RIP, Brother Spear

A brave, patient Minnesota statesman died on Saturday. An editorial in the local paper about his impact is available here.

Thank you, Senator Spear, for your courageous leadership. May flights of angels sing thee to thy rest.

Chorus, this one's for you!

Here's your lost song, I think. The artist is Israel Kamakawiwo'ole, and he was a much-loved Hawaiian musician. I think he was pretty terrific, too. :-)

Requesciat in pace

A groundbreaking woman has died. Yesterday, Del Martin died at age 87 in San Francisco.

Today, I offer prayers of thanks for her life and her spirit, which makes many aspects of my own possible. Also, I offer prayers of comfort for her wife and of 55 years and partner in activism, Phyllis Lyon.

Rest well, Del. You have earned it.

Nunc dimittis

Krister Stendahl has died.

A creative, visionary thinker and leader, a boldly spiritual, yet humble man--he was a bridge builder. He will be missed by a church and a world dearly in need of voices which remind us to look over the walls we erect around ourselves and our traditions.

Thanks for the boost, Brother Stendahl. Requesciat in pace.

Beannacht

On the day when
the weight deadens
on your shoulders
and you stumble,
may the clay dance
to balance you.
And when your eyes
freeze behind
the grey window
and the ghost of loss
gets in to you,
may a flock of colours,
indigo, red, green,
and azure blue
come to awaken in you
a meadow of delight.

When the canvas frays
in the currach of thought
and a stain of ocean
blackens beneath you,
may there come across the waters
a path of yellow moonlight
to bring you safely home.

May the nourishment of the earth be yours,
may the clarity of light be yours,
may the fluency of the ocean be yours,
may the protection of the ancestors be yours.
And so may a slow
wind work these words
of love around you,
an invisible cloak
to mind your life.

--John O'Donohue

I heard this poem recited by its author on my favorite public radio program, Speaking of Faith. Krista Tippett, the creator and host of the show, is a special talent. She truly honors her guests with her preparation for each interview; she really internalizes their work, and asks excellent, evocative questions.

This particular interview brought me out of my post-Holy-Week stupor today, with its exploration of the poetry and theology of Irish poet John O'Donohue. There are a number of absolutely gorgeous morsels in this interview, and I commend it to you (click the link above to access the program). Meanwhile, I'll lift up this one idea by quoting the interview directly:

Ms. Tippett: You wrote about time, "Possibility is the secret heart of time. On its outer service time is vulnerable to transience. In its deeper heart, time is transfiguration." I wonder how you are able to have—I don't know, I think a larger sense of time, because of—as an inheritor of—the Celtic tradition. I have this…

Mr. O'Donohue: Yeah, I think that's a bit of it, you know? That old Celtic thing, because, I mean, there is in Ireland, like, still even though it's getting consumerized so fast. There is still in the west of Ireland, where I live, a sense of time, you know? That there's time for things.

Ms. Tippett: Right.

Mr. O'Donohue: And that when God made time, He made plenty of it, and all the rest of it. And you see, I think that one of the huge difficulties in modern life is the way time has become the enemy.

Ms. Tippett: Time is a bully. We're captive to it.

Mr. O'Donohue: Totally, and I'd say seven out of every 10 people who turn up in a doctor's surgery are suffering from something stress related. Now, there are big psychological tomes written on stress. But for me, philosophically, stress is a perverted relationship to time. So that rather than being a subject of your own time, you have become its target and victim, and time has become routine. So at the end of the day, you probably haven't had a true moment for yourself. And you know, to relax in and to just be. Because, you know, the way in this country — there's all the different zones. I think there are these zones within us as well. There's surface time, which is really a rapid-fire Ferrari time.

Ms. Tippett: Yes, and over structured.

Mr. O'Donohue: Yeah, over structured, like, and stolen from you, thieved all the time. And then if you sit down, like, Dan Siegel, my friend, does this lovely meditation, you know: You imagine the surface of the ocean is all restless and then you slip down deep below the surface where it's still and where things move slower. And what I love in this regard is my old friend Meister Eckhart, 14th-century mystic.

Ms. Tippett: Right. German mystic.

Mr. O'Donohue: German mystic. And one day I read in him and he said, "There is a place in the soul—there is a place in the soul that neither time, nor space, nor no created thing can touch." And I really thought that was amazing, and if you cash it out what it means is, that in—that your identity is not equivalent to your biography. And that there is a place in you where you have never been wounded, where there's still a sureness in you, where there's a seamlessness in you, and where there is a confidence and tranquility in you. And I think the intention of prayer and spirituality and love is now and again to visit that inner kind of sanctuary.

This program was a beannacht, a blessing, to me today. I was tired and grumpy, having been a bit of a hostage to time over the last couple of weeks. And listening (twice!) led me back to my inner sanctuary. Thank you, Krista. Requesciat in pace, John.

Peace, y'all.

Syzygy

In case you're wondering, that's the word for when the sun, earth and moon lie in a straight line, as they did on Wednesday night with our beautiful lunar eclipse (shout-out to Guillermo Oyhenart, Patagonia, for the stunning photo). It's also a STUPENDOUS Scrabble word. :-)

Sometimes, things align in a way that makes a person sit up and take notice.

My good friend Robin Bragge died two years ago today. I recognize that it's easy to idealize those who have gone on ahead to join the Great Cloud of Witnesses, but I'd like to take a minute today to remember what an exceptional person she was. Robin was one of those rare souls who managed to stay in touch with both raucous joy and gentle wisdom in the face of even the most difficult situations. She had a smile like a beacon; it drew all of us to her and lit up our dark places. She spent her life working on peace and understanding on both micro- and macro- levels. Robin was a fierce drummer (all hail CongaGal!), and her New Years' game parties are the stuff of legend. She was an absolute Scrabble FIEND (that's 27 points on a triple-word-score space).

Robin, we still miss you and love you. Thank you for your warm and sustaining friendship, and for the flock of fledgling peacemakers you left here. I really hope they have a djembe or a set of congas for you up there.

And remember...if you get to play Scrabble with the Big Guy: SYZYGY. 'Cause I think that, even in heaven, we can't help but hope that things will line up just right, even if we are in the dark about it for a little while.