THE JESUS SUFI

2010-12-27T20:02:00.000-08:00

Standing on the edge of the field
the wind scything the brambles
toeing the brown grey dirt
through deadened mulch
my boot heel stretching
then
cracking the ice
I search for your voice
your sign
a sign
the terrible whisper
that freezes rivers
hearts
I come out here
because nature
is capricious
as often You seem
I still
cannot fathom
God as a Baby
or on a Tree
so I watch the earth freeze
turn white
clean once more
see the choir of snow
touch ice crystals
and listen

CHRISTMAS 2010

2010-12-23T10:52:00.000-08:00

No one can celebrate a genuine Christmas without being truly poor. The self-sufficient, the proud, those who, because they have everything, look down on others, those who have no need even of God – for them there will be no Christmas. Only the poor, the hungry, those who need someone to come on their behalf, will have that someone. That someone is God, Emmanuel, God-with-us. Without poverty of spirit there can be no abundance of God.
Archbishop Oscar A. Romero
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"And when we give each other Christmas gifts in His name, let us remember that He has given us the sun and the moon and the stars, and the earth with its forests and mountains and oceans--and all that lives and move upon them. He has given us all green things and everything that blossoms and bears fruit and all that we quarrel about and all that we have misused--and to save us from our foolishness, from all our sins, He came down to earth and gave us Himself."
— Sigrid Undset

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Human beings suffer,
They torture one another,
They get hurt and get hard.
No poem or play or song
Can fully right a wrong
Inflicted and endured.

The innocent in gaols [jails]
Beat on their bars together.
A hunger-striker's father
Stands in the graveyard dumb.
The police widow in veils
Faints at the funeral home.

History says, don't hope
On this side of the grave.
But then, once in a lifetime
The longed-for tidal wave
Of justice can rise up,
And hope and history rhyme.

So hope for a great sea-change
On the far side of revenge.
Believe that a further shore
Is reachable from here.
Believe in miracles
And cures and healing wells.

Call the miracle self-healing:
The utter, self-revealing
Double-take of feeling.
If there's fire on the mountain
Or lightning and storm
And a god speaks from the sky

That means someone is hearing
The outcry and the birth-cry
Of new life at its term.
_________________________________________________
_________________________________________________

From The Cure at Troy by Seamus Heaney, his translation of Sophocles's play Philoctetes. courtesy of the Ekklesia project

And,my all time favorite, from John's Gospel,the quote that actually changed my life when I read it shaking in bed
"There,on the shore,Jesus stood. And it was morning..."
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to everyone I know,Blessed Christmas, to anyone I may have hurt this past year, I beg your pardon, may I do better this next one.To all those who helped me[which is everyone] thank you,bless you.

So less the better

2010-12-14T12:11:00.000-08:00

Fighting the flu for the first time since the early 1990's.It's wearying ,however,there are people who feel like this every single day of their lives.I'll take the hand I've been dealt...a right wing -nut judge in Va. overturned part of the Obamacare bill as "unconstitutional." America has almost vanished,Amerika grows closer.Justice is simply another commodity bought and sold by clerks in business suits...ADvent,onto more and higher thoughts, is 17 days upon us.My favorite time of the year, the weather is cold crisp,clear the air breathable ,I ignore the stores the black Friday bullshit,the Santa Claus monstrosity of consumerism, and try try try to focus on the Lord Jesus.And, I find it keeps me somewhat happy, certainly in tuned to a small stillness which resonates . My wonderful beautiful wife is an Advent person,filled with light and life, intelligence and the deepest compassion of anyone I've yet to know. I remember our first Christmas as parents,poor, tired, overwhelmed constantly [the baby was a week old]out of our depth,and i distinctly recalling that it was the first time i began to understand the Incarnation .We were happy, poor, tired ,confused, frightened, ecstatic.It was Christmas...

Blasts at 2 Sufi Shrines

2010-10-08T09:20:00.000-07:00

The evil continues. Two more shrines in Karachi were bombed today,courtesy of the frightened and ignorant who fear Love and Light, and who scurry in the corner like vermin,or send children strapped with explosives or illiterate peasants to do their dark work. The Forces of Darkness cannot win,will not win.Love will overcome.We pray for the victims,the children,and the perpetrators,who are being led astray by sick twisted minds and souls.My they all begin to learn the Love of God .May God be merciful with them,Lord hear our prayer...

The Mets

2010-10-05T13:07:00.000-07:00

I have been a NY Mets fan since I was 5 years old. I attended my first game, in 1965,the night they announced Casey Stengel's retirement. I do not know ho many games I have actually attended without ever having a season pass of any kind[hundreds }.I remember Wes Westrum and Sheriff Parker,Joe the Cobra Frazier and George[where the hell is the exit} Bamberger. I actually saw Willie Mays play for the Giants [SF} and the Mets. I was at a number of games in 69 and 73[and all the intervening years] I have worn my Mets shirts though thin and thinner, accepting the taunts of Yengee "fans" as one would catcalls at a republican convention: a badge of honor .I wept and got loaded when Seaver was traded, cried when Lindsey nelson and Murph passed, cheered when M Donald Grant sold the team he helped to destroy with such ease.So much for my Bona Fides. Watching another losing season with the ever dwindling number of fans, then seeing the truly bizarre press conference between the Wilpons[ons{I like Fred, his son, well, think Bush jr,Franklin Graham, for examples of not too bright men siring veritable morons.}Now, the bullshit that was thrown reminded me of the art exhibit at Bklyn Museum where the pictures were smeared with Dung.No thing, as in nothing will come of this. It is the bankers saying[in between guffaws] that they have learned their lesson.It is the republicans talking about unemployment and the recession as if the democrats were in power all those years.It is all lies. The new Gm will be a toady who will listen to the boob son Wilpon, Wally Backman will be the ticking bomb in the clubhouse[the fiery field general.sigh.weep]nothing will change.When the mets were good and arrogant they had color[and black players, by the way]These guys quit on Clueless Willie Randolph and nice man jerry Manuel. They should hold Beltran over the Kosciusko Bridge by his heels until he pisses himself and make certain he does not ever dog it again. Reyes should get off the HGH[oh yes, Thyroid,right...} and someone should insert a foot in his ass.Wright, another nice guy who lives off of stupid pitchers,either moves in or gets traded. Nice guy, so is my neighbor, don't want him playing third base,either. No more head first slides, 10 grand each time.Too much?Tough shit.If Pagan can run out every ball, if Clemente ran out everything, and Mays and Kailine and Henry AAron did, then these mutts should, too. And hey,Keith stop the bullshit, I saw you JOG down to first base many time on infield ground balls, and leave the dugout during the 6th game in 86,so stop this ranting as if you were Lou Gehrig. Time for an overhaul.Time to stop the bad craziness.The Tragic is back

See them as Roses

2010-09-16T09:24:00.000-07:00

She shuffles
now
with a cane dragging in her right hand
sifting through garbage
for the deposits on cans
and bottles
she lives in a house
though her clothes are soiled
tattered
she has a name
though few know it
and more often
she is spoken to
if at all
in epithets
in gentrification
she is unwanted
as vermin
yet
yet
she
to some
who can see
with their hearts
is a perfect flower
created by love
nurtured
by beauty light warmth
O
to learn
to see with them!
to see angels perched in trees
to hear birds whistling to the Lord
to see God picking through refuse
looking for a Rose

the light

2010-09-15T13:18:00.000-07:00

whisper
a prayer
of thanks
ceaselessly
a Saint once proffered
how that is done
has
confounded
irritated
moved me
since its encountering
I know
now
much less then when I was 20
and even less then at 30
unlearning
is more difficult
then its opposite
to pray with my whole self
is then
to offer what I am
broken and not
to That Which is Beyond
Any Comprehension
or Thought
That which
I put a name on
God
will do
I offer my
self
as is known only by
the Great Other
to become love
many years ago
a wise man instructed
me to learn to be great at love
to love as a flower does
like the rain
people talk about love
he told me
don't talk about it
become it
and when I was 25,I thought
it simple...

again

2010-09-11T14:09:00.000-07:00

A dour day historically. The weather,though,here at least, is bright, warm comfortable.Listening to Dinu Lipatti play Bach,my children are home ,some playing, others watching a baseball game. The Me ts are done, cooked,well, they were done a long time ago. The republicans are poised to set forth destroying whatever is left of the country in November. People have no jobs, and yet are hooked into the building of a mosque.Don't build it, build it,whatever,it is not the big issue.Education, jobs,the environment these are big deals.The sleight of hand constantly employed by Republicans amazes ME, AS does the reaction of the polis.Sigh.How many times do you have to get hit over the head before you realize who is hitting you?Like this fool who wanted to get famous for fifteen minutes by burning a book.Why didnt the'press' ignore this hoople and concentrate on real issues:How much does Blackwater get EVERY DAY from the debacle in IRAQ?Halliburton? why is no one investigating? DOES ANYONE CARE?IS anyone awake??????

Come to me all you who...

2010-07-23T04:35:00.000-07:00

THe LORD
___________
come to me all of you:
murderers
corporate raiders
doctors without borders

arms dealers
sex offenders
misogynists
maryknollers
good one and all
drunks
dope fiends
chronic gamblers
wife beaters
gardeners
little league coaches
astronomers
people who try their damndest every single day
and still can't make it
starving children
fat cats who get enemas to eat more
de-foresters
masochists
taxi drivers
diamond dealers
dope peddlers
lying sweating televangelists
porn stars
opera singers
pushy parents gossipers
saints
poets
good and ill
the elderly
forgotten by most
homeless
empty hearted
sociopaths
bombers of the undefended
soldiers all
every person who thinks they are beyond
the reach of love
or who don't care
gay lesbian transgender
all created by Love

the humble the meek
the kind
the honest
the kingdom
is always theirs
and ours
welcome all

BP,the Gulf

2010-06-17T14:26:00.000-07:00

looking over the picture of the header,the beautiful beaches of Long Island,the crushing abomination taking place in the Gulf presently becomes all too real.Partisan politics aside,how can anyone try to defend this!?blind naked greed, greed that is beyond the dreams of Croseus , and still, the response is muted.What the hell is wrong with people?unless it literally touched their person it means nothing?how many times are people going to be hit over the head with a ballpeen hammer before they realize just who is hitting them?

How then?

2010-05-25T17:10:00.000-07:00

I have seen so much misery
at night\between sleep
I see it again
the faces
the sounds
always
the smell
no jasmine nor roses for them

How then
to gauge happiness
so elusive
amidst so much ruin

it falls to my speech
to attempt
to explain
to fight
yes fight
the barren ugliness
with love
my love
for you

How then to
explain how i
have been gifted
to know you
these years
to laugh weep
curse sing pray
make love with you
to taste your sweetness
with every sigh
then wake each morning

how then to explain

I read where
John Keats never
consummated
his love
for dear Fanny Brawne
the act itself would have literally killed him
though I know
for certain
that I would have for you
and would have believed
that I had drawn the fortunate
turn
amidst the beautiful barren
moments of light

J

2010-05-11T17:45:00.001-07:00

You came in Turquoise
reflected in a blue pool
as first I saw you
your bathing suit
wrapping your body
a mixture
of
swimmer and
farm girl
looking oddly recognizable
did we meet in a diner somewhere
previously?
instantly you dropped hints
which
in retrospect
I should have noticed
how
your dream was to
be an Israeli ballet dance
which was odd
since you were neither
Jewish
nor a dancer
you were
actually a devout catholic
who loved sex
a swimmer
and an occupational therapist
who was crazy about me
and I failed to notice
all of the words in that sentence
it would be volatile
argumentative
and nasty
then lyrical in bed
soft
so gentle it was crushing
I knew it would end badly
it began over a tea set
escalated from there
i parted with my beloved Indian blanket
friend of cold nights and picnics
as a gift
I thought in my hubris
it would ease the blow
I shake my head at my arrogance
you recovered quicker than I

years later,now married
happily
a word I never associated with you
I received a cryptic postcard
filled with allusions
making sense
only to me
my last contact
it now seems

looking backwards
I know where I had seen you
why you always appeared so familiar
a dream
of sorts
you
are the Angel
that is used
to model headstones

Happy Easter

2010-04-03T18:11:00.001-07:00

somehow, we've come through the darkness again.The Light is here,it is overwhelming, and beautiful

musings

2010-03-27T06:55:00.001-07:00

I've taken to wonder, recently,about our shared enterprise.How much time do I waste watching the ridiculous television set, even if for only Hockey and now Baseball games?Would this time not be better spent playing with my kids,walking the dog, reading a book, listening to Bach or actually speaking with my friends?The contradiction ,of course, is that I truly appreciate 21st century technology , I love trains and planes and the internet and lovely stereos and that I can watch films by Tarkovsky whenever I wish.The flip side,is of course,the dark side.Folks,it seems to me, will always give up some freedom if it mean technological convenience .Cell phones,GPS tracking,wireless internet,the lack of privacy,the intrusion that has become the ordinary. Here is an example. I waited for my wife to come home by subway on day, with the ever loving Delenn at my side, and counted not the people emerging from the subway speaking on cell phones, but those who were not.It was almost 20 to 1.Now, of course, there are myriad reason why, the one that struck me,though was loneliness, a gnawing deep gaping emptiness.{Of course this is not to say that the phones are not handy, can save a life,etc.it is the somewhat larger picture, sans the extreme example used as a common defense upon questioning the reliance upon the phones]How much intimacy we have given up for just a little toy.Well, what do I know? I'll have a cup of tea, crack open a book of poems, listen to Bach St Matthews Passion, and feel content.

civility

2010-03-26T13:51:00.000-07:00

Again, it would seem, I come back to this subject. Civility,or lack thereof , is a pernicious threat to the body politic, our rights,our very existence as polis.The insane rancor over the health care "debate" which was actually no debate but rather the insurance companies and pharma giants waging war,as they know it to be done. The behavior of the porcine politicians ,the lunatic ravings of the radio and fox folk is so repugnant it makes you gag.Follow the money.Find out who benefits most from this, and you will find the real debate.The war in Iraq, who has benefited most ?Certainly no the Iraqi's,nor the Kurds.It is the defense contractors and the oil companies.Is there anyone who still believes this war has been fought over anything other than profits?Does anyone really believe the health care nonsense has anything to do with,well, health care? It is about profit, who controls it, and who controls the debt.Jesus wept...

Mrs. Bruno

2010-03-24T04:41:00.000-07:00

when I was very young
there was grocery store
smack in the middle of our small street
Mrs. Bruno's
we called it
she was an old widow
her husbands snap brimmed
fedora
soft and grey
hung from the top of a coat rack
as if he was sitting in the kitchen
waiting
her store,though
was magic to this child
candies breads drinks cakes
I imagined that the store was
as vast as a supermarket
its stocks never ending
once
My mother needed some vegetable
I told her I would go to Mrs Bruno's
she has it
i said she has everything
My Mom calmly told me that she would not
I went anyway and asked
when she told me no
I was stunned
I thought she could reach in back
and withdraw
anything
like heaven
I guess
I remember asking her
repeatedly
are you sure you don't have it?
and spending some time
astonished at this unfolding

we moved the next summer
I went back ,once to see the store
it was now decrepit
not at all what I remembered
[whatever is?}
I went inside
the new owners said Mrs Bruno was gone
and I saw the
hat was
as well

latter days

2010-03-23T12:42:00.000-07:00

eventually
the number of bank accounts
401K's
stocks bonds
real estate
will be
as ephemeral
as eider down
sunsets watched
will mean
more than assets
calculated
the red and black
might describe the sky more than a
ledger

as I listen to Bach
drinking tea
i think of all the opportunities
wasted
missed
because
I chased a butterfly
read a poem
held my wifes hand
walked with my child along the
edge of the sea

I smile and wonder
who missed what?

open place

2010-03-19T12:55:00.001-07:00

we want more
by we I guess
I mean americans
though pretty much
the rest of the world
listens the same
we want it all
now
always
we want God
boxed
tied up
neatly
used to
secure arguments
and quiet loud relatives
we want land
preserved pristine
and highways to get to them
fast
before they're gone
we want to travel
quickly
cheaply
to go there
and SAY
we've been
our passports looking like
a proud third graders report card
with pretty
colorful
stamps
buying
maybe a hat or some bright scarf
soon forgotten

that will fall and clog a closet door for years

we do not take time
to sit
to breathe
our yoga is a competition
we run on treadmills
the metaphors screaming
no one listening

perhaps im just getting old
recognizing styles from 35 years ago
newly worn as if invented yesterday
listening to the same tired
speeches
the same old bugaboos
the victims
always
the other
the speeches have become cruder though
the tone more openly
vile
and
ignorant
ignorance is flaunted
militant
and by ignorance
i do not mean lack of
education
i mean
the argument that
the earth is flat
because the bible is printed
on flat pages
i mean the OTHER always being
someone who doesnt look
like my reflection

perhaps im simply
getting old
the cops all seem so young
the winters seem longer
the spring so short a time
the music though
if you stop
is always playing
it is beyond the hum
the hub
the din
it is the mercy of the wind
the breath of the earth
it is the planet
itself
rejoicing
who the hell am I to
dissent?

now and then

2010-03-05T12:47:00.000-08:00

...haven't written anything in a while, simply trying to keep my head above water, as it were. Been concentrating on Dostoevsky and Pasternak so far this year,Pasternak's poetry to be more precise.Russian novelists have such grand designs,Feodor D always reaching for the grey to colorize ,Pasternak going back to childhood,to wonder.Sigh. His verse can be so seemingly obtuse, no wonder Stalin reportedly said"leave the Cloud Dweller alone." when he woke up one day and decided to whack half of the writers in the country.What a sad, strange wonderful country Russia is!Sad because its history is so replete with leaders who were either incompetent or corrupt or deranged,or all three.sigh. I have such a deep love of the people there, their openness, their love of literature of talk of chess and tea. I know so much of this has changed in the last 20 years,though I wonder if these things are not genetic/environmental somehow...been reading a great deal on the Russian/German battles of WWII.I am no buff of war, i usually read the poets to find out what was going on during any given time. However, since so much of history is constantly re-written[even in the USA,I'm afraid]it's good to see other viewpoints.The Russian losses in WWII are beyond comprehension.The Germans behaved demonically on their way into Russia, and the Soviets paid them back.Of course the civilian populations were the victims.The women of Berlin, dear God,rape as a means of subjugation !The diary a woman in Berlin and the film are so difficult to read and watch because the suffering is so continual.Does the fact that the diarist was FASCIST make her victim hood any less painful? Did the fact that the Ukrainians and Belorussians not support the Soviets make their suffering any less intense by the Germans?War by decimation. Has the world yet recovered from it?

Annie

2010-02-14T07:57:00.000-08:00

Each day
under the cool sheets I feel your
soft pulse
I wake to you
and have for these many
days
never quite able
to figure
to say
Remembering the
First time
I touched the outline of
your
lips
I knew what the movement
Meant in the shadows

what
your
heartbeat
does
always
gratitude
of sighs
of tears
seems
mean

and yet
yet
there is
that moment
brief
as clarity
when
I feel
{what I think }
To be
the
unseen
back hand of God
and find
of course
it is
simply You

Dostoevskian fatigue

2010-02-11T11:49:00.000-08:00

After an afternoon spent in furious debate with a French New wave scholar over the idea of Jerry Lewis as modern mainfestation of Dostoevsky's the Idiot or Holy Fool,the Blog author settles down to a much deserved rest.

afterwards

2010-01-27T13:42:00.000-08:00

We are different
you and i
we see
smell taste
in different
senses
i cut an apple
and offer you the sweet
you tear an orange
offer me
the seed
we hear music from the lips
of others
mine is languorous
yours a disjointed
cacophony
we view God

through
a prism that filters
the other
I cannot see
except for Christ
you see mirrored reflections
to eternity

do we then take our flowers
smell their secret
and disappear?
or is there
the slightest sigh
in the air
that keeps us
ready
the morrow

piss dream

2010-01-26T10:04:00.000-08:00

they are there
in shadows of buildings
new old
huddled together
banded against
cold and cops and
callous stares

as I passed
a man
smiled
his decayed mouth

a universe shattered

either in acknowledgement
or pain
suffering is transcendent

i bought two cups of tea and a roll
sat down
smiled back
and listened to the wind

Helmuth James Graf and Freya Von Moltke

2010-01-10T09:28:00.000-08:00

In the ongoing and laborious discussion on morality and ethics, it would be prudent to view how some reacted to true terror and evil.Helmuth James Graf von Moltke was the scion of one of Germany's most illustrious military families.{Imagine, the Lee's of Virginia as a reference}A lawyer a devout Christian, Helmuth Von Moltke early on, from 1932 on saw what was happening in/to Germany.He said to his wife" I read his book, he said exactly what he would do"referring to AH. He worked , then,for the Nazis and against them in the Foreign office and the Abwer.For the Nazis by virtue of being employed by them, and against them with all he could. His letters to his wife are filled with the details of his trying to help Russian POW's and Jews, knowing, of course, that the dread ss was always nearby. He was eventually arrested and murdered by the Nazi state.I mention this because his widow, his beloved Fredya died January 1, 2010 in Vermont, having outlived her beloved husband by 65 years.She worked for reconciliation all her remaining years. What to do in the face of moral evil? Read these letters, and you will see. Rest in Peace

Bach for the new Year

2010-01-03T16:16:00.000-08:00

the New year is come, and with it more Bach.It's odd, as much as I love, for example,Coltrane, Duke Ellington, William Byrd,Monk,Bird,Dylan,The Beatles,Gospel,the Dead, Brian Wilson,Miles,Nusrat, Beethoven, I always fall back on JS Bach. I know little of music, but I do know what I like, and what I love. Listened to the Christmas Cantata and the Magnificat, now going through various versions of the Well tempered Clavier.Cliched as it may be, I love Gould's version best`.Till Felners' recent as well as Aldridge are both very very beautiful. Only Gregorian chant is equal in my heart to Bach,the way he makes everything sing,even silence.Don't feel like writing today, school starts again tomorrow, a sad day actually, the kids are gone,the Christmas lights go down,darkness is darker,somehow.I never look forward to the week after New Years,though i have some wonderful reading at hand, and the days will get longer,we will visit the folks in the countrysdie where there will be snow,etc.so we will have fun!!!!!!!!!!!!!

2010-01-01T15:53:00.000-08:00

2010-01-01T15:49:00.000-08:00

2010-01-01T15:45:00.000-08:00

Let's hope it's a good one,without any fear

2010-01-01T15:41:00.000-08:00

Happy new year.Promise.Resolute.Foward

and all will be well, and all will be well

2009-12-30T15:43:00.000-08:00

1 Corinthians 13:1-13
If I speak in the tongues of men and angels,
but have not love,
I have become sounding brass or a tinkling symbol.

And if I have prophecy and know all mysteries and all knowledge,
and if I have all faith so as to remove mountains,
but have not love, I am nothing.

And if I dole out all my goods, and
if I deliver my body that I may boast
but have not love, nothing I am profited.

Love is long suffering,
love is kind,
it is not jealous,
love does not boast,
it is not inflated.

It is not discourteous,
it is not selfish,
it is not irritable,
it does not enumerate the evil.
It does not rejoice over the wrong, but rejoices in the truth

It covers all things,
it has faith for all things,
it hopes in all things,
it endures in all things.

Love never falls in ruins;
but whether prophecies, they will be abolished; or
tongues, they will cease; or
knowledge, it will be superseded.

For we know in part and we prophecy in part.

But when the perfect comes, the imperfect will be superseded.

When I was an infant,
I spoke as an infant,
I reckoned as an infant;

when I became [an adult],
I abolished the things of the infant.

For now we see through a mirror in an enigma, but then face to face. Now I know in part, but then I shall know as also I was fully known.

But now remains
faith, hope, love,

these three;

but the greatest of these is love.

to all those we lost during 2009, to all those we love, May the mercy and Love of Jesus the Christ be yours

And an Angel of the Lord Appeared unto Them

2009-12-25T12:54:00.000-08:00

And the Word Became Flesh

2009-12-25T07:19:00.000-08:00

And pitched His tent among us

And There were Shepherds keeping night watch over their flocks...

2009-12-24T16:20:00.000-08:00

LIGHT, LIFE , LOVE and MERCY TO ALL

2009-12-24T06:32:00.000-08:00

2009-12-24T06:29:00.000-08:00

2009-12-24T06:19:00.000-08:00

Christmas

2009-12-24T06:12:00.000-08:00

"And when we give each other Christmas gifts in His name, let us remember that He has given us the sun and the moon and the stars, and the earth with its forests and mountains and oceans--and all that lives and move upon them. He has given us all green things and everything that blossoms and bears fruit and all that we quarrel about and all that we have misused--and to save us from our foolishness, from all our sins, He came down to earth and gave us Himself."
— Sigrid Undset
Hiroshima 1945
"It was a night spent in the basement of a burnt out building.
People injured by the atomic bomb took shelter in this room, filling it.
They passed the night in darkness, not even a single candle among them.
The raw smell of blood, the stench of death.
Body heat and the reek of sweat. Moaning.
Miraculously, out of the darkness, a voice sounded:
"The baby's coming!"
In that basement room, in those lower reaches of hell,
A young woman was now going into labor.
What were they to do,
Without even a single match to light the darkness?
People forgot their own suffering to do what they could.
A seriously injured woman who had been moaning but a moments before,
Spoke out:
"I'm a midwife. Let me help with the birth."
And now life was born
There in the deep, dark depths of hell.
Her work done, the midwife did not even wait for the break of day.
She died, still covered with the blood.
Bring forth new life!
Even should it cost me my own,
Bring forth new life!"
by Sadako Kurihara

May all who venture forth find the Love and Mercy of the Christ Child born again and again in our Hearts and minds.LOVE LIGHT and Hope to all!!!

2009-12-22T10:51:00.000-08:00

Stalingrad or Fortess Madonna

2009-12-22T10:45:00.000-08:00

The Stalingrad Madonna,Dr. Kurt Reuber

2009-12-22T10:38:00.000-08:00

During this Season most Holy,surrounded by comfort and joy,it is good to reflect. These Madonnas were drawn by a German Doctor,a physician treating the German 6th army,a Lutheran Pastor and friend of Albert Schweitzer.Dr Reuber, in cold that is impossible to imagine, in a hopeless situation, attempted to bring some light to the darkness of Stalingrad.The Stalingrad Madonna,drawn on back of a Russian map, served as a reminder to some, that there was Light life and hope.Still,even in the frozen inhuman hell of the savage battle for the city on the Volga.The second Madonna,drawn at Christmas in 1943, one year later, is darker,Mary and the Christ looking like hunted refugees[which,essentially there were}after Dr Reuber had been in a prison camp for one year. Where oh where was the LIGHT that The Darkness could not Overwhelm?Perhaps in the hearts of some, and in a small bunker where a doctor tired to keep himself and others alive.These Madonnas speak to me deeply,of suffering and hope.That is the message of Christmas

The Jesus Sufi?The Festival of Lights

2009-12-12T12:54:00.000-08:00

"And make mention of Mary in the Scripture, when she had withdrawn from her people to a chamber looking East,
And had chosen seclusion from them. Then We sent unto her Our Spirit and it assumed for her the likeness of a perfect man.
She said: Lo! I seek refuge in the Beneficent One from thee, if thou art God-fearing.
He said: I am only a messenger of thy Lord, that I may bestow on thee a faultless son.
She said: How can I have a son when no mortal hath touched me, neither have I been unchaste?
He said: So (it will be). Thy Lord saith: It is easy for Me. And (it will be) that We may make of him a revelation for mankind and a mercy from Us, and it is a thing ordained."
The above quote sounds Coptic,or perhaps an early translation of Luke.It is not. It is from The Quran, 19:16-21.Yes, The Holy Quran.Perhaps if all of us found what UNITES us instead of divides, a slow understanding might emerge.
Tonight begins the celebration of Hanukkah ,the festival of lights. Our elder brothers celebrate once more their captivity ransomed by the Lord God.I wish blessings to all who celebrate this season.light upon light upon light.Cue Goethe.

Karl Barth,Thomas Merton, R.I.P December 10,1968

2009-12-10T10:32:00.000-08:00

Yes, these two extraordinary men, both members of that very rare club,genius, each enriching their century with some of the most beautiful words celebrating God yet written.Barth died peacefully of his years in Basel, his home town.Merton,of course was electrocuted by touching an exposed wire on a fan in Bangkok ,Thailand at a conference on monasticism . Each of these men have contributed mightily to my journey,each were honest men, each spoke truth to power,each wrote divinely .Both are heroes to me,and I literally cannot imagine where I would be without their writings, which point me to the Lord.And that,I believe, is what they are; signposts on the road.The mistake is often to give any illuminated soul such attention that we ,I ,forget where they are pointing!Neither Merton nor Barth had any illusions nor delusions in this regard.I will continue to speak with them through the communion of saints, and use them for guidance...Here is Barth on Advent: "then it behoves us all, especially if we happen to be theologians, to keep our mouths shut and first to consider that the Christmas message is not a philosophy, nor an ideology, nor a moral system or anything like that". The Christmas word is "the Word of God to which no one has the key and whose real meaning for us, now as in former ages, is God’s secret. Hidden is the point where the Christmas message concerns each one of us and our whole generation, where its grace and judgement, its promise and command affect us".
...

If God had wanted to deal with us as He is free to do, and as we well deserved it, according to His principle, He would never have become man. But He was and is merciful, and therefore in Christ He has come together with us (with us!), though His holiness and our weakness and wickedness should really exclude any coming together on His part and any thought of cooperation on our part. But God did and does just this, the impossible or – should we say? – that which is practical only for Him the Merciful One, which must happen so that His free and merciful will be done. The fact that also in this respect human beings can believe the eternal Light, means that we do perhaps have the will to do that which concerns us most, and which under any circumstance must be done in common with others. – Karl Barth, Christmas (trans. Bernhard Citron; Edinburgh/London: Oliver and Boyd, 1959), 47.
And here is Merton on Advent taken from
Thomas Merton: A Life in Letters, (Harper One, 2008)
“Here I come with a noise out of the woods, something to say for Christmas…the wise men are on the way, and the shepherds, and our own childhood. And it will be Christmas again, with all the invisible grace of His coming, His revolution. We do not understand that this business about the crib is the real revolution that once for all turned everything upside-down so that nothing has ever been, or can ever be, the same again. But we try hard to sing the ‘old song’ instead of the new one: the song of war, of money, of power, of success, of having a good time: when it is really all much simpler than that. Life is much more fun when you don’t have to have a good time or force anybody to do anything or put anything across.” (Dec. 20, 1962)
Amen

ADVENT

2009-12-01T08:12:00.000-08:00

The beginning of the Liturgical year.The time of Patience. Looking over the crowds last Friday, much of the Thanksgiving blessings seemed to have been focused on shopping.No ,no screed on folks shopping.It would be shameful to talk of blessings one day,then judge people for doing something the next[especially since I did some shopping online, and perhaps not everyone has that same privilege .I want to think about waiting,about the long slow painful history of the people of Israel,living, as Stan Hauerwas put it, the way Jesus meant for us, as aliens in the land.The patience of Advent,the slow breaking of light,the recollection ,the foundation we are building spiritually,these are ,for me, the hallmarks of Advent.More tomorrow

giving thanks

2009-11-25T09:58:00.000-08:00

...for so many things, for life, for sobriety,for my beloved wife, my wonderful enlightening children,for family,for health, for my senses,to see to hear to touch smell taste to experience.Most of all to be a very very small servant of my Lord,one that screws up much more than not, still, who is loved beyond any possible imaginings. God bless and a wonder filled thanksgiving.

how then to live?

2009-11-20T14:51:00.000-08:00

This is the question that faces us, me, in the 21st century. How to live a faith filled life in opposition , as it were,to societal values. Whatever the original intent upon the founding, this experiment in democracy has warped into something that is barely recognizable . Look at the people who frame this debate,look at what and for whom they speak;billionaire oligarchs ,multi national corporations who are faceless,nameless, and never ever held accountable. The Powers and principalities that Paul spoke of , are here and now in control. No secret there.What then can one poor middle aged man do?I can refuse getting involved in their madness, playing their political games, turning their hatred around with steadfastness and humility. I can read the Bible and listen to the revelation,right here and now, not simply from millennia past. I can live accordingly, which does not mean to act is if the past 1500 years have not occurred, as is the case in a recent book.Living like Jesus means going inward,not outwards.It means living a life of unlimited mercy,of forgiveness, of difficult choices .of love and understanding.All of these words are bandied about with such utter contempt that they have lost their flavor,love becomes a greeting card or a movie, instead of,to quote Dostoevsky" a harsh and dreadful thing." harsh and dreadful because we love the difficult, the street person, the drunk, the junkie,the exploited and abused[they run hand in hand] woman,the kid with no adult around,the old person who is as needy and dependent as an infant,and who smiles much less.And to do these things, not for some personal glory,or because there is a reward,simply because our Lord demanded it of us, and gave us this as our calling. To have the son of God strip down to his waist and perform the duties of a servant by washing the feet of his assembled friends is an act of humility and sacredness that is beyond any comprehension.Yet,paradoxically ,that is what we are charged with,to live our lives in emulation of HIS SERVICE.We may need a revolution, the revolution that Jesus calls for is one of love and mercy and service.The world is not yet ready, we,I need to sow those seeds.Today.

brothers

2009-11-17T14:34:00.000-08:00

getting ready

2009-11-17T14:33:00.001-08:00

Siobhan and himself

2009-11-17T14:33:00.000-08:00

Melis and Chris

2009-11-17T14:32:00.000-08:00

DAD

2009-11-17T13:55:00.001-08:00

again

2009-11-17T13:55:00.000-08:00

The greatest love

2009-11-17T13:54:00.000-08:00

Knock knock

2009-11-17T13:53:00.000-08:00

three generations

2009-11-17T13:52:00.000-08:00

himself

2009-11-17T13:51:00.001-08:00

Grandmas redux

2009-11-17T13:51:00.000-08:00

Grandmas

2009-11-17T13:50:00.001-08:00

Liam and Fr. Jim Krisch

2009-11-17T13:50:00.000-08:00

2009-11-17T13:49:00.001-08:00

2009-11-17T13:49:00.000-08:00

2009-11-17T13:48:00.001-08:00

2009-11-17T13:48:00.000-08:00

2009-11-17T13:47:00.000-08:00

2009-11-17T13:46:00.000-08:00

2009-11-17T13:45:00.000-08:00

`more communion

2009-11-17T13:44:00.000-08:00

a theology of friendship

2009-11-13T15:49:00.000-08:00

It is a formidable title for such a natural thing.I was struck,years ago, by a comment by a Dutch worker priest, Egide Van Broeckhoven,who said"My vocation is to teach men the mystical depths of friendship." I have held onto that quote,held it deep and close by,and have haltingly tried to live by it. A few years back, someone took offense at something that I did not say but was attributed to me.Either way, it caused a fissure that was unnecessary and caused great pain.I made a vow/promise that from then on I would only speak well of others, so that I would never again run the risk of misquote or be the cause of this kind of crap.Being a true friend is infinitely more difficult than being a buddy or a pal. I realize this sounds trite,however,the mystical depths of friendship means [to me] that we meet in the Lord, in that place which exists in the point vierge`,and THAT is what makes it special.Or maybe it is the example of Will D. Campbell ,when we believe what he said "We're all bastards, God just loves us anyway." Amen

non -posed

2009-11-10T12:21:00.000-08:00

The Word of the Lord

2009-11-10T12:19:00.000-08:00

Preparation

2009-11-10T12:18:00.000-08:00

the word

2009-11-10T12:17:00.000-08:00

more communion

2009-11-10T12:16:00.000-08:00

more communion

2009-11-10T12:15:00.000-08:00

More Love

2009-11-10T12:12:00.000-08:00

love

2009-11-10T12:11:00.000-08:00

first communion

2009-11-10T12:10:00.000-08:00

2009-11-10T12:09:00.001-08:00

Brotherly Love

2009-11-10T12:09:00.000-08:00

dichotomy

2009-11-09T09:18:00.000-08:00

I received two emails in my in box a few minutes ago. One was for homeless in america, the other for cashmere gifts for Christmas.Somehow,both sides pull at me.relentlessly.I guess the secular and the sacred are always, to use broad terms,in tensions{and if not they sure as hell better be,or the church is in worse trouble then I imagine}being decidedly lower middle class with a handicapped child doesn't leave a lot of room for excess cash, a term neither my wife nor I have used in 26 years.What I am saying is that it seems that the world is more and more divided between those who have no homes, and those who wear cashmere.The folks who parade around in WWJD buttons and shirts would be wise to remember , as for me, too, that Jesus was clearly and always associated with drunks, whores,thieves,murderers,philanderers extortionists and working people who stunk from a days labor, were coarse in manner and speech, and were the one that the Lord God PREFERRED over the rich, the bourgeois the faux intellectuals and the bankers and landlords.Homeless and cashmere...

well, some folks in new York will be happy

2009-11-02T13:07:00.000-08:00

I loathe the NY Yankees.I mean deep seeded, coursed onto my DNA despise.That said, a lot of folks I know will be overjoyed at the NYY victory.For me, seriously, it is the triumph of the worst parts of American ideals.I have the most toys, the most power, so I win. Screw the rest of you,I play with you only because I have to.And the fans have a sense of entitlement , as though some poor schmuck in Pittsburgh or Houston or Kansas city has no right . It is the triumph of out of control capitalism, and the morons who supposedly run the sport will say"look at the tv ratings the Yengeez draw!" and that will be the end.useless idiots,the lot.sigh...ask most NYY fans who won the series two years ago, and draw a blank response.You see the only team that matters is theirs,they are Yengee fans ,not baseball fans.As if most of them could afford the 2000 dollar seats for a regular season game .2 grand!Holy shit! ain't that america?I got mine now you get yours. sad...

on the shoulders

2009-10-27T12:07:00.000-07:00

these past years

now 27

i have

never

I hope

ignored denied

a single plea

for help

that I knew

sometimes

the codebook

is not at the ready

sentences are

cryptic

uneven

halting

the language of pain

spat through

yellowed teeth

from a bile

that is generations

long

deep

somehow

these old bastards

struck gold

shut up

long enough

for the

Master to whisper

harsh magic

then

through

non scientific trial and error

gave forth something

which allowed

people to stop

killing themselves and others

slowly

I cannot transmit this secret

as it were

any other way

save by living

oft times I wanted

to shout it in some poor fuckers

soul

just to stop their pain

so eviscerating

to try to help before

I am asked

and

of course

that simply doesn't work

I see them

though

those folks

who havent

didnt

make it

I know each time

someone falls it

diminishes all

and know that the priviledge

I have is

the gift to live

and each day

despite myself

i have to learn

to be more generous

more compassionate

more loving

in returning it

to it's source

the church of money

2009-10-26T10:38:00.000-07:00

I see where an old Espiscopal church is being converted into a shopping mall and restaurants on the lower east side. How absolutely perfect! Instead of a shelter for battered women, a half way house or something, you know, Christian, it is being converted to the true one and only american god, MONEY.Everything about this is so rotten, so obscene, I thought there would be a hue and cry,however, as we know, it does not work that way. I found this story, along with its "chic",ultra "hip" architect so repulsive I was beginning to gag.The business of america is business...recieved a "christian" catalogue in the mail on Thursday, offered were genuine crown of thorns for only 19.95. I kid you not.All I could think of was Clarence Jordan,and his comment on a preacher extolling his new 25000 dollars cross atop his church.Jordan said"brother you've been ripped off. Time was a Christian could get one of those for free." amen

2009-10-21T11:42:00.000-07:00

2009-10-21T11:41:00.000-07:00

Jack Kerouac

2009-10-21T11:16:00.001-07:00

Jack Kerouac, arguably the most influential post war writer in america,died a lonely,terrible alcoholic death 40 years ago today in St Petersburg ,Florida,after throwing up his bleeding inards for hours.He was 47.The child of French Canadian parents,The author of numerous novels, short fiction, diaries and poetry, he is today ,of course, best remembered for his seminal novel, on the road,which defined him and helped to kill him.That novel, two years ago re-issued as its "original scroll'{the original scroll itself, a roll of teletype paper which James Irsay of the colts bought for over 2 million dollars} is far more detailed, sexually explicit and whole than the truncated version unleashed on the public in 1957.Kerouac reputation faded as he slid further into alcoholic madness.He became an anti semite, a right wing flag waver, and detested the "movement' many believed he had spawned[though its origins are more complicated,certainly].Kerouac was always of a certain conservative bent, he was deeply,profoundly influenced by his Roman Catholicism[despite his Buddhist leanings in the 1950's,which included two books about buddism,three if you count the dharma bums]His diaries and letters reveal someone else, shy, gentle, horrified by violence[his wwII merchant marine vessel was sunk while he was ashore, all hands lost, which haunted him endlessly] someone who despite his reputation, crafted slowly with many revisions. He was always looking out for the street people, the bum the wino, the dope fiend the homeless guy,the guy with a shot and a beer at the bar playing the sixth race at belmont. More so then many of his contemporaries [who despite being born working class, made sure they avoided it]Kerouac was in many ways the same kid who left Lowell ,Mass.for a scholarship at Columbia University,the same kid who had played high school football against Leonard Bernstein[they were friends.small world], and run into his alter ego, Neal Cassady years after. Cassady's influence on Jack, as jack shared his autodidact world with Neal and Neal revealed the underside of the dream to Jack, the junkies, hookers, pimps gamblers and drunks that made up the road. Criminally under appreciated in his own life, Kerouac's prose is deceptively simple, and delicate.His vision of salvation through suffering, not by overcoming it but by accepting that it is suffering, is only matched in vision by Dostoevsky.Yes, Fyodor Dostoevsky who until the 1930's was considered a provincial Russian hack writer, a reactionary and anti semite overwhelmed with guilt and religious themes. Sound Familiar. Now, Dostoevsky was certainly a better writer[as Blake was a better poet than Whitman, without denigrating eithers talent],it's the message that I find interesting in comparison to Kerouac. Perhaps one day Kerouacs literary reputation will meet the heights it deserves.Until then, we have thse odd, wild, hopeful serious deadly funny books. The last to read should be Big Sur, which chronicles hKerouac's decent into alcholic madness. Having actually had the D.T's myself, I can tell you the description is pitch perfect, and scary as h-e-l-l. The alcoholic hangover is rendered in all of it's terror[once I heard an alcoholic hangover as this:You wake up and are afraid you are going to die. Ten minutes later you are afraid you are going to live}Big Sur is probably his last great work. Read the On The Road-Dharma Bums-Lonesome Traveler-Tristessa-Desolation Angels books first. Try the poems, especially mexico city blues.Then go for the diaries.It's worth the time, and the rewards are many.Rest in peace, Ti` Jean[little jean or Jack, his nickname which is on his tombstone].And thanks for the gifts.

26 years

2009-10-20T11:08:00.000-07:00

26 years ago

that's over 9500 days

we took a chance

we lifted a finger towards convention

and fate

we said yes

i hope

with all my burning soul

and loins

that this is true

we toasted with

Perrier

and Blood oranges

and the next day

ate lobster and

watched the mets

between our toes

almost 10000 days have come

{ and it feels like that many Met losses}

that sounds more epic

and the only

difference

that matters

despite times that are hard

cold

uneven

times that are raw

that cut and scrape

times that are soft

like a babies dream

is how much more I want you '

love you care for you

today and

the next day

cold cold day

2009-10-16T12:46:00.001-07:00

Listening to Ingram Marshall's kingdom come.brilliant. Reading Karl Barth's essay's.Barth is a dangerous man, he took the Gospels seriously,knowing, like Dan Berrigan said, if you want to follow Jesus, you better look good on wood.Barth is so cogent, so insightful, i find myself reading and re-reading passages{, not simply because of knotty prose,} for their context,their genuine wonder.Like his Swiss mate Urs von Balthazar, Barth found the beauty at the centre .I am humbled by his output.I reckon this is what is referred to as genius.

absent

2009-10-12T14:01:00.000-07:00

sentiment fails

always

treacle rots

sometimes

gone now

what is difficult

still

is your absence

peace

2009-10-09T09:40:00.000-07:00

The Noble Peace Prize

won by Barack Obama

Kissinger smiling

Flags in church

2009-10-08T13:23:00.000-07:00

Since I was a boy, I have wondered of the placing of flags on the altar space. The flags of the USA and the Vatican are proudly displayed in every catholic church I have attended[in the us].Why is the question?The obvious answer is that catholics were always viewed as second citizens,with their primary allegiance to the Holy See. So they felt the need to out patriot the wasps and whomever else,and started putting the flag on the altar. My objection is that it is a secular sign, and has no place there[neither does the flag of the Vatican]and is in itself a form of idolatry.In Truth, Christians have no allegiance to ANY EARTHLY POWER. That is not to condone lawlessness,for we do have a law to follow. Jesus Himself is the law,His Ethics are OUR ethics,and we need no other law to abide. After the horror of the attacks downtown 8 years ago, the churches were filled for one week, a cop made a fortune singing the Star Spangled Banner at functions[and hideously, at church] then most folks not directly affected turned their hopes and expectations to POLITICS, and well, the rest is history.And noise. And tears. I think we need to reclaim our voice as Catholics/Christians by affirming our adherence to the Gospel,not the so called patriot act. THAT is something to sing about

Somewhere in Brooklyn...

2009-10-05T10:42:00.000-07:00

sober

2009-09-30T11:07:00.000-07:00

Waking is like

Sleeping

Save for

blast furnace

always consuming

The thirst

Is never slaked

The sweats

Your skin

Always red

All day permanent

Skin dry

Eczema

Dehydrated

Malnutritioned

Stomach bloated

In a grotesque

Parody of a

slowly

Starving child

Hands soft like a newborns

I make my

Way to the fridge

Shaking,squinting at the early light

Stomach

heaving

Taste of

Vomit

Still clinging

To my tounge

Looking for the

Golden liquid which

Will cool the fever

And enslave me

Again

Shouting about politics poetry freedom

Hours later

At a shithole bar

With fellow indentured

Servants

Lying to each other

And ourselves

Until tomorrow

When

It begins

again

always

And we move

quickly one day

Closer

To the sleep

That rots

the Cross

2009-09-27T16:52:00.000-07:00

The Cross is the topic that is always mentioned in churches, ranging from the literal to the metaphysical. The Cross, the ultimate beginning of Christianity,is used and mis-used. Listening to talk of"enemies' brought me to ask,did not the cross eliminate the idea of enemy?It's not my decision,my sacrifice that it's dependent upon,it was the sacrifice of Jesus,His forgiveness,his refusal to fight back, his reconciliation on the cross, that forms and informs us as community.The decision to use violence or call someone an enemy is not mine,it was made by Jesus the and for all time. If I listen,truly listen to what He said,then the answer is clear.The application is problematic only as long as I decide to keep my ego upfront.We have,all of us, been reconciled to each other. Now THAT is truly Good News...

Jim Carroll,RIP

2009-09-26T07:38:00.000-07:00

Irish drunk dope fiend poet rocker street hustler, and a legend on the black top courts. That strange day, september 11th, you had to leave, eh boyo?all those poems left unwritten, verbally lost in the ether,floating somewhere, another place another time, inspiration will arrive suddenly , and one will thank the muses.Now you are the muses...so much identification with Jim[sans the talent],his lovely card from the funeral and wake.the strange body which is the Catholic Church always welcomes back it's staggering offspring.Pray for us, Jim, drunks,fools, and jackasses all.

a glorious day

2009-09-19T11:47:00.000-07:00

gorgeous weather in the Northeast,the 4th, 4th weekend without rain since memorial day! Lots of folks out baby carriages abound,local hipsters and fauxsters and the rest of us all out there enjoying Gods good sunshine.One of those days that makes you grateful to be alive and sober and healthy and free at the same time. Blessed be

27 years

2009-09-14T13:12:00.000-07:00

twenty seven years

blessings have been given me

no one walks waters

today

2009-09-11T10:54:00.000-07:00

...a foreign power,an ally, supplied[secretly] a murderous group which eventually destroyed one of the most significant buildings in the country, sending it into a state of emergency from which it has not yet recovered. Over 3000 people,most just doing their jobs,others trying to help,were killed.Draconian measures were taken soon after,altering the constitution on the continents longest lasting democracy to this day. The people of Chile are still recovering from the coup, September the 11th, 1973.For all those who died on this day,this strange day in history,including,of course, those in the city in which I live,the 3000 killed by the crazed bastards in the hijacked jets,we pray God's mercy.

time

2009-09-05T06:19:00.000-07:00

forgiveness is hard

undoing damage takes time

God keeps no scorecard

farewell summer

2009-09-03T04:45:00.000-07:00

the days draw shorter

yellow tinges the leaf tips

the ocean remains

sacrament

2009-08-26T05:03:00.000-07:00

He walked

slowly

through the beach sand

his son

tenderly

holding his left arm

his right arm lay

withered

useless

at his side

he tapped his right foot

softly

on the grainy surface

carefully

the way

a soldier looks for

landmines

finally

he reached the

shoreline

his daughter then came

from his right

where she was

playing with her children

reached down

into the ocean

cupped her hand

and poured

some cool water

over his forehead

he took his sons hand

and touched it aginst his lips

at that moment

for the first time

i understood

baptism