Sunday Meditation

In the cycle of Epiphany.  Psalm 29

Ascribe to the LORD, you gods, *
ascribe to the LORD glory and strength.
Ascribe to the LORD the glory due his Name; *
worship the LORD in the beauty of holiness.
The voice of the LORD is upon the waters;
the God of glory thunders; *
the LORD is upon the mighty waters.
The voice of the LORD is a powerful voice; *
the voice of the LORD is a voice of splendor.
The voice of the LORD breaks the cedar trees; *
the LORD breaks the cedars of Lebanon;
He makes Lebanon skip like a calf, *
and Mount Hermon like a young wild ox.
The voice of the LORD splits the flames of fire;
the voice of the LORD shakes the wilderness; *
the LORD shakes the wilderness of Kadesh.
The voice of the LORD makes the oak trees writhe *
and strips the forests bare.
And in the temple of the LORD *
all are crying, “Glory!”
The LORD sits enthroned above the flood; *
the LORD sits enthroned as King for evermore.
The LORD shall give strength to his people; *
the LORD shall give his people the blessing of peace.

There are gods everywhere.  The heavens and the earth are full of them.  gods aren’t the issue–as even Siddhartha understood.  gods are everywhere.  For those on the other-powered path (for lack of a better term) the question is not one of gods, but of the Lord.  Who has strength in the midst of this chaos?

In the midst of this insanity, is there one to thunder?  Gloriously thunder.  Is there reason for hope in other words?  Is there reason for worship?  For devotion?

Has such a one conquered?  And if so, what does that even mean.  What would that mean in a world where humans are complacent. Where humans think they are “good” or “nice” or “trying their best.”  How can this language finally break through this insanity, without the ever-unattractive guilt and fear-mongering of the conservatives (personal, usually sexual) and the liberals (social justice guilt).

I cry Glory in the Temple, but am alone.  The floods of the inhumanity of humans, upon that the dancing Lord of the Heart sits enthroned.  But no one will bow in worship.

The very marrow of creation melts like wax, the wilderness is shaken, if only the voice of the Divine would bellow through their slow, dim witted, enslaved consciousnesses.

No one wants a voice of splendor.  It’s not practical.  It’s not sexy.  It doesn’t get to politically smear; such a voice does not gain one TV media time or power over others.

It is power from within.  Everyone wants power from without (arbitrarily at best ratified by the populace), so they can bludgeon their opponents.

The one who has conquered the heart bestows peace.  But no one wants to listen.  They are already filled with their own creations, dazzled by their own inventions and thoughts.

There is no room left for the Divine.

Published in: on January 13, 2008 at 10:12 pm  Leave a Comment  

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