Terry Chapman's - Sabbath Journey

At Home in the world

We may yearn to come to rest
in some small piece of pure humanity,
a strip of orchard between river and rock.
But our heart is too vast to be contained there.
We can no longer seek it in a place
or even in the image of a god or an angel.
Rilke

From the Second Duino Elegy

For me this speaks to the invitation to hold our restlessness or what can be referred to as inconsummation with respect and an increasing sense of indifference.  On one hand continuing to explore our longing for "a strip orchard between rock and river" and on the other a knowing that there is no "place" (relationship, faith, idea, worship, religion, vocation...) that is big enough for our eros, the imago dei (image of God) which forms our essence.  Recognizing that this place of tension between reality and longing and making a home there is our work, and we need each other to build such a home. Thanks for being on the journey with me.

 

The Gathering at the Funeral Home

What happens when "emgergent" ages and we are faced with more rituals of death and dying? Here's a poem that reflects on this after reading Rollins.

 

                         deus ex machina

They sat on sofas 

in front of the assembled

fold of friends and relatives.

 

The walls, papered in a

green 1950’s floral pattern,

told the story of layered grief.

 

A hush came over the 

room like thick fog shadowing

over the valley of death.

 

For now it was time

for the words of

comfort to be offered

 

up to the gods 

like incense in a

dark ancient temple

 

by the minster who 

no one knew, least of

all the deceased  

 

who never was

much of a church goer

but by all accounts

 

a wonderful father

beloved husband

and really good fisherman.

 

“Let not your heart be 

troubled and 

be not afraid.”

 

The words were lowered

onto grief’s stage

like a deus ex machina

 

in a bold yet tired 

attempt to resolve

death’s plot.

 

The tragedy, yes

that is what death

must always be,

 

accompanied 

the corpse into 

the grave.

 

Bereft of music and

the mourners groan, 

Eloi, Eloi, lama sabach-thani?

 

true consolation 

was not to be found

despite the well 

 

intentioned benediction,

words of peace, that

rose with the incense-

 

an offering 

to an unknown 

god.

 

Love this song