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Ancient Songs Sung Anew, blessedness, consciousness, humility, Lynn Bauman, psalm 2, psalms, service, The Sophia Center for Spirituality
The relevance of the Psalms is timeless as the issues raised and the relationships considered apply to antiquity as well as to world situations in our own day. Following on yesterday’s post, we have Psalm 2 today that moves us from the individual to the universal and puts God squarely in the midst of world events and the clashes of nation with nation. At present the question of who will rule the world and how is filled with tension and dangerous rhetoric seems to escalate with each passing day.
In the midst of such a situation, the psalmist calls for the rulers of nations to turn to God for guidance. I found an interesting twist in Lynn Bauman’s translation of the last verses of the psalm which seems to me to relate directly to the situation at the southern border of the United States of America.
So listen well, you rulers of the peoples, be wise, pay heed to what you hear. Learn service to the God of earth and heaven, in humility and awe draw close, come near. Instead of fury, anger, fear and wrath, know blessedness. Learn to trust and live as a refugee in God. (Ancient Songs Sung Anew, p. 3)
How might living with that consciousness change things on the world stage?
In a rare move this morning, I chose to explore the NY Times briefing instead of queuing up the readings of the day from the Roman Catholic lectionary. The stimulus for my choice was a headline that read “Oxford Dictionary International Word for the Year.” I had to read through several headlines to find that entry but that in itself was instructive of the culture we live in and what seems to be – or is – important to know of the world today. Much of it was still political as we wait for election results, some of which may be delayed due to unreadable ballot signatures – part of the fallout from the fact that children are not always taught good writing skills in this electronic age. Then there was the potential impending downfall of Theresa May because of her unsatisfactory planning for “Brexit,” and so on around the world.
I had two experiences yesterday that, upon reflection, help me to understand more deeply what it means to “walk in the shoes of another” – at least in some small way.
In my absence today, here is a daily meditation from the monastic community, the 
Today, as yesterday, the theme seems to be about the danger of making judgments without sufficient evidence. In the gospel (MT 13:54-58) Jesus is teaching in his hometown synagogue and people are questioning how he could possibly sound so wise given the fact that his father, Joseph, was a lowly carpenter and the rest of his family had no “pedigree” either. The conclusion was that “they took offense at him.” Nothing about what he said, but just whether he had a right to say it, given the lowliness of his station in life!
Late yesterday just after I had arrived at the party marking the 85th birthday of my friend, Florence, the skies opened and gave a torrential drink of water to the parched earth. Just before I left an hour later to return to the retreat I was hosting at home, the rain stopped. Sometimes things just happen that way. Had I been home without a group of people wrapping up an afternoon of deep reflection, I would have loved to go outside and let myself be washed by the cooling water falling from the sky, as I symbolically felt the sensation of having all things being made new. I opted instead for the reasonable option of staying dry.
How fitting for those gathered in this tiny town in Maine that we should be celebrating today the Solemnity of the Most Sacred Heart of Jesus. As we endeavor to move in prayer and practice from a stance of oneness, we are frequently reminded to “put the mind in the heart” and act from there. No judgment, no self-identification, just the love that flows out of a consciousness that we are all one. While not an easy goal, it is the simplest of practices – just breathing into the sense that the heart is central to our living and its steady beating is our lifeline to love.
Sometimes it’s difficult to express the depth of meaning in seemingly ordinary events that make up the flow of our lives. Reflecting on the past few days, I could describe two such happenings in sentences like the following:
It seems that the theme of light is meant to continue here for at least one more day. In Alan Cohen’s book, A Deep Breath of Life, just the title for this morning’s daily reflection got me curious. “Rocks or Light?” it asked. He was talking about the Hawaiian spiritual tradition that every child born into this world is like a “bowl of light” containing the radiance of heaven. The theory is that if rocks – like fear, guilt and unworthiness – are placed into the bowl, the original brilliance is obscured. The more rocks in the bowl, the less light we shine. Cohen’s comments are very similar to yesterday’s Scripture readings. (I love it when serendipity like this happens to support my conclusions!) Here’s a little of what Cohen offers.
Yesterday I had two meetings back-to-back. The first was a small gathering, only four of seven who try to gather monthly for a “shot in the arm” of wisdom practices that keep us conscious in a way that nothing else seems able to do. We always miss but are very aware of our connection with our “absent brethren.” I went from there to a virtual committee meeting; just our voices were together through the miracle of a phone conference. Again we were four, together in the ethers in an effort to create a process that we hope will enable deeper sharing among members of a much larger group. I could see the faces in my mind as each of us spoke and allowed ideas to germinate in the sharing.