A short poem today, by Wendell Berry, that I read as a prayer in and of itself. The words are a studied contrast to the Lord’s Prayer, explored Tuesday, but I find the two to be of the same ilk.

I Go Among Trees and Sit Still

by Wendell Berry

I go among trees and sit still.
All my stirring becomes quiet
Around me like circles on water.
My tasks lie in their places
Where I left them, asleep like cattle…

Then what I am afraid of comes.
I live for a while in its sight.
What I fear in it leaves it,
And the fear of it leaves me.
It sings, and I hear its song.

Source: “I Go Among Trees and Sit Still” by Wendell Berry from Sabbaths, 1987, North Point Press.

Today is May Day, Beltane, a celebration of spring for many people, especially including those who choose the path of earth-centered, or pagan, religious traditions. This creation story comes from Lady Abigail, high priestess of the Ravensgrove Coven in Greenfield, Indiana, and was taught to her by her great-grandmother. It strikes me as a story that would be most welcome in our Unitarian Universalist circles as well.

Mother Earth and Sister Moon: A Beltaine Story of Creation

by Lady Abigail, remembered from her great-grandmother

In the beginning, there was no land and no water, no stars and no sky. Only a great void filled with all that could be. Living within the void was creation, not yet by name for no words had yet been spoken. Silence was the void.

Then like a whispering wind gentle on a summer night, a sound crossed the great void. Our Grandmother of the Night called to the Grandfather of the Day. “Grandfather, do you see we are alone and have no children; our sky is empty and our hearts alone.”

Suddenly, Grandfather Day spoke in a deep thundering voice. “Then we shall have Children: daughters, two daughters.”

(Read on … )

To finish up National Poetry Month, this poem offers a glimpse of eternity.

Its writer, the Rev. Robert T. Weston, was a Unitarian minister for many years, serving the First Unitarian Church of Louisville, Kentucky, and helping to found Second Unitarian Church in Omaha, Nebraska. His son now serves as the consulting minister for the Unitarian Universalist Congregation of Hillsborough, North Carolina.

The poem can be found as responsive reading #530 in the Unitarian Universalist hymnal, Singing the Living Tradition.

Out of the Stars

by Robert Weston

Out of the stars in their flight, out of the dust of eternity,
here have we come,
Stardust and sunlight,
mingling through time and through space.

Out of the stars have we come,
up from time.
Out of the stars have we come.

Time out of time before time
in the vastness of space,
earth spun to orbit the sun,
Earth with the thunder of mountains newborn,
the boiling of seas.

Earth warmed by sun, lit by sunlight;
This is our home;
Out of the stars have we come.

Mystery hidden in mystery,
back through all time;
Mystery rising from rocks
in the storm and the sea.

Out of the stars, rising from rocks
and the sea,
kindled by sunlight on earth,
arose life.

Ponder this thing in your heart,
life up from sea:
Eyes to behold, throats to sing,
mates to love.

Life from the sea, warmed by sun,
washed by rain,
life from within, giving birth,
rose to love.

This is the wonder of time;
this is the marvel of space;
out of the stars swung the earth;
life upon earth rose to love.

This is the marvel of life,
rising to see and to know;
Out of your heart, cry wonder:
sing that we live.

Source: “Out of the Stars” by Robert T. Weston, reading #530 in the Unitarian Universalist hymnal, Singing the Living Tradition, and also published online in many places.

Edward Estlin Cummings (October 14, 1894-September 3, 1962), better known as e.e. cummings, was raised Unitarian, and wrote what has become my favorite prayer, among many other wonderful poems.

i thank You God for most this amazing. . .

by e.e. cummings

i thank You God for most this amazing
day:for the leaping greenly spirits of trees
and a blue true dream of sky;and for everything
which is natural which is infinite which is yes

(i who have died am alive again today,
and this is the sun’s birthday;this is the birth
day of life and love and wings:and of the gay
great happening illimitably earth)

how should tasting touching hearing seeing
breathing any–lifted from the no
of all nothing–human merely being
doubt unimaginable You?

(now the ears of my ears awake and
now the eyes of my eyes are opened)

Source: “i thank You God for most this amazing. . .” by e.e. cummings, as printed by plagiarist.com.

Another poem, in honor of National Poetry month, that you might hear in a Unitarian Universalist worship service or other setting, this time by Billy Collins. Mr. Collins was the Poet Laureate of the United States from 2001-2003 and is known for expressing big ideas with simple words.

I find this piece to be a wonderful metaphor for a spiritual journey, in addition to calling to mind many pleasant walks in the woods.

Directions

by Billy Collins

You know the brick path in back of the house,
the one you see from the kitchen window,
the one that bends around the far end of the garden
where all the yellow primroses are?
And you know how if you leave the path
and walk up into the woods you come
to a heap of rocks, probably pushed
down during the horrors of the Ice Age,
and a grove of tall hemlocks, dark green now
against the light-brown fallen leaves?
And farther on, you know
the small footbridge with the broken railing
and if you go beyond that you arrive
at the bottom of that sheep’s head hill?
Well, if you start climbing, and you
might have to grab hold of a sapling
when the going gets steep,
you will eventually come to a long stone
ridge with a border of pine trees
which is as high as you can go
and a good enough place to stop.

(Read on … )

Religious naturalism offers additional insight into this exploration of the place of humanity in the natural world, and what meaning we can find in a more intentional approach to living in it. The Rev. Jerome A. Stone, Ph.D. wrote this piece (PDF) in the Meadville Lombard Theological School’s Journal of Liberal Religion in the Fall of 2000, explaining his own personal experiences and how they have informed his view of the world around him. Rev. Stone is Professor Emeritus at William Rainey Harper College, frequently serves as an adjunct faculty member at Meadville Lombard Theological School, and is the author of The Minimalist Vision of Transcendence: A Naturalists Philosophy of Religion.

from “What is Religious Naturalism?”

by Rev. Jerome A. Stone

The key word that I now use in articulating this approach [to religious naturalism] is “sacred.” I learned this word and how to use it by attending services as a child and early adolescent in a liberal Protestant church. We did not use this word often, but when we did it always carried a notion of respect. You held something sacred by treating it with respect. We referred to Sunday as a sacred day. Of course, we were explicitly taught that all days were holy, but that by observing one day a week as sacred it helped us realize that all days were holy. This non-dogmatic yet traditional upbringing is here noted, although its degree of importance calls for further reflection. Later through graduate study in both the Christian tradition and the major religions of the world I became familiar with the classical texts and theorists concerning the sacred.

Now I wish to select four events from my experience which I have learned to think of as sacred. I will briefly depict them. What I wish to emphasize is their overriding importance in my life.

I remember the day my father died. I was sitting in my apartment feeling rather sad when my daughter, at that time about eight years old, came home from school. When I told her what had happened, she said, “Oh, Dad” and put her arm around me. It was one of the most comforting and supportive moments of my life.

(Read on … )

We’ve seen two historical contrasting approaches to a religious viewpoint of the natural world, particularly the theory of evolution, from Rev. Jabez Sunderland and French Jesuit Pierre Teilhard de Chardin, and now we come to the present.

The 2005 report from the Unitarian Universalist Association’s Commission on Appraisal, Engaging our Theological Diversity (very long PDF), also tackled this question. They took statements from current members of Unitarian Universalist congregations, conducted surveys, and looked at Unitarian Universalist publications, and came up with this summary of a typical Unitarian Universalist understanding of the universe.

How Do We Understand the Universe?

from Engaging Our Theological Diversity, the report of the Unitarian Universalist Association’s Commission on Appraisal

One of the primary functions of religion is to provide people with a framework for understanding the physical world and their place in it. The Principle that most clearly expresses contemporary Unitarian Universalist cosmology is belief in the interdependent web of all existence. This guiding Principle fuels much of modern-day UU social justice and advocacy work related to environmentalism, animals’ rights, economic injustice, and homelessness, among other worthy and related causes.

The current UU understanding of an interdependent and interconnected cosmos has evolved from a theology that we can trace back through our Christian roots to the Old Testament book of Genesis. Genesis is the cornerstone for some of the basic cosmology evident in all three Abrahamic faiths (Judaism, Christianity, and Islam): specifically, Genesis 1:24-31 and 9:1-17. The most common interpretations of Genesis hold that human beings are the pinnacle of all creation. We are God’s favored creatures, with everything in creation—all the resources and all the animals—existing for our explicit benefit. Competing liberal interpretations hold that human beings are the custodians of creation, and that our role as custodians invokes great responsibility as well as privilege. Regardless of the interpretation to which one subscribes, both interpretations create a human-centered cosmology—humans are the centerpiece of creation.

(Read on … )

Today, words from the poet John Albert Holmes, Jr (January 6, 1904-June 22, 1962). A prolific writer, he penned seven volumes of poems and the texts to two of the hymns found in Singing the Living Tradition, #11 “O God of Stars and Sunlight,” and #164 “The Peace Not Past Our Understanding.”

In his Address to the Living (1937), as quoted by the Dictionary of Unitarian and Universalist Biography, John Holmes wrote:

“We live, we are elected now by time,
Few out of many not yet come to birth,
And many dead, to use the daylight now,
To stand up under the sun upon the earth.
Then break the silence with a voice of praise;
Open the door that opens toward the sky;
Press mind and body hard against this world,
Before we fall asleep, before we die.”

And in 1950, in The Double Root, he wrote this lovely poem, as quoted by The Harvard Square Library’s “Notable American Unitarians.” Enjoy.

The Double Root

by John Albert Holmes, Jr.

Ready with meaning in the pulpit of today,
This morning on my face, and both hands light,
the book before me and the ritual bright,
I wonder how in God’s name I can say
In any church to anyone of my kind
Gathered and hushed and willing for the word,
The Tree. The Tree’s law. The truth I heard
When I was dark, a root, and deep and blind.

But you are near me, You are my people. You
Know what it is to sodden a season through.
How should I lead you, though you charge me to?
Yet listen to me. I have learned a thing to do.

We grow, we grope with a few unfolding leaves
Upward and opening toward the sun — the sun
that draws whatever green we are, and drives
Roots opening downward toward the single source,
Sun under, sun over earth, one law, one force.

Be in your earth, and there will be well begun.
Climb in the dark. All ground is open door
To the open sky. Break through, reach up the air
To air above, and there green yourself round
Planets, as roots on deep-struck rock are wound.
Grown tree; boughs big; under leaf fruit found.

Source: “The Double Root,” from the poetry collection of the same name by John Albert Holmes, Jr, as quoted by The Harvard Square Library’s “Notable American Unitarians.”

There’s a chill in the air in the mornings now, as we go deeper into September. And though I have not been able to have a garden in years, this time in early fall always brings to mind, for me, that last session of weeding, before pulling up the last of the harvest, the last few weeks of a farmer’s market, filled with squash and gourds, and soon, pumpkins. There’s something about growing food for your own table, or meeting the person who grew it for you.

From Rev. Max Coots, minister emeritus of the Unitarian Universalist Church of Canton, New York:

Gratitude for the Garden

by Rev. Max Coots

I am finished with my garden for the year—almost. Oh, I’m still playing that game of hide-and-seek with the inevitable frost. Every night, when the temperature counts down to begin the game, I do run out to help the last tomatoes hide.

It was a good year, more or less—more for the snow peas than for the corn, less for the spinach, more for the rest. The turnips were immense, like spheres of opulence, though the radishes went more to maggots than to me. My potatoes remind me of that old country quip: “How’d your padadas do?” “So-so. I got some the size a beans, I got some the size a peas, and then I got a lotta little ones.”

But it was a good year, more or less. Most everything that missed the drought, overcame the weeds, and survived the bugs got home safe enough. From time to time I can go to the freezer and the shelf of jars in my cellar and count my canned contentment. The harvest will be an attitude, not a time of year. And maybe I’ll be wise enough to feel a sort of litany of gratitude:

(Read on … )