[The bees build in the crevices]

 

The bees build in the crevices
Of loosening masonry, and there
The mother birds bring grubs and flies.
My wall is loosening; honey-bees,
Come build in the empty house of the stare.

We are closed in, and the key is turned
On our uncertainty; somewhere
A man is killed, or a house burned,
Yet no clear fact to be discerned:
Come build in the empty house of the stare.

A barricade of stone or of wood;
Some fourteen days of civil war;
Last night they trundled down the road
That dead young soldier in his blood:
Come build in the empty house of the stare.

We had fed the heart on fantasies,
The heart’s grown brutal from the fare;
More substance in our enmities
Than in our love; O honey-bees,
Come build in the empty house of the stare.

—W. B. Yeats, from “Meditations in Time of Civil War”

In Celtic myth, bees were thought to be messengers between this world and the next, and it was thought that at death, a person's sou left as a bee or butterfly. A bee entering yourself was a sign of luck, and housing bees even more so. It was customary for those who kept bees to inform them about everything going on in the house.

Among the Redwoods

Farewell to such a world! Too long I press
   The crowded pavement with unwilling feet.
Pity makes pride, and hate breeds hatefulness,
   And both are poisons. In the forest, sweet
The shade, the peace! Immensity, that seems
To drown the human life of doubts and dreams.

Far off the massive portals of the wood,
   Buttressed with shadow, misty-blue, serene,
Waited my coming. Speedily I stood
   Where the sun wall rose roofed in plumy green.
Dare one go in?— Glance backward! Dusk as night
Each column, fringed with sprays of amber light.

--E. R. Sill (1841-1887) published in The Atlantic in 1884)

Today's Adventword was "peace."

Reconciliation

Some may have blamed you that you took away
The verses that could move them on the day
When, the ears being deafened, the sight of the eyes blind
With lightning, you went from me, and I could find
Nothing to make a song about but kings,
Helmets, and swords, and half-forgotten things
That were like memories of you—but now
We'll out, for the world lives as long ago;
And while we're in our laughing, weeping fit,
Hurl helmets, crowns, and swords into the pit.
But, dear, cling close to me; since you were gone,
My barren thoughts have chilled me to the bone.

-- William Butler Yeats (1865-1939), Anglo-Irish poet, playwright, and mystic, widely considered one of the greatest poets of the 20th century.

Scripture reference: Matthew 5:21-37, 6th Sunday after Epiphany A

Prayer for Indigenous People's Day

O Great Spirit, God of all people and every tribe, through whom all people are related, call us to the kinship of all your people. Grant us vision to see through the lens of justice, the brokenness of the past.

Creator, we give you thanks for all that you are and all that you bring to us within your creation. In Jesus, you placed the Gospel in the Center of the Sacred Circle through which all creation is related.

You show us the way to live a generous and compassionate life. Give us your strength to live together with respect and commitment as we grow in your spirit, for you are God, now and forever. Amen.

-- jointly prepared by the ELCA NorthwestWashington Synod and the Episcopal Diocese of Washington, found at Faith for Justice.

Against War

And as we — by our prayers —
vanquish all the demons that stir up war,
and lead to the violation of oaths,
and disturb the peace,
we in this service
are much more helpful to the kings
than those who go into the field
to fight for them.

And we do take our part in public affairs,
when along with righteous prayers,
we practice self-denying disciplines and meditations,
which teach us to despise pleasures,
and not to be lead astray by them.
And none fight better for the king
[and his role of preserving justice]
than we do.
We do not indeed fight under him,
although he demands it;
but we fight on his behalf,
forming a special army of piety
by offering our prayers to God.

--Origen (185–254 AD), Church Father and Theologian, from Against Celsus, Book VIII, Chapter 73, written in verse in Water, Faith and Wood: Stories of the Early Church’s Witness for Today, by Christopher Smith

The Divine Image

To Mercy Pity Peace and Love
All Pray in the distress,
And to those virtues of delight
Return their thankfulness.

For Mercy Pity Peace and Love
Is God our father dear,
and Mercy Pity Peace and Love
Is Man his child and care.

For Mercy has a human heart,
Pity, a human face,
And Love, the human form divine,
And Peace, the human dress.

Then every man of every clime
That prays in his distress,
Prays to the human form divine,
Love Mercy Pity Peace.

And all must love the human form
In heathen, turk or jew.
Where Mercy Love & Pity dwell
There God is dwelling too.


--William Blake (1757-1827), Romantic-era mystic, poet, and artist

Prayer for Peace

Good and gracious God,
May we hear and believe in Jesus’ words,
“Peace I leave with you; my peace I give you.”

May this promise of peace find a home in our hearts
and in the hearts of our sisters and brothers.
May this promise of peace be heard
by those who are poor, troubled, and anxious.
May it be heard by Earth herself.
May we treasure, embrace, and generously share
this gift of peace all the days of our lives.
Amen.

– Sister Eileen Gannon, OP

The Truce of Christmas

Passionate peace is in the sky--
And in the snow in silver sealed
The beasts are perfect in the field,
And men seem men so suddenly--
(But take ten swords and ten times ten
And blow the bugle in praising men;
For we are for all men under the sun,
And they are against us every one;
And misers haggle and madmen clutch,
And there is peril in praising much.
And we have the terrible tongues uncurled
That praise the world to the sons of the world.)

The idle humble hill and wood
Are bowed upon the sacred birth,
And for one little hour the earth
Is lazy with the love of good--
(But ready are you, and ready am I,
If the battle blow and the guns go by;
For we are for all men under the sun,
And they are against us every one;
And the men that hate herd all together,
To pride and gold, and the great white feather
And the thing is graven in star and stone
That the men who love are all alone.)

Hunger is hard and time is tough,
But bless the beggars and kiss the kings,
For hope has broken the heart of things,
And nothing was ever praised enough.
(But bold the shield for a sudden swing
And point the sword when you praise a thing,
For we are for all men under the sun,
And they are against us every one;
And mime and merchant, thane and thrall
Hate us because we love them all;
Only till Christmastide go by
Passionate peace is in the sky.)

-- G. K. Chesterton (1874-1936), journalist, writer, poet, convert to Christianity and Roman Catholicism

I Find No Peace

I find no peace, and all my war is done.
I fear and hope. I burn and freeze like ice.
I fly above the wind, yet can I not arise;
And nought I have, and all the world I seize on.
That loseth nor locketh holdeth me in prison
And holdeth me not—yet can I scape no wise—
Nor letteth me live nor die at my device,
And yet of death it giveth me occasion.
Without eyen I see, and without tongue I plain.
I desire to perish, and yet I ask health.
I love another, and thus I hate myself.
I feed me in sorrow and laugh in all my pain;
Likewise displeaseth me both life and death,
And my delight is causer of this strife.

-- Sir Thomas Wyatt (1503-1542), pioneering Elizabethan poet

Photo from Al-Jazeera of residents of Afghanistan fleeing before the Taliban onslaught upon the US withdrawal, August, 2021

Beyond the Headlines

Then I saw the wild geese flying
in fair formation to their bases in Inchicore
and I knew that these wings would outwear the wings of war
and a man's simple thoughts outlive the day's loud lying.
Don't fear, don't fear, I said to my soul.
The bedlam of time is an empty bucket rattled,
‘Tis you who will say in the end who best battles.
only they who fly home to God have flown at all. 

--Patrick Kavanagh (1905-1967), Irish poet, written in Dublin in 1943, from Collected Poems, 1964

Image: Pale Bellied Brent Geese migrate back to Dublin Bay (Inchicore is a suburb of Dublin)

Making Peace

A voice from the dark called out, 
                       ‘The poets must give us 
imagination of peace, to oust the intense, familiar 
imagination of disaster. Peace, 
not only the absence of war.’ 
                                       But peace, like a poem, 
is not there ahead of itself, 
can’t be imagined before it is made, 
can’t be known except 
in the words of its making, 
grammar of justice, 
syntax of mutual aid. 
                                        A feeling towards it, 
dimly sensing a rhythm, is all we have 
until we begin to utter its metaphors, 
learning them as we speak. 
                                                A line of peace might appear 
if we restructured the sentence our lives are making, 
revoked its reaffirmation of profit and power, 
questioned our needs, 
allowed long pauses . . . 
                         A cadence of peace might balance its weight 
on that different fulcrum; peace, a presence, 
an energy field more intense than war, 
might pulse then, 
stanza by stanza into the world, 
each act of living 
one of its words, each word 
a vibration of light—facets 
of the forming crystal.

--Denise Levertov (1923-1997), Anglo- American poet, from Breathing the Water, 1987

When Peace Become Obnoxious

Mt 10: 34-36

A few weeks ago, a federal judge handed down an edict which stated in substance that the University of Alabama could no longer deny admission to persons because of their race. With the handing down of this decision, a brave young lady by the name of Autherine Lucy was accepted as the first Negro student to be admitted in the history of the University of Alabama. This was a great moment and a great decision. But with the announcement of this decision, the vanguards of the old order began to emerge. The forces of evil began to congeal. As soon as Autherine Lucy walked on the campus, a group of spoiled students lead by Leonard Wilson and a vicious group of criminals began threatening her on every hand. Crosses were burned. Eggs and bricks were thrown at her. The mob even jumped on top of the car in which she was riding. Finally the president and trustees of the University of Alabama asked Autherine to leave for her own safety and the safety of the university. The next day after Autherine was dismissed the paper came out with this headline: “Things are quiet in Tuscaloosa today. There is peace on the campus of the University of Alabama."

Yes things were quiet in Tuscaloosa. Yes there was peace on the campus, but it was peace at a great price. It was peace that had been purchased at the exorbitant price of an inept trustee board succoming to the whims and carprices of a vicious mob. It was peace that had been purchased at the price of allowing mobocracy to reign supreme over democracy. It was peace that had been purchased at the price of the capitulating to the forces of darkness. This is the type of peace that all men of goodwill hate. It is the type of peace that is obnoxious. It is the type of peace that stinks in the nostrils of the almighty God.

Now let me hasten to say that this is not a concession to or a justification for physical war. I can see no moral justification for war. I believe absolutely and positively that violence is self-defeating. War is devastating. And we know now that if we continue to use these weapons of destruction, our civilization will be plunged across the abyss of destruction. 

However, there is a type of war that every Christian is involved in. It is a spiritual war. It is a war of ideas. Every true Christian is a fighting pacifist. In a very profound passage, which has been often misunderstood, Jesus utters this. He says “Think not that I am come to bring peace. I come not to bring peace, but a sword.” {Mt 10:34-36} Certainly he is not saying that he comes not to bring peace in the higher sense. What he is saying is: “I come not to bring this peace of escapism, this peace that fails to confront the real issues of life, the peace that makes for stagnant complacency.” Then he says, I come to bring a sword—not a physical sword. Whenever I come a conflict is precipitated between the old and the new, between justice and injustice, between the forces of light and the forces of darkness. “I come to declare war on evil. I come to declare war on injustice."

This text is saying, in substance, "Peace is not merely the absence of some negative force—war, tensions, confusion but it is the presence of some positive force—justice, goodwill, the power of the kingdom of God." 

I had a long talk the other day with a man about this bus situation. He discussed the peace being destroyed in the community, the destroying of good race relations. I agreed that it is more tension now. But peace is not merely to absence of this tension, but the presence of justice. And even if we didn’t have this tension, we still wouldn’t have positive peace. Yes it is true that if the Negro accept his place, accepts exploitation, and injustice, there will be peace. But it would be an obnoxious peace. It would be a peace that boiled down to stagnant complacity, deadening passivity and 

If peace means this, I don't want peace: 
If peace means accepting second class citizenship I don't want it. 
If peace means keeping my mouth shut in the midst of injustice and evil, I don't want it. 
If peace means being complacently adjusted to a deadening status quo, I don't want peace. 
If peace means a willingness to be exploited economically, dominated politically, humiliated and segregated, I don't want peace.

In a passive non-violent manner we must revolt against this peace. Jesus says in substance, I will not be content until justice, goodwill, brotherhood, love yes, the kingdom of God are established upon the earth. This is real peace. Peace is the presence of positive good. Finally, never forget that there is an The inner peace that comes as a result of doing God’s will. 

Our Father God, who dost overarch our fleeting years with thine eternity and dost undergird our weakness with thy strength, in the midst of the pressures of another day, as we face its vast concerns. Above all else save us from succumbing to the tragic temptation of Of becoming cynical. 


 -- The Rev. Dr. Martin Luther King,  Jr.  (1930-1968), African American pastor, civil rights leader, preacher, and martyr; Sermon Delivered on 18 March 1956 at Dexter Avenue Baptist Church, in Papers 3:207-208. 

Dexter’s 18 March 1956 program indicates King preached this sermon. King's trial began on 19 March 1956. Judge Eugene Carter found King guilty after a four-day trial and sentenced him to either pay a $500 fine plus court costs or serve 386 days in jail. The sentence was suspended following an appeal by King’s attorney (Testimony in State of Alabama v. M. L. King, Jr., 22 March 1956, in Papers 3:183-196). 

Pax

All that matters is to be at one with the living God
to be a creature in the house of the God of Life.

Like a cat asleep on a chair
at peace, in peace
and at one with the master of the house, with the mistress,
at home, at home in the house of the living,
sleeping on the hearth, and yawning before the fire.

Sleeping on the hearth of the living world
yawning at home before the fire of life
feeling the presence of the living God
like a great reassurance
a deep calm in the heart
a presence
as of the master sitting at the board
in his own and greater being
in the house of life.

D. H. Lawrence (1885-1930), English poet and novelist, from The Enlightened Heart, ed. by Stephen Mitchell

Peace

Peace between neighbors,
Peace between kindred,
Peace between lovers,
In love of the King of life.

Peace between person and person,
Peace between wife and husband,
Peace between woman and children,
The Peace of Christ above all peace.

Bless, O Christ, my face,
Let my face bless everything;
Bless, O Christ, mine eye,
Let mine eye bless all it sees.

--from the Carmina Gadelica III, collected by Alexander Carmichael and his family, among the people of the Outer Hebrides and Scots Highlands

Only Hope

There is peace for the restless one. 
There is peace for the restless one. 
She was on the verge of thinking, 
that her soul was lost and sinking. 
There is peace for the restless one. 

And you, you where my only hope, 
but could you really care for me. 
I even asked the Holy Ghost. 
Are you the one I love the most, 
are you the one to set me free? 

There is hope for the broken one. 
There is hope for the broken one. 
He was gone from the land, 
when cupid reached and took his hand. 
There is hope for the broken one.

And you, you where my only hope, 
but could you really care for me. 
I even asked the Holy Ghost. 
Are you the one I love the most, 
are you the one to set me free? 

There'll be shame for the one so proud. 
There'll be shame for the one so proud. 
Pride comes before a tumble, 
let her live go on and crumble. 
There'll be shame for the one so proud. 

And you, you where my only hope, 
but could you really care for me. 
I even asked the Holy Ghost. 
Are you the one I love the most, 
are you the one to set me free? 

Oh but selfish will be the one crowned, 
selfish will be the one crowned, 
He will be crowned in poison ivy. 
Let the cries go on by me. 
selfish will be the one crowned. 

And you, you where my only hope, 
but could you really care for me. 
I even asked the Holy Ghost. 
Are you the one I love the most, 
are you the one to set me free?

--Kate Anna Rusby (1973- ), English folk singer-songwriter, from Make the Light, 2010

Keeping Quiet

Now we will count to twelve 
and we will all keep still. 

 For once on the face of the earth, 
let’s not speak in any language; 
let’s stop for one second, 
and not move our arms so much. 

 It would be an exotic moment 
without rush, without engines; 
we would all be together 
in a sudden strangeness. 

Fisherman in the cold sea 
would not harm whales 
and the man gathering salt 
would look at his hurt hands. 

Those who prepare green wars,
wars with gas, wars with fire, 
victories with no survivors, 
would put on clean clothes 
and walk about with their brothers 
in the shade, doing nothing. 

What I want should not be confused 
with total inactivity. 
Life is what it is about; 
I want no truck with death. 

If we were not so single-minded 
about keeping our lives moving, 
and for once could do nothing, 
perhaps a huge silence 
might interrupt this sadness 
of never understanding ourselves 
and of threatening ourselves with death. 
Perhaps the earth can teach us 
as when everything seems dead 
and later proves to be alive. 

Now I’ll count up to twelve 
and you keep quiet and I will go.

--Pablo Neruda (Ricardo Eliécer Neftalí Reyes Basoalto) (1904-1973), Chilean poet, politician, and diplomat

Grant us peace

Grant us peace.
Your most precious gift, O Eternal Source of Peace,
and give us the will to proclaim its message
to all the peoples of the earth.
Bless our country,
that it may always be a stronghold of peace,
and its advocate among the nations.
May contentment reign within its borders,
health and happiness within its homes.
Strengthen the bonds of friendship
among the inhabitants of all lands.
And may the love of Your name
hallow every home and every heart.
Blessed is the Eternal God, the source of Peace.

- From The Gates of Prayer: The New Union Prayer Book, by the Central Conferences of American Rabbis

In Flanders Fields

This installation contains one ceramic poppy for every soldier from the UK or the Commonwealth who was killed in World War 1 and was completed for Remembrance Day in 2014.
The artist is the second from the right. The story can be found here.

In Flanders fields the poppies blow
Between the crosses, row on row,
That mark our place, and in the sky,
The larks, still bravely singing, fly,
Scarce heard amid the guns below.

We are the dead; short days ago
We lived, felt dawn, saw sunset glow,
Loved and were loved, and now we lie
In Flanders fields.

Take up our quarrel with the foe!
To you from failing hands we throw
The torch; be yours to hold it high!
If ye break faith with us who die
We shall not sleep, though poppies grow
In Flanders fields.

--John McCrae (1872-1918), Canadian physician, poet, and soldier, from In Flanders Fields and Other Poems, 1919 (published posthumously)

Installation of Poppies from the World War 1 Museum, Kansas City

Peace Prayer

Let the rain come and wash away the ancient grudges,
     the bitter hatreds held and nurtured over generations.
Let the rain wash away the memory of the hurt, the neglect.
Then let the sun come out and fill the sky with rainbows.
Let the warmth of the sun heal us wherever we are broken.
Let it burn away the fog so that we can see each other clearly.
So that we can see beyond labels,
    beyond accents, gender or skin color.
Let the warmth and brightness of the sun melt our selfishness.
So that we can share the joys and feel the sorrows of our neighbors.
And let the light of the sun be so strong
     that we will see all people as our neighbors.
Let the earth, nourished by rain,
     bring forth flowers to surround us with beauty.
And let the mountains teach our hearts to reach upward to heaven.

- Rabbi Harold Kushner (1935- ), American Conservative rabbi and Spiritual Teacher

Prayer for Peace

May it be your will, Eternal One, our God, God of our ancestors, that wars and bloodshed be abolished from the world, and bring into the world a great and wonderful and lasting peace. And let no nation lift a sword against a nation—let them learn no more the ways of war!

Let all who dwell on earth simply acknowledge the truth of truths: that we have not come into this world for the sake of quarreling and war, nor for the sake of hatred, jealousy, anger, or bloodshed; rather, we have come into this world only to know You—may You be blessed eternally!

Therefore, have mercy on us, and fulfill among us what is written in your Scripture: “I shall give peace upon the earth, and you shall lie down with none to make you afraid. I shall abolish from the earth the predatory beast. The sword shall never come upon your land. Justice shall roll down like the water, and righteousness like a mighty stream. For the earth shall be filled with the knowledge of The Omnipresent, as the waters fill the seas.”

-- From Siddur Kol Haneshama, Sabbath and Festivals from Reconstructionist Press