Closing Prayer for the Kingdom (The Fifteenth Station of the Cross)

< Fourteenth Station of the Cross

Oh Lord, you taught us to resist Empire by living with confidence in the reign of God, but our hearts are turned by fair winds and vain promises. Sometimes we are crushed under the heels of Empire, and sometimes we aid in Empire’s oppression, whether by active participation or by silent assent. We are the ones who shout “Hosanna!” and we are the ones who cry, “Crucify him!”

In the dark illumination of the Via Dolorosa, we have seen ourselves. We have seen ourselves capitulating to Empire; we have seen ourselves facing sorrow and death. We have also seen Christ among the living and the dying. We have walked the path that separates the Way of Life from the way of death.

In the darkness that is Good Friday, we stop to experience the absence of your light. We dwell in the moment of death and non-being as though the light has gone out. It is only by knowing the magnitude of loss and the depth of sorrow that we can truly honor the Way of Life and the hope of God's reign in our hearts.

You taught us in Matthew 25 that a nation is to be judged not by victories over its enemies, but by how it treats the weakest within its borders. May we therefore set out to care for the sick, give purpose and rehabilitation to the prisoners, provide for the hungry, and make a way for the destitute that in doing so we may all share in the bounty and gladness of the reign of God. Teach us also to care for the good earth. May we come to see all creatures that dwell within this fragile home as integral parts of your wondrous creation. 

May we live with your confidence in the reign of God, even in the face of hardship and death.           
                                                                                                                                                                                     ~ CK

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                         From The Book of Common Prayer:

                         (just prior to the consecration of the bread and wine at the Lord’s Table)

Lord God of our Fathers: God of Abraham, Isaac, and

Jacob; God and Father of our Lord Jesus Christ: Open our

eyes to see your hand at work in the world about us. Deliver

us from the presumption of coming to this Table for solace

only, and not for strength; for pardon only, and not for

renewal. Let the grace of this Holy Communion make us one

body, one spirit in Christ, that we may worthily serve the

world in his name.

Risen Lord, be known to us in the breaking of the Bread.

                                                                ( Eucharistic Prayer C)

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Note: For a meditation on Holy Week beginning with Holy Thursday, see Paschal Triduum: A Personal Journey

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Lenten Prayers: Prayer for the Soul

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Photo: Cana lily bud by Charles Kinnaird



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Lenten Prayers: Prayer for the City

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Photo: The Lyric and Alabama Theaters at night, downtown Birmingham, Alabama
Credit: Charles Kinnaird

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A Liturgical Reset Button

Last Sunday I visited my friends at Grace Episcopal Church in Woodlawn on Birmingham’s northeastern side. It is an old  part of town that is trying to revitalize, and Grace has long been a help to those in need as well as a witness to the Anglo-Catholic liturgy.

I like to visit there to offer part of my tithe to the work they are doing on the streets, and I also enjoy the liturgy, especially during Advent. On that second Sunday of Advent, the liturgy provided me with an important “reset.” Don’t we all need a reset button from time to time?

My reset came by way of the Prayers of the People. One of the things I like about the Book of Common Prayer is that the prayers offer a collective wisdom of what kinds of things we ought to pray for. In shaping our corporate prayer, we are also provided guidance on what things are important and how we should live our lives to help improve the chances that our prayerful intentions may be met.

I came to worship that day with concern over the state of our nation’s political mood. The selected prayers for that day were from the Prayers of the People, Form IV. The passages that resonated with me and helped me to bring some quiet to my soul were these:

Guide the people of this land, and of all the nations, in the
ways of justice and peace; that we may honor one another
and serve the common good.

Give us all a reverence for the earth as your own creation,
that we may use its resources rightly in the service of others
and to your honor and glory.

I took comfort that I could join with so many others in that prayer to honor the common good and to reverence the environment. I also took comfort that these words from the 1979 Book of Common Prayer perhaps will seep into the nation’s conscience. I found hope that there is this continued witness to how we should order our lives.

The next passage brought our prayers to a more personal level:

Bless all whose lives are closely linked with ours, and grant
that we may serve Christ in them, and love one another as he
loves us.

Lord, in your mercy
Hear our prayer

O Lord in your mercy, hear our prayer and guide my steps.

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Creativity and Living the Metaphor

{The following essay was first published in November of 2018 under the title, "On Spiritual Practice, Poetry, and the Inadequacy of Language"


I am currently reading one of the most exciting books I have read in a long time, Sophia: The Hidden Christ of Thomas Merton  by Christopher Pramuk. I found out about the book while I was reading Merton's poem, "Hagia Sophia." The book touches upon many of my own interests. I could try to tell you about it but instead I will refer you to a review of the book by Catholic priest and peace/environmental advocate, John Dear in an article for the National Catholic Reporter, "Living our theology with Merton's feminine image of God." 

The Witness of Abraham Heschel

I recently read a passage in Sophia: The Hidden Christ of Thomas Merton in which the author is quoting Rabbi Abraham Heschel. I found Heschel’s words to ring true from my experience as they may to some of you who are involved in a spiritual practice. The writing is dated in that he uses “man” where current writers would use “humans,” or “humanity,” but he captures very well the moments in prayer when words fail to convey experience. While that concept is nothing new, Heschel takes that experience itself, that state which the spiritual practitioner finds unutterable, and reveals how it can further nurture our being as “the nursery of our soul, the cradle of all our ideas.” 

“In no other act does man experience so often the disparity between the desire for expression and the means of expression as in prayer. The inadequacy of the means at our disposal appears so tangible, so tragic, that one feels it a grace to be able to give oneself up to music, to a tone, to a song, to a chant. The wave of a song carries the soul to heights which utterable meanings can never reach. Such abandonment is no escape, nor an act of being unfaithful to the mind. For the world of unutterable meanings is the nursery of the soul, the cradle of all our ideas. It is not an escape but a return to one’s origins.

“What the word can no longer yield, man achieves through the fullness of his powerlessness. The deeper the need in which one is placed through this powerlessness, the more does man reveal himself in his essence, and himself becomes expression. Prayer is more than communication, and man is more than the word. Should we feel ashamed by our inability to utter what we bear in our hearts? God loves what is left over at the bottom of the heart and cannot be expressed in words…The unutterable surplus of what we feel, the sentiments that we are unable to put into words are our payment in kind to God.”

(From Man’s Quest for God by Abraham Heschel)

The Witness of John Keats 

Along a parallel vein, and somewhat related, I serendipitously came across an essay that speaks of how the poetic imagination can attempt to convey those higher aspects of reality that might otherwise defy description due to the inadequacy of language. The article, “John Keats and the Need for a New Renaissance in Poetry,” addresses trends in poetry and brings to the forefront the difference in Keats’ approach to poetry compared to other Romantic poets such as William Wordsworth.

Wordsworth, for example, was intent upon describing the world that is known through the five senses. He admittedly avoided the abstract. His purpose was to bring the reader into an experience of the beauty of the world, to allow a full appreciation of the experience of being alive. Keats, on the other hand, saw how inadequate mere descriptions of the physical world are, no matter how beautiful the words, in conveying an experience of higher awareness.

Keats’ contribution to poetry was the creative use of metaphor to bring the reader close to those ineffable moments of awareness – those incidents in which we seem to know that something absolutely marvelous is happening around us and to us and with us. He truly brought English poetry to a higher level in his day.

“John Keats and the Need for a New Renaissance in Poetry,” is calling upon modern poets to take a cue from Keats rather than focusing on mere descriptions of life as it is lived. It speaks to the use of language, the limits of language, and how the creative use of language can point the reader to what would otherwise be considered inexpressible higher aspects of reality.

Near the end of the article we find the following passage:

“The most profound creativity emerges from an intense and impassioned feeling that longs to communicate something located deep within one’s soul. It is beyond anything that can be grasped directly through the senses. The process of digging deep into one’s soul, and struggling to bring these passions into this world, to 'name' them, is arguably one of the most difficult challenges any mortal can face. It also parallels the process of discovery any great scientist must go through in order to develop a hypothesis, which the universe will accept.

“For Keats, the imagination was not the mere fancy of a Romantic, and the material world of sense perception was not the defining basis of his poetry. Rather than being concerned with a precise description of the 'real' world, the agency of the creative imagination was the hallowed realm in which a greater Truth about the nature of man and the universe could be captured…”

For those interested in reading this fascinating essay in full, you can find it at https://www.thechainedmuse.com/single-post/2018/10/29/John-Keats-and-the-Need-for-a-New-Renaissance-in-Poetry

Living the Metaphor

If I may make one more attempt to tie these two pieces of writing together, what Heschel is doing in his passage on prayer is that he is making the experience itself a metaphor by which we can lay hold of an intangible experience so that it becomes a means for a higher purpose. Keats demonstrates how the use of metaphor can allow us to find higher meaning in our everyday experience.

In Sophia, Pramuk is using the writings of rabbinical scholar and poet Abraham Heschel, along with the work of poet and Anglican priest John Henry Newman*, to illustrate the path taken by Thomas Merton who was a Trappist monk, scholar, and poet. He explains that these spiritual practitioners, unlike the typical western theologians, make use of poetics to describe a relational spirituality. Pramuk speaks of how poets have made use of metaphor to expand the efficacy of language and thus demonstrates how theology, when taking the poetic approach, can more effectively speak to the ineffable experience.

I would add that Heschel has shown us how the person who gives oneself over to the practice of prayer/meditation can actually become the metaphor that enlightens and enlivens.


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*John Henry Newman was an Anglican priest who later became a Catholic priest and cardinal. In his earlier days as an Anglican priest, he was one of the leaders of the Oxford Movement which sought to restore Catholic liturgy and ritual to the Church of England. Those efforts are still seen today in Anglo-Catholic parishes. He became one of the most important theologians of the 19th century, but may be best remembered by students of literature for his role as poet. 



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Form and Freedom in Prayer

Last week I wrote about some of my experiences with liturgical prayer. Today's essay in which I talk about public and private prayer was originally posted in 2014. Structured forms for prayer can lead to greater freedom and creativity when one understands the limits of those forms, as in Jesus' words, "The Sabbath was made for humankind, not humankind for the Sabbath."

Photo: "Evolution, Cosmos, and Prayer," by Charles Kinnaird

"Almighty God, to you all hearts are open, all desires known, and from you no secrets are hid: Cleanse the thoughts of our hearts by the inspiration of your Holy Spirit, that we may perfectly love you, and worthily magnify your holy Name; through Christ our Lord. Amen."                                                        

The collect (opening prayer) quoted above is one of my favorite prayers from The Book of Common Prayer for the Episcopal Church. The beauty of the prayer is that it welcomes an openness before God. I grew up among Southern Baptists who valued spontaneous impromptu prayers. The good thing about spontaneous prayer is that it encourages a conversational attitude that assumes God’s immediate proximity. The downside of spontaneous prayer is that there is often very little depth and a very narrow range of things expressed in prayer. 

Spontaneous prayers are often a quick “Thank you God for bringing us together, thank you for this lovely day, lead us and guide us, bring healing to my body and spirit, watch over our loved ones, etc.” Sometimes a spontaneous prayer will be one of thanksgiving and praise; often it will be a plea for help. All of these things are elements that belong in the realm of prayer but it is quite easy to remain very superficial and perfunctory with these types of prayers. One can go for years hearing very little variation from a handful of prayers. 

I have heard many fervent spontaneous prayers, and have participated in many such prayers, but I have also learned two other approaches that revolutionized my concept of what happens in prayer. Public liturgical prayer and personal prayer with the Rosary have added new dimensions to my devotional practices.                                                                                                                      

Public Prayer

In my spiritual pilgrimage, I moved on to explore modes of prayer found in Episcopal and Catholic traditions. My first introduction to liturgical worship was at an Anglo-Catholic parish in the Episcopal Church. When I first arrived, my attitude was that I would learn a new language for worship. I soon realized that the act of coming together for corporate prayer broadened my concept of prayer. My prayerful thoughts were turned toward the community and the world, but in specific details that caused me to examine my own life.

I heard prayers for creation, for our wise use of resources, and for justice and equity. I heard prayers for leaders, calling them by their first names (which forced me to see them as vulnerable people in need of prayer, regardless of political issues). I was guided to pray for things I might not have thought of on my own, but all were matters that were vital. Moreover, the process of praying helped me to let go of petty differences and to examine what I was doing to help bring about a more just and equitable world.  

Private Prayer

Another thing that has affected my prayer life for the better is the Rosary. The basic concept of the Rosary is to use a string of beads to count prayers as they are said so that you pray one “Our Father” (the Lord’s Prayer) and ten “Hail Marys” in a series of five “decades,” or five repetitions of ten prayers focused on the Blessed Mother, each cycle separated by the Our Father. It is traditional to begin by reciting the Apostle’s Creed. There is also a series of meditations from the life of Christ called “mysteries” that are attached to the use of the Rosary*.

As I began to learn the Rosary, however, I found it more helpful to focus on the repetitive prayers. I thought at first that I would come back and practice meditating on the mysteries, but the simple use of the Hail Mary and the Our Father were so effective in bringing about a meditative state, I never did get back to contemplating the mysteries or reciting the creed. I kept it at a basic stripped-down form. Years later I would hear Franciscan Priest Richard Rohr affirm my own intuitive take on the Rosary in a recorded talk he gave on “Emotional Sobriety.” He said that the Rosary had the potential for meditative practice, but that it had become so cluttered with other things that its original purpose had been crowded out. I was glad to receive affirmation that my pared-down Rosary practice was not a neglecting of the gift but rather a true doorway to spiritual practice.

Structure Giving Rise to Freedom

The beauty of formally structured liturgical prayer is that it instructs me in things to pray about and it proceeds regardless of whether or not I feel like praying. The beauty of the Rosary is that it can focus me in quiet meditation even when I do not know what to pray or how to pray in a given circumstance. I also think that the interplay between masculine and feminine is a psychologically healthy practice to bring to meditation and prayer.                                          

I have found a freedom and renewed creativity in my spiritual practice through the structured forms of liturgical prayer and the Rosary. They both act as a center, a home base to which I can return. The key is to remember what Jesus said about spiritual structures: “The Sabbath was made for humankind, not humankind for the Sabbath.” (Mark 2:27, NRSV) If we can remember that spiritual tools are to liberate us, not to enslave us to form, then we can hold the form lightly enough to benefit from it without being bound by it.             

*For information about praying the Rosary, the Dominican Fathers have a good resource at http://www.rosary-center.org/howto.htm



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Why Pray?

Prayer can take many forms. There is the urgent plea for help or guidance, there is the quiet prayer of thanks whispered at day’s end or when family is gathered. There are prayers of confession, prayers of praise and adoration. Private prayers and public prayers may take the form of petition, praise or gratitude.

Some will ask, why pray? Is there really a God to pray to, or if there is, why do we imagine that God is listening? Does prayer make a difference in what happens in our lives and in the world?

For me, it is important to gather with others in prayer. I do not imagine that I am bringing my case before God in an attempt to change the mind of the divine or to coerce supernatural intervention. Participating in the public prayers of the church, however, is a way for me to bring myself into a deeper consciousness of what God’s own concerns may be for the human community in which I live. 

Mending Battered Sails

I discovered liturgical prayer at a time when I had been battered by circumstances and unsure of which way to turn. Ironically, it was religious life that had left me battered. I was a graduate of Golden Gate Baptist Seminary and had just completed a two-year missionary assignment teaching English at Hong Kong Baptist College.

During my entire four years of college and three years of seminary, my Southern Baptist denomination had been enduring its own “culture war” which some of my colleagues refer to as “the religious wars.” Those with a conservative fundamentalist orientation within the Southern Baptist Convention were highly displeased with the state of higher education, especially of what they viewed as liberal trends in seminary education.

By the time I returned to the States after two years overseas, the fundamentalists had successfully wrested control of the denomination. I found a church where I no longer had any hopes of making a spiritual home. Leaving meant severing possibilities of serving in the profession in which I had been trained, but staying would have created far too much dissonance. Since I had become acquainted with an Anglican priest in Hong Kong who had once been a Baptist, I decided to explore the Episcopal Church to see if there were any possibilities for me there.

A New Language

I discovered in the small Anglo-Catholic Episcopal parish of St. Andrew’s in Birmingham an ancient liturgy that opened up a new world of faith for me. Having been raised in a non-liturgical tradition, I saw the ancient liturgy of the church as a new language for worship. In order to learn all that I could, I committed myself to the liturgical life of the Church. I made the conscious decision to become a learner. I was committed to learn a new language of worship and to proceed as if I did not even know how to pray.

In the months that followed, I began to find some healing and inner re-structuring as I allowed myself to be shaped and guided by the liturgical prayers of the church. I would say that I found a spiritual formation by way of the 1979 Book of Common Prayer. The beautiful prayers I heard and took part in throughout the liturgical year increased my awareness of God’s own concern for those who struggle, those who suffer, and those who seek justice.

I heard collects invoke the presence of God, as in “Almighty God, to you all hearts are open, all desires known and from you no secrets are hid.” Ancient prayers such as Phos Hilaron (O Gracious Light) became new and rich for me. When I sang the Gloria and the Sanctus with the congregation during the Sunday liturgy, I was praying ancient prayers that connected me with that “great cloud of witnesses” who have stood to say those words of praise for hundreds of years (and who continue to say them in all of the liturgical congregations today). 

During the prayers of the church, I was brought with the community into awareness of those in trouble or in prison. My heart was drawn to people who suffer in body, mind or spirit. I was reminded in the context of prayer to reverence the earth and to care for it. I became aware of the holy task of those who fight for justice, freedom, and peace. All of this happened within the community at prayer.

Throughout the liturgical cycle of the year, there were seasons of joy and seasons of sadness; times for repentance and times of affirmation. There were days of fasting and days of feasting. Community prayers were there in the midst of worship to guide us in our grieving, in our waiting, and in our moments of celebration.

Why do we pray? I learned that when I allowed the liturgy to pull me away from my limited frame of reference, I came into a larger awareness of what the presence of God means. I gained further insight into what the reign of God entails. My prayer life was expanded. By participating with the praying community, concerns I might not have considered were brought to mind. Even the cosmic presence of Christ as sustainer of the world became a cause for celebration. 

Praying with Grace

Last Sunday when I visited my friends at Grace Episcopal Church, I was reminded once again of why we pray. During the Prayers of the People, the worshiping community there made use of some intercessions from The Church of England’s Common Worship: Times and Seasons. In the Episcopal Church, there are six basic forms in the prayer book to select from for the Prayers of the People during the liturgy. Using a different form was an enriching change, but the beauty and the content of the prayer was a wonderful illustration of how prayer can draw us into an awareness of how we are called to participate in doing the things that God does. 
 
Here are the prayers as prayed at Grace last Sunday:

The Prayers of the People

Upon the rich earth send a blessing, O Lord.

Let the earth be fruitful

and its resources be hallowed.

we ask you to hear us, good Lord.

Prosper the work of our hands;

may all find dignity and just reward in their work;

free the exploited and oppressed.

we ask you to hear us, good Lord.

Guide us into a sustainable future,

and give us the will to share the fruits of the world.

we ask you to hear us, good Lord.

Teach us to cherish the water of the earth,

and to conserve the seas, lakes and rivers.

we ask you to hear us, good Lord.

Where the earth is parched and the well has run dry;

where war brings want, and children go hungry;

where the poor cry out for bread and for justice,

give hands to care and heal, and compel us to be generous.

we ask you to hear us, good Lord.

We ask you to hear us, good Lord,

for the sake of your Son, our Savior Jesus Christ.

Amen.

(Adapted from the Church of England’s Common Worship)


When you find yourself wondering why we bother to pray in this muddled world we live in, consider how we can be enriched, encouraged, and formed by the prayers that we engage ourselves in.

                                     

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A Place of Gratitude

For my first post of the new year, here is a repeat essay, "On Poetry, Prayer, and Gratitude." A version of it was first in April of 2011. Looking to the year ahead, we will always be well served by finding that place of gratitude.

I mentioned in one of my one of my past blog entries that my own experiences of mystery and wonder led me first to poetry then to theology, and later back to poetry. I think poetry is a more primary response.  Theology, like philosophy and psychology are secondary responses in that they require categories, definitions, rules, and analyses.

With poetry, one can find genuine reflections on life as it is lived as well as authentic expressions of the soul. Billy Collins, U.S. poet laureate from 2001 to 2003, says that every poem is about death and gratitude. The awareness of death heightens the beauty of the world as we see it. As one who attempts to write poetry, I heartily agree with that notion. Poetry conveys that sense of awareness and gratitude.

Doorways to the Divine

I consider poetry to be an open canon of scripture, one that is still being written every day, but that’s just me. You have your own canon of scripture, I’m sure. Maybe you are like John Muir who saw “the scripture of nature” and marveled in the presence of nature and its author. Perhaps music is your doorway to the divine.

I must also consider the great souls, such as Dorothy Day and Mother Teresa, who made service to others their witness of God’s presence on the world. Jim Wallis (Sojourners, Washington, D.C.) and Birmingham’s own Jim Douglass (Mary’s Catholic Worker House, Ensley) are examples of people who bear witness to the divine by way of social activism. I believe the mystery of God is conveyed through words, beauty, and actions.

Responding to the Mystery

So how does prayer fit in? I was in an online blog discussion a while back in which the question was posed, “Is it okay to pray for material things?” That same week another blogger friend was writing about how he had been influenced by encounters with different faith expressions and wanted to know what others had experienced. Both of those discussions prompted me to take a look at my own attitude toward prayer and faith.

Certainly one’s concept of God will affect that person’s understanding of prayer. I am one who is enlivened by the contact with many faith expressions that we are seeing more and more as our society becomes more pluralistic. I grew up Baptist in a rural, provincial setting and that was enough for awhile. Later, I came to enjoy worship in the liturgical settings of the Episcopal and Roman Catholic churches. It was like learning a new language for worship. As with any new language, new insights arise in the learning. I have also benefitted in personal devotions by reading the works of Quakers (e.g. John Woolman, Rufus Jones, Elton Trueblood), Catholics (e.g. Thomas Merton, Thomas Keating, and Basil Pennington) as well as Buddhist practitioners (e.g. Jack Kornfield, Thich Nhat Hanh, and His Holiness the Dalai Lama).

From a Place of Gratitude 

For me, gratitude is one of the most enriching kinds of prayer. It immediately assumes a relationship with the divine and a trust even in uncertainty. Throughout my pilgrimage, my image of God has certainly changed, but I have never lost that sense of gratitude toward a loving ultimate force behind an ultimately friendly universe. This brings me back to Billy Collins’ statement about poetry: every poem is about death and gratitude. Every prayer, every poem, every offering of service we can make is undergirded by the awareness of our own mortality and by our gratitude for the wonder of existence.

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Photo by Charles Kinnaird: Shades Creek at Flora Johnston Park, Birmingham, Alabama



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On Spiritual Practice, Poetry, and the Inadequacy of Language

I am currently reading one of the most exciting books I have read in a long time, Sophia: The Hidden Christ of Thomas Merton  by Christopher Pramuk. I found out about the book while I was reading Merton's poem, "Hagia Sophia." The book touches upon many of my own interests. I could try to tell you about it but instead I will refer you to a review of the book by Catholic priest and peace/environmental advocate, John Dear in an article for the National Catholic Reporter, "Living our theology with Merton's feminine image of God." 

The Witness of Abraham Heschel

I recently read a passage in Sophia: The Hidden Christ of Thomas Merton in which the author is quoting Rabbi Abraham Heschel. I found Heschel’s words to ring true from my experience as they may to some of you who are involved in a spiritual practice. The writing is dated in that he uses “man” where current writers would use “humans,” or “humanity,” but he captures very well the moments in prayer when words fail to convey experience. While that concept is nothing new, Heschel takes that experience itself, that state which the spiritual practitioner finds unutterable, and reveals how it can further nurture our being as “the nursery of our soul, the cradle of all our ideas.” 

“In no other act does man experience so often the disparity between the desire for expression and the means of expression as in prayer. The inadequacy of the means at our disposal appears so tangible, so tragic, that one feels it a grace to be able to give oneself up to music, to a tone, to a song, to a chant. The wave of a song carries the soul to heights which utterable meanings can never reach. Such abandonment is no escape, nor an act of being unfaithful to the mind. For the world of unutterable meanings is the nursery of the soul, the cradle of all our ideas. It is not an escape but a return to one’s origins.

“What the word can no longer yield, man achieves through the fullness of his powerlessness. The deeper the need in which one is placed through this powerlessness, the more does man reveal himself in his essence, and himself becomes expression. Prayer is more than communication, and man is more than the word. Should we feel ashamed by our inability to utter what we bear in our hearts? God loves what is left over at the bottom of the heart and cannot be expressed in words…The unutterable surplus of what we feel, the sentiments that we are unable to put into words are our payment in kind to God.”

(From Man’s Quest for God by Abraham Heschel)

The Witness of John Keats 

Along a parallel vein, and somewhat related, I serendipitously came across an essay that speaks of how the poetic imagination can attempt to convey those higher aspects of reality that might otherwise defy description due to the inadequacy of language. The article, “John Keats and the Need for a New Renaissance in Poetry,” addresses trends in poetry and brings to the forefront the difference in Keats’ approach to poetry compared to other Romantic poets such as William Wordsworth.

Wordsworth, for example, was intent upon describing the world that is known through the five senses. He admittedly avoided the abstract. His purpose was to bring the reader into an experience of the beauty of the world, to allow a full appreciation of the experience of being alive. Keats, on the other hand, saw how inadequate mere descriptions of the physical world are, no matter how beautiful the words, in conveying an experience of higher awareness.

Keats’ contribution to poetry was the creative use of metaphor to bring the reader close to those ineffable moments of awareness – those incidents in which we seem to know that something absolutely marvelous is happening around us and to us and with us. He truly brought English poetry to a higher level in his day.

“John Keats and the Need for a New Renaissance in Poetry,” is calling upon modern poets to take a cue from Keats rather than focusing on mere descriptions of life as it is lived. It speaks to the use of language, the limits of language, and how the creative use of language can point the reader to what would otherwise be considered inexpressible higher aspects of reality.

Near the end of the article we find the following passage:

“The most profound creativity emerges from an intense and impassioned feeling that longs to communicate something located deep within one’s soul. It is beyond anything that can be grasped directly through the senses. The process of digging deep into one’s soul, and struggling to bring these passions into this world, to 'name' them, is arguably one of the most difficult challenges any mortal can face. It also parallels the process of discovery any great scientist must go through in order to develop a hypothesis, which the universe will accept.

“For Keats, the imagination was not the mere fancy of a Romantic, and the material world of sense perception was not the defining basis of his poetry. Rather than being concerned with a precise description of the 'real' world, the agency of the creative imagination was the hallowed realm in which a greater Truth about the nature of man and the universe could be captured…”

For those interested in reading this fascinating essay in full, you can find it at https://www.thechainedmuse.com/single-post/2018/10/29/John-Keats-and-the-Need-for-a-New-Renaissance-in-Poetry

Living the Metaphor

If I may make one more attempt to tie these two pieces of writing together, what Heschel is doing in his passage on prayer is that he is making the experience itself a metaphor by which we can lay hold of an intangible experience so that it becomes a means for a higher purpose. Keats demonstrates how the use of metaphor can allow us to find higher meaning in our everyday experience.

In Sophia, Pramuk is using the writings of rabbinical scholar and poet Abraham Heschel, along with the work of poet and Anglican priest John Henry Newman*, to illustrate the path taken by Thomas Merton who was a Trappist monk, scholar, and poet. He explains that these spiritual practitioners, unlike the typical western theologians, make use of poetics to describe a relational spirituality. Pramuk speaks of how poets have made use of metaphor to expand the efficacy of language and thus demonstrates how theology, when taking the poetic approach, can more effectively speak to the ineffable experience.

I would add that Heschel has shown us how the person who gives oneself over to the practice of prayer/meditation can actually become the metaphor that enlightens and enlivens.


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*John Henry Newman was an Anglican priest who later became a Catholic priest and cardinal. In his earlier days as an Anglican priest, he was one of the leaders of the Oxford Movement which sought to restore Catholic liturgy and ritual to the Church of England. Those efforts are still seen today in Anglo-Catholic parishes. He became one of the most important theologians of the 19th century, but may be best remembered by students of literature for his role as poet. 



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Grace in a Time of Hate

A side street view of Grace Episcopal Church

Some of us have been distressed by the season of hate that seems to have taken hold in the U.S. Earlier this month, the presence of white supremacy groups marching on Charlottesville to protest the town’s decision to move a statue of Robert E. Lee was disturbing to many. As a Southerner who seeks to live a Christian life, I was particularly distressed to see how so many white Christians could not bring themselves to denounce white supremacists and the hate speech they promote. Southern Evangelicals have been especially shameful, in my opinion, in refusing to call out white supremacy, and refusing to hold a president accountable for his blatant disregard for moral values and democratic ideals. 

The torches, the swastikas, the chants of "Blood and Soil," and "Jews will not replace us" were so out of place for the America I thought we should be living in by now. At the same time, so few white Christians were willing to speak out; so many conservative politicians stood silent, offering no opposition to the words and actions of hate.

Southern Confession

I will tell you a secret. I am “southern born and southern bred,” having grown up in Alabama. We have a state rich in natural beauty, but also steeped in racial prejudice. Here is my secret: I have been assuming all of my adult life that the rest of the country would help my state redeem itself. When I saw the success of the civil rights movement along with the advances made in the U.S. to bring about equity and justice, I thought that my home state would eventually realize its errors. I thought we would have to mend our ways as we came to realize the responsibility that comes with being part of “one nation, under God, indivisible with liberty and justice for all.”

I thought a just nation would bring my state in line so that humanity would flower and prejudice would subside. As I have looked out at our country over the past several months, I fear that Alabama has had more of an influence on the rest of the nation than the nation has had on Alabama. The fear, hatred, prejudice and violence that I thought would subside in my state, have instead spread across the country.  We seem to have dispensed with the guardrails of common decency in our public discourse.


Is This the New Normal?

So now you see why recent events have been demoralizing for me.

I know that not everyone is turning a blind eye to white supremacy and hatred. I know that last November a little over half the country voted against a right-wing demagogue. I know that many people at the time found his bigotry and sexism beyond the pale. Yet the fear is that this “beyond the pale” bigotry is in danger of becoming the new normal. Some days, it can all seem overwhelming.

By the end of last week, I felt the need to spend some time in prayer in light of what I saw as the state of our nation. Though I have my own faith community, I have also visited other churches in town. Having been to Grace Episcopal Church on a number of occasions, I felt that this would be the most beneficial church for me to visit. I knew that because of the prayers they pray, the music they sing, and the work they do on the city streets, this would likely be the place for me to find some respite in light of distressing national news. I hoped that it would be a place for me to settle my mind and spirit; a place to pray and contemplate; a place to hear a word of hope and encouragement.

Grace Notes

On Sunday morning, I headed over to Grace Church. I was not disappointed. The Anglo-Catholic liturgy, music, and prayers provided the space to settle. The homily, delivered by the Rev. Robyn Arnold, gave acknowledgement to the political distress that I felt. She stated as she began her Sunday message that her parishioners understood that she seldom spoke politically from the pulpit. Nevertheless, she felt the need to address the events of the past week. Because she spoke from the heart to the heart, I found her message to be more pastoral than political. 

I left with an encouragement that I can carry on and perhaps even do this hard thing that may be called for in the days ahead. Moreover, I was reminded that we can be faithful witnesses even in the small things we do right where we are and that can make a real difference.

I jotted down a few sermon notes on the service leaflet. In the margin beside the parish prayer requests there was enough space to write . Here is what I walked away with from the homily:

 
Remember who you are.  You are created by God and made in God's image.

Realize that anger  leads to hate and that hate will eat you up on the inside. It is possible to “be angry and sin not,” so take care not to let hate take control.

In the Gospel reading for the day, Jesus said that “it is not what goes into the mouth that defiles a person, but it is what comes out of the mouth that defiles." (Matthew 15:11)

Bishop Desmond Tutu said, “Do your little bit of good where you are; it's those little bits of good put together that overwhelm the world.”

We must remember that God is love and therefore trust in God’s love.

We must respond to hatred and injustice, but that response will differ with different people: some will respond publicly to oppose injustice, hate, and greed; others will respond more quietly to do small things in love right where they are.

We are to be Christ in the world at every opportunity.

We are called to show the peace of Christ in our words and in the work of our hands.

Benediction

The other thing I like about attending Grace Episcopal Church is that as I drive back home, I can listen to “A Writer’s Almanac” on NPR. I get to hear Garrison Keillor tell about literary milestones for this day in history and then share a poem. On this day, the words he always closes with were a particularly appropriate benediction:

“Be well, do good work, and keep in touch.”

And then the road home, to carry on tomorrow.

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Photo taken from the website for Grace Episcopal Church


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Closing Prayer for the Kingdom (The Fifteenth Station of the Cross)

< Fourteenth Station of the Cross

Oh Lord, you taught us to resist Empire by living with confidence in the reign of God, but our hearts are turned by fair winds and vain promises. Sometimes we are crushed under the heels of Empire, and sometimes we aid in Empire’s oppression, whether by active participation or by silent assent. We are the ones who shout “Hosanna!” and we are the ones who cry, “Crucify him!”

In the dark illumination of the Via Dolorosa, we have seen ourselves. We have seen ourselves capitulating to Empire; we have seen ourselves facing sorrow and death. We have also seen Christ among the living and the dying. We have walked the path that separates the Way of Life from the way of death.

In the darkness that is Good Friday, we stop to experience the absence of your light. We dwell in the moment of death and non-being as though the light has gone out. It is only by knowing the magnitude of loss and the depth of sorrow that we can truly honor the Way of Life and the hope of God's reign in our hearts.

You taught us in Matthew 25 that a nation is to be judged not by victories over its enemies, but by how it treats the weakest within its borders. May we therefore set out to care for the sick, give purpose and rehabilitation to the prisoners, provide for the hungry, and make a way for the destitute that in doing so we may all share in the bounty and gladness of the reign of God. Teach us also to care for the good earth. May we come to see all creatures that dwell within this fragile home as integral parts of your wondrous creation. 

May we live with your confidence in the reign of God, even in the face of hardship and death.           
                                                                                                                                                                                     ~ CK

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                         From The Book of Common Prayer:

                         (just prior to the consecration of the bread and wine at the Lord’s Table)

Lord God of our Fathers: God of Abraham, Isaac, and

Jacob; God and Father of our Lord Jesus Christ: Open our

eyes to see your hand at work in the world about us. Deliver

us from the presumption of coming to this Table for solace

only, and not for strength; for pardon only, and not for

renewal. Let the grace of this Holy Communion make us one

body, one spirit in Christ, that we may worthily serve the

world in his name.

Risen Lord, be known to us in the breaking of the Bread.

                                                                ( Eucharistic Prayer C)

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Note: For a meditation on Holy Week beginning with Holy Thursday, see Paschal Triduum: A Personal Journey

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