Advent! Awake! features Ecumenical reflections on our faith stories, using the Jesse Tree & the O Antiphons.
Today: an original hymn by Emily Hope Morgan. You can find her on Twitter @PresbyEmily
December 1, 2013 — Creation
“When in Creating Our World”
Tune: ABERYSTWTH, Joseph Parry (1876) Meter: 7777D Lyrics: Emily Hope Morgan (2013)
Based off Genesis 1:1-2:4
When in creating our world, God looked out to see the void— Formless, troubled, dim, & dank So the Spirit was deployed. Sweeping through the waters wide, Covering the hea’vns and earth. Then the Word, “let there be light,” Thus came both night and day’s birth.
Dry land from the ocean split. Vegetables and fruits sprang out. The moon to rule over night. Living creatures—hear them shout! Then God spoke to human beings, Gave us tasks we under-took: “Care for earth and living things!” And then God She called it good.
Thus the universe came forth. All the stars shone bright in awe. Then God rested, in God’s time; Blessed the Sabbath for us all. Children, listen to this tale, In your memory devote— God’s creative, caring heart From formation gave us hope.
After learning my flight was detained 4 hours,
I heard the announcement:
If anyone in the vicinity of gate 4-A understands any Arabic,
Please come to the gate immediately.
Well—one pauses these days. Gate 4-A was my own gate. I went there.
An older woman in full traditional Palestinian dress,
Just like my grandma wore, was crumpled to the floor, wailing loudly.
Help, said the flight service person. Talk to her. What is her
Problem? we told her the flight was going to be four hours late and she
I put my arm around her and spoke to her haltingly.
Shu dow-a, shu- biduck habibti, stani stani schway, min fadlick,
Sho bit se-wee?
The minute she heard any words she knew—however poorly used—
She stopped crying.
She thought our flight had been canceled entirely.
She needed to be in El Paso for some major medical treatment the
Following day. I said no, no, we’re fine, you’ll get there, just late,
Who is picking you up? Let’s call him and tell him.
We called her son and I spoke with him in English.
I told him I would stay with his mother till we got on the plane and
Would ride next to her—Southwest.
She talked to him. Then we called her other sons just for the fun of it.
Then we called my dad and he and she spoke for a while in Arabic and
Found out of course they had ten shared friends.
Then I thought just for the heck of it why not call some Palestinian
Poets I know and let them chat with her. This all took up about 2 hours.
She was laughing a lot by then. Telling about her life. Answering
She had pulled a sack of homemade mamool cookies—little powdered
Sugar crumbly mounds stuffed with dates and nuts—out of her bag—
And was offering them to all the women at the gate.
To my amazement, not a single woman declined one. It was like a
Sacrament. The traveler from Argentina, the traveler from California,
The lovely woman from Laredo—we were all covered with the same
Powdered sugar. And smiling. There are no better cookies.
And then the airline broke out the free beverages from huge coolers—
Non-alcoholic—and the two little girls for our flight, one African
American, one Mexican American—ran around serving us all apple juice
And lemonade and they were covered with powdered sugar too.
And I noticed my new best friend—by now we were holding hands—
Had a potted plant poking out of her bag, some medicinal thing,
With green furry leaves. Such an old country traveling tradition. Always
Carry a plant. Always stay rooted to somewhere.
And I looked around that gate of late and weary ones and thought,
This is the world I want to live in. The shared world.
Not a single person in this gate—once the crying of confusion stopped
—has seemed apprehensive about any other person.
They took the cookies. I wanted to hug all those other women too.
This can still happen anywhere.
Not everything is lost.
”—Naomi Shihab Nye (b. 1952), “Wandering Around an Albuquerque Airport Terminal.” I think this poem may be making the rounds, this week, but that’s as it should be. (via oliviacirce)
When I lose hope in the world, I remember this poem.
Do you think i could read Dr Who eleven doctors, eleven stories if I've never read/watched Dr Who before? I've been wanting to get into Dr Who, but as there is so much out there I have no idea where to start..
I’d watch some Doctor Who, if I were you.
Here, I’ll make you a watching list. Netflix is your friend:
Watch an episode called BLINK.
Watch The Girl in the Fireplace.
Watch Dalek. (Yes, the Doctor looks different. Same man, though.)
Watch The Empty Child two parter.
Watch The Doctor’s Wife (I wrote that one, which is why I’m putting it on the list.)
Watch City of Death (it’s a classic series of shorter episodes from 1978ish, written by Douglas Adams).
Somewhere around there, start watching the New Series 1 with Rose and just come forward normally.
"One doctor said, ‘The number of bugs you can get from a Communion cup don’t have a prayer,’ " Haynes recalled. "The chances of getting sick are less than talking after the [service] with someone who has a cold."
Officials with the U.S. Centers for Disease Control and Prevention in Atlanta said inquiries about Communion cup dangers have been small but steady over the years.
"Theoretically, there’s a risk," spokeswoman Bonnie Hebert said.
"But the risk is so small it’s probably undetectable."
Loving, the microbiologist, said the risk of infection is reduced because the chalice is wiped after each sip, the alcohol in the wine can kill germs and, unlike ceramic cups, the silver and gold used in most chalices don’t harbor microbes.
"There is a difference sipping from a Communion cup and sipping a cup of coffee that someone left on the curb," she said.
There you go. Scientific data. Enjoy!
Side benefit: Super-easy to wash the dishes afterwards, unlike having a bazillion miniature glasses to scrub…
“Let’s recognize that there are many people of good will for whom “Washington Redskins” contains sentimental and historical attachment — and not an ounce of intended animus. So let’s turn down the temperature. What’s at issue is not high principle but adaptation to a change in linguistic nuance. A close call, though I personally would err on the side of not using the word if others are available.”—
“There are very few books about the weekly trudge to Mass, the annual repetition of sacraments or the day-to-day life of your average believer in the pews. And yet those are the stories we most need to hear: we need the stories behind that trudge to understand why we keep making it.”—Prose and Prayer by Kaya Oakes http://americamagazine.org/issue/prose-and-prayer
“There’s so much pretending out there. We have to pretend that we’re not smarter than our boss. We have to pretend we love our partner more than we do. We have to pretend that everything is fine. There’s just so much pretend in our lives we have to muster up, I think the church needs to be a place where that doesn’t have to happen. Just for one hour during the week, they can exhale and the truth about everything can be spoken in a sacred space.”—Nadia Bolz-Weber on Becoming God’s Bitch | (A)theologies | Religion Dispatches