Eden Again

 

Reflection offered on January 1, 2017
at Metropolitan Community Church of Washington, D.C.

Focus texts: Psalm 8 and Eccleasiastes 3:1-13
for New Year’s Day, Year A
Click here for texts

God gives us so much.
With the psalmist we give thanks and praise,
but the singer also knows we may not be all we think we are.
What are human beings that God cares about us?
Is it because we are created to be divine franchise agents,
with everything at our feet–presumably God knew what She
was doing, but polluted lakes and streams, endangered species,
stripped-mine hillsides, fouled air, war,
poverty, and group hates and ugly stories about those not like us,
may create skepticism in parts of heaven
not to mention earth.

There is a time for all that, of course, but so much more,
or maybe less, I mean the simple ways of living in peace
and hope and love and joy that God intends which
could take up all our time if we accepted the gift of God:
that all people should eat, drink, and enjoy the results
of their hard work. It seems so simple, and it is,
but not easy, never easy when every day in so may ways
we are tempted by the siren calls of those who claim
to have something better: building walls to keep people out,
a bigger house or better car and internet to go faster,
private schools to increase odds of Ivy League admissions, 
droning, bombing everyone who looks at us wrong, making sure
there are enough guns to shoot every person, adult and child,
at least once, and kill as many of them as necessary
to keep stocks rising along with income gaps widening
between rich and poor at home, even slowing the climb
of other nations out of the rut of domination.

But its not too late. It is never too late with God–that is what
makes God, God. She, or He, or They, refuse, despite ancient testimonies|
to the contrary, to give up on us, you and me, too, and the others,
even those whose agendas seem foreign and evil.
No one is a hopeless case with God.

The divine calendar is not ours,
so there has been only one new year, how many
millions of years ago we do not know,
and God is not counting,
but this is the moment of our latest attempt at renewal,
and in truth we can make the most of it—yes, with resolutions
of self-improvement if we must, but even more powerfully by a simple,
again not easy, commitment to listen to our individual
and collective souls where rests and rises the voice and hope
and love of God. And justice, too.

Let us not forget justice, divine justice which is not to punish or even chastise
but to repair, heal, move us to change, to do differently, better than last time.
Self-care is important, essential, but with God the we is as
important as the I, and the test of fealty to our holy parent
is how well we treat the rest of our human family, the ones God loves
as much as God loves us, not more not less, often
in different ways but still with an arm around all and each of us
at all times, everywhere without end.
World without end.

Don’t we know not to fear what is coming,
because of what God has given, and continues to give,
even when we don’t earn it? If we truly know and savor and trust
what God has provided, can we not share in the bounty
willingly, freely, joyously, generously,
so that no one goes without, no child is hungry,
no refugee is turned away from some safe place,
no young Black men and trans women hunted
and slaughtered on our streets,
no body is without health care,
no holy prayers cursed regardless what God or gods
or heavens are invoked.

This is the year God is making, again, for us, with us,
so let us rejoice and be glad in it,
and show our gratitude by making this the Year of Our God
and All God’s people, taking care of each human other and
all the rest of Creation, too, finally rising to meet
the divine challenge issued, earthly opportunity given,
at dawn on the first new year long ago,
to be Eden on earth again,
and forever.

writing+poetryAbout this poem . . . . Two biblical readings without a real story presented a challenge for me, but I soon realized that the gratitude, reality, and hope present in them fit for today. This is of course the gift of Scripture, and indeed in some way or other all inspired writing (whether called “holy” or not). And as I finished the earliest draft, I remembered poem inspired by Judy Chicago’s famous art installation, The Dinner Party, with its evocation of Eden. God must keep hoping we shall yet understand, accept, and celebrate the gift of life caught in that ancient story.

©Robin Gorsline 2017 LectionaryPoetics.net

God’s Tree, Our Tree

There is a tree, an oak, our tree I say,
although I do not know what kind of oak,
that stands like a beacon outside my church,
Metropolitan Community Church of Washington,
District of Columbia, United States of America,
a beacon of God calling the people
to worship, to focus on higher things,
to see the changing seasons through the glass
above the communion table, to see God’s sacred squirrels
and birds running, flying, landing in its branches,
reminding us that life is more than our
human-centered preoccupations, to accept
rhythms of life that beat the universe
into being and unfolding.

mcc-tree-through-glass

I love this tree, grateful to the people
who designed the sanctuary so that
when we sit in worship we face the tree,
even now as it is dying, leaves shriveling
up, clinging when they can to the branches
just like I want to hang on to the trunk,
resisting like the man in Tiananmen Square,
refusing to accept what the authorities
say I must, yet I know that denial
while real, must give way to tears, to grief,
to celebration of the faithfulness
of this divine creature, agent of God
who has served its time, whose angelic
presence is needed elsewhere now,
even as our memory will always be healing.

Authorities have painted the red blotch
of impending death on the trunk,
saying clearly tree homicide
is about to be committed
by those who don’t want trees to fall
on passersby or into the sanctuary—
I know they must do their job, but
how I wish we could give sanctuary
to our faithful friend, member, and beacon.
What we can do is hug—yes, hug this tree—
and speak our gratitude, perhaps we can
even make something from the wood
for the church as a permanent memorial;
never forget our friends, those who
stand with us through thick, thin, and in between.
God gave and gives us the church, and God shared
and shares God’s trees. Thanks be to God,
and thank you, Tree!!

 

robin-hugging-mcc-treeAbout this poem . . . I love trees, all trees. The first time I entered the sanctuary at Metropolitan Community Church of Washington, D.C.–for a denominational function years ago–I immediately saw the tree standing tall in the clear glass above the communion table. I stared, teared up at the simple elegance of a tree–we say Jesus died on a tree, for one thing, and for another, trees signify life for me–in that vision. I never forgot that tree, and always looked forward to seeing it on other visits. Now, I am a member of the congregation, along with the tree, and I see my friend each week. I give God thanks for the gift which will never die in my heart. 

 

©Robin Gorsline 2016 FaithfulPoetics.net