This year I spent the most time (13 days) hiking the greatest distance (227 miles) along the Blue Ridge in West-Central Virginia. Over the past several years, all of my hikes have been in the northern half of the Appalachian Trail, mostly in New England. Virginia was different. Of course, the terrain in the South is different from the terrain in the North — you see a lot more extended ridges and much less exposed rock in the south. I think that it has to do with the glaciers, which tend to break up the ridges and never got far enough south to have an impact on the mountains in Virginia. But the people are different, too — a bit friendlier (easier to hitch rides), a bit more conservative in thought and action (but not necessarily in politics). And high-calorie food (an important thing for a hiker!) is easier to come by, in both grocery stores and restaurants.
As I’ve mentioned in previous hiking posts, my prayer life on the trail tends to be an extended meditation on Psalms 120-134, the Psalms of Ascents. This year, I found myself thinking the most about Psalms 124, 125, and 129, and often singing the song “Those Who Trust in the Lord,” which is based on the first couple of verses of Ps. 125. Other than coming to the conclusion that most psalms have a lot more going on in them than we usually think about, I can’t say that I had any profound insights or life-changing spiritual experiences (I almost never have such things happen to me in any case).
I think that I’ll have to devote my next intensive study to those psalms for which we’ve got some context — those short notes that appear at the beginning of many of them often state something about when or why that particular psalm was written.
The Catholic Diocese of New York recently put up this rather entertaining YouTube video to encourage folks to go to Confession, and there’s something about it that strikes me as “getting it right,” even though confession as a sacrament isn’t a Protestant thing. I think that most of us have been taught at some point or another that we should confess our sins to God on a daily basis. Speaking for myself, this is not something that comes easily to me — once I’ve gotten past the obvious ones, it’s pretty difficult for me to sort out the subtle sins that are having a significant impact on my relationship with God and my fellow believers. But on those occasions when I can lay it out before a trusted brother, I find it much easier to pinpoint those areas of sin that I really need to be dealing with.
So while sacramental Confession may not be an option for us as Protestants, we should avail ourselves those options that we have: the sympathetic and encouraging ears of our brothers and sisters.
Note of explanation for this selection: In Donne’s time, reasonably well-off people stayed at home and had their doctors visit them at home. Poorer people went to hospitals, where doctor’s would occasionally visit, but not reliably.
How many are sicker (perchance) than I, and laid in their woful straw at home (if that corner be a home), and have no more hope of help, though they die, than of preferment, though they live! Nor do more expect to see a physician then, than to be an officer after; of whom, the first that takes knowledge, is the sexton that buries them, who buries them in oblivion too! For they do but fill up the number of the dead in the bill, but we shall never hear their names, till we read them in the book of life with our own. How many are sicker (perchance) than I, and thrown into hospitals, where (as a fish left upon the sand must stay the tide) they must stay the physician’s hour of visiting, and then can be but visited! How many are sicker (perchance) than all we, and have not this hospital to cover them, not this straw to lie in, to die in, but have their gravestone under them, and breathe out their souls in the ears and in the eyes of passengers, harder than their bed, the flint of the street? that taste of no part of our physic, but a sparing diet, to whom ordinary porridge would be julep enough, the refuse of our servants bezoar [i.e., antidote] enough, and the offscouring of our kitchen tables cordial enough. O my soul, when thou art not enough awake to bless thy God enough for his plentiful mercy in affording thee many helpers, remember how many lack them, and help them to them or to those other things which they lack as much as them.
O eternal and most gracious God, who calledst down fire from heaven upon the sinful cities but once, and openedst the earth to swallow the murmurers but once, and threwest down the tower of Siloam upon sinners but once; but for thy works of mercy repeatedst them often, and still workest by thine own patterns, as thou broughtest man into this world, by giving him a helper fit for him here; so, whether it be thy will to continue me long thus, or to dismiss me by death, be pleased to afford me the helps fit for both conditions, either for my weak stay here, or my final transmigration from hence.
Make my bed again, O Lord, and enable me, according to thy command, to commune with mine own heart upon my bed, and be still; to provide a bed for all my former sins whilst I lie upon this bed, and a grave for my sins before I come to my grave; and when I have deposited them in the wounds of thy Son, to rest in that assurance, that my conscience is discharged from further anxiety, and my soul from further danger, and my memory from further calumny. Do this, O Lord, for his sake, who did and suffered so much, that thou mightest, as well in thy justice as in thy mercy, do it for me, thy Son, our Saviour, Christ Jesus.
“God suspends me between heaven and earth, as a meteor; and I am not in heaven because an earthly body clogs me, and I am not in the earth because a heavenly soul sustains me. And it is thine own law, O God, that if a man be smitten so by another, as that he keep his bed, though he die not, he that hurt him must take care of his healing, and recompense him. Thy hand strikes me into this bed; and therefore, if I rise again, thou wilt be my recompense all the days of my life, in making the memory of this sickness beneficial to me; and if my body fall yet lower, thou wilt take my soul out of this bath, and present it to thy Father, washed again, and again, and again, in thine own tears, in thine own sweat, in thine own blood.”
I think I might try to post something every day from John Donne — both his prose and his poetry make for outstanding Lenten reading.
David professes himself dead dog to his king Saul, and so doth Mephibosheth to his king David, and yet David speaks to Saul, and Mephibosheth to David. No man is so little, in respect of the greatest man, as the greatest in respect of God; for here, in that, we have not so much as a measure to try it by; proportion is no measure for infinity. He that hath no more of this world but a grave; he that hath his grave but lent him till a better man or another man must be buried in the same grave; he that hath no grave but a dunghill, he that hath no more earth but that which he carries, but that which he is, he that hath not that earth which he is, but even in that is another’s slave, hath as much proportion to God, as if all David’s worthies, and all the world’s monarchs, and all imagination’s giants, were kneaded and incorporated into one, and as though that one were the survivor of all the sons of men, to whom God had given the world. And therefore how little soever I be, as God calls things that are not, as though they were, I, who am as though I were not, may call upon God.
I often read John Donne’s Devotions upon Emergent Occasions during this time of year. Here are a few sentences from what I read today:
If I were mere dust and ashes I might speak unto the Lord, for the Lord’s hand made me of this dust, and the Lord’s hand shall re-collect these ashes; the Lord’s hand was the wheel on which this vessel of clay was framed, and the Lord’s hand is the urn in which these ashes shall be preserved. I am the dust and ashes of the temple of the Holy Ghost, and what marble is so precious? But I am more than dust and ashes: I am my best part, I am my soul.
As many of you know, the Mendelsohn family will be travelling to India for a family wedding in a couple of weeks — we’ll be there for about 10 days. We’ll be flying into Mumbai first and staying there for a couple of days to get used to the time change. I was conversing with our good brother Jeff Demarco, who has requested that I designate him as heir to my beer, should we be caught in another terrorist attack. Jeff, you may consider yourself so designated as sole heir and executor of my beer estate. Don’t drink it all yourself — share it with others!
As part of the Saturday morning theology class, I’m putting up the four great ecumenical creeds: The Apostles Creed, the Nicene Creed, the Definition of Chalcedon, and the Athanasian Creed. These four texts are marvelous in that they summarize many key doctrines of our faith in relatively few words. Read and savor the wisdom the leaders of the early church.
Apostles’ Creed (written mostly in the early 2nd Century; originally used as a profession of faith during baptism)
I believe in God, the Father Almighty,
the Creator of heaven and earth,
and in Jesus Christ, His only Son, our Lord:
Who was conceived of the Holy Spirit,
born of the Virgin Mary,
suffered under Pontius Pilate,
was crucified, died, and was buried.
He descended into hell.
The third day He arose again from the dead.
He ascended into heaven
and sits at the right hand of God the Father Almighty,
whence He shall come to judge the living and the dead.
I believe in the Holy Spirit, the holy Catholic Church,
the communion of saints,
the forgiveness of sins,
the resurrection of the body,
and life everlasting. Read the rest of this entry »
