the swifts, the swifts

it sort of looks like i'm taking this blog over. someone stop me please.

in the mean time, why don't you all in the North come down and have a picnic and watch the swifts fly into the chimney at Chapman School.

it's really a most amazing sight.

here's some more information.

we've got till the end of the month.

quotes::notes

here are a few quotes from the Hauerwas lecture that have been singing to me...

• one of the crucial issues here is how we learn to be dependent on one another. we must learn to confess that as a hospitable people, we need one another because we are dependent on one another. the last thing that the church wants is a bunch of autonomous, free individuals. we want people who know how to express authentic need, because that creates community.
• the church is a family into which children are brought and received. it is only within that context that it makes sense for the church to say, "we are always ready to receive children. we are always ready to receive children."
• the issue is how we as a christian community can live in positive affirmation of the kind of hospitality that will be a witness to the society we live in. that will open up a discourse that otherwise would be impossible.

what i've been reading

online anyways...

• an article written by an Oregon homeschooling mama about the problem of rich christians
• an article from last fall by Michael Pollan about the future of our food
• an answer to Pollan's article written by a farmer
• an article by Hauerwas about the church's response to abortion, but really about the deep ways in which we care for each other

i might write a (little) bit more about what is catching my eye, but Nico is calling out just now.

in response to kindness

so glad that Jess posted this well-made poem for us to read. i've been thinking on it these long months since it first arrived. i was talking to Nicki about the group that doesn't discuss things so much...she said that Troy had told her he had written things in response, but hadn't posted them. and i realized that i had talked to AP about all kinds of things that found their beginnings here, but hadn't posted. it seemed like it was thinking and talking about these things!

so a few thoughts:

• why kindness? could the poem work with another word? say love or grace or truth.
• are kindness and sorrow really the twin deepest things?
• Nye's poem brought to mind a few other poems. one by William Stafford, one of Nye's teachers. here it is.

Why I Am Happy

Now has come, an easy time. I let it
roll. There is a lake somewhere
so blue and far nobody owns it.
A wind comes by and a willow listens
gracefully.

I hear all this, every summer. I laugh
and cry for every turn of the world,
it's terribly cold, innocent spin.
That lake stays blue and free; it goes
on and on.

And I know where it is.

i first heard this poem at the end of a writing workshop. our teacher sent us out into the world as writers, ones who know where that deep blue lake is. ones who have entered that easy time.

and this by Wendell Berry. boy, i quote him a lot. i even received a hand made pillow with Wendell's picture on it as a baby shower gift.

What We Need Is Here

Geese appear high over us,
pass, and the sky closes. Abandon,
as in love or sleep, holds
them to their way, clear
in the ancient faith: what we need
is here. And we pray, not
for new earth or heaven, but to be
quiet in heart, and in eye,
clear. What we need is here.

to me both these poems speak of an ease and openness that i don't find in the Nye poem. it's almost as if there's a kindness club. and unless you've experienced sorrow, you can't know kindness.

but that hasn't been my experience...

my legs started cramping something terrible as i was working to get Nicolas out. i really needed to bear down and push, but the added pain of leg cramps was making it difficult. even after he was born, the pain continued. and then Nicki came and asked if i wanted her to rub my legs. she had sweet smelling lotion that she had thought to bring from home. and she rubbed my feet and legs. this was after she had cuddled Mabel on the couch and read to her. after she had taken Mabel outside to see the stars on the night her brother was born. and it was 3 in the morning.

kindness.

kindness

Here is a link to a poem/poet that is new to me. Naomi is part of the Seattle Arts and Lectures Poetry series this year. I have also attached a bio on Naomi if she is new to you too.

I gave up dissecting poems after my freshman year in college, but I am interested to hear other people's responses. I know that springtime is hectic and between babies and sewing and schools there might not be a lot of time for blog. But, I wanted to share this.... I will post my response in a bit after people have had a chance to read or listen (garrison redording) to it.

http://writersalmanac.publicradio.org/index.php?date=2007/07/23

http://www.poets.org/poet.php/prmPID/174

testing...testing... anybody out there?

hey friends, just wondering if anybody wanted to respond to this... anthony, it may be up to you as the post-er to get the ball rolling.  i'll wait for responses, and then propose moving on to something new.

nic

Living Friendship Dying

Since no one has taken up the torch, I'll post an article to discuss for the next few weeks. A few of you posted your Sunday events last weekend. My Sunday was a carefree day of drinking beer on a beautiful beach, a relaxing treat about an hour away from where I am living. On the way home we saw a terrible accident; it had been a motorcycle and a car in a head on collision. There were three dead bodies, two stacked on top of each other, and a third sprawled out face down on the ground with rocks piled up all around him, presumably so cars would go around him. The car looked like a giant rock had been dropped from the sky onto the hood and windshield. Of course, when you see something like this at any time, it is tragic and moving. But this time it spun me into a very contemplative mood, which I am still in. 

I've often contemplated what it means to die, but it has been very different from such an isolated context, isolated from my friends and family, I mean. Today, I read another W. Berry article, "Stand by Me." I'll let you draw your own conclusions....

art + life

when Kevin and Nicki were planning to get married, Troy came to visit us. we were so curious--who was this woman Kev was marrying? Troy told us of the troubles she was having at the Christian school, how people thought she was a crazy feminist environmentalist. i said, i think i'll like her; she sounds like me! then Troy laughed out loud and said, you're not an environmentalist!

so maybe it's not a surprise that i was most drawn to the art parts of the Reece article. mostly to this one line that rubbed me the wrong way:

To raise one's experiences to the level of art is to make them worthy of contemplation.

no, no! life is always already worthy of contemplation. and the making of art isn't something that happens on some other level. this sort of separation between our experience and art is the same split that let's us imagine ourselves as separate from nature. the same motion that leaves our churches empty of poems.

i've been reading bits and snatches of The Maytrees after Mabel falls asleep for her nap. it's so rich! in just a page or two, my mind is full, spinning with Dillard's words and the crazy way she turns a phrase. one of the blurbs in the back of the book says, Annie Dillard is one of those people who seems to be more fully alive than most of us. but you know what? she gets to be just as alive as me. true, she has found a habit of being that nourishes her spirit and work, and she knows her craft. but she's exactly as alive as we each get to be.

here's to a new year full of contemplation. full of walks outside at twilight with crows overhead. full of books and glasses of wine and ideas and bold beginnings. full of sketches and songs and notebooks. full of bread rising and children growing.

alive. awake. full.

Year of the Cobra

Can we just discuss the symbolism of the puzzle Kevin sent me for Christmas?

Year of the Cobra

have a listen

http://speakingoffaith.publicradio.org/programs/2009/robert-coles/

Sunday morning

Am I beating a dead horse? Nicki is ushering us forward into the new year, the year of the ox, but I thought that I would try pull together my response just under the deadline. It is Sunday morning and I have been singing some songs, drinking coffee and watching Fran roll around in the wet (very wet!) grass. Where else should I be right now? Am I missing something? I guess my question is:

“How should someone trying to study the present and the natural world go about finding a faith community?"

I could say that the holidays and travels are my excuses for not responding to this article, but that would only be partly true. I found Eric’s comments to be very useful to me, but I also realized that in reading everyone’s response to this article that I am, maybe, coming from a different place than most people in this group. Trying to gather rather than shed. I did not have a very specific and guided church upbringing and my father is definitely not a pastor. I was born into a mid-western Catholic family and, like many families in this faith today, I have not been to a service in quite a few years despite that fact that I have a Catholic Church within walking distance of my house. My grandparents still go to church and Packer games regularly, both being equally sacred. We discussed Garrison Keillor tidbits more frequently than scripture and on Christmas night of this year, my mom, sister and I gathered together to celebrate the sacred holiday by reading ‘Santaland’ by David Sedaris. It is hilarious if you have not read it, but maybe not the most appropriate thing to do on this day.

I have to admit that I had originally bought this edition of Orion to read an article by Kathleen Dean Moore. I heard her speak when I lived in Corvallis and I was very intrigued by her acceptance of the “secular sacred.” She does not strive to look beyond this place and seems content to be an authentic observer of the elusive landscape around us. As a biologist I found this fascinating, but I realized that I could not agree with her completely. Although I had been denying myself a spiritual community life and scoffing at the current state of the Catholic Church in our country, I still believe in, for lack of a better word, more. I have always felt there to be something more in this world, but I never had the language to articulate it. I like to do science because I find that constant discovery and questioning is humbling. I am able to find mystery and inspiration through the microscope, and I know that there will be ALWAYS be more that we don’t know. The questions are useful.

I have tried, rather superficially, to explore other faiths. The philosophies of Buddhism and Judaism appeal to me, but I have realized that I can not and do not want to convert from my pseudo-Christian upbringing. It is who I am, so the task that I have put on myself is to re-understand this foundation. And to my surprise I have found some wonderful teachers, poets mainly. Also, Marcus Borg’s writing has helped me tremendously to look at the bible as metaphor and myth. I have always felt conflicted about how to approach the bible, especially as the wealth of historical criticism has cast tremendous doubt on many presumed facts. He, however, has helped me to look back to the bible and Christianity for what I need and I think that that kind of personal interpretation is alright for the time being. It is a transformative religion. Jesus as a teacher was a radical feminist and humanitarian and his guidance of how to live a life of love and compassion are invaluable to me. I can appreciate this world around me without him, but humans have to be reminded of how to treat each other and serve each other and the world. I can not learn to forgive in the laboratory—it is too sterile. We will not be able to cultivate true compassion through science, no matter how interconnected we may find systems be in this world. This is the strongest message from Christianity. I have also found the writing of Andrew Harvey to be useful, especially his emphasis of the need for more cultivation of the sacred feminine in Christian thought.

Annie Dillard writes, “It could be that God has not absconded, but spread, as our vision and understanding of the universe have spread, to a fabric of spirit and sense so grand and subtle, so powerful in a new way, that we can feel blindly of its hem.” When asked if she has had a religious awakening, Marilynne Robinson replied, “A mystical experience would be wasted on me. Ordinary things have always seemed numinous to me.” I think that this is the 'enduring God' that Eric alludes to in his article.

If I have found the natural world as a source of inspiration, how do I nurture and carry this ‘seeing’ into a faith community? Can I find a church that will accept me if I do not take the bible literally all the time? I like how Kevin said that our religions need to leave room for "growing in our belonging" As I start to feel (slightly) more settled in my young adult life, I like the idea of growing into a specific tradition. But can we introduce poetry into our Sunday morning discussions once in awhile?

I know that a new article is on the way, but I am curious to hear from the rest of the people in the group about what thought and ideas this article brought up in them.

What are you doing on this Sunday morning?

time for a new read...?

hi everyone, 

i think it is about time to get a new article in circulation.  so, if you wanted to post something on the first one, now is the time.  

does anyone have something in mind for the next go 'round?  

faith and tradition

the longer i wait to write this, the more tangents seem to keep distracting me as i process, so i'll try to keep this somewhat short and  connected...

for me, this piece really breaks down to the concept of special revelation vs. general revelation (revelation of Truth through the bible vs. revelation through nature).   many, if not most, christians agree that both are equally important.  however,  after working in a "christian" school and being blasted by parents for suggesting that some people believed that Noah's ark was a teaching myth, or that some bible believing scientists think it possible that dinoflagellates might have caused waters to turn blood red, it became obvious to me that christians, on the whole, do not really rely on general revelation to inform their faith.  if it is in the bible, it is TRUE, factual, real-- if it was a myth, clearly GOD would have said it was a myth.  and i have to wonder what would happen if we did open up our faith experience to include more mystical, experiential theology.  

but-- we are a logical, research-driven society.  and in the church we justify the things we cannot fully reconcile with phrases like, "we don't understand why this is, but we still believe, and we have faith that GOD understands..." (which is roughly how the sermon ended last sunday).

the part reece wrote about his pastoring father and grandfather resonated a little painfully for me.  i often wondered, in the final days of my father's life, if he questioned his devotion to the cause of christianity.  to his parishioners, he was devout until the end, always saying that whatever happened, he was "in God's hands".  but at home, he just seemed tired and a little afraid (maybe as much for my well-being as for himself).  unfortunately, the manifestation of a cancer such as his can cloud the mind as much as it harms the body, so I didn't receive any final spiritual counsel or encouragement from my father, as i would have hoped for.  but, strangely enough, just after we decided on this article, i received an email from an old friend, part of which reads:

"When your father was first sick, we were standing in the kitchen when he told you. You went downstairs by yourself and he and I spoke. I have told you before of how greatly I was impressed with your father that night. I have also told you that the entire episode threw me into a deep personal crisis - largely focused on seeking the strength to die well and with purpose...and more importantly to acknowledge that the biggest reason God tolerates evil and suffering is that it allows him to show He is God. We can't bring good from evil. Only God can do that. Only God can bring order from chaos. Only God can bring joy from suffering. "

purpose-- purpose is what my father's faith provided him.  and joy, and suffering, and love and lots of other things.  like andy wrote, it made his life make sense.  and it makes my life make sense, much of the time.  except when i start asking the difficult questions... which is why, for many (including myself), it is easier to avoid those questions that create chaos out of a calm, safe theology.  

i picture my faith, my theology, as a brick wall that has been built over the course of my life.  some bricks will stay in place forever.  the bricks of tradition are sacred to me.  this article and the onset and passing of the season of advent, really made me ponder traditions.  i never thought i would consider myself a "traditional christian" in the way that perhaps a Jew might be Jewish but not really practicing, but they still eat ladkes at hanukkah and know choice yiddish phrases.  in some ways, i feel myself drifting in that direction, holding fast to traditions i find significant, but becoming also allowing my faith to become informed outside of that tradition.  as new bricks are added to the wall, some old will fall away.  i want art, and poetry and nature to be much more a part of my own spirituality than i saw in the lives of my forefathers and mothers.  but perhaps art and poetry and nature were seen as different things in different days.  perhaps my grandmother appreciated the art of the quilt, my grandfather the art of the workshop or the poetry of a sacred hymn.  perhaps being connected to the land for food and survival made my uncles feel more reliant on a holy creator GOD.  

i don't think what reece is saying is terribly new, nor do i think the issues he addresses are limited to those who have been steeped in fundamentalist christianity. be it through art, craft, music, poetry, or  nature, i think our whole society has made light of our need to be in contact with the beauty of the earth.