Showing posts with label Pope Francis. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Pope Francis. Show all posts

11.01.2017

Who killed Robin Redbreast?



HAGIA SOPHIA

Already the first snow saunters down
at dusk (All Saints’ Day).
Robins nibble cherry
crabapples; waxwings are flown.

Some gray squirrel (squirreled away
in Book Depository?)
broke the back of Sophie’s
jack o’lantern... strange display

splayed into Dia de los Muertes.
So Jeff the Fireman
crossed into a bar (man
overboard).  Barranca... Beatrice...

man who went to live with Indians.
Ghost dance, compadre;
Dennis Banks (hey ey
yo).  Eagle feathers in the grandstands

quoting LBJ, ironically (“treaties”).
Home, home on the range
(small fry).  My ange
d’or – in the abyss, like Cassiopeia’s

fireball.  Wax melted in the wings.
Hamlet, his father’s vortex
seal – lay off that, Tex.
Untouchable guitar strings

(hellhound on my trail).  The man’s
in jail.  A thin blue line
separates the whisper mine
from outer darkness (someone plans

                    *

ahead ahead).  Pumpkin or Trumpkin,
orange oak bolete...
mushroom cloud.  Yeti...
this is the forest primeval (again).

American robins gather by the fire.
In the Bruegel scene –
where the old women
stoke the blaze with bones (ire

smoke-signals, from Columba).
Globilized indifference
in a culture of comforts
soap bubbles... insubstantial... ah

King of Pumpkins!  How the wax melts!
My soul leans inward
toward your abject & absurd
reward, Coatlicue – so many wolf pelts!

In the bright snow of Siberia
the cold blue fire burns
through bronze lids.  Eyes
turn in your direction...  Selah,

my friend.  La vida es sueño.
Poetry = transcript.
Out of the drowsy crypt
she glances, see... muy bueno.

The double doves of the peacock dome
resolve the red & blue
to violet... so you
are Hagia Sophia (hippodrome).

11.1.17

12.09.2015

Occasional poem (from Ravenna Diagram)




DARK HEART

A droning of iron chariots on
U.S. 80.  Straight through
Elkhart.  Winnebago
memory (in the amygdala).  One

whisper groans like an oak in Mendelssohn.
Becomes a benevolence,
a shade for Sabbath silence.
Word become flesh (my father’s own

right hand, gripping mine, until
he was gone).  Amygdala,
a tower, a butterfly
net for memory (little

Rorschach mirror-wings); the stone
with the 12-leafed rosette,
with Abraham’s whetted
blade, upheld in time... (atone,

atone).  Little portable temple,
your body (innocent son
of mine) – odd grail-stone
now, for a trial in Jerusalem.

Where they open bronze doors for Jubilee.
Let the land rest every 50
years, in the name of mercy;
let the mind roam in humility

of Franciscan donkey (chariot
of Elijah, sparking fire
of futurity).  Dear
Mary, with your high dark heart...

12.9.15

Tower Hill (Minneapolis)

9.23.2015

Look at the canoe


BRIGHT GAL

        “Look instead at the canoe, I beg you, and observe 
        its honesty, dignity, and moral courage...”
                    The Garden of the Finzi-Continis

The last full drop of summer sun
plays out across a falling
garden.  Dogwood, shedding
scarlet berries, rattles in

cool air.  Leaving Lil’ Rhody soon
(for North Star State).  Exile
is a state of, meanwhile.
Yom Kippur whispers repent, atone;

Francis in Washington lifts up
his rod of Aaron (bloom
of magnanimity &
doom).  A star from David’s cap

came forth... a cedar replica
from Lebanon – like Wanda’s
wand (the State Fair Queen,
robed in golden Land o’Lakes

boxim (within more boxim)) -
aimed, centripetal,
toward glimmer-portal
of the Milky Way.  The little foxes

all stacked up, O my beloved.
Monarch is an imago
out of the cocoon
of long ago.   A turtledove,

the El of El – Francesco
out of San Francisco – ark
within an arc of light, or
Galilean galaxy (an Okie oak).

9.23.15


9.22.2015

Papa touches down


MAZY SIMONE

Equinox : a bridge between seasons.
Nay, no night-mare;
articulate as horsehair
& as serviceable.  Musique de balance,

équilibre – night & day,
reason & faith.  Of summer,
d’automne... (mordant humor,
luminous grief)... Hey-hey,

giddy-up, Old PaintWe galumphin’ to see
the Pope touch down, in D.C.!
Strait o’ Columba, maybe –
where turtles kick through tough gray

curves – like a mess o’ limbic pigeons
decorating limestone
from the air.  Everyone
behold her, now – mazy Simone’s

the River Queen.  Like Ariadne
with her golden seine,
or murmurous Magdalen
of sunburnt feet, she will meander

underneath each Maximus
(from Po to Eridanus,
Neva-Neva to the rusty
Don)... O Theseus, she’s mulish US!

Chart the way-way back now, Mary.
Through this labyrinth
of dinosaurs, a kitten’s
coracle will bless – make merry.

9.22.15


7.11.2015

Jesus Thoughts in Elkhart

I'm passing through Elkhart once again, writing this from motel.  This is Amish country.  The Elkhart visitor center is across the street; they have an exhibit of quilts there.  Turns out both quilts & quilt gardens are a tradition in Elkhart county.  (There is something quilt-like about Ravenna Diagram, which I will have to investigate.  Quilts are mosaics and lattices of sorts.  Lattice within lattices, if you think of the cloth fibers.)

Being quaintly or unusually Christian is as American as hot dogs.  I was raised in the Episcopal Church, but my spiritual history is as distinct as anybody else's in the great awakening around these parts.

Sometimes driving the Buick across these vast farmlands I try to focus my thoughts, turn off the radio.  Open up to possible new vistas of the old, or old vistas of the new.

It's not easy to say anything new about Jesus Christ.  He has been pretty well covered by professional preachers, theologians, memoirists & historians.  The great spectrum of denominational & devotional Christian life, going back 2000+ years, has its own very deep traditions of scriptural interpretation, preaching, devotion, & shared ways of living.  Then of course there is the Jewish tradition, going back at least another 1000 years, on which all this Christianity is founded.  So it takes some moxie, some chutzpah, to try to say something new about Jesus.  What's more, words can only go so far in the plain detached public sphere, dislocated from any solid participative readership, any engaged reception.  It's one thing to listen to a sermon or an evangelical homily (you can find a lot of these - some very complex - on the radio around these parts) within a context of prior belief or experience.  It's another to come at a blog post, out of the blue.

What's more, I'm not sure I actually have anything new to say about Jesus.  But we will try.

An author has a worldview, a way of looking at things.  She tries to bring it across to the reader.  In the process, she has an implicit sense of the reader's reaction to whatever she writes.  This sense of a response conditions what is actually written - it's a sort of inherent dialectic.  You are there as a kind of potential interlocutor.  I have to try to convince you of what I think I see.  It's an effort of persuasion.

So I was driving along in the Buick yesterday, somewhere in Pennsylvania.  I was thinking as I often do in a vague way about the political meaning of kingship (having been reading a biography of Richard III, the one they found under the parking lot).  The monarch is a representative of tribal or collective leadership, among other things.  Humans live in groups : the king is an invention put together in response to a social problem  - how to live together amicably in a group.

The idea of the Messiah of Israel had a royal, a political dimension.  In one sense the Messiah was a cultural response to the fact that Israel was often a people in bondage to more powerful, and foreign, peoples.  The Messiah would be a "son of King David", who would restore the nation.

But there was more to the messianic idea in Israel.  At its root was a forecast that the Messiah to come would be "a prophet like Moses".  Moses was more than a king for Israel.  He was the ultimate "founding father", in a sense.  He was the prophet who bound Israel in its covenant with the Most High God - he was the servant of Yahweh, who stood before Him & spoke with Him.  This is a religious, priestly dimension, a category separate from kingship per se.  For Israel, in a sense, Yahweh is the ultimate King : Israel's kings are Yahweh's chosen servants.

Now it is with this sketch in the background that we call to mind the specific mission & message of Jesus.  The leadership role assumed by Jesus was mocked as "royal" by the Romans (at least as depicted in the Gospels), and then, later,  royal regalia & symbolism have been heaped upon him in the centuries of Christian tradition which followed.  Jesus is called "king of kings".  But it's important to keep in mind the distinction between "messiah" and king.  Jesus was attempting to do & say something on a distinctly different scale.

The difference - the fork in the path - which Jesus' message instigated has both spiritual & political consequences.  How so?  What is the crux of this message?  Let's cut to the chase, Henry.

I remembered driving along today an old study I read once, title I can't recall - about the themes of justice and mercy in the medieval English poem Piers Plowman.  The author detailed the medieval understanding of a sharp divide between earth and heaven, time & eternity.  Good deeds are not rewarded on earth; they are stored up for honor in heaven.  This is partly why people are instructed to give alms in secret.  It's not about vanity & worldly renown; it's not about the earthly self at all.  It redounds to the benefit of the eternal soul.

Let's say there are three central branches to the tree of Jesus' worldview : the living God; God's creation; and the eternal soul.  The Incarnation and the Resurrection are in a sense corollaries or consequences of two most basic things : God's power to create the cosmos, reality as we know it; and the fact that the soul is eternal and thus has the potential to "live" again, in any form or body or time or place which the Creator chooses.

Jesus is saying something even more radical & astounding.  He saying that he & the Creator are united, that they share one Spirit.  The personal Creator is "father" to Jesus as "son".  Comprehended from a certain angle, this is an astonishing proclamation of joy.  There is nothing to compare to the joy expressed here.  Jesus is saying he will live again, "with all the company of heaven" - among the ever-living spirits in God's company - & return again in the flesh to earth.  & he is suggesting that anyone who sees & understands this way of seeing things will also recognize their own ever-living soul, their own spiritual connection with that "company of heaven".

This is mind-boggling in a way - it's so upsetting to our everyday sense of mundane reality, the humdrum roll-along of time to old age & obliteration.  The "logical", "scientific" mind tends to reject such spiritual visions.

Yet there is a logic to the ancient & medieval worldview also.  I think of it as the logic of creation, or the logic of the beautiful.  We see the spiritual greatness of certain men & women, certain culture heroes - & we recognize something beautiful in the lives they have lived, in their spiritual victory over the pettiness & evils of human social life.  Then we start to notice the same beauty in the lives of ordinary unsung people too : we see the spiritual in nature, so to speak.  The logic of these examples relates back to the argument for creation : that the cosmos is too splendid & marvelous to be meaningless & empty; it has come from nothing out of some kind of powerful creative will-to-be, will-to-love.

But I want to bring this all back to the idea of the Messiah.  The Messiah of Israel is distinct from a king; yet the message of Jesus, as messiah, has real political repercussions.  The Good News of our eternal soul, and its place in an eternal, heavenly realm, applies to every man and woman on earth.  Suddenly our moral, ethical, social existence is not chained to a particular place and time or a particular form of government or economy.  Ethics has been universalized.  Morality has been universalized.  Our own spiritual future has been universalized.  We are members of an eternal association, the "company of heaven".  As Dante put it in the Divina Commedia (to paraphrase from memory), he looks forward to that day when he will be "citizen of that Rome where Christ is Roman".

The notion that I have an eternal soul - that a priestly messiah-figure, one Jesus, has called me to recognize this fact & participate in a newly-visible, eternal community, a universal polity - is the kind of powerful message of hope & liberation capable of shaping a new way of life.  As Jesus says in the Gospels, "you must be born again".  You who were a child of human parents, here in a particular spot & time on earth, are being invited to become a "child of God".

We have to imagine - to conceptualize - & then to recognize, that Jesus with this message of soul freedom is re-shaping the political & social, as well as the spiritual, identity of every human being on earth.  We are getting our eternal life back.  This kind of moral liberation has political consequences, historical consequences.  It affects persons living under every form of human social regime & political polity.

Roger Williams, the Rhode Island pioneer & radical thinker, called himself a "Seeker".  He was trying to understand the right relation between spiritual life and social, political life in the world.  & he became a powerful advocate for what he called "soul liberty" or "liberty of conscience".  In this way he was a kind of sponsor for all the wild & different experimental Christian sects which sprang up in 18th & 19th century America.  But at the base of his own thinking was this old medieval sense of a "realm", a "kingdom", slightly different from this present world.  It was the same sense underlying the moral algebra of Piers Plowman : some kind of secret exchange between earth & heaven, time & eternity.

Critics of Christianity have condemned this two-tiered picture of reality as escapist, otherworldly, quietist, detached.  But all these critiques are based on a superficial misreading of Jesus' message.  The Incarnation is the ultimate expression of the joining, the wedding, of these two dimensions.  The "providence" of the plan of Jesus' "heavenly father" is a work involving, first, the liberation of the person, through a recognition of eternal life; and second, the redemption & repair of the whole creation - as a result of the joy instilled by this very liberation.  The message of the new Pope Francis (along with the old St. Francis) is certainly in line with this concept.  Humankind is called upon to restore the right relation to the beautiful creation.

I've rambled on longer than I wanted to here.  But Henry the old Plantagenet feels a deep kinship with the poet's joy of Dante, & the poet's elation in Mandelstam (a Dante reader), & the spiritual cheer & brimming good fellowship I find in that Messiah's words & gestures, this vision of vitality & personhood which has the victory over Time & Death.  This Israel is real to me.  May it be for you, too, whoever you are - out there beyond Elkhart or in Elkhart, inside or beyond this green wide Amish-land.


the old Plantagenet pops up in Elkhart again


6.08.2015

Nostalgia for world culture

Quick stray thoughts tonight... Osip Mandelstam once defined the impulse of the Acmeist movement (early 20th cent. Russian poetry) as "nostalgia for world culture."  Nostalgia for world culture.  Implying that "world culture" once existed (or still existed, elsewhere).  But then Acmeism also promoted a Bergsonian, anachronistic anti-sense of Time - what was deep in the past (Ovid, Dante) was actually calling to us from the future.  (In this he may have been attempting to one-up the contemporary Futurist movement, among other things.)

But what would be a real world culture?  A global culture, life-supporting, life-enhancing, humane, refined, playful.  Not the world as we know it today... but maybe an aspiration.

Then again one way of thinking of culture is as an inherently parasitic lichen-like growth.  Culture is opportunist.  For example, the culture of the "divine king", established around the world in various phases & formations - the culture of powerful rulers and autocrats, with their enormous suction machines for collecting & channeling the labor of millions of slaves (see : pyramids) - the culture of royal power might be seen as a defense mechanism of the kings themselves.  A survival mechanism, in other words, insinuated into society by the rulers, to protect themselves from being divided up and eaten, tossed about in communal games, by the whole peon mass of the tribe itself (see A.M. Hocart's Kings and Councillors for a consideration of such phenomena).

Then imagine that the speedy vine-growth of culture takes another world-historical bend, once the ziggurat of royal power & totalitarian government reaches its apex : I mean the turn toward apocalyptic messianism (see Norman Cohn's classic study of the Iranian-Zoroastrian roots of same, Cosmos, chaos & the world to come).  Here religious thinking happens upon a viral antidote to overweening political power : the idea of the return of the God-King - the uber-King, the "King of Kings", who will finally put the tyrants in their place (like Yurtle the Turtle, at the bottom of the pond).

I think of these parasitic culture-shifts as edge-phenomena, happening on the margins of something even deeper & more invisible & slow.  I'm thinking of the historical project of "species-Man", homo sapiens, seeking equilibrium.  Humankind is still building the conceptual house which is truly life-enhancing, lovable, livable.  This, as it happens, is another theme which turns up in Mandelstam's version of Acmeism : the idea that poetry has a role to play in the human project to "domesticate" life on earth.  "Domestic hellenism", he called it.

What would be a really "domestic" global culture?  Livable, lovable, familial, gemutlich?  It would have to involve the old English theme of liberty - the freedom from encroachment by tyrannical government.  But, on the other side, it would also have to involve something beyond pure individualism : the active engagement in the common good, the commonweal, the welfare of the whole community.  (These are, you may have noticed, the primal ideals, respectively, of the two major political parties in the U.S. - yet how sadly & stupidly & rigidly & uselessly & backwardly & corruptly & blindly & dogmatically & inflexibly they have worked themselves out in the electoral process.)

What's really needed in order to stimulate Mandelstam's "world culture" - what's required at the most basic level of conception - is a spiritual orientation.  Pope Francis, it seems to me, is saying some of the right things in that direction.  The "poor church" is the global house we share.  The spiritual attitude is one that sets aside narrow pleasures & greedy ambitions & haughty pride on behalf of a sense of wholeness : a "gratitude for existence" (another Brodskian, Gumilevian, Mandelshtamian theme).

How is this possible?  I'm not an advocate by any means of any kind of theocracy : don't get me wrong.  Rather I am talking about something much more basic, simple, and primitive - the kind of childlike faith represented by the original St. Francis.  How can we live in the global house if we cannot trust in the benevolent love of the Spirit that formed & created it all?  How can we build a future without a sense of being "at home" in the universe?  I think of Jesus, the first "son" of God, as playing the middle C on the piano, of a major chord of affirmation - of union with the source of Being.  Francis only echoed the same.  "Unless you turn & become as little children, you cannot enter the Kingdom of Heaven."

Granted much of this will strike many as idiocy or ideology, or both.  So be it.  The poet represents a "nostalgia for world culture".  As such he or she represents a link in the spine of historical time - a time working itself out in the human sense of reality & possibility.  The poet's vision is grounded in harmony, triggered by a basic sense of wonder : of wonder at all that exists, majestically, from nothing at all.

The personal, subjective & familial love we experience among ordinary friends, strangers, & family, might someday be echoed & reinforced by culture at large - & this might, actually, be a return to "Nature" itself - the natural cosmos stamped by the seal of divine Providence.  "The Son of Man is coming, & he will restore all things."  O ye of little faith!  Sursum corda.