In High School, my favorite 45 (no, we had no ipod), was
The Beatles, The Long and Winding Road (the A side). (I’m not sure how I acquired it, under my parents radar.) This I know; I used to play it over and over and over, and let the music carry me to bliss. And now, the preacher told me that my record was an occasion to sin. (This is an odd turn of phrase, since the music brought me such unconditional delight).On a summer night, my vinyl-45-record burned, with many others, and we watched the smoke carry our sinful ways into the Michigan sky. I told this story a few times at various retreats.
Fast forward thirty years. I am speaking in the Anaheim Convention Center. Two friends walk up to the stage and present me with a slim cardboard mailing box. On the outside is written,
Amazing Grace. On the inside, a 45 vinyl record, circa 1970, The Beatles, The Long and Winding Road. I know this: there was more grace in that gift than any sermon I have ever heard.Not to rain on anyone’s parade,
but I can’t see God unless there is skin attached.And now that I’m on the subject. My best memory about the story of the resurrection? After church, as a kid, after we sang “Christ the Lord is Risen Today,” and we were told that Jesus is still alive, we would go to my Grandmother’s house to hunt Easter eggs and stuff ourselves with chocolate. My favorite part of the day?
My grandmother’s hug, when she would whisper in my ear, “Do you know how much I love you?” Now that, that is the true power of the resurrection.When I was young, faith was about believing the right things.
The day will come when, after harnessing the ether, the winds, the tides, gravitation, we shall harness for God the energies of love. And on that day, for the second time in the history of the world, human beings will have discovered fire. Pierre Teillard De Chardin
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This post reminds me of a poem I read recently, [asking for upfront *forgiveness* for the word, "damn"]…….
TO SEE AND HEAR
I couldn’t keep the damn glasses clean.
Kept wiping them and cursing them.
And my left ear was getting worse.
Those across the room were shouting secrets
Behind a waterfall.
But I wasn’t ready.
Kept wiping the damn glasses.
Kept trying to make sense of things I couldn’t hear.
I didn’t feel stubborn.
And I want so very much to see and hear.
Then after a long unfolding,
The cocoon my soul was eating through gave way
And I arrived in this newness I can’t explain.
Without putting it all together,
I realized it was my eyes not the glasses.
And the waterfall was in my head.
When the optometrist flipped her lenses in the dark,
Something deep inside let go.
When she reached the one through which I could see,
The tumblers in the lock that is me fell open.
When the kind audiologist tucked
The hearing aid in my ear,
The waterfall ceased.
I began to cry.
Like the Wizard of Oz,
We become smaller and softer when our curtain is pulled.
~Mark Nepo
You are excused.
Damn is allowed on this blog. . .
Especially when it is a "damn fine poem."
Thanks for sharing it with us. . .
Speaking of resurrection, here's a poem by David Budbill that I read to my family during Easter dinner.
The First Green of Spring
Out walking in the swamp picking cowslip, marsh marigold,
this sweet first green of spring. Now sauteed in a pan melting
to a deeper green than ever they were alive, this green, this life,
harbinger of things to come. Now we sit at the table munching
on this message from the dawn which says we and the world
are alive again today, and this is the world's birthday. And
even though we know we are growing old, we are dying, we
will never be young again, we also know we're still right here
now, today, and, my oh my! don't these greens taste good.
Mary. . .great poem. Thank you. . .
We'll be planting our vegetables this weekend.