On this 50th anniversary of the first Earth Day, I could sit all day today looking at photos and videos from NASA or taking photos myself outside my house where forsythia like ours could light up the world with their brilliant yellow! I could take a short walk outside once every hour to feel the exhilaration of fresh air as I stepped out the door. I could take a break to praise God for the loveliness of the world each time the wind outside caught the sun peeking out and then running across my bedroom floor. I could (and plan to) transplant the beautiful cuttings of my Prayer Plant (That is her real name; look it up!) that I have been nurturing along for awhile or attend to my Christmas cactus that deserves a more spacious home.
In the midst of a serious crisis, it is always good to stop and remember what is still good about this life on Earth. Today, if we can do nothing more, we should at least give thanks for and to the Earth, our home. Raise your arms or at least your eyes to the expanse of Her. Bend your body in a bow or at least a nod to the wonder of Her. Sing a song or at least call to mind a line of praise – (Psalm 8, for example) in thanks to the One who made Her.
Celebrate Earth and then make a new or renewed commitment to care for her because She is, indeed, Mother to us all.
As the temperature struggled to get up to 60 degrees (F) yesterday, I walked outside and noticed also that it was time to cut back plants that had flowered so beautifully, yet briefly, earlier in the summer. It feels already as if the autumn is upon us although the prediction is that we may return to milder temperatures in the coming week, as is often the case – ironically – when children return to school. I feel as if being outside tending to the earth would be a noble and restorative occupation today.
Yesterday I was in a wide-ranging conversation about elements of a future world that would not only include acceptable behavior of all citizens but also be compassionate toward all creatures and to the universe itself. It seemed that we have a long way to go toward consciousness if we are, in fact, to even approach the possibility of such a world. One element that we saw as necessary was the responsibility of each one of us to move the world toward that goal.
The suggestion of a commentary on Psalm 96, subtitled by author Lynn Bauman A Song Welcoming the Holy One, is that readers experiment with singing rather than saying it because singing is a “vehicle for communication with God.” While this is the rightful presentation of psalms in liturgy, I don’t often think of it as a mode of private prayer. I just tried it – in the privacy of my own room, of course – and the result was less than stellar. I have to admit, however, that I didn’t prepare; I just sang it “cold” without thought of the meaning, phrasing, timing or cadence. (Hmmm…that sounds as if I have some idea of musicality. Don’t be fooled!) My attempt was quite timid, but I must say it had the potential to open the words to me in a more vibrant way than if I had spoken the text. Perhaps I’ll give it another try. Should you be moved to join me from afar, here are the words I was tentatively offering as morning praise to the Creator of the universe.