting hour? And now we wait: for the summer heat to abate - it will get cooler, as the seasons turn; we wait: for the pandemic precautions and professional efforts to abate the pandemic; and then we wait: for the politicians to wake up and do something about the long term causes and responses to the crises of our time.

All of this, and yet we celebrate. For the works of the Lord are good: in the Canticle we read this morning in response to the first lesson we are reminded - and the cosmic order, the Earth and its creatures, the people of God, are all exhorted to bless the Lord, to praise God and highly exalt him forever.

Why do we do this? For all around us despite our concerns, and some of them very close to home, the work of God and of the people of God who are his hands upon the Earth, continues.

The hungry are fed, the sick are tended, the dead are mourned, the bereft are comforted, the homeless are sheltered, and the unemployed find new dignity in work. All this is going on.

Not at the rate we would want. Very slowly. But if we are part of bending the arc of history toward justice, if we are among those who work and pray for the good things of earth to be cherished, sustained, and shared, then we are moving forward into a future with hope.

For the Lord has assured us, “I have a plan for you, for your good and not for harm, a future with hope.

What do justice and righteousness look like to us? How are we to let justice roll down like waters and righteousness flow like a mighty stream? 

We are inheritors of the original inhabitants of the land, caretakers, stewards, and, when the time comes, harvest helpers and celebrators of its providence. Among us are those descended from the earliest days, and those who have come from the four directions, from north, east, south, and west, to this place inhabited for countless millennia and cultivated for now over four thousand years. But change is coming.

Change we have ourselves instigated, and inherited, from the well-meaning and the obtuse, the greedy and the generous, as they in their best lights (and worst) built the city we know today as Tucson.

And in it, even as the power company tears down its coal barn, are the effects being felt of all those generations, over the past 250 years particularly, that have led us to a point near the point of no return.

There is a pretty silly movie called “The River of No Return”. A small group of people shoot the rapids in a cumbersome raft. Not something you want to do twice. And in our case not something you can repeat.

Because the climate is at a tipping point. In 50 years we might not recognize the landscape, for the changes in weather pattern, vegetation, growth or decay of civilization. There are some things we can do, non-exclusive options. Here are three responses we will be discussing at this year's convention (one you can watch if you have internet access).

1 : We can sharply reduce carbon emissions. We can reduce carbon emissions that cause the Greenhouse Effect and combat climate change. 

We can employ efficiency and conservation and move toward a low-carbon economy (and yes burning less coal helps).

We can tackle climate change at its source by taking coordinated, aggressive action to reduce the CO2 we put into the atmosphere.

2 : We can prepare and protect our communities, assessing the risks and taking care of the most vulnerable. 

We can work together now to secure our communities and strengthen our resilience in the face of climate-related impacts.

3 : We can accelerate innovation, promoting clean energy and creating new technologies. 

While climate change represents a serious long-term challenge, it also presents unique opportunities for ingenuity and innovation.

How shall we meet the challenges of a warming planet?

The challenge of climate change is daunting. 

But this is the challenge we face, we in our generation, and we are called by God to face it. 

 

Remember then that a loving God is behind us, a God who is sovereign over all Creation, and that in his Spirit we find guidance and strength. As we have been promised, in the words of the prophets, he has a plan for us, a plan for good and not for harm, a future with hope.

 

To all earth's creatures God has given the broad earth, the springs, the rivers and the forests, giving the air to the birds, and the waters to those who live in water, giving abundantly to all the basic needs of life, not as a private possession, not restricted by law, not divided by boundaries, but as common to all, amply and in rich measure.

- Gregory of Nazianzus c.329-c.389 (quoted in http://edgeofenclosure.org/proper22a.html)

Most high, omnipotent good Lord, grant your people grace to renounce gladly the vanities of this world; that, following the way of blessed Francis, we may for love of you delight in your whole creation with perfectness of joy. O God, you have made us and all living things. You are even more wonderful than what you have made. We thank you for giving us joy in your creation and the creatures with whom we share it. As you take care of us, so also we ask your help that we might take care of what you have entrusted to us. By doing this, we share in your own love for all creation. We ask this in Jesus' name. Amen.

Options and suggestions from  

Climate Choices: How Should We Meet the Challenges of a Warming Planet?  National Issues Forums Institute. 2016. ISBN: 978-1-943028-03-0 (www.nifi.org)

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=76KcoUxG0qo&fbclid=IwAR2GqwKVUGEU2wYDmSc7AJub0iINThtGlViGjAGMlg2xp2xYGHSUi4J6-8I