The news today continues to be astoundingly distressing for our country. From confusion and distress about the Iowa caucuses with the “electronic advances” that didn’t work to the vitriol being spewed in public by our political “leaders,” one wonders where we are going as a nation. It’s difficult to speak except in one’s closest circles, and even there we are sometimes surprised with unexpected and vehement differences of opinion!
Two readings helped me this morning to keep an open mind. Meg Wheatley’s page on “Praise and Blame” from her book, Perseverance, stated obvious facts and raised some good questions. “There is absolutely no way to avoid being criticized,” she says. “Nobody gets through life being described as totally wonderful. The question is, what do we do with criticism? Do we take it in, believe it and develop self-loathing? Do we assume that a criticism of something we’ve done is a condemnation of who we are?…Can we not instantly push criticism away yet not accept it totally? Can we treat praise the same way?…Praise and blame are two sides of the same coin…In both cases we need to listen with caution and discernment…”
Good advice.. and even better was what I found in the Scriptures for today in the verse before the gospel: “Blessed are they who have kept the word with a generous heart, and yield a harvest through perseverance.”
I believe that I understand at this moment what Thomas Merton wrote at dawn on a day a half-century ago about waking up. It is totally silent inside my house; everyone is sleeping still or again. (The coffee is made so someone was up before sunrise.) Outside is a different story. The mourning doves punctuate the conversation that is constant and loud – some would say cacophonous – among all the other birds large and small. And through it all the rooster reigns, splitting the silence with a voice that carries to the river and back again calling us all to wakefulness. “It is like the first morning of the world,” Merton writes, “when Adam, at the sweet voice of Wisdom, awoke from nonentity and knew her…” Only in silence, I think, is it possible to have such an experience. And so I will dress and go into the day, carrying with me the pure sounds of praise in the natural world, hoping to know the wakefulness that is available to me this day.
Today’s lectionary offers us the shortest of psalms for response to the first reading. Ancient Songs Sung Anew gives a good idea for a spiritual practice using this text, saying that since it is one of the most universal in its meaning, “it could rightly be said by almost any person from any nation on earth.” Here’s the psalm, the challenge and the rest of the commentary.
Sometimes virtual travel is almost as good as being there. So it was last evening when a large rowdy band of Christians walked up a hill in Stonington, Maine and was transported from St. Mary’s Church to the chapel at Taizé, France to worship God in song. Not unlike Stonington, Taizé is a tiny town with a stable population of just under 200 people. in the summer, however, over 100,000 people, most of them young pilgrims, descend on Taizé to sing and serve in what becomes for them a spiritual homecoming.
Sometimes when life feels very complicated I like to find some simplicity somewhere. This morning, since light had already arrived at this task before I did, I looked up and saw that my prayer plant had found a way to untangle herself from the tight configuration her leaves had been living in since I transplanted her a few weeks ago. She seemed happy to spread her arms in praise. That moment was enough to call me to do the same.