Benedictine Morning Prayer

Lauds

O God, come to my assistance; O Lord make haste to help me.

Glory be to the Father, and to the Son, and to the Holy Spirit, as it was in the beginning, is now, and will be forever, amen.

Psalm 67

O God,be gracious to us and bless us.

and let your face shed its light upon us.

So will your ways be known upon earth,

and all nations learn of your saving help.

Let the peoples praise you, O God,

let all the peoples praise you.

Let the nations be glad and exult

for your rule the world with justice.

With fairness you rule the peoples,

you guide the nations on earth.

Let the peoples praise you, O God,

let all the peoples praise you.

The earth has yielded its fruit

for God, our God, has blessed us.

May God still give us his blessing

till all the ends of the earth revere him.

Let the peoples praise you, O God

Let all the peoples praise you.

Glory be to the Father, and to the Son, and to the Holy Spirit, as it was in the beginning, is now, and will be forever. Amen.

Hymn

Eternal glory of the sky, blest hope of weak humanity;

The Father's sole begotten one, and offspring of virginity.

Uplift us with your arm of might, and let our hearts rise pure and bright.

Ad,ardent in God's praises pay, the thanks we owe God every day.

Praise and honor to you Father,to your only Son divine,

equal glory to the Spirit, in our hearts your love enshrine. Amen.

Psalm 51

Have mercy on me, God, in your kindness.  In your compassion blot out my offense.O wash me more and more from my guilt and cleanse me from my sin.  My offenses truly you know them; my sin is always before me.  Against you, you alone, have I sinned; what is evil in your sight I have done.

That you may be justified when you give sentence and be without reproach when you judge.  O see, in guilt I was born, a sinner was I conceived.  Indeed you love truth in the heart; then in the secret of my heart teach me wisdom.  O purify me, then I shall be clean; O wash me,I shall be made whiter than snow.  Make me hear rejoicing and gladness that the bones you have crushed may thrill.  From my sins turn away your face and blot out all my guilt.  A pure heart create for me, O God, put a steadfast spirit within me.  Do not cast me away from your presence, nor deprive me of your Holy Spirit.  Give me again the jot of your help; with a Spirit of fervor sustain me, that I may teach transgressors your ways and sinners may return to you.  O rescue me, O God, my helper,and my tongue shall ring out your goodness.  O Lord, open my lips and my mouth shall declare your praise. For in sacrifice you take no delight, burnt offering from me you would refuse; my sacrifice, a contrite spirit, a humbled, contrite heart you will not spurn. In your goodness,show favor to Zion; rebuild the walls of Jerusalem.  Then you will be pleased with lawful sacrifice,then you will be offered young bulls on your altar.

the 420 hook

We had lunch at the cafe downtown.  I didn't know what we would talk about.  She's a student. She's recently celebrated her engagement to a man in the military, who is right now on his way to Afghanistan. She runs and studies a lot.  She lives at home and commutes to school. She is afraid, but confident.  She has a plan.
I asked her about her faith in God.  She said that everyday she sees the number 420 and she thinks about God.  Her birth date is April 20th, 4/20.  She says that almost daily 4 20 appears to her somehow--on a clock, a licence plate, an apartment number. And when they do, she thinks of God---God the creator, who has blessed her life.  She says when things are not going well she will see a 419, a sign that she is not tracking with God, that she is out of rhythm.  She likes to think of the daily reminder as a kind of reorientation of her daily rhythms.  Does she need to slow down and breathe? Does she need a reminder that all will be well with her?  God shows up on the numbers that mean something to her. It is personal. A numeric post-it note reminding her that God is near her.  Everyday. For two years.

I write this blog

I write this blog.  I've been writing it inconsistently for over four years now.  I am not a writer.  I've never published a book or an article in    a magazine. I've never even had an editorial printed in the local newspaper. But I write this blog and it gets published in cyberspace.  I have had entries from this blog posted, copied, and shared by others without my permission.  I don' care about that. I have had people comment on my blog entries with critical thinking.  As a liberal arts graduate, I appreciate the possibility of dialogue or conversation as part of this writing experience. Some commentary is negative criticism from relatively anonymous people.  Anonymity is a good device for critical editors and know-it-all's.  I suppose journalists and authors deal with anonymous criticism all the time. I also suppose that is why I am not a journalist or author.
I write this blog to exercise my mind.  I write when I feel inspired by something or someone.  I write because I am free to do so here. Most of my writing is theological or religious or political.  The topics we are told to avoid when keeping good company.  But I like to think that all of these things have something to do with being human. What is God like? Is there a God?  What gods seek our allegiances?  Any response to these things is theology.  And any sense of human devotion to a god is religious whether the god is vishnu, allah, Jesus, or David Beckham. How people make sense of and articulate a response to God is also religious. Politics is about power, who has it, who doesn't, and how is it being used in human communities.  I write about these things, not as an expert but as a student. I suppose I could blog about other things:  My kids, sports, food, my dog, celebrities I like to watch. These would probably be more popular topics. But I don't write about those things.  

Beloved, we are God's children now

When I was a kid, we used to go to these family reunions.  In the summer time.  We would dreive to Essex, NY on Lake Champlain in the Adirondack mountains. I can remember only a few details of these reunions.  This was my mother’s side, her father’s side.  My grandfather Ray Morse grew up in Schenectady, NY outside of Albany. He spent his summer’s as a boy in Essex, at his Uncle’s farm.  The reunion’s were held there.  Sort of old fashioned picnics on a grand lawn in front of a little farm house.  My great-grandfather Rex and Great grandmother Marion were always there, together with Rex’s sisters Rosie, Kitty, Phoebe, Hazel, and Lydia.  They were all in their late 80’s and early 90’s.  At 9 years old these people were ancient—living ancestors.  I liked to listen to their stories. They sat on porch rockers and laughed at each other.  The younger crowd played Frisbee and croquet, ate burgers and hot dogs, the usual summer fare.  There were the motorcycle riding, tattooed "black sheep? members of the family, whose arrival was uncertain and surprising.  Yet they were also embraced and welcome to join in.  The old nstories often brought tears, if someone remembered a loved one who was not with them.  Uncle Ben.  The brother who had passed.  They talked about the war and the toll it took on them.  Ray fought in the Pacific.  His presence at the reunion was always seen as a miracle, a gift.  He was my grandfather and I loved when they showed us the old pictures of Ray as a young man in his uniform.  They were proud of him.  They played cards and board games, too.  At the time, I did not understand the meaning of the five hour car trip to visit with old people I didn’t know.  They were my family, extended generationally into the past.  We were what they had become.  We stopped having reunions after Rex’s generation passed.  I have family out there that I haven’t seen in years.  I don’t know their names and they don’t know mine.  But we are related.

to forgive and forget

To forgive and forget.  Jeremiah 31:31-34 tells us that this is God’s new way of dealing with sinful humanity.  A people who deal unjustly with each other.  The wealthy make deals that benefit themselves while the poor suffer.  The poor remain victimized and, therefore, trapped in a cycle of poverty that affects generation after generation---a slave to a system in which they are not the beneficiaries.  (Sound familiar?) In Jeremiah's 7th century BC Jerusalem, the wealthy accumulated power through political means and all of the people disregarded the way of the LORD. Human will disregarded the commandments of God.  The result was a hostile takeover by the army of Babylon, destruction and deportation.  Their arrogance and disregard for the promises and commands of God left them vulnerable, though they felt secure in their prosperity.  Next thing they know, it all came down around them.  Their walls of power and security, their prosperity.  In exile they grieve and die.  By the second generation and the third their trust in the LORD was not about secure walls and prosperity.  They had come to find peace in Babylon.  They remembered the story that formed them as God's people, the Exodus.  It was then that God made a new promise.  "I will forgive your iniquity and remember your sins no more. "