I awake early this morning. The sky is lightening, just enough to show contrast with the dark form of the trees. I can’t yet see anything with clarity, but it is clear that day is coming. It will be another startlingly hot day, but for now I can enjoy the coolth of the predawn forest, resting in peace.
Then one single note breaks the stillness. “Alert. (pause) Alert. (pause) Alert, alert, alert. Day is here. Awake, awake, awake!” A solitary sentinel calls the world to prayer.
Another replies, then a third, then a growing chorus. Some voices I recognize, like steadfast Chickadee and persistent Titmouse. Owls call in the distance. Wood Thrush joins in, and a croaky Veery, as though he is just learning the song. Perhaps he is. Woodpeckers pound drumbeats back and forth, resounding through the forest. Sapsucker raps on the chimney cap. Raven passes over, adding a mystical bottom.
It is morning in church. Again. It happens every day. What a miracle! Thank God.
The feast of Pentecost is coming on Sunday — that mysterious celebration of Voice when, the tradition tells us, the Holy Spirit comes to animate the world. Again. In the beginning, a wind from God blew over the face of the deep. By that wind/breath/voice, the world was created. At Pentecost, the 50th day since the Resurrection of Christ, we celebrate the Voice coming back, harbinger of a new creation.
We proclaim this on Pentecost, every year. The birds proclaim it every day.
Jesus, so the story tells us, is giving humanity a new start. We hadn’t done as well as the creator had hoped, the first time around. So Jesus comes and teaches us the ways of Love, jumpstarting a second go-round. On my better days I think we’re making progress, but it’s easy to lose faith.
The birds remind me.
I received a note from a friend this morning, perfectly timed: “He trusted in God; let him deliver him. Let him rescue him, if he delights in him.” You will recognize these words from Psalm 22, thrown as taunts to Jesus on the cross. Yet even there, he was not alone.
There is a mystery of Love that is far greater than we are, holding us even in our darkest hours. Just before dawn, a single Voice calls in the forest. A new day begins. Praise God!
From the poustinia,
Steve
Staying Put
Two months ago, I wrote about my commitment to stay in my poustinia in the forest through Pentecost, on May 31,...
Voices of Dawn
I awake early this morning. The sky is lightening, just enough to show contrast with the dark form of the trees. I...
Morning Greetings
Early in the morning, I walk in the forest, exchanging greetings with the woods creatures. The birds, of course, sing...
Gratitude & Grief
My head is all in a muddle this week, not knowing which way to turn. My heart is filled to overflowing, but I can’t...
What Holds You?
The usual props of daily life have fallen away. Routines are disrupted, or exploded into bits. Not only the outward...
Earth Day
Fifty years ago today, as a freshman in high school, I walked the streets of Lexington, Massachusetts, with a parade...
One Body
Dear Friends, I am on the other side, now, but the passage through Holy Week, in my solitude, was intense. The...
A Light in the Darkness
Easter Sunday O Divine Light, in the darkness of this hour we watch and we waitas you shed your brightness once again...
Hold the Emptiness
For the past several days, as I have been walking at Church of the Woods, my eyes and feet have been guided toward...
Pockets of Love
I pray this morning in the holy juxtaposition of life and death. Before the sun was up, I heard the knockety,...
Renewing the Face of the Earth
When this land came into our hands, in 2012, it was a holy mess. My friends, Mark and Jenny, had brought me here seven...
Without a Path
I walked in a part of the woods, this morning, that does not yet have a path. It will one day, I know, possibly quite...