February 2008

Stories Seldom Heard

102^nd Edition

Psalm 8

Welcome to Stories Seldom Heard.  I would especially like to welcome the members of St. Dominic’s Parish and the members of the Beacon of Hope Resource Center in New Orleans.

Psalm 8 might sound out of sync with the Gospel of the first Sunday of Lent that begins, “Then Jesus was led into the desert by the Spirit.”  The Gospel sounds rather ominous.  It’s easy to imagine a stark, bleak landscape.  There’s not a lot of clutter in the desert.  There’s not a lot to distract us.  No doubt, that is exactly why the church has invited us to enter this yearly period of prayer and fasting.  Lent helps us set aside the clutter and the distractions in our lives.  It helps us slow down and let go of our petty concerns so we can learn to focus on what is important.  Psalm 8 also helps us do the same thing. 

It’s obvious that the woman or man who wrote Psalm 8 lived at a different time and culture than we do.  She/he wasn’t in the midst of a large city with its blaring lights or driving home from work cautiously concentrating on the irregular traffic patterns.  But what the psalmist captures can be our treasure also.  The writer glories in God’s creation.  She/he images God’s fingers molding the universe as gently as a potter would hold and moist clay.   She/he looks around and savor the beauty that surrounds her/him.  Did you hear the “ahhhh”?  (verse 8)  I know you have already read the poem/prayer, but why not go back and reread the psalm.  And when you get to line 8, why not just say “ah” out loud?  Let your shoulders relax.  Think of a time or place that you, like the psalmist were awed by God’s creations.  Now we are beginning to practice Lent!

At first this psalm might have felt inappropriate for a Lenten reflection.  It’s so filled with wonder and awe.  But perhaps, this psalm is not such a far cry from the desert place where the Spirit of God led Jesus.  The desert is a solitary place, but that doesn’t mean it has to be a lonely place.  In fact, most of us thirst for more solitude, more “down” time so that the daily gifts of life and relationships can be recognized, appreciated and not go unnoticed.  A friend of mine often says, “I think we miss more by not seeing, than by not knowing.”  I know this is true for me and perhaps you find this true also.

However, like prayer, seeing take time.  As in prayer in order to see we have to slow down.  Psalm 8 has much to teach us about prayer and holiness. Most of us don’t think of ourselves as saints, let alone mystics.  We think “those kinds” of people who have a special relationship with God are very different from us.  But according to the saints -  Mother Teresa included – a saint or a mystic is not a person who has a rare vision of God. (We know from Mother Teresa’s recent book that she felt very distant from God.)   Rather, the great saints and mystics remind us that holiness has to do with how we see things.  A saint or a mystic is a person who has the ability to pay attention and who lives in right relationship with the world and all living things.  It is a person who respects every aspect of creation.

The saints, like us, struggled with prayer.  They, too, prayed not to get too distracted by their daily lives and concerns.  Mechtilde, one of the saints in the Middle Ages, says that in prayer she asked God for a gift so that she could always remember God and not forget about God in her daily life.  So as she says, God gave her God’s eyes so she could see all things as God sees them.  God gave her God’s ears so she could hear as God hears.  God gave her God’s laugh so she could laugh when God laughs and God’s tears so she could cry with those who were grieving.  In other words, a saint is a person who has borrowed God’s senses. 

Over and over again the saints remind us that we are a part of creation.  We are not separate from it.  Catherine of Siena, a lay Dominican and a Doctor of the Church, says that “just as the sea is in the fish, and the fish in the sea, so is God in me and I in God.”  Following this same line of thinking Meister Eckhard says, “The eye with which I look at God is the same eye with which God looks at me.”   We are in God, created and held by God.

This might sound confusing.  Perhaps it’s too poetic.  But like the psalmist, each of us has had moments when we have been overwhelmed by the mystery of God and wonder of creation.  Often it happens suddenly.  We see it in a flash as we hike in the hills, walk along the beach, touch a tight red rose bud after a winter rain or meet a long time friend for a cup of coffee.  We are touched by the mysterious presence of God everywhere we look and every direction we turn if we have the eyes of God. 

Our lives move quickly.  Sometimes we just wish we could savor the moment and not have to rush off to the next meeting, workshop, or scheduled event.  Moments like these don’t have to come just while we are on vacation or exploring an unfamiliar city or country.  But they probably happen most when we feel relaxed, when we slow down and take time to see.

Friends of mine visited the Fairchild Botanical Gardens in Miami.  As you might know it is an eighty-three acre garden.  Along with its well known rainforest, the largest outside of the Amazon region, there are many other unusual flowers, plants and trees.  There are also small insects and animals that are unique and play an important role in preserving the biodiversity of the gardens.  The day they visited, the tour guide stopped in front of an arrowroot plant.  This would not necessarily be memorable.  Most of us have a small jar of arrowroot in our kitchen cabinets.  We use it in cooking as a thickening agent.  But on this day when their guide pointed out the arrowroot plant, she lifted the large thick green leaf of the plant and showed them something spectacular.  There it was - a small green caterpillar with one red stripe down the center of her back with her baby which could be identified in the same way.  The guide went on to tell them that this particular caterpillar lives only on the arrowroot plant.  If the plant were to be destroyed the red stripe caterpillar would disappear, as well as the uniquely colored butterflies these caterpillars become.

The same day, they visited the Everglades.  After exploring the Visitors’ Center and learning more about the terrain and the animals they might meet, they went for a nature walk.  Along the way there were many alligators.  Some of them silently emerged out of the black swampy water.  Others sat camouflaged because their rugged dark skin blended into the shadows of the low foliage and shoreline.  One, however, rested its head next to the paved walkway.  Luckily they saw it as they approached and quickly voluntarily returned by another path.  If these had been in the experience of the psalmist I am sure they would have been included with the sheep, oxen, birds and fish that praise God by their very existence and by reflecting God’s wild creativity.

The psalmist reflects on the diversity of nature and creation.  Its beauty is astounding and its mystery baffling.  Everything, including us, is held in a fragile balance, bound together by God.  No one knows the mind of God.  No one can understand the mystery of who God is.  But remember we miss more by not seeing, than by not knowing.  So stay awake and attentive this Lent if you want to see God in your daily life.  In fact, I would like to suggest that one of your Lenten practices might be to spend 15 minutes a day observing life.  Be still.  Do nothing. Look around.  Go to a quiet place and waste time admiring a plant or flower -  something you would ordinarily not take time to appreciate.  Buy a small plant.  Care for it.  For those who have eyes to see God’s glory surrounds us and fills even doubtful and timid hearts with gratitude.

The poet, Mary Oliver, says it well in “The Place I want to get back to.” 

The place I want to get back to/is where/in the pinewoods/in the moments between/the darkness/and first light/two deer/came walking down the hill/and when they saw me/they said to each other, okay,/ this one is okay,/let’s see who she is/and why she is sitting /on the ground, like that,/ so quiet, as if/asleep, or in a dream,/but, anyway, harmless;/and so they came/on their slender legs/and gazed upon me/not unlike the way/I go out to the dunes and look/and look and look/into the faces of the flowers;/and then one of them leaned forward/and nuzzled my hand, and what can my life/bring to me that could exceed/that brief moment?/For twenty years/I have gone every day to the same woods,/not waiting, exactly, just lingering./Such gifts bestowed,/can’t be repeated./If you want to talk about this/come to visit.  I live in the house/near the corner, which I have named/ Gratitude.  (1)

Footnotes:

1.  Oliver, Mary, Thirst, Beacon Press, Boston. 2006. p. 35-36.

Special thanks to Sharon Grant, Mary Ellen Green and Jeanne Keating  who have helped in editing this article.

"Stories Seldom Heard" is a monthly article written by Sister Patricia Bruno, O.P.  Sister is a Dominican Sister of San Rafael, California.  This service is offered to the Christian community to enrich one's personal and spiritual life.  The articles can be used for individual or group reflection.  If you would like "Stories Seldom Heard" sent to a friend, please send a note to "purple115@juno.com".  If you would like to support this ministry, please send tax deductible contributions to Dominican Sisters of San Rafael, c/o Sister Patricia Bruno, O.P., 1520 Grand Avenue, San Rafael, CA,   94901

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