"Prayer is the Light of the Spirit"

"From a homily by John Chrysostom, bishop (Supp. Hom. 6 De precatione: PG 64, 462-466)

"Prayer is the light of the spirit

"Prayer and converse with God is a supreme good: it is a partnership and union with God. As the eyes of the body are enlightened when they see light, so our spirit, when it is intent on God, is illumined by his infinite light. I do not mean the prayer of outward observance but prayer from the heart, not confined to fixed times or periods, but continuous throughout the day and night.

"Our spirit should be quick to reach out toward God not only when it is engaged in meditation; at other times also, when it is carrying out its duties, caring for the needy, performing works of charity, giving generously in the service of others, our spirit should long for God, and call him to mind, so that these works may be seasoned with the salt of God's love, and so make a palatable offering to the Lord of the universe. Throughout the whole of our lives we may enjoy the benefit that comes from prayer if we devote a great deal of time to it.

Prayer is the light of the spirit, true knowledge of God, mediating between God and man. The spirit, raised up to heaven by prayer, clings to God with the utmost tenderness; like a child crying tearfully for its mother, it craves the milk that God provides. It seeks the satisfaction of its own desires, and receives gifts outweighing the whole world of nature.

"Prayer stands before God as an honored ambassador. It gives joy to the spirit, peace to the heart. I speak of prayer, not words. It is the longing for God, love too deep for words, a gift not given by man but by God's grace. The apostle Paul says: "We do not know how we are to pray but the Spirit himself pleads for us with inexpressible longings."

"When the Lord gives this kind of prayer to someone; he gives him riches that cannot be taken away, heavenly food that satisfies the spirit. One who tastes this food is set on fire with an eternal longing for the Lord: his spirit burns as in a fire of the utmost intensity.

"Practice prayer from the beginning. Paint your house with the colors of modesty and humility. Make it radiant with the light of justice. Decorate it with the finest gold leaf of good deeds. Adorn it with the walls and stones of faith and generosity. Crown it with the pinnacle of prayer. In this way you will make it a perfect dwelling place for the Lord. You will be able to receive him as in a splendid palace, and through his grace you will already possess him, his image enthroned in the temple of your spirit."

From The Liturgy of the Hours, Vol. II, Lenten Season and Easter Season (New York: Catholic Book Publishing Corp, 1976), 68-70 (Friday after Ash Wednesday).

Grocery Memorial

The other day, I had to park in one of the outer aisles of my usual grocery store, a different spot than usual. On one of the "islands" of the parking lot, I happened to notice this memorial. How sweet that the store honored the man. Stay tuned, and I'll find out more about him from the employees or the manager.

Jackie Gleason's Birthday

Yesterday was the anniversary of Jackie Gleason's birth in 1916. In honor of him, here is a poem of mine that appeared in my first chapbook, Dreaming at the Electric Hobo (Finishing Line Press, 2017). It's mostly factual, except the restaurant was named Reaban's, and I don't remember the first name of the owner, who showed the typo. The place is still there in my hometown at Seventh and Orchard, differently named.


Saturday Night at Betsy’s

just hangin’ around, not doin’ nuttin, 
twelve stools at the counter,

and Betsy did a small town business
serving folks with tight, butt-punishing

hospitality along the highway curve,  
serving up heart food in a different sense:

cheeseburgers, fries, and shakes,
a big night out for Mom and Dad and me

in the 1960s, Dad’s love for low-cost goodness
and tinny speaker songs of drivin’ and ramblin.’

On a still-light June evening, Betsy
opened the local paper and showed folks a typo:

The groom wore a pinstriped shit. Everyone
laughed, Mom and Dad, and me too,

not wanting to feel little, for I hadn’t learned
that word. Later, I asked Mom, who felt

chagrined to be the one who taught me a bad word.
But that was okay, I had dreams

of growing up, learning, working, gaining
a manly stomach like my dad and Jackie Gleason.

My folks and I were happy at the counter
as we watched the patties flip, the cheese

slapped upon the burgers
rounded out with oh so good dessert,

before we hurried home
for the Poor Soul, Reginald,

the June Taylor Dancers,
Crazy Guggenheim

breaking into song for Jackie Gleason,
big as I am now.

A Buddhist Idea for Lent

The Buddhist concept of attachment has for a long time been helpful to me, especially the idea that we become attached to certain expectations, hopes, and dreams, and images of who we are or should be. (A while back I purchased but still haven’t read Paul F. Knitter’s book, Without Buddha I Could Not Be a Christian, published by Oneworld, 2009.)

For instance, all of us experience disappointment. To think of one example, at one point in my life I was recruited to serve in a local organization, and I was flattered and thrilled by the invitation. I waited and waited and finally the opportunity petered out.

This upset me, but I asked myself why. Other opportunities had meanwhile presented themselves and I was very happy (probably happier) making a difference via those areas of service. Was my ego hurt by the fact that the first opportunity didn't work out? Yes---but who cares? I needed to feel less sensitive and less prone to root my sense of inner well-being to temporary expectations.

We do this kind of thing to ourselves. We may not be egotistical people in the sense of feeling superior to others, but we become sad if we’re not noticed or called upon or needed, all of which points to a certain kind of ego-centeredness. Buddhism speaks to the suffering that we cause ourselves when the self is fragile or needful of being bolstered.

The grieving process is a deeper expression of acceptance of the way things are. Our sense of self is tied in with people (and pets) whom we love---which is as it should be, because we’re human in our loving relationships with one another. But then our loved one is gone, our situation has changed, and it may take us a long time to “process” that change. To base our well-being on the way things have been causes suffering for us. But the process is good to engage in a healthy way.

You might think, why use a concept like attachment when one can simply trust God to be with us and to guide us (Prov. 3:5-6, for instance)? I do trust God (very imperfectly, but persistently). But the idea of attachment gives me a certain way to look at trusting God. After all, we can say we trust God but we still remain in disappointment because we had, indeed, trusted God and things turned out differently. Then we suffer a double distress: both the situation and God let us down!

As a time of introspection and repentance/reorientation, Lent can be an excellent time to think about ways we trust God and to adopt mental techniques to help. Picturing my sense of self “unattaching” from expectations and anticipations helps me calm my mind, feel happy about my life (which really is awesome), and look forward to God’s adventures without second-guessing what God is up to.

(A post from 2014)

Thank You, Marjorie Main!

Actress Marjorie Main, known for several roles including the "Ma and Pa Kettle" movies, was born on this day in 1890! My father served in the 96th Infantry Division, which chose Main as their pin-up girl because of her tough persona. Surprised at the honor--she wasn't a typical pin-up actress like Betty Grable--she supported the troops and greeted them when they returned home: http://www.rememberthedeadeyes.com/AnswersMarjorieMain.html

from: https://waldina.com/2018/02/24/
happy-128th-birthday-marjorie-main/

Faure's "Pavane"

When I was in divinity school, resting in my dorm room in the afternoon, I was listening to a record that I'd just purchased: Faure's "Requiem," with the King's College Choir Of Cambridge conducted by David Willcocks (Seraphim S 60096). The Requiem's last movement, "In Paradisum," was followed by another piece, by Faure, "Pavane," that filled out Side 2.

I had never heard this music before, and purchased the LP on a friend's recommendation. Yet, I felt like I already knew the "Pavane" very well. But from where? It was a lovely moment of both discovery and familiarity.

A Facebook friend posted this lovely rendition: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=pOXZy_41FWs&feature=youtu.be&t=7&fbclid=IwAR1nAzxyqa3YVlVd_ihta1kpHczoJuOBj4GhLxICP77zUNf_K6slz_vd0Fc

"Desert Transport"

A few months ago I heard this wonderful piece on public radio. Composer Mason Bates explained that he wanted to depict musically the Arizona landscape but also to incorporate the helicopter in which they flew.  (See these program notes: https://www.masonbates.com/desert-transport/)

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=-xho8wvQwpg

My Sunday afternoon music today.

Happy Birthday, Rashi

French rabbi Rashi (Shlomo Yitzchaki), noted for his influential commentaries on the Tanakh and Talmud that are still central for Jewish study, was born on this day (February 22) in 1040. Here is a good article about his work and legacy.

https://www.myjewishlearning.com/article/who-was-rashi/

"Where Might Trumpism Take Us?"

Here's an interesting NYT op-ed piece, in which author Jamelle Bouie asks us to look for analogies of authoritarianism within American history.

https://www.nytimes.com/2020/02/21/opinion/trump-authoritarian-jim-crow.html?smid=nytcore-ios-share&fbclid=IwAR3pbKoRgddvmQPTxAm7Pll2ApU34pPh-gKJRpzL3DDWXtiyL1etDPYFnCg

"Slavery and the Natural World"

I get the newsletter of Rebecca Romney, who was the rare book expert on the show "Pawn Stars." She posted about this research project from several years ago, that makes connections among the natural history, products from nature, and the trans-Atlantic slave trade. This looks like a lot of interesting history.

https://www.nhm.ac.uk/discover/slavery-and-the-natural-world.html?fbclid=IwAR0ZAp0s8BUoJr1Sx32kwCstpfoI5Xg2K_wt50YU1RqAVVQvltFq7gKjRCU

Beethoven 250: Symphonies

As I explained in the January 24, 2020 post, I purchased the Naxos collection of Beethoven's complete works, which I plan to listen to this year, leading up to Beethoven's 250th birthday on December 16.

This past week, I listened to the rest of the symphonies.

Symphony No. 3, in E flat major, op. 55, the “Eroica” (1804)
Symphony No. 4, in B flat major, op. 60 (1806)
Symphony No. 5, in C minor, op. 67 (1807)
Symphony No. 6, in F major, op. 68, the "Pastoral" (1808)
Symphony No. 7, in A major, op. 92 (1811-1812)
Symphony No. 8, in F major, op. 93 (1812)
Symphony No. 9, in D minor, op. 125, the "Choral" (1822-1825)

Beethoven liked his #8, "my little symphony in F." The Pastoral is a larger symphony in F. But I need to go back and listen to 4 and 8 again, since they tend to be overshadowed by the others--in my own affections, too.

Here is a nice, short guide to the symphonies: https://www.classicfm.com/composers/beethoven/guides/beethovens-symphonies-where-start/

We Need to Talk

We Need to Talk
Ephesians 4:1-6, 15b

I teach a course at Webster U called Contemporary Moral Problems. As you can imagine, the topics can be controversial. I love guiding the students through difficult topics, where the disagreements can be substantial. I think I’m good at leading those discussions. Although I don’t like going to meetings, I enjoy leading them and working on consensus if I’m the chair.

Having difficult personal conversations, though, is a different thing. In those cases, I dislike confrontation, and I don’t always trust my own feelings to accurately assess what’s going on. Even as we speak, I need to have a painful conversation with someone (not family, not church), and I’d rather have a root canal.

This passage from Ephesians is a favorite concerning the essential interconnectedness that’s true of the church. Paul speaks of the traits of patience, gentleness, humility, peace, unity, and love that can characterize our relationships with others.

This is not easy. Different kinds of personalities push our buttons. Some people aren’t easy to get along with. Plus, it’s easy to get our feelings hurt in church settings, because we’re emotionally vulnerable in church, where we seek love, acceptance, and support.

In her Sunday sermon, Pastor Linda made an excellent point in discussing Joseph and his brothers. Why was it “easier” for the brothers to violently betray their brother—and then concoct an elaborate lie about his fate—than to talk to father Jacob about their feelings of jealousy? But that’s so human: many of us carry resentment and bitterness for years, instead of placing ourselves in the vulnerable position of an honest conversation. Fear of rejection, fear of seeming foolish, the perverse pleasure of mentally demonizing those who offended us: these and similar feelings get in the way.

Paul has a different vision. We really are united in Christ and the Spirit---God creates that relationship, it’s not something that we create. But we can step up and do the hard work of displaying that unity in the way we treat one another. Paul’s remark about being a prisoner for the Lord isn’t just a side comment. He makes a subtle point that his literal chains are analogous to the “bonds of peace” (vs. 3) that connect us.

A verse that complements this Ephesians passage is Romans 15:7, “Accept [or “welcome”] one another, then, just as Christ accepted you, in order to bring praise to God” (NIV). To paraphrase: as much as I feel grateful and relieved for Christ’s acceptance of me and all my sins and flaws, then I can welcome others (with their own sins and flaws) as Christ’s beloved, too.

(My February contribution to the series of weekly devotions at our church.)

A Great Poetry Notification!

This came up on my Facebook page this morning. I'm so grateful for this acceptance and encouragement!  Finishing Line Press published this manuscript and three more, and a full-length collection will be published later this year. finishinglinepress.com