National Poetry Month

From Mary Oliver


Maker of All Things, Even Healings

All night under the pines the fox
moves through the darkness
with a mouthful of teeth
and a reputation for death which it deserves.
In the spicy villages of the mice he is famous,
his nose in the grass
is like an earthquake,
his feet on the path
is a message so absolute
that the mouse, hearing it, makes himself
as small as he can as he sits silent
or, trembling, goes on
hunting among the grasses for the ripe seeds.

Maker of All Things,
including appetite, including stealth,
including the fear that makes
all of us sometime or other,
flee for the sake
of our small and precious lives,
let me abide in your shadow—
let me hold on
to the edge of your robe
as you determine what you must let be lost
and what will be saved.

Let us walk in the holy presence.

sunrise

sunset

The Night the Lights Went Out: Easter Vigil at the Monastery

Well, no one could say it didn't have a thrilling ending.

Of course, the Easter narrative holds our greatest finale, and we lived into that pretty fully last night.

Easter Vigil was set to begin at 8pm. Around 6:15pm, as I put loads of dishes through the dishwasher, the machine stopped, the lights faded in an instant, and we all started to laugh.

The power was out.

This is the night the light broke the chains of death, oh holy night. We always sing as the Vigil begins and the Paschal fire blazes.

Out of nowhere appeared a rechargeable sound system, flashlights, lanterns, headlights, systems rigged to hold them all in place. Everyone began to give the go-ahead...you could hear the music traditionally played on the computer-powered organ being practiced on the piano.

The show must go on. By 8pm, we were off, on the journey toward Alleluia.

The flexibility and adaptability on display were the essence of what I've come to know in my 5+ years at the monastery. As the eight traditional readings unfolded leading us to that first "Alleluia" in ages, there was a beautiful simplicity as we adjusted to the unexpected.

The power company told us to expect electric again around 11pm. In line to share communion at 9:45, Let there be light, and there was. And it was good.

Just in time to enjoy our closing hymn, All Shall Be Well and our Easter postlude on the organ.

"Jesus alive! Rejoice and sing again. All shall be well forever more, Amen."

Let us walk in the holy Easter presence.

The Beginning of April: Poetry! Triduum! Snow?

National Poetry Month begins today. We enter into the Triduum as well.

Here is a poem for both:

Gethsemane

Mary Oliver

The grass never sleeps.

Or the roses.

Nor does the lily have a secret eye that shuts until morning.

Jesus said, wait with me. But the disciples slept.

The cricket has such splendid fringe on its feet,

and it sings, have you noticed, with its whole body,

and heaven knows if it ever sleeps.

Jesus said, wait with me. And maybe the stars did,

maybe the wind wound itself into a silver tree, and didn’t move, maybe

the lake far away, where once he walked as on a

blue pavement,

lay still and waited, wild awake.

Oh the dear bodies, slumped and eye-shut, that could not

keep that vigil, how they must have wept,

so utterly human, knowing this too

must be a part of the story.

And poem in the form of a song:

First Aid Kit (a favorite of mine) singing Leonard Cohen's Sisters of Mercy.

And, of course, since today is April Fool's Day...

May your experience of Triduum be meaningful, however you are able to experience it this year.

Let us walk in the holy presence.