I love watching for sunrises
I mean surprises
proclaiming without fanfare that
we are not selfish
pre-determined muddles but have
at least a sky’s worth
of space in us just waiting for
that warm sunrise of
empathy and so here is one
Mister Darwin sir
fossils prove Neandertals cared
for the weakest ones
in their tribe and didn’t leave them
to die oh surprise
for love loved the most fragile and
not just the fittest
and survives from barely biped
to barely upright
humans God I love sunrises
Sister Johanna sees more sunrises than most of us. If I got up as early as she does, with a ladder and some glasses I could see to Minster marshes – if it wasn’t for the houses in between. Let’s enjoy her sharing the blessings of sunrise. An appropriate image to ponder when we have the feast of Mary’s visitation to Elizabeth tomorrow, a truly ‘warm sunrise of empathy’ and a neat challenge to Darwin.
Listen, my heart,
to the whispers of the world
with which it makes love to you.
Stray Birds XIII, Collected Poems and Plays p288.
And love the world in return, the people in it but love also our common home, Laudato Si’!
rebel rivers coil, uncoil
mountains jut and wail
range roiling range
even trees bleed
but it is finished
the shroud of sky remains a blank
no dialogue with the final call
no commerce with such completion
but the wind is fair
and the Paraclete
sails out into the deep
trawling time and more
hauling fish enough
to shift the axis
in a tongue of his own
across the spheres
to pierce our sighs
dropping a silver thread
of purest song
its note alight
with the laughter
of the Son
Yesterday we had St Francis and GKC together. Time to look into Chesterton’s life of the Saint.Early on, Chesterton scans the world into which Francis was born. It could almost be our own:
It was no metaphor to say that [pagan Romans and Greeks] needed a new heaven and a new earth; [Revelation 21:1] for they had really defiled their own earth and even their own heaven … It was no good telling such people to have a natural religion full of stars and flowers; there was not a flower or even a star that had not been stained. They had to go into the desert where they could find no flowers or even into the cavern where they could see no stars. Into that desert and that cavern the highest human intellect entered for some four centuries; and it was the very wisest thing it could do. Nothing but the stark supernatural stood up for its salvation; if God could not save it, certainly the gods could not.
Francis, Chesterton suggests, was able to contribute to a new understanding of nature as God’s creation. He can sing of Brother Sun, Sister Water, Sister Mother Earth, and even Sister Death.
We have certainly defiled our earth and our atmosphere and our street lamps blot out the stars.