A note on the sweet tooth
(butternut squash)
(licorice assortments)Hello sugar crash--
I know I'm supposed to be sitting with my desires. But I guess that's why they call for "practice, practice, and never-ending practice." Cause tonight I went just a little overboard... And I'm regretting it.
Imagine the Joy in one delicious spoonful of my creamy butternut squash. Imagine how long that warmth, that sweetness would last me.
But a bowl full, then a handful of licorice, and then, I admit, some of Bill's leftover cocoa b-day cake with chocolate morsels and strawberries on top.
After all of that, I'm feeling empty again, my gears screeched to a halt, and overflowing.
But--
With just this breath I begin again (over and over and over again).
Opening my lips to this glass of water, or to this cup of hot tea, like baptismal waters, their cleansing waters flow. And I know now --not Joy, not yet-- but emptiness. I know emptiness and I know hunger, sitting here, my desires washing (wave upon wave upon wave) through me.
Between Going and StayingBetween going and staying the day wavers,
in love with its own transparency.
The circular afternoon is now at bay
where the world in stillness rocks.
All is visible and all elusive,
all is near and can't be touched.
Paper, book, pencil, glass,
rest in the shae of their names.
Time throbbing in my temples repeats
the same unchanging syllable of blood.
The light turns the indifferent wall
into a ghostly theater of reflections.
I find myself in its blank stare.
The moment scatters. Motionless,
I stay and go: I am a pause.
Octavio Paz
Throwing Flowers Against Evil
In an interview with Derrick Jenson (Listening to the Land: Conversations about Nature, Culture, and Eros, 1995) Terry Tempest Williams describes how for several weeks during Easter season, Yaqui people reenact the passion play by throwing flowers against evil. Her description of the Easter ceremony is worth quoting in full:
"Imagine this: a slow, inexorable build-up of evil against the forces of good. The fariseos, of pharisees, are dressed in black cloaks. They are masked and they march to a slow, steady dirge, to the haunting flute music that is accompanying them. They are carrying the weight of evil that is leaning against the village. In their long black capes they forcefully make their way through the crowd of onlookers. Their goal is to literally penetrate the church. They have stolen the body of Christ, they have violated every sense of decency within the community, they have marred and destroyed the sacred.
The fariseos charge the church in full run. As they do this, they are showered with flower petals thrown against evil by the children, by the women on both sides of the human gauntlet. The young girls--five, six, seven years old--are adorned in crisp white dresses. They are the final barrier to the community's holy altar that the fariseos must penetrate. The fariseos charge again. The girls raise boughs of cottonwood and mesquite and wave them over the fariseos. The fariseos are repelled.
They retreat, take off their black capes and return to the santuario in confession. A deer- the Deer Dancer--the most peaceful of animals, covered with flower petals, dances in the middle of the fariseos. The fariseos have been 'changed to good' and are 'forgiven.' The universe is restored, health and peace have been returned to the village."
They retreat, take off their black capes and return to the santuario in confession. A deer- the Deer Dancer--the most peaceful of animals, covered with flower petals, dances in the middle of the fariseos. The fariseos have been 'changed to good' and are 'forgiven.' The universe is restored, health and peace have been returned to the village."
After reading TTW's description of the Yaqui Easter Ceremony, I plucked the petals off of my Valentine's Day bouquet and stored them in the fridge, waiting for the perfect occassion to perform my own tiny version of "throwing flowers against evil." I decided to wait for a Sunday because, as I understand it, Sundays in Lent stand outside of Lent (as a time of exile) as days of epiphany, celebrating the manifestation of God in our lives...
So, yesterday, the second Sunday of Lent, I tossed my Valentine's Day flowers onto a pile of waste stacked outside of my husband's place of work (a barrel of compressor oil, and fan motor for an old heating and air conditioning system). Obviously, my gesture here is symbolic, but I think the symbols we carry with us from generation to generation and the stories we tell have power to change, and to heal.
before
and after 
A gentle wind picked up after I distrubuted the flowers, circling them round the old engine in dance, as if to consecrate my simple gesture...On the way back to our apartment, my husband and I passed a truck, its bed filled with flowers, mourning, honouring and remembering a marine lost to the war in Iraq. Attached to the truck was a trailer filled with crosses, flowers, photographs, names of soldiers, and the American flag. The words "faith" and "hope" framed the bumper:
Week Six: Jewish and Christian Time
Two Page Essay: Compare and assess these accounts of ‘time’ in Christianity and Judaism.
In reading Raddi Greenberg’s account of the Jewish holidays, I am reminded of Elie Wiesel, a Holocaust survivor, writer, and professor and Bernie Glassman, a Jewish Zen Master from New York. A deep understanding of the “threefold present,” as identified in class, is reflected in the life and work of both Wiesel and Glassman, men deeply rooted in Jewish culture and tradition. It has been years since I read Man’s Search for Meaning but I remember that essential to Weisel’s survival was his ability to remember life before the concentration camps, to imagine his wife greeting him at the door, for example, and to bring these memories into the present, holding them safely in his thoughts of the future.
I am then reminded of Bernie Glassman’s retreats at Auschwitz, retreats including survivors, children of survivors, children of Nazis, children of German soldiers, and children of refugees. Though the Holocaust, as an event, is of the past, the pain and suffering of the Holocaust is very much present today. Through entering into relationship with this suffering, i.e. acknowledging it and giving it space, these retreats transform and heal this suffering in time. In shifting the very meaning of this suffering now, this healing penetrates all time: past, present and future.
In his chapter “The Holidays as the Jewish Way,” Rabbi Greenberg explains that the rhythm of the Jewish year leads the Jewish people through a reenactment of the Exodus with Passover, the covenant acceptance with Shavuot and a reconstruction of the exodus way with Sukkot.[1] Like the Christian (in the fullest sense of the word) experience of time, while these holidays commemorate the historical past, more importantly, they bring this historical past into the present and summon the future into the present reality.[2] Greenberg writes, “Uniquely, the human being can anticipate the future redemption and bring it closer. Thus, an event that has not yet occurred can have a profound impact on the present, an impact strong enough to overcome even powerful past conditioning”[3] and, I would add, terrifying and violent conditions in our current lives (as we see in the writings and teachings of Elie Wiesel). The Jewish year and its holidays are designed to teach us how to deal with sorrow, to remind us of suffering and death when we become too comfortable in our daily routines, and to nurture us with visions of a perfect world[4] and belief in a final, universal redemption.[5]
While there are many parallels between Christian and Jewish understanding and use of time, with the 8th day (with Christ rising the first day after the Sabbath) a new time evolves; with the resurrection of Christ, time itself is transformed.[6] According to Schmemann, the Church continued to use the Jewish festivals of Passover and Pentecost because these holidays anticipated the experience of time of which the Church was now the manifestation and fulfillment.[7] These holidays represented a period of passage into joy and salvation, into a new ‘eon’ of the Spirit[8] (as they represented passage from exile to freedom in the Old Testament). Therefore, the early celebration of Easter is the fulfillment of time itself. Namely, through Easter, meaning (Joy) is given to time, thus transforming the reality of Christian life in this world (for Christians are no longer waiting for the savior; He has come).
[1] Greenberg 25
[2] Ibid. 27
[3] Ibid.
[4] Ibid. 33
[5] Ibid. 19
[6] Schmemann 51
[7] Ibid. 56
[8] Ibid. 56-57
In reading Raddi Greenberg’s account of the Jewish holidays, I am reminded of Elie Wiesel, a Holocaust survivor, writer, and professor and Bernie Glassman, a Jewish Zen Master from New York. A deep understanding of the “threefold present,” as identified in class, is reflected in the life and work of both Wiesel and Glassman, men deeply rooted in Jewish culture and tradition. It has been years since I read Man’s Search for Meaning but I remember that essential to Weisel’s survival was his ability to remember life before the concentration camps, to imagine his wife greeting him at the door, for example, and to bring these memories into the present, holding them safely in his thoughts of the future.
I am then reminded of Bernie Glassman’s retreats at Auschwitz, retreats including survivors, children of survivors, children of Nazis, children of German soldiers, and children of refugees. Though the Holocaust, as an event, is of the past, the pain and suffering of the Holocaust is very much present today. Through entering into relationship with this suffering, i.e. acknowledging it and giving it space, these retreats transform and heal this suffering in time. In shifting the very meaning of this suffering now, this healing penetrates all time: past, present and future.
In his chapter “The Holidays as the Jewish Way,” Rabbi Greenberg explains that the rhythm of the Jewish year leads the Jewish people through a reenactment of the Exodus with Passover, the covenant acceptance with Shavuot and a reconstruction of the exodus way with Sukkot.[1] Like the Christian (in the fullest sense of the word) experience of time, while these holidays commemorate the historical past, more importantly, they bring this historical past into the present and summon the future into the present reality.[2] Greenberg writes, “Uniquely, the human being can anticipate the future redemption and bring it closer. Thus, an event that has not yet occurred can have a profound impact on the present, an impact strong enough to overcome even powerful past conditioning”[3] and, I would add, terrifying and violent conditions in our current lives (as we see in the writings and teachings of Elie Wiesel). The Jewish year and its holidays are designed to teach us how to deal with sorrow, to remind us of suffering and death when we become too comfortable in our daily routines, and to nurture us with visions of a perfect world[4] and belief in a final, universal redemption.[5]
While there are many parallels between Christian and Jewish understanding and use of time, with the 8th day (with Christ rising the first day after the Sabbath) a new time evolves; with the resurrection of Christ, time itself is transformed.[6] According to Schmemann, the Church continued to use the Jewish festivals of Passover and Pentecost because these holidays anticipated the experience of time of which the Church was now the manifestation and fulfillment.[7] These holidays represented a period of passage into joy and salvation, into a new ‘eon’ of the Spirit[8] (as they represented passage from exile to freedom in the Old Testament). Therefore, the early celebration of Easter is the fulfillment of time itself. Namely, through Easter, meaning (Joy) is given to time, thus transforming the reality of Christian life in this world (for Christians are no longer waiting for the savior; He has come).
[1] Greenberg 25
[2] Ibid. 27
[3] Ibid.
[4] Ibid. 33
[5] Ibid. 19
[6] Schmemann 51
[7] Ibid. 56
[8] Ibid. 56-57
Fasting
I'm thinking of fasting today, of sitting with my desire, of giving it space to move through me, to wash me out and to undo me.
I'm thinking of what it means to live and love with a broken heart, raw, wide open, and exposed. I'm thinking about what it might mean to be, as I am, in the world, unattached to the labels I have been given, to the deep shame of being told how I've been broken.
into fragments.
that can't be pieced back together again.
I'm wondering what it would mean to unravel these broken pieces while standing strong, breath steady and deep.
Fasting: the practice of peeling back those layers built to divide and to hold apart, to protect us from being human.
I pray to be broken open....Over and over and over again.
Ah Holy Jesus
Played at the Ash Wednesday service I attended, just piano... hauntingly beautiful. Here's a version on YouTube I enjoy:
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