A Litany to Life

As a child, we had many names for The Almighty
In our church, they were referred to in litanies.

Even though I do try to understand
The desire to think of God as a man;
Good men create an aura of protection
For which we feel awe and affection.
But the bodies of men can't contain
The glories of all Creation's reign.

It seems to me that it is better
To, our imaginations, unfetter.
While sitting in the shade of a tree,
That tree feels like God to me.
While watching a baby be baptized,
The glory of Faith makes me want to cry.

The darkening skies above my head
Fill me with awe, not with dread.
The endless blue of the skies above
Are a sign to me of Infinite Love.
The dedication it takes to cure cancer
Is, in the scientists, my God's answer.

The time I spend with a friend on the phone
Is God's love, through me, brought home.
The soup that my aunt makes for me
Is another place, Eternal Love, I see.
In the sweat of my loving husband's brow,
I realize that my Eternity includes now.

I will daily sing songs of Infinite Wonder,
For a child's laugh, lightening and thunder.
The fish that feed us from the deep,
The soft, warm bed on which we sleep.
I will not allow others to reduce and define
The varieties of the faces of God that are mine.

Listening to the Enlightened

A soul sister with whom I discuss family life, theology, and spirituality has pointed out that today, in her religion, is honored as the Feast of the Transfiguration of Jesus. This feast honors the tradition that Jesus, at one time in his walk on this earth, was seen by several of his followers as shining with a holy light, speaking with Moses and the prophet Elijah. Her religious tradition holds the belief that the voice of God was heard saying, “This is My Son, whom I love; with Him I am well pleased. Listen to Him!”

Bishop Iraneus of the second century Christian church is quoted as saying about the transfiguration, "the glory of God is a live human being and a truly human life is the vision of God."

Would that we believed that we are all capable of being transfigured by Grace and that the glory of this Grace would lead us to live truly human lives, shining with this vision of Grace and Glory. Perhaps then all will hear a voice saying, "These are my children in whom I am well pleased. Listen to them."

Suffering vs Celebration

My older sister received a pacemaker yesterday, and I feel that my heart is breaking. My mother's religion has been killing my sister since the day she was born. My mother gave all decisions over to the clergy, even those having to do with procreation. When my mother died and was then revived, having ruptured an artery while giving birth to her second child and first daughter. The doctors told her that she could never carry another child. Her vascular system was too weak.

My mother didn't accept that this may have been the hand of her god giving her a very strong message. She refused to defer to the wishes of my father and the rest of her support network, even though they shared her religion. My mother deferred to her clergy, who was in the business of encouraging married women to produce legions of "soldiers of Christ."

According to our mother, our sister was other-worldly from the date of her birth, scaring our older brother when he was a toddler. Photos and stories show her as an adorable little curly-haired doll that could repeat verbatim anything that was said to her. Both she and my brother were sickly children, which required many trips to the hospitals. The way to keep them quiet was by reading to them, fairy tales and stories of the saints, all gory morality tales at that time.

Before my sister was two, our mother was pregnant for me, and our family had moved far away from any family who could help with the babies. My mother clung even more strongly to her religion, as our father was away most of the time on oil exploration trips to support his family.

By the time I was born, my mother's body was literally turning itself inside out. Once again, the doctors advised her to have surgery to prevent more procreation. Once again, her husband pleaded that, if not sterilization, they use birth control. He was only home sporadically, almost guaranteeing pregnancy on every visit. The clergy insisted on continued opportunities to procreate or complete celibacy. Our mother, once again, deferred to the men of the cloth as she carried on with three babies in a strange land.

Mama and daddy needed each others' loving arms whenever he came home to her. They were only twenty-four years old, and both physically beautiful. Their shared arms should have been their reward and incentive for maintaining monogamy while separated from each other, but it became our father's shame in his inability to control his desire for his beautiful wife. They lost the ability to bring each other physical comfort.

When our mother found out she had become pregnant a fourth time, she was put to bed rather than risk losing this baby. She could not function. Her children were removed from her and taken to various relatives. She was left alone with nothing but her thoughts of a god that visited pain upon those who displeased him. When she finally rose from her hell, she had decided that she would give her life completely over to serving her god through her church. She became obsessed with purifying herself and her children.

We lost our mother, other than in body, when my brother was five, my sister was three, and I was still a infant in arms. My sister has embraced suffering as a way to purification of her spirit, memorizing and repeating litanies and prayers prescribed by the clergy. My sister's marriage to the same religion that took my mother from me, I have divorced.

This divorce has caused me to be estranged from my sister as her heart begins to weaken in her old age. I cannot go to her because she struggles with embracing suffering and death, while I struggle to continue embracing celebration and life.

Gender

I would love for my mate to not be threatened by me,
But I don’t expect that he can see what I see.
His was a world that was universally protected
By the male god that was then usually projected.
I don’t blame him for the mistakes of our nations,
That were the guiding values for many generations.

I hope that he can accept my pain of process, and then,
Perhaps we, as men and women, can begin again.
At least, he accepts that his mother didn’t love him;
I hope that, with further conversation, things won’t seem so grim.
Fathers used to feel no compunction to fill the empty gaps
In which many mothers of children so clearly had a lack.

I celebrate the opportunity to make family decisions
That, hopefully, will not bring on society’s derision.
If we all free ourselves from prejudice of gender,
Families may be freed to, in this world, enter
A culture where individual gifts are accepted,
Rather than, because of gender, rejected.

Championing Change

When our men were afraid, they were taught to fight
With all their abilities to make things right.
When their women cried out in pain
And they had no skills to make things right again,
They needed a group of capable others
To act as their supportive brothers.

Now we look at women and their men
As capable of being equally strong friends,
But this hasn't come without sacrifice,
And each of us is paying a bit of the price.
We can't go back to the way things were
Without ushering back in abuses that did occur.

We were taught to shun and persecute those
Who spoke differently or wore "funny" clothes.
In our lifetimes, families have been in transition;
We, who survived the changes may take it as our mission
To keep the light shining on the truth of the way
We treated each other, back in our younger days.

We are only now beginning to understand
That, the world over, every woman and man
Is subject to our own joys and fears;
We all like laughter, and we all shed tears.
The color of skin is caused by climate;
We don't choose the color that we get.

It is quite an awesome responsibility
To have our minds and hearts set free.
My mate and I struggle to relate,
But when we do, it's reason to celebrate.
We work hard to throw off our prejudice
Hoping our grandchildren will create a world more just.

The Rope of Hope

More than once I tripped and fell
Into despair's deep, dark well.
My friends of faith were there for me,
With a Light that I could only faintly see.
They seemed to have a steadfast hope,
And this, their faith, became my rope.

I knew that they would hold on tight
Until I developed faith, in my own right.
Their faith also seems to give them discipline
That keeps them from completely giving in.
They soldier on; even when they don't win,
They dust themselves off and begin again.

I began to look for the source of this Light;
I have found my own source of delight,
That they find in their religions, but I
See when I look into their loving eyes.
Some of them also share with me
Other places where this Light, they see.

One finds the voice of this Holiness
In the children with whom she is blessed.
Another walks her garden in the morning
And hears this Holy Spirit whispering.
Some assure me that they have husbands
Who are sources of this strength and their friends.

What seems to be common in sister and in brother
Is they find sources of this Light in each other.
The Light that is common to all of us
Is what Christians find in their savior Jesus.
It makes all creation holy ground;
All we have to do is look around.

The wind, the waves, a tear, a laugh
All gifts created on our behalf.
And it is also true that we
Can share the Light we've come to see.
We must open our hearts and open our souls
To embracing and sharing that which makes us whole.

Religion and Decision

We don't give up our animal natures
Just because we get religion.
Our training in religion simply
Gives us new tools for decisions.

Those who hurt others and simply say,
"Jesus died for my sins,"
Apparently don't understand where
Christianity begins and ends.

We are held accountable on earth
For what we do and say;
We must try to make it right with
The people we harm along the way.

This is not just in the afterlife,
But in our time upon this earth;
We must restore to honor those
In whom we may have destroyed worth.

Every time a person demands
More than he or she needs,
This begins a cycle upon
Which fear and hatred breed.

We must learn to ask ourselves,
"Is it need or is it want?"
We must stop looking for
Superiority to flaunt.

Are the things we are pursuing
To strengthen the Eternal Whole,
Or, are we with our jealousy,
Destroying our own souls?