So, here we go into July, and here’s some wisdom I’ve found.
First, this week’s Gospel: Matthew 11:16-19, 25-30
11:16 “But to what will I compare this generation? It is like children sitting in the marketplaces and calling to one another,
11:17 ‘We played the flute for you, and you did not dance; we wailed, and you did not mourn.’
11:18 For John came neither eating nor drinking, and they say, ‘He has a demon’;
11:19 the Son of Man came eating and drinking, and they say, ‘Look, a glutton and a drunkard, a friend of tax collectors and sinners!’ Yet wisdom is vindicated by her deeds.”
11:25 At that time Jesus said, “I thank you, Father, Lord of heaven and earth, because you have hidden these things from the wise and the intelligent and have revealed them to infants;
11:26 yes, Father, for such was your gracious will.
11:27 All things have been handed over to me by my Father; and no one knows the Son except the Father, and no one knows the Father except the Son and anyone to whom the Son chooses to reveal him.
11:28 “Come to me, all you that are weary and are carrying heavy burdens, and I will give you rest.
11:29 Take my yoke upon you, and learn from me; for I am gentle and humble in heart, and you will find rest for your souls.
11:30 For my yoke is easy, and my burden is light.”
I am not saying that suffering exists in order for God to reveal himself. I am only saying that where suffering exists and is consciously accepted, theredivine love shines forth brightly…. I have often suspected that the most profound product of this world is tears. I don’t mean that to be morbid. Rather, I mean that tears express that vulnerability in which we can endure having our heart broken and go right on loving.
The marks life leaves on everything it touches transform perfection into wholeness. Older, wiser cultures choose to claim this wholeness in the things that they create. In Japan, Zen gardeners purposefully leave a fat dandelion in the midst of the exquisite, ritually precise patterns of the meditation garden. In Iran, even the most skilled of rug weavers includes an intentional error, the “Persian Flaw,” in the magnificence of a Tabriz or Qashqai carpet…and Native Americans wove a broken bead, the “spirit bead,” into every beaded masterpiece. Nothing that has a soul is perfect. When life weaves a spirit bead into your very fabric, you may stumble upon a wholeness greater than you had dreamed possible before.
Rachel Naomi Remen
A Word For Joy
I am happy among children’s eyes
I am very worried and happy
among the crazy and the hopeless
they recognize me, right away
And there is nowhere I would rather be
alive or dead
than in this world
Inside this skull I hold and ponder
unending space expanding if I understand correctly
at an accelerating rate, meanwhile
housing perpetual births and disappearances of its numberless
deafening nuclear furnaces unheard,
I consider the voices, identically soundless, in every
mind, behind each face I pass
and as I’ve been instructed each morning
on rising I obliterate the print of my body
and am glad (the wind is blowing, it is written, adore
and am speechlessly grateful and glad and afraid
I don’t mind saying that I am scared
to death of God: I am
afraid and blind and ignorant and naked and
I’ll take it!
I have been happy here
among all the suffering eyes: why they were brought here
and exactly what it was they were expected
to take a good close look at,
I can’t grasp it, but I am so very glad.
~ Franz Wright ~