In this journey of faith, we discover the palpable presence of the divine. A growing global awareness anchors us in the cosmos. The divine presence awakens primordial energies in our bodies, and we feel ourselves connected with all of creation. Our prophetic contribution to the universe captivates and enchants us. Cosmic wisdom unfolds life’s surprises. Our privilege is to be open to the moment of the unexpected.
Jim reflects on a very special liturgy that was held in the memorial garden at St. Mary's Center in Oakland.
Astronauts, such as Scott Kelly, who spent 340 days in space, are able to view our planetary home without the national boundaries we impose. The cosmic principle of communion opens us to the interconnectedness of all things. Experiencing the universe as one enhances the meaning of global solidarity. On the global level, we focus on our commonalities. We rely on trust and communication. Above all, we hold humanity and the Earth in an embrace of compassion.
I sit in my apartment in Berkeley, California, pick up a pen and a pad of paper, and begin to write. For a period of time, inspired after I attended a reading by Mary Oliver, I took up the challenge each day to listen deeply to the spirit speaking softly to my soul and commit that to paper.
Poetry affords the opportunity to have a dialogue with the pad of paper. The paper serves as a dialogical partner, a spiritual companion, whose empty page is the willing recipient of whatever lies in my heart and longs to be heard.
Sometimes I think of poetry as a dream on paper—a way to translate the impulses of the soul into shareable forms.
Mary Grey says,
“If we long for God,
we long for the satisfaction and fulfillment
of what we genuinely desire,
far and away beyond the titillating enticements of the market
which have blocked the wisdom to know.”
Guardians say,
“I swear I will not dishonor
my soul with hatred,
but humbly offer myself as
a guardian of nature.”
Rilke says,
“Let everything happen to you:
beauty and terror.
Just keep going. No feeling is final.
Don’t let yourself lose me.
Nearby is the country they call life.”
Gail Straub says,
“Without the out-breath of
compassionate engagement our
inner work implodes upon itself.”
Llewellyn Vaughan-Lee says,
"Deep within the heart there is the primal pain of longing,
the cry of the soul separated from its source.
This pain comes from the memory
of when we were together with God.”
John O’Donohue says,
“The contemplative has broken
through to that sanctuary
in the soul where love dwells.”
Miriam MacGillis says,
"Each of us must take our place
in the unfolding mystery that is
at the heart of the Universe.”
Brother David Steindl-Rastsays,
“Our heart is that center where
we are one with ourselves,
with all others, and with God.”
Thomas Berry says,
“We need to move from a
spirituality of alienation from the natural world
to a spirituality of intimacy with the natural world.”
Rumi says,
“Longing is the core of mystery.”
Mary Oliver says,
“When it’s over, I want to say: all my life,
I was a bride married to amazement.”
Dorothy Day says,
“The mystery of the poor is this:
That they are Jesus,
and what you do for them you do for Him.”
Albert Einstein says,
“The most beautiful experience
we can have is the mysterious.”
Did you know a Canadian was known as the “Father of Medicare”? Many years ago, in 1947, Tommy Douglas, a Baptist minister and Premier of Saskatchewan, achieved a historic accomplishment. His government made it possible for everyone in the province to have health insurance and access to health care. The results were so positive that this Medicare-type program soon spread across the country, and single-payer health insurance became—and remains—the right of every Canadian.
Today the United States, which likes to think of itself as one of the most advanced countries in the world, finds itself embroiled in a debate over health care. The current proposal by the Republicans would remove 22 million from health care coverage. You don’t have to look far to hear stories about how such a move would endanger the lives of the young, elderly, and disabled, as well as all people. On the nightly news, you can see mothers in tears, pleading for the care needed by their disabled children. The situation is dire and urgent.
What motivates this insensitive initiative that would remove access to health care for the poorest and most needy among us?
It an economic system that does not favor the equitable distribution of the fruits of the Earth. Rather, it is a system that favors increasing tax cuts for the wealthiest. In my view, this is an approach that is neither needed nor just. It lacks basic compassion.
The driving principle behind this is political ideology, simply stated, is “He who governs least governs best.” The result that logically follows is a laissez faire system that prioritizes opportunities to accumulate a maximum amount of wealth. Such a system inevitably results in winners and losers, with a worldview that is expressed by the bumper sticker slogan “He who dies with the most toys wins.”
Now the vote on health care has been delayed. But the issue is far from resolved. I think of Tommy Douglas and I think of the mother I saw the other day speak from the bedside of her disabled child, and lend my voice to the rising chorus of Americans calling out to the highest heavens, “Our economic and health-care systems need to be based on greater compassion!”
Stories are amazing and wonderful. They reveal our origins, tell us where we are now, and provide a sense of tomorrow. Today we call the narrative that tells our 14-billion-year history the “universe story.” This story was heralded 25 years ago through the publication of The Universe Story: From the Primordial Flaring Forth to the Ecozoic Era: A Celebration of the Unfolding of the Cosmos.
At the time, I attended a gathering at the Gaia Bookstore in North Berkeley to honor the authors. In the corner of room populated by colleagues, friends, and students, sat cultural historian and geologian Thomas Berry and scientist and ecological philosopher Brian Thomas Swimme. At the end, each inscribed a brief comment on my copy. Thomas wrote, “Autumn greetings 1992,” and Brian wrote, “May our common work so long in the making continue to fructify.”
The vision of Thomas and Brian has inspired many projects and books since—among which I include my own work. And there is still much to do. Their wisdom and guidance have never been more needed than they are today.
Today, climate change is no longer a theory, but an alarming reality. Witness, for example, the highest temperatures on record here in the Bay Area this month. Across the arid regions of the planet, heat and drought are rendering human life increasingly difficult. Every night, the media is abuzz with the latest revelations about the Russian influence in our elections, threatening our democracy, while the threat of nuclear war once again looms large.
These days, as we tremble at the thought of our uncertain future, we welcome the prophetic voice of Pope Francis, and his letter to the world Laudato Si’–On Care for Our Common Home. And we turn for guidance to the wisdom of Berry and Swimme, so that ecological balance and planetary peace may be restored to our fragile planet, and that our lives may be guided by deep cultural wisdom.
It was 1970, and America was churning. People were in the streets protesting the ill-advised Vietnam war; Watergate was on the horizon though not yet upon us. The civil rights movement, wounded by the murder of Dr. Martin Luther King, Jr., was awash with violence across urban America in cities such as Newark, Detroit, and East Los Angeles.
At the same time, the Abrahamic religions were striving to become relevant in the wake of Vatican Council II as they sought ways to respond to the world of the flower children and the Free Speech Movement. Programs were founded in churches and communities around issues of race, education, green space, taxation, and other questions of justice and rights here at home.
As a Canadian, I was deeply affected by the signs of the times and began to search for a program I could join that was designed to prepare people for a society in crisis. My research led me to Chicago, where I enrolled in the Industrial Areas Foundation Saul Alinsky Training Institute.
Saul Alinsky made a profound impression on my life, an impression that remains with me today. He was always curious, always searching for meaning, and focused on action. He believed in equality and opportunity for everyone.
I sat in the IAF classroom one evening in 1970, and Alinsky was leading the class. I had a copy of his just released book, Rules for Radicals, on my desk. And I began to take notes.
For Alinsky, the organizing process begins with seeing world as it is and moves into creating the world as we would like it to be. He believed in intuition and visceral responses, and would say “the body trumps the mind.” He believed in the goodness of people and in their capacity to create a more just and equal society in which each person’s potential is realized.
The approach to organizing Alinsky developed included four principles.
· Listen to people to find out their concerns. He called this “organizing with your ears.”
· Examine the obstacles to a free and open society and take steps to transform them. This is a “disorganizing” phase.
· Recognize the areas of concern for a community that are not being responded to, and create new structures to resolve them.
· Combine the new structures with preexisting ones that are already in alignment, and prioritize issues of concern.
The process Alinsky developed is alive and vibrant today. In response to the current threats to our democracy, people in my community and across the country are gathering in living rooms and public places to listen to each other and share their concerns as neighbors. We seek to dissolve prejudices and to move forward with a vision that allows society to flourish with an enhanced sense of security and peace. Perhaps we can look to the legacy of Saul Alinsky for guidance as we sow seeds of hope and friendship for a better tomorrow.
Video poem from Geo-Justice
Video poem from Geo-Justice
As expected, President Trump removed the United States from participation in the Paris Climate Accord. This decision was based on greed and on adherence to what is most dangerous to the well-being of our fragile planet. Such an act stands in opposition to what is most prophetic in America.
This outrageous choice makes no economic or planetary sense.
It contradicts the best of the scientific and social visionaries alive today. It disregards all of Al Gore’s climate change initiatives, and places the future of our planet and its people in greater jeopardy. It ignores Johanna Macy’s vision of the great turning. It makes Thomas Berry’s dream of the Earth become instead a nightmare for humanity. The fact that the very day of Trump’s withdrawal from the Paris Accord fell on the eighth anniversary of Thomas’s passing is ironic, to say the least.
I can feel the pain of this disastrous choice. Yet, as I contemplate the significance of this moment, I nevertheless look for reasons to feel encouraged. I think about the sun’s generous gift, about the beauty of the flower outside my window, about the spontaneity of the child who lives with her parents down the hall.
And especially, I am inspired by the numerous people who gather here and around the country, motivated by genuine love for the Earth. These people are our hope for the future. They are dedicated to preserving the sacredness of life, so that future generations may live in a truly participatory democracy, where people recognize and listen to one another. They dream of a world whose first act is compromise and whose organization is founded on justice making.
The toxic news of the day may assail me, but I also cannot ignore the goodness of the people I see around me. I feel hopeful seeing something precious and new bubbling up at a grassroots level. I pray that the future will more just, that people will be more engaged, that our journey together will continue, and that our tomorrows will be better than all our pasts.
Video poem from Geo-Justice
When President Trump recently met Pope Francis, the pope gave him a copy of his prophetic message to the world: Laudato Si’: On Care for Our Common Home. In this encyclical, penned two years ago, the pope described climate change as a real and substantiated issue, with human causes. He called upon the world to work toward a solution, and to do so before the current crisis becomes a full-blown, irreversible catastrophe for the planet. Now, in what can only be considered a not-so-subtle message, the pope has given this encyclical to the president—supposedly the “leader of the free world”—a man who has not only stated that he does not believe in climate change, but who has also chosen many others sharing that belief to hold important decision-making positions in his administration.
I am stunned by the contrast between these two men—the pope and the president—and all the more so after seeing reports about their recent meeting. Pope Francis’s very being espouses love and mercy. He is humble, he is modest, he values simplicity. In his compassion, we see him greeting Trump, a man who seems determined to use his power to undermine what is good and just in the world.
While the pope as pontifex maximus is the great bridge builder between cultures, religions, and people, Trump’s signature cause is the building of walls. The wall between Mexico and this country is one physical example, but the walls of divisiveness take many forms. Even in his short time in office, Trump has engaged in a relentless campaign to silence the free press and to fracture the functioning of a viable democracy. He has distanced this country from our allies. By the time you read these words, he may have withdrawn the U.S. from the Paris Agreement on climate change. We hear daily of his efforts to extinguish social initiatives and to take health care and other vital services from those who need them most, while at the same time adding to the coffers of the wealthy. And all this from the man who pledged to drain the swamp.
We have to wonder: will the pope’s not-so-subtle message have an impact on the president? Time will tell. In the meanwhile, now is the time to push back against regressive changes. We must respond in concert with the invitation of Pope Francis—by acting as people of mercy; by protecting the beauty of creation, as manifest in every rose, child, river, and tree; by remembering the goodness of life and invoking the gracious presence of an ever-loving God; and by actively resisting all agendas that threaten the future of the world as we know it.
Video poem from Geo-Justice.
Video poem from Geo-Justice...
This poem appears in Geo-Justice.
With gratitude and grace, we celebrate the story of creation, liberation, and us.
In blessing and brokenness, we restore hunger for newness, boiling from the wellsprings of our souls. Here, within wonder and surprise, we rediscover hope and recognize once more the signature of God.
From our awareness of beauty and brokenness, rivers of grace flow into our hearts to heal, purify, and bring justice to the world. Through the emergence of harmony, we behold balance, peace, and beauty flow into our hearts and across the land.
We rejoice when all members of the Earth community have a place to raise their young, a shelter from the elements, and the opportunity for a meaningful life. As we venture forth today, the words of soon-to-be-canonized St. Oscar Romero dance across our awareness and pulsate in our hearts, with the promise of a meaningful future yet to be realized on this Easter journey.
He writes: “By overcoming self, one achieves the Easter resurrection. As we prepare once again to celebrate the resurrection, we reflect on our lives and ask guidance from the universe and cosmic Christ as we make our Easter journey this day."
[Mural depicting Archbishop Oscar Romero outside the San Salvador hospital where he was killed while celebrating Mass, March 24, 1980. CNS photo]
It was summer 1970. I was a student at the Canadian Urban Training Project for Christian Service in Toronto. The director, Dr. Ed File, minister of the United Church of Canada, had prepared us for what he called the “urban plunge.” We were to go into the ghettos with $5 in our pockets and interact with the displaced persons we found there. The goal was to see people as they really are within a corporate system that necessitates winners and losers, rather than projecting stereotypes on them.
One evening, after going into the chapel for a bible service, I received a ticket and was assigned a bunk bed. As I sat on my perch on the upper bunk, I looked around the room and composed this poem:
Monks of Skid Row
A strange breed of monks,
these 12,000 derelicts of life,
these lovable, genial, isolated human beings.
They live with a past not to be forgotten,
a present built out of isolation,
a future that promises and hopes
for nothing.
These monks of the inner city
are more alone than the strictest contemplative,
often more redeemed
as they traffic in their currency of cigarettes.
Where to get beer, a bed, a meal, a job
and sometimes money?
They are selfless and concerned,
these islands of humanity,
boasting of a day’s work
and regretting a wasted life.
They trust NO ONE as they walk
their silent world of pain and fear,
this order of the street,
people without futures, without rights.
Poor, pushed, passed by and possessed
by those who provide beds and food,
keeping them on one aimless
treadmill of life.