Ceci n'est pas un blog.

I have just gotten news that a good friend of my parent's has cancer, and it's serious and inoperable.  This man is amazing: kind, generous, strong, inspiring, wonderful. i am surprisingly hard hit by this news - I don't want him to die! I want more time to get to know him! Stupid cancer. 

And yet I feel a bit silly to feel so sad about this: I think and talk about death quite a lot, really. I've just spent 3 months in a hospital. In the past twelve months I've attended more than a handful of funerals. Part of me feels like death shouldn't be something that seems so unreasonable, surprising, and frankly unpleasant and upsetting. Of course, another part of me realizes that it's silly to think this way - just because I'm used to encountering death doesn't mean I'm not allowed to grieve the death of someone I care about, or to be upset that someone is dying. 

Cancer's been lurking around the edges in other places in my world - a relative who's had a cancer scare, a friend who's managed to fight it off yet again, and so on. 

To add to the fun, I am sure that someone will tell me that this is "a great learning opportunity!" which seems to be the line people give seminarians encountering big, unpleasant realities of life. True as it may be, it's not really comforting. ("Woohoo! This sucks, but I'm learning!")

A pity conclusion belongs here. I got nothin'. (c.f. the title of this post...)

N. and I went to see Spirit of the West a few weeks ago (they were performing with Great Big Sea). I knew a few of their songs, and I enjoyed their set enough to find some more of their music. I was working today and a song I wasn't familiar with came up in the shuffle, and I was struck by the lyrics, so I'm posting them below. The beginning of the song is quite powerful because the third word of the fifth line really comes out of nowhere.

( Lyrics )

An observation: when I first moved in, the neighbour(s) often had movies playing loudly and what sounded like loud first-person-shooter-type video games going. I only just realized that I have heard neither of those things in the last several weeks. The lack of video-game playing seems to correspond to my other observations.

I will admit that this observation amuses me to no end.

(Also: twice yesterday! Folks, there is only so much I really want to know...)

A propos nothing and noone (seriously), I couldn't resist sharing this video. I love the feel of the video, and I enjoy the lyrics, and this just seems like a good (belated) Valentine's day post for this year.

It's late at night. I hear noises coming from a neighbouring apartment that sound a bit like an animal. Knowing some of the neighbours have dogs, I stop to listen, wondering if there's an animal in trouble. I listen more carefully.

Oh.

My neighbours are having sex. Also, my walls are very thin. Wow.

I go back to ignoring the noises. And maybe add some music.

I heard the bells on Christmas day
Their old familiar carols play
And mild and sweet the words repeat,
Of peace on earth, good will to men.

I thought how as the day had come,
The belfries of all Christendom
Had roll'd along th' unbroken song
Of peace on earth, good will to men.

And in despair I bow'd my head:
"There is no peace on earth," I said,
"For hate is strong, and mocks the song
Of peace on earth, good will to men."

Then pealed the bells more loud and deep:
"God is not dead, nor doth He sleep;
The wrong shall fail, the right prevail,
With peace on earth, good will to men."

'Til ringing, singing on its way,
The world revolved from night to day,
A voice, a chime, a chant sublime,
Of peace on earth, good will to men!

Henry Wadsworth Longfellow
first published in 1863

At this point I'm almost alternating poetry & other posts - I hope people don't mind. I found this poem on another blog, and bookmarked it because I thought it was so neat. Today, in an act of procrastination (I aim to make procrastination an art form), I was going through my bookmarks and found it. It's neat, and there are moments when I think it fits with the emotions expressed in my previous (friends-locked) post.

*****

Song on the End of the World

On the day the world ends
A bee circles a clover,
A Fisherman mends a glimmering net.
Happy porpoises jump in the sea,
By the rainspout young sparrows are playing
And the snake is gold-skinned as it it should always be.

On the day the world ends
Women walk through fields under their umbrellas
A drunkard grows sleepy at the edge of a lawn,
Vegetable peddlers shout in the street
And a yellow-sailed boat comes nearer the island,
The voice of a violin lasts in the air
And leads into a starry night.

And those who expected lightning and thunder
Are disappointed.
And those who expected signs and archangels' trumps
Do not believe it is happening now.
As long as the sun and the moon are above,
As long as the bumblebee visits a rose
As long as rosy infants are born
No one believes it is happening now.

Only a white-haired old man, who would be a prophet,
Yet is not a prophet, for he's much too busy,
Repeats while he binds his tomatoes:
No other end of the world there will be,
No other end of the world there will be.

Czeslaw Milosz

Clearly, what I need to post after not posting for weeks and weeks is a poem. This time, in Spanish...

     Entre tu pueblo y el mío
hay un punto y una raya.
La raya dice : no hay paso.
El punto, vía cerrada.

     Y así entre todos los pueblos,
raya y punto, punto y raya.
Con tantas rayas y puntos
el mapa es un telegrama.

     Caminando por el mundo
se ven ríos y montañas,
se ven selvas y desiertos,
pero no puntos ni rayas.

     Porque esas cosas no existen,
sino que fueron trazadas
para que mi hambre y la tuya
estén siempre separadas.

(from Khatibi, Amour bilingue)

Summary of Centesimus annus (a papal encyclical promulgated by John Paul II in 1991):

Socialism: still wrong.

It's been a while since I posted a poem, I think. And recently I've been exchanging favorite poems back and forth with a new friend, D, and he showed me this one. It's amazing (much like D).

found here


Sully Prudhomme – Le Vase brisé

Le vase où meurt cette verveine
D’un coup d’éventail fut fêlé ;
Le coup dut l’effleurer à peine :
Aucun bruit ne l’a révélé.

Mais la légère meurtrissure,
Mordant le cristal chaque jour,
D’une marche invisible et sûre,
En a fait lentement le tour.

Son eau fraîche a fui goutte à goutte,
Le suc des fleurs s’est épuisé ;
Personne encore ne s’en doute,
N’y touchez pas, il est brisé.

Souvent aussi la main qu’on aime,
Effleurant le cœur, le meurtrit ;
Puis le cœur se fend de lui-même,
La fleur de son amour périt ;

Toujours intact aux yeux du monde,
Il sent croître et pleurer tout bas
Sa blessure fine et profonde ;
Il est brisé, n’y touchez pas.



Another excellent poem is here: Clair de lune, by Verlaine.

It is no wonder that we have had to invent other games to counteract [the ways we spend time together while avoiding really "seeing" each other]. Encounter groups, T groups, the multisensory techniques of William Schutz and the Esalen Institude and the Living Theater. After all these years of playing games whose purpose it is to keep us at arm's length from one another, to hide from each other our nakedness and our humanity, we turn at last to games no less pathetic and foolish in their ways but whose purpose is nonetheless to help us meet without disguise, to touch without embarrassment, to be human without fear. The sacrament of the Lord's Supper was such a game, I imagine, was once such a supper, such a breakfast, with bread being broken, people praying with their mouths full, and the priest thumping the table for a little silence, all of them caught up in some hallowed middle ground where God knows what was celebrated - the breadness of bread, the transfiguring miracle of bread shared, the passing of a common cup from lip to lip and tipsy kiss of peace, breath laden with bread, wine, miracle.

(p.58-59, The Alphabet of Grace, Frederick Buechner)

---------
In the past almost-three months, I have visited a lot of people (50?) all of whom - with one fascinating exception - offered me at least a cup of tea, and usually a piece of cake or a cookie, often several different kinds. There is something humbling but also inspiring about being offered home-made cookies and tea by someone severely affected by a stroke. Or on someone's fancy china, painstakingly prepared and poured out despite a tremor. Or being served tea in a questionably clean cup - you can't turn it down, but ...hm, you got food poisoning a few weeks ago, did you? And *looks around kitchen at piled-up dishes* you wonder why? Ah, yes, life is a mystery.

I've thought about the importance of accepting what people offer, and the hidden effort that I've been able to notice goes into preparing these things. Freshly baked things often appear if I give enough notice that I'll be visiting; elderly people will have things all laid out so they can serve me without too much difficulty. In many cases, my visit is an event if not the event of the day. Again, humbling. What do I have to offer that would make that true? All I do is listen to a few stories, appreciate the tea, eat a cookie or three ("Have another one dear, please!").

With our church's practice of frequent communion, and the importance we give to communion - breaking bread, drinking from a common cup - it's hard to not see a link. Food is important; sharing food is significant, a sign of friendship and welcome and kindness. Sharing food even when I wonder what exactly I'm putting into my body (e.g. questionable tea cup) is a way for me to accept what people have to offer, even when it's not what I'd choose. And I think about it when I'm doing ablutions in church, drinking up the leftover wine in the communion cup after everyone has had communion. We're all in this together.

I really like the author I quoted above. I've read two of his books this summer, "Telling Secrets" and "The Alphabet of Grace", and both were excellent in different ways. I like his insistence in this quote on really seeing each other, on really connecting. That is definitely what people want, crave, and it's why they're so happy to have me come and listen to their stories - even the people who are still pretty active, who do have friends and get out and are busy. So few people, even of their friends, ever just focus on them, really listen to what they have to say; so few of us are ever really seen and loved - accepted - for being just who we are. It's kind of a miracle when it happens.

Real live preacher, as usual, gets it: http://www.reallivepreacher.com/node/296 ("A Love Letter for Redeemed Pagans and Lost Christians").

In this he talks about religion, true religion vs. empty religion, and the way that losing one's faith in religion can lead to finding it. I love it.

I've got a few thoughtful posts percolating, including thoughts on eating/sharing food and its significance, and thoughts on love and family relationships - particularly prompted by visiting a quite elderly couple where one partner is slowly slipping away with Alzheimer's. I'm seeing some powerful stuff...

But in the meantime, you might be entertained by this "blog": Noah's Blog, which purports to be Noah's Diary (Noah of the Ark).

Or rather, "La fête Nationale" as someone here keeps reminding me.

In honour of which I offer this song I quite enjoy for reasons I haven't fully figured out.

There's another reason to be grateful to her. Clinton's run has put to rest the myth that we are living in a postfeminist wonderland in which all that stands in women's path is women themselves.

I think you should read the rest.

Harper is going to apologize for residential schools - great.

Harper is going to apologize for residential schools without consulting with native people? Stupid and irresponsible.

I really wish Harper would pleasantly surprise me.

I have now been in Gaspé, QC for a week. So far, it's been a mix of excellent and challenging. Overall, it promises to be a really good summer experience. The location is unbelievably gorgeous - rolling hills and water (ocean), which means that no matter where you are, from the car dealership parking lot to the hospital to someone's house, you have a breathtaking view: expanses of trees, the ocean stretching out ahead of you, large swaths of sky... I couldn't ask for better. The people are quite friendly; because of the demographics of the parish (anglo & older), I have been having tea with a lot of much older women who insist that I have "one more piece of lemon cake, dear" and generally are thrilled to have me sit and hear all about their children and pets and such. It's still surprising to me that this is my job: chat with people! Pretty awesome.

I will also be doing more obviously "churchy" stuff: right now I'm (not) writing a sermon that I will preach twice on Sunday, at 10am and then again at 7pm (in two different churches). I am learning my way around the different communities, and (too slowly) remembering people's names, and who goes with which parish, and all the connections between people. This is very much a small town, and everyone knows everyone else, and names are Very Important. I am not used to living in a rural place, and it's shocking that, for example, I don't need to give people my phone number: I just tell them who I'm living with. "Oh yes, Mrs. Anne [not her real name][Mrs. Firstname is the common polite form of address, don't ask me why], I know her". Even the car dealer who is lending me the car actually refused to have me give him the phone number: he knows how to find the house, what more could he want? Sooo strange.

There are a few people I will need to work with who will most certainly prove to be a challenge... they are "strong" personalities. Heh. With some luck, and practice, I can find a way to be calm and to not get caught up in the power struggle they seem to want to start, while still being firm about my own boundaries and needs. Tricky stuff, but good practice.

My supervisor, however, is amazing, and I (think I) really "click" with her in a way that should prove very useful as the summer goes by. There is a lot I can learn from her, and I think that she "gets" me, and is able to help me out because she understands where I'm coming from. This is a relief - given how closely I am working with her, and for how long (and in such an isolated place), it would really suck if we didn't get along. But we do! Or at least, so far so good.

I really like the texts for Sunday, especially the passage from Isaiah, which ends with a line that really grabbed me : "See, I have inscribed you on the palms of my hands." I like the intimacy of that, and the safety it suggests ... being held, personally and intimately, in the hands of God. Well, off to write that sermon.

This upcoming Sunday is Trinity Sunday, the celebration of the Trinity - three persons, one substance. (I'm glad to not be preaching...) Tomorrow I set off on my big summer adventure!

In honour of this feast, a joke:

Jesus said, Who do men say that I am?

And his disciples answered and said, Some say you are John the Baptist returned from the dead; others say Elias, or other of the old prophets.

And Jesus answered and said, But whom do you say that I am?

Peter answered and said, "Thou art the Logos, existing in the Father as His rationality and then, by an act of His will, being generated, in consideration of the various functions by which God is related to his creation, but only on the fact that Scripture speaks of a Father, and a Son, and a Holy Spirit, each member of the Trinity being coequal with every other member, and each acting inseparably with and interpenetrating every other member, with only an economic subordination within God, but causing no division which would make the substance no longer simple."

And Jesus answering, said, "What?"

Today is Ascension day; the feast of the Ascension will be celebrated in most churches on Sunday, but the feast day is actually today, Thursday. The feast of the Ascension commemorates when Jesus was carried up into heaven, 40 days after his resurrection ("a good biblical number" as says a post I just read). I had hoped to attend a service for this today, but as it turns out there was a party I had agreed to attend (I lead such a difficult life). Next year, I hope.

I don't have many deep thoughts - I am quite exhausted, physically and emotionally, from two days of hard work - but if you are curious I really quite enjoyed these reflections on the feast of the Ascension, from a site that I find has good, down-to-earth reflections as well as very beautiful art "meditations".

Here is a benediction that was used by the Rev. Dr. Doug Oldenburg frequently as he traveled the country as moderator of the Presbyterian Church (U.S.A.).

"As you leave, I charge you to remember this above all else.
No matter how frightening this world may become;
No matter how frightening your life may be today or may become tomorrow,
You need not be afraid, for GOD GOES WITH YOU.
God goes before you to guide you;
God goes beside you to be your best friend;
God goes behind you to protect you;
God goes beneath you to strengthen you;
God goes within you to comfort you;
And God goes above you to give you vision and hope.
Remember that: no matter how dark and frightening this world may become; no matter how frightening the individual circumstances of your life may be today or may become tomorrow or next week, you need not be afraid, for God – Almighty God – goes with you! If you will remember that, then the 'peace of God that passes all understanding' will go with you too."

(Found this on RevGalBlogPals.)