Alone With Poetry

The poem
is complex and the place made
in our lives
for the poem.

It is difficult
to get the news from poems
yet men die miserably every day
for lack
of what is found there.
William Carlos Williams, from “Asphodel, That Greeny Flower”

It is in poetry rather than the formal concepts of philosophy that the truth of existence is ultimately articulated.
Daniel Day Williams, The Spirit and Forms of Love, 292

I wonder if poetry is not a barometer for my soul. If it has been too long since I picked up a poem, the weather in my soul is usually changing for the worse. I need to encounter that complex place inside carved out by poetry, or something in me seems to die, sometimes miserably.
Lately, I have been reading the poetry of Tomas Transtromer, Swedish poet and recent winner of the Noble Prize in literature. That is a good thing for my soul.

I must be alone
ten minutes in the morning
and ten minutes in the evening.
_Without a program.
From Tomas Transtromer, “Loneliness” (tr. Robin Fulton)

By a wonderful serendipity, I also read these words from Joan Chittister in my Lenten discipline. Sinking down into the self where the Spirit resides and the waters run deep is close to impossible in a culture built on noise and talk and information and advertisements and constant movement and a revolving door schedule. Silence and space and solitude are light years away from the raging list of unending activities we carry always in our heads. (The Breath of the Soul, 33)
So I try to be alone some, without a program. Often a poem helps create that complex place of silence and space and solitude. There I encounter something of the truth of existence. There I encounter the self. There the Spirit resides and the water runs deep.
It is difficult to get the news from poems yet men die miserably every day for lack of what is found there.

With Faith and With Feathers,

David

Lent

For a Lenten spiritual discipline this year, I have decided to read each day from two books. Joan Chittister is a favorite author of mine, a writer whose works have served as spiritual guides and spiritual friends. The Joan Chittister book I am reading this Lent is one I recently purchased at the Christ the King Retreat Center when I was there with our conference Board of Ordained Ministry – The Breath of the Soul: reflections on prayer. The book has forty-two short reflections on “what we ourselves must bring to the discipline of prayer,” such as self-knowledge, humility, patience. The structure of the book lends itself well to Lent.
The other book I am reading was published nearly fifty years ago. I remember first encountering it in the Lester Park branch of the Duluth Public Library, a branch that no longer exists. It was after a profound encounter with God’s grace, a “born again” experience in my junior high years, that I spent time in that library in the religion section. There I discovered a book entitled Are You Running With Me, Jesus? I discovered it, but did not explore it long. On the cover was a photograph of the author, an Episcopal priest named Malcolm Boyd. I was a bit taken aback – there he was wearing a clerical collar and smoking. The prayers inside were rather startling, too. They were too startling for me at the time and I don’t remember staying with that book for very long. Something about it, though, stuck with me and years later when I saw it at a used book store, I bought it. Now it will be part of Lent 2012.
Just the second day into this discipline, the spiritual cross-fertilization has proved serendipitous. Thursday, Joan Chittister was writing about “responsibility.” “Never pray in a room without windows” the Talmud says. Chittister writes that: Prayer is meant to bring us to see the world as God sees the world…. Commitment to the needs of the world is a sign of the presence of God in us. That same day, Malcolm Boyd’s prayer began with a feeling of despair. “When I look ahead tonight I can see only futility, pain and death.” Then it moved to a different place. But you call me tonight to love and responsibility. You have a job for me to do…. Lord, I hear you. I know you. I feel your presence strongly in this awful moment, and I thank you. Help me onto my feet. Help me to get up.
There are times when I feel discouraged, when thinking about making a difference in the world makes me weary. Prayer reminds me that while God is with me in those difficult moments, God also calls me back to the things of this world. I pray in open windowed rooms and pray that God will indeed help me get up and get going. There is work to be done.
Already the journey of Lent is bringing rich rewards.

With Faith and With Feathers,

David

Lead and Love

Discussions about leadership are ubiquitous in the church today, at least in my mainline denomination. I think this is, for the most part, a good thing, though I wish many of the discussion were more nuanced than they sometimes appear to be. One of the best pieces I have ever read about leadership, offering some theological depth is Douglas Ottati’s “Leadership-Speak in Contemporary Society” but I have yet to see a reference to it in the church discussions of leadership I have encountered.
Leadership was on my mind this past week as I was part of the interview process for the Minnesota Conference of The United Methodist Church’s Board of Ordained Ministry. Because I have served not only by election, but also by virtue of other offices held, I have had the privilege of serving on this group for a long time. One of our main tasks is interviewing people seeking ordination, and that was this week’s task. Leadership was on my mind.
The final morning of the meeting, one of my colleagues read part of I Corinthians 13 as a morning devotion. Love is patient; love is kind; love is not envious or boastful or arrogant or rude. It does not insist on its own way; it is not irritable or resentful; it does not rejoice in wrongdoing, but rejoices in the truth. It bears all things, believes all things, hopes all things, endures all things.
While she was reading a thought came into my mind. What if we were to substitute the word leadership for the word love here? Leadership is patient; leadership is kind; leadership is not envious or boastful or arrogant or rude. It does not insist on its own way; it is not irritable or resentful; it does not rejoice in wrongdoing, but rejoices in the truth. It bears all things, believes all things, hopes all things, endures all things. It makes a lot of sense to me, and certainly in the church we would not want our ideas of leadership to be less than loving.
The meeting ended early in the afternoon, and I was able to arrive back at my church, after a three plus hour drive, for our Wednesday night dinner. After dinner, I was in the kitchen helping with dishes and clean-up. I know some who might say that this is not very “leader-like” behavior. Leaders help others use their gifts and do their work, don’t they? Maybe. And maybe I over-function sometimes. I wasn’t taking charge, here, just helping. Pitching in when there is work to do is just something I do.
While in the kitchen, I was a part of a couple of poignant conversations. One couple was updating me on their great-granddaughter. She was born many states away with significant health issues. Trying to get her back to Minnesota so she and her parents can be near family is medically impossible right now. My heart breaks for this entire family. Another person shared with me her recent trip to a beloved aunt’s funeral and the concern she has for her mother who is now in her eighties.
Dishes got done and were put away. I went home after what was a long day. Being in the church kitchen that night may not have been the most “leaderly” thing I have ever done, but if love and leadership have something to do with each other, then that is where I should have been and where I will be again.

With Faith and With Feathers,

David

Johnny Horton and the Meaning of Life

So here it is – the game:

1) Learn the #1 single in your country of origin in the week you were born.
2) Find it on YouTube.
3) Post it on your Facebook page without shame.

Sounded fine – a couple of Google clicks and I find out that the number one song on the Billboard Charts in June of 1959 was Johnny Horton “Battle of New Orleans.” I posted, but I cannot say without shame. While Johnny Horton was talented enough to earn a place in the Rockabilly Hall of Fame, and one has to bemoan his early death in an automobile accident, this song has never really done much for me. It was some consolation when I discovered that Wilbert Harrison’s “Kansas City” was atop the Billboard R & B charts when I was born.
So here’s a news flash, there are some things that you cannot change. I appreciate the wisdom of Reinhold Niebuhr’s prayer: God grant me grace to accept with serenity the things that cannot be changed. I did not pray the prayer when I found out “Battle of New Orleans” was the number one song on the charts in June 1959. It really isn’t that tragic. There are things that cannot be changed. We cannot change our genetic makeup. We cannot change our past, including those early experiences for which we did not have words. I think the psychoanalytic insight is spot on, our early experiences, even those for which we did not have words, shape, in part, who we are. Neither our genetics nor our earliest experiences determine fully who we are, but they play a role and we cannot change them. This is part of the mystery of life. “One never recovers from being human” (Michael Eigen, Contact With the Depths, 9).
I just finished reading Rebecca Goldstein’s wonderful novel 36 Arguments for the Existence of God. The final chapter is beautifully written and filled with penetrating insights. We end up beholding a world that is lavished with our own disgust at the uncleanliness that pollutes us, and with our yearning for a mythical purity that remains untouched, and with our vertiginous bafflement at the self that is inviolably me and here and now, and with our desperate and incomplete sense of the inviolable selves of the others that we need so crucially, and with our fear of all that’s unknown out there and that can hurt us, and with our suspicion that almost everything out there will turn out to be unknown and able to hurt us (336).
For good measure, there is this complimentary reflection offered by Michael Eigen. As a human group we are in the midst of a great journey, exploring ways we make contact with reality, contact with subjectivity, ways we constitute reality and reality constitutes us. It is awesome to be a living being who feels, cries, laughs, sings, dies. Who hurts others and is hurt, who goes mad, becomes inspired, or is just happy to be alive to each day to the extent one can. Life never ceases being an unpredictable sea, raising up, dashing down, pressing us through ranges of emotions, more alive, threatened, empty, deadened, eager (Contact With the Depths, 8).
For me, God is part of the mystery and complexity of the human situation. God is one who holds us on the journey. God is the voice calling to us out of the whirlwind of our lives luring us toward wholeness, maturity, graciousness. The God I know in Jesus does not take away the mystery of the world and of existence. I don’t think I could believe in a God who simplifies too much. God is part of the mystery, beckoning with enough light to help us see the mystery more completely and navigate it with a measure of grace.
And so we try, as best we can, to do justice to the tremendousness of our improbable existence. And so we live, as best we can, for ourselves, or who will live for us? And we live, as best we can, for others, otherwise what are we? (Goldstein, 344).
And I see God as a companion on the journey to do justice to the tremendousness of our improbable existence, helping navigate the mystery and balancing living for others and self.
And I cannot change that Johnny Horton’s “Battle of New Orleans” was the number one song in America when I was born.

With Faith and With Feathers,

David

Surf's Up

And so this is Christmas, or at least the Christmas season. I should be listening to Christmas music, and I have a little. But The Beach Boys recently released Smile, an almost mythical album in rock history, and I have been listening to it. BTW there are two releases, a two-CD edition and a multiple-CD edition with countless outtakes and rare moments. I am writing about the two-CD version, particularly about the Smile album.
In the first edition of The Rolling Stone Illustrated History of Rock and Roll (1976), Jim Miller writes: Designed as Brian’s crowning achievement, Smile would supposedly place the Beach Boys right next to the Beatles in the pantheon of arty rock. Intended as a follow-up to Pet Sounds, Smile was never released. There were rumors that Brain Wilson had destroyed many of the tapes, which were obviously false. His notes to the new CD are wonderful.
Some of the Smile songs were released, some in slightly different versions, on subsequent Beach Boys albums. In 2004, Brian Wilson performed Smile live and released a CD of the songs performed by his band. This was an updated version of the original, with some new words and arrangements. And now the original Smile sessions are out.
So as I am listening, I am particularly struck by the song Surf’s Up. I am attaching a link to Brian Wilson’s 2004 performance of the song, and will post the youTube video on my Facebook page. It is a delightful and enchanting song – complex and beautiful. It is an invitation to wonder and to love. Brian Wilson has said “Music is God’s voice,” and listening to this song there is, for me, that quality about it.
Here’s what’s particularly fascinating. I am hearing this song as if for the first time, but I know it can’t be. In college I listened a lot to the Beach Boys, mostly Endless Summer. But that album did not have one really great Beach Boys song, Good Vibrations. So I bought a later compilation that did. I dug it out of the box in the closet where my vinyl records are stored. There it is, side two, “Surf’s Up” – one of the Smile songs released later. I must have heard it then, but it didn’t register. In 2004, I bought Brian Wilson’s Smile. Surf’s Up is there, but again, it did not grab hold of me.
Why now? It’s a bit of a mystery to me why this song has found its way into my heart and soul. I am glad it is there. If music is God’s voice, maybe this experience says something about that voice of God. Maybe we will miss it the first time we hear the story or song, maybe even the second and third and fourth times, but keep listening.
I heard the word – wonderful thing! A children’s song. A children’s song – have you listened as they play? Their song is love and the children know the way.
Might be a Christmas song after all. Surf’s Up!

With Faith and With Feathers,

David

Brian Wilson: Surf's Up

Thanksgiving

Being who I am, one of the apps I have on my i pod is the Poetry magazine app. Yesterday I thought it might be enjoyable to take a spin on that app looking for a poem for the day. The Poetry app allows you to spin for poems in certain categories – and you can choose different combinations of categories. So I looked at “gratitude” which could be paired with “youth,” “aging,” “family” etc. I paired it with “life.” To my delight I found this wonderful poem:

Although the wind
blows terribly here
the moonlight also leaks
between the roof planks
of this ruined house.
Izumi Shikibu, translated by Jane Hirshfield and Mariko Aratani

Under new Facebook policy, this blog will no longer be posted there, so I will also send this poem to my Facebook site with the appropriate copyright information listed there.

I like this poem a great deal. The joy and gratitude are mingled with eyes open to see the harsh winds and the open spaces in the roof of the house. Thanksgiving is a wonderful time to give thanks for the good gifts of life: family, friends, home, music, books, movies, eyes to see and ears to hear. For those of us who are theists, we thank the God whose goodness sustains all life’s goodness and who is at work in the world inviting greater goodness. While giving thanks, I cannot forget those who are hurting, suffering, in need. I cannot forget the sorrows I feel sometimes. Still, through the cracks in the world, moonlight shines, and I am grateful for that.

With Faith and With Feathers,

David

Reading

This afternoon I participated in a panel discussion for book groups organized through the Oreck-Alpern Interreligious Forum at the College of St. Scholastica. I have been the convener of a fiction book group since this effort began in 2006. Here is what I shared.

I would like to offer some reflections on the fiction book group that has been meeting since October 2006. My intention is that these brief remarks will respond to the questions we were invited to consider, but as may be appropriate for a fiction group, the response is rather literary, weaving in the words of others.

In his remarks upon accepting the National Book Critics Circle Award in Criticism in 1984, John Updike said the following: Whatever art offered the men and women of previous eras, what it offers our own, it seems to me, is space – a certain breathing room for the spirit. (Updike, Higher Gossip: Essays and Criticism, 423)

Reading fiction and discussing it together creates space in a too busy world, space for the spirit. It is important space. It is difficult to say which books we have read over the past five years have created the most meaningful discussions. Even the book most found their least favorite, Orhan Pamuk’s Snow, the only Nobel Prize winning author we have read, by the way, even Snow invited good discussion and I, for one, still carry images from that book within. The impact of this group seems cumulative – five years of reading and conversation flowing through us like water shaping stone.

It’s good when your conscience receives big wounds, because that makes it more sensitive to every twinge…. A book must be the axe for the frozen sea inside us. Franz Kafka, letter to Oskar Pollak, January 27, 1904 (The Basic Kafka, 290)

In a world that often numbs us with reality television which is more surreal than real, or by the sheer pace of modern life, it is good to read books that break our hearts, break them with sadness over the condition of others in the world, break them open to care and to see beauty and tenderness.

Martha Nussbaum, who will be coming to St. Scholastica in February, writes these words that we have used in advertising our fiction group: Through the imagination we are able to develop our ability to see the full humanness of people. (Not For Profit, 107)

Our reading has helped keep our eyes, and imaginations, open in a world that often blinds with the constant flashing lights of the momentary. Our imaginations have been opened to the variety of ways of being human religiously.

We tell ourselves stories in order to live. Joan Didion, The White Album

To be human is to live by stories and our lives are richer, more open, more insightful, for having these stories and these conversations woven into our stories. With all the issues facing the human community, a gathering of people reading fiction seems an escape, a luxury. In some ways it is a luxury. Yet, if the human community is to work toward solving its most pressing issues thoughtful, open, insightful people willing to learn even more about themselves, others and the world will be required. We tell ourselves stories in order to live. This is part of the story of our group.

With Faith and With Feathers,

David