During the past year, as the administration of Mr. Trump made more and more threats to the ongoing function of our government, one critically important voice for me was Heather Cox Richardson. This teacher of American History who wrote and spoke daily from her home in Maine, in her “Letters from an American,” helped give us vital information, with footnotes, and with context, throughout the pandemic and through the daily punches in the gut which we had to endure.
Context matters. History matters. We need to understand what is happening, leaning on people who are able to put it in context. Heather Cox Richardson is a history professor, with expertise and depth in understanding what happened in our country after the Civil War. What is out there in the visual media world is not the same as what is being written. We are being swamped with advertising which distracts, by media which calls itself entertainment so they can’t be sued for twisting the news all our of shape, and a lot of crazy-people with big mouths. There are people who know how to distort and change visual images, so you can not know if what you see is real unless people who were there tell you it is true. Reading what someone who is knowledgeable has reflected on, gives us a bit of time, context, precedent, and meaning. It also matters that they CARE about our country. The movie “Social Dilemma” about what FB and other big internet advertising engines do shows us that we can generate a Civil War in 6 months, by turning your beliefs toward conspiracies, fear, anxiety, self-doubt. In order to have a real chance at building a stronger multi-cultural Democracy and world, we have to listen to each other, trust our elected officials, and continue to care about participating in our governmental decisions. If we cannot work together, we are going to destroy each other and the world. Everything we do now has to be aimed at learning to work together for the common good.
An article was recently published in AMERICA magazine, speaking of why women cannot be Jesuits.
(1/21/21) by Fr. Geger. It was fascinating, as it gave the history in some detail, of two prominent women in the life of St. Ignatius; Isabel and Juana, the crown princess. This is my response to the article:
Thanks for this excellent article and food for thought. One of the problems for women from Ignatius’ time to now is that some men considered a wife “property” rather than a loving companion.
In the story of Ignatius, Isabel and Juana, we see women who were trying to be saintly and love God, but they really needed their contacts with the men who were brilliant and engaged in trying to work for the greater glory of God. They needed context and meaning, and male companionship which was not possessive; and marriage in the conventional sense wouldn’t have given it to them. I have been re-reading Brian Doyle’s stories and poems, and one of the great gifts in them is his real love for his wife. And he tells stories about his parents, a true marriage of hearts and minds, and spiritual companionship. The Jesuits may not need women in the order, but women surely need the Jesuits in life. Many women do not want to belong in a community of only women. Our friendships and our faith help us to find the wholeness in human personhood that we long for, and invigorate our love and service to God. As we move deeper into understanding relationships and human sexuality, perhaps all the orders will be reconsidering these issues. It does seem true that the Jesuits, by history, will never have women in the order. But the men who move mountains will always inspire and create new communities, and not surprisingly, many brilliant and talented women will be part of those efforts.
This has been a really weird and hard year. All of us who have spent so many decades trying to become competent and capable of being very productive, were shut into isolation by the pandemic, in order to try to stay alive. Some of my tools of “what I did” to manage to stay alive were walking on the beach every morning as early as I could manage to get up, and participating in a group of Lectio Divina prayer from our local church. About 12 of us read the day’s Psalm, Epistle and Gospel, from the Catholic lectionary; and we take a word or phrase from the Gospel, as we read it 3 times, trying to listen deeply and find the meaning more fully. Belonging to this community has been a big help with living through the Plague.
I got this blog set up, so that I could start to write more, write poems, share them, write reflections and share them. I really loved my blog at Blogspot, because it was easy to log into, and type something, and post it. Then they said they were stopping it, and we had to move. This site has me bewildered, and it does not seem easy to post photos or even give me the tools to make the font smaller or larger. I liked my peach-colored page at Blogspot. I am glad they have not erased it. I did bring some of the posts to this one, but copying and pasting is not fun or easy, and I left off after a short while.
It feels like the culture is erasing everything, in this way– they have taken away our audio cassettes, and our video cameras, and replaced them with newer technology. My CDs are not playable in my computer any more. My songs are stuck in a complicated technological limbo on Garage band, where I can’t untangle them. Luckily I have been able to find most of the poems I have written, by persisting in my attempts to get to them in the computer file. I almost lost them when the last computer crashed. I pay Apple to keep my photos cache, but they messed up my filing system, overriding it and making it much harder for me to efficiently get to groups of photos. It is better since I have started trying to label each photo, but that is tedious. So my experience is that I feel like the tide has come in very high and erased all I have built. People don’t go to Kindle to buy the books. Almost no one calls me. I get more ads than real email, and REAL mail is a thing of the past. I have decided that next Christmas I am going to send out Christmas cards, with a religious image. This year I was pretty upset to get pictures of dogs, cats, trees and jokes, but almost no Christmas cards about Christmas. So of course, it feels like we are in a post-Christian culture in so many ways, but the season and the rhythms of the liturgical year still are my deepest rhythms.
My friend Sue B. has been meditating for many years, and this year she became a meditation teacher. So she has been giving a meditation class to some friends, on Wednesday afternoon. Learning to go deeper into this wordless prayer-space has been so helpful, perhaps the MOST helpful thing, in the increased anxiety of the pandemic year. It is certainly hard to feel that anything I say deserves to compete with all the voices competing so loudly and demanding attention. I am really glad that my poem “To my Son” got published by Evening Street Review, and the book just came, and it is a very nice, bright and shiny new book. I didn’t even send out any poems this year, it was so overwhelming. I barely could write.
And now, we have just suffered this attack on the Capitol, by people who thought that the president needed them to swamp the Congress and let him declare himself some kind of solo emperor. It is a miracle that only 5 people died. It is a miracle that the Senators and Congresspeople got out of the chambers with a minute to spare, and were not murdered by this mob. I pray for the country, for the damage-control and the consequences that need to happen to keep this from happening again. And I see what conspiracy theory and “fake news” and chronic lies have done to undermine our sense of being a nation of people who want to solve problems, help each other to be successful, and believe in laws and equality before the law. I have watched good people who manage businesses shake their heads as they watched the monkey business going on in the Administration, but now we face insurrection; we have to say that we are now not going to look the other way, we are going to stop the train and lay down new tracks, to get our country back on the path of democracy, “to form a more perfect union” and live up to “the common good.” The values of respect, non-violence and willingness to listen generously are going to be severely tested as we see and hear out-of-control anger and vindictive rage. This is partly why writing a blog has been so difficult– the feeling of writing into the whirlwind of everyone screaming at the top of their lungs and no one willing to listen.
I am praying for the nation to get safely to the inauguration and to begin the kinds of legislative actions and administrative actions which will bring stability and healing to our people. I want to see a future for everyone, for humanity. I sure hope we can get there!
So last night I watched the movie “The Social Dilemma” and came to the conclusion which I reached 50 years ago, that we have to “solve one damn problem after another” trying to make the world a better place, rather than trying to make money. If you were wondering about how you can make a difference, in trying to stop Nestle and other big companies from privatizing the water supply of the whole world, leaving millions of people to die of thirst, here is an answer: Charity: Water.
Every penny goes to helping bring clean drinking water to small villages all over the world. They have a separate business for generating the plans, engineering, and support system, so that every donated penny goes to getting the water to the people. You can give $5 a month, or more. It is easy to do. I watched their ad, the night I was watching Midnight mass from the Vatican, and they are a total inspiration. I wrote a poem about it.
“WATER FROM THE SPOUT”
WATER FROM THE SPOUT
Little faces lit with joy,
as they put their whole heads
under the spigot,
and their hands, eagerly
cupped to catch the clean sparkling water
as it pours generously, dancingly,
a ribbon of miracles,
continuously from the pipe.
(the Health Inspector says:)
So the baby will not get dysentery,
so the mother can wash the clothes,
so the children can go to school,
and not be thirsty,
Or nauseated, or anemic,
because of amoebas and worms,
because of this new spigot,
because of the gift of the well,
drilled by someone who wanted to
be of service,
to make a real difference:
A miracle in the desert
They have seen only mud holes, wet by
opaque brown water, glaucous as a cataract,
full of bugs,
where animals have washed, and drunk
after walking through the dust, toward
the pond which seemed a mirage,
there are footprints all around the slimy rim.
Dancing down the road,
these strong children carried on their heads
big oil drums and plastic containers
full of contaminated water,
for miles, their feet dusty and hardened
by walking on the earth with bare feet,
singing and flashing their smiles,
on the daily walk from the mud puddles
back to their homes.
They laugh, they sing,
Watching the clear, clean water splashing
From the pipe.
The well is in the middle of the village,
women come with their baskets
full of clean washed clothes,
children play in the open air
their voices full of excitement and joy,
their hands clapping and touching,
clean hands and clean faces,
bright smiles of happiness
How are we compelled to act in a new way, with urgency? Joseph acts on the dream he is given, to go to Egypt with Mary and the Child. He doesn’t argue, he gets up and goes.
The Second Sunday After Christmas – Matthew 2:13-15, 19-23 – The Flight to Egypt
We’re three days into the new year, a time of change and transition often marked by the calendar more than the circumstances of our lives or world. Regardless, the 2020 year end reviews are well underway with commentaries, assessments, and judgments. For some, maybe most, “Goodbye 2020,” could just as well be “Good riddance, 2020.” And “Hello, 2021,” could just as well be “You couldn’t get here soon enough, 2021.” We’ve quickly greeted the new year with predictions, wishes, and prayers.
I read it in the news, op eds, and on social media. I hear it in the conversations I have with others and in the silence of my own heart. Will 2021 be different from and better than 2020? I suspect all of us, at some level, are asking and living with that question.
View original post 920 more words
I love this poem, and as Janice says, it is the kind of poem that invites us to think more deeply about our choices, and to see the connections, delicately connecting everything.
I go to the mountain side
of the house to cut saplings,
and clear a view to snow
on the mountain. But when I look up,
saw in hand, I see a nest clutched in
the uppermost branches.
I don’t cut that one.
I don’t cut the others either.
Suddenly, in every tree,
an unseen nest
where a mountain
This is the kind of poem that invites me to read slowly and read again. I like it for its haiku-like simplicity – not many words but capable of expressing what most of us would require many words to say.
I suppose on the surface, when she sees a nest clutched in / the uppermost branches, it could just be about the value of nests and the birds they harbour. But I hear so much more about choices we make that may have effects we do not…
View original post 99 more words
It is so true, the moments of “something new” breaking into our lives, which may seem like an interruption… wonderful reflection!
Christmas Eve – Luke 2:1-20
It began about nine months ago. Life was interrupted when the unexpected and unimaginable happened. And I wondered, “How can this be?” Life was changing and things were getting too real too quick. The government issued travel decrees. Some family, friends, and businesses closed to us and said, “No, you can’t come in.” So much has changed. Things just aren’t like they used to be. They probably never will be. It feels like it’s been one interruption after another.
You know what I’m talking about, right? I’m sure you do. It’s not too hard to figure it out. It’s in the air. It’s all around us.
You know, don’t you, that I’m talking about Mary? I’m talking about what she might have thought about the past nine months of her life. I’m talking about the first Christmas. That is what you thought I was talking…
View original post 1,240 more words
BY DANIEL BERRIGAN
Entering Advent In Hope – Fr. Daniel Berrigan
“It is not true that creation and the human family are doomed to destruction and loss—
This is true: For God so loved the world that He gave his only begotten Son, that whoever believes in Him shall not perish but have everlasting life.
It is not true that we must accept inhumanity and discrimination, hunger and poverty, death and destruction—
This is true: I have come that they may have life, and that abundantly.
It is not true that violence and hatred should have the last word, and that war and destruction rule forever—
This is true: Unto us a child is born, unto us a Son is given, and the government shall be upon his shoulder, his name shall be called wonderful councilor, mighty God, the Everlasting, the Prince of peace.
It is not true that we are simply victims of the powers of evil who seek to rule the world—
This is true: To me is given authority in heaven and on earth, and lo I am with you, even until the end of the world.
It is not true that we have to wait for those who are specially gifted, who are the prophets of the Church before we can be peacemakers—
This is true: I will pour out my spirit on all flesh and your sons and daughters shall prophesy, your young men shall see visions and your old men shall have dreams.
It is not true that our hopes for liberation of humankind, of justice, of human dignity of peace are not meant for this earth and for this history—
This is true: The hour comes, and it is now, that the true worshipers shall worship God in spirit and in truth.
So let us enter Advent in hope, even hope against hope. Let us see visions of love and peace and justice. Let us affirm with humility, with joy, with faith, with courage: Jesus Christ—the life of the world.”
Daniel Berrigan, Testimony: The Word Made Flesh (Orbis Books, 2004).