by Kate Kennington Steer, all images by Kate Kennington Steer
As I mentioned in a previous post for Godspace written in 2016, I have long been fascinated by and inspired by Hildegard of Bingen (1098-1179), not least because despite her struggles with persistent ill health, she was a writer, a composer, a scientist, a preacher, a prophetic visionary, and an Abbess of two Benedictine convents; and because, for me, she personifies what I called back in 2016 ‘expressive strength in creative weakness’. Here’s my concluding passage from that post:
It seems to me that it takes a very particular type of strong personality to be able to continue to live a
creative, fruitful, flourishing life in the service of God and others; and that such a life-force is only found in those whose strength is based on a recognition of their absolute vulnerability and powerlessness. For Hildegard this life-force came from what she idiosyncratically identified as ‘viriditas’, a ‘greening’ of the spirit that forms the innate connection between God’s goodness in the heart and God’s goodness in the earth; a connection Hildegard personifies as Grace. ‘Greening’ is the epitome of God’s blessing to those God loves… As I struggle to find ways in which I might join every day with the Creator in creating and healing, Hildegard’s expressive, exuberant celebration of the ways in which we may all still be greened continues to echo down the centuries to encourage me this day.
During the COVID-19 Lockdown, I have returned to actively thinking about viriditas as part of my ongoing #projectgreen: an intentional, slow, gradual, mindful multimedia exploration of the colour green, asking what might I learn from its associations and usages (both traditional and modern), and what do I need to notice about the presence and absence of this colour in my life at this time?
Philip Larkin, in a line from his poem ‘The Trees’, wrote, ‘their greenness is a kind of grief’. This pinpoints an association that has been humming through my writings this summer, as I have charted the Sun’s arc, and marked moments of particular turning and potential thresholds of revelation. I realise that, as my attention has shifted through the building of light and its affect on the intensity of greens surrounding and greeting me in my Mum’s garden, that once I was past the zenith of the Summer Solstice, I have been looking at green in a (literally) different light, as darkness begins to make its presence felt round the edges of each day as the peak of the season passes. It sounds so obvious to say green is not a homogeneous entity, a single universally understood colour. Nor, of course, is light. My late Summer light is not the same even across the northern hemisphere, let alone the light experienced on other continents enjoying different seasons. Something of this found its way into ‘blank green’, a poem found from the words of my journaled reflections on this collage I made:
and suddenly there is no such thing as a blank green
see the paper crinkled by blued glue into
precipitous mountain top passes
and plunging crevasses the shape of a missing
plate framing bokehed sun shapes
masking whatever is currently unseen
glimpse rust flakes becoming moss trails over flocked rocks inviting me to clamber into depths of evergreen
rich darkness enfolding me in forest
hear its promise to hold me in pined perfume
setting me down on the winding track into untold lostness
or perhaps only as far as the blue pool
where my yesness continues to echo off sunbaked
clay banks and the Spirit’s hovering ripples water
in a constant play of eddy and still in delight unhesitating I plunge along the ridge of upturned leaf stirring minute hairs freed from dew
parting to reveal a stippled pathway of midgreens leading me on past the comfort of High Windows and Larkin’s words of baptism in light
over the whale’s crustacean enhanced hide
onto the uneven terrain of the seabed itself where murk and shadow disrobe what light may veil
until I am spouted upward propelled into sky
until a rail steadies me
onto a look out over the aura borealis
a swirl of pea green against unimaginable layers of receding blueback purpled at the edges
until returning to present I am pierced again
by the stripes of the tongued plant
(though lacking a mother-in-law how can I know
its’ true speech?) I traverse the hinterland of understanding as it dips into hollows of familiar yellow and dances along blazing minty ice cream heat heights
reaching past the softmeadow grass and the friable hayfield into unexplored tropics extended fans and
upside down paintbrush trees mirrored
in jewelled swimming pools transfigured emerald
against a jungled sky
until here in this coolness
here where I am overshadowed by such unfamiliar shapes here may I rest
This kind of welding of written and visual expression is something that speaks intently to me (as the name for my blog imageintoikon suggests). It is the path I wish to explore in future works, even if for the moment I needs must be content with an A4 collage made in bed, doodles made beside scribbles in a journal that is almost never beyond arm’s reach. Again, this brings me back to the tensions that Hildegard lived with: the reach of her earthly ambitions were tempered by persistent ill health, and yet, her trusting perception of viriditas beyond the surface of all things, is what helps me, hundreds of years later, see the ‘greening power of God suffusing all life and creation’:
Viriditas is the force sustaining life each moment, bringing newness to birth. It is a marvellous image of the divine power continuously at work in the world, juicy and fecund … The prophet Isaiah writes that “the wilderness and the dry land shall be glad, the desert shall rejoice and blossom; like the crocus it shall blossom abundantly, and rejoice with joy and
singing” (Is 35.1-2) This abundant blossoming is the provenance of viriditas. We are called to wander through the desert tending to the abundant gifts of viriditas, the creative life-force of everything alive. Hildegard’s wisdom is for living a life that is fruitful and green and overflowing with verdancy. She calls us to look for fecundity in barren places …
(original emphases)(Christine Valters Paintner, Illuminating the Way, 161-2, 164, 170)
In one of her books of visions, the Liber Vitae Meritorum, Hildegard receives a dialogue between two characters: Heavenly Joy and Worldly Sadness. In the opinion of Heavenly Joy, Worldly Sadness is sad because she does not ‘observe the sun and moon and stars and all the decoration of the greenness [viriditas] of the earth and consider how much prosperity God gives man with these things’. By contrast, of herself Heavenly Joy says:
“I possess heaven, since all that God created, and which you call noxious, I observe in its true light. I gently collect the blossoms of roses and lilies and all greenness [viriditas] in my lap since I praise all the works of God, while you attract sorrows to you because you are dolorous in all your works.”
Hildegard’s viriditas reminds me to notice the gifts I am given in the ordinary details of my life around
me. Viriditas reminds me that the Spirit always waits in readiness to ‘green’ my soul’s barren places and our planet’s damaged earth. There is always hope within viriditas. In the action of the Spirit’s ‘greening’ I am becoming who God longs for me to be. In the light that is itself a gift, I am called to notice and collect together the incidents of greening around about me, like where ‘moss trails over flocked rocks/ inviting me to clamber into depths of evergreen’. The Spirit’s ‘greening’ invites me to open my eyes, to see where the Spirit ‘sets me down’ to find even more green, and though at first I may appear surrounded by ‘lostness’, the ongoing ‘greening’ of my soul promises always to lead me into the heart of God’s calling for me.
So perhaps this is the key to both viriditas and #projectgreen: they symbolise the continual flow of emergence and re-emergence of gratefulness in me, which inexorably leads me to pause to praise my Maker the Great Artist, with thanksgiving in my heart, before I move on, powered by viriditas, into the day God lays before me, welcoming whatever it may bring. Today, using Hildegard’s words of praise of the Holy Spirit, I ask that viriditas will bless us this day, and all the days to come:
Out of you clouds
come streaming, winds
take wing from you, dashing
rain against stone;
and ever-fresh springs
well from you, washing
the evergreen globe [terra viriditatem].
(From ‘O ignis Spiritus Paracliti’ (trans Barbara Newman Symphony of the Harmony of Celestial Revelations, 148-151))
[an extended version of this post (with more examples of #projectgreen) can be found at imageintoikon.com)
Catherine Lawton shares this poem with us as an encouragement and welcome to discernment today. May we take the time to prayerfully consider and listen to the stirrings of the Spirit today. Allow yourself to settle in your place, be present, take a deep breath and read the poem below once or several times.
prayed like a child
to God above,
folding hands
closing eyes
repeating words
talking to Jesus.
Not knowing
the soft wind
whispering,
branches lifting
were also prayer.
When I learned
to listen with
Spirit-pierced ear
my prayers became
shorter but more
continuous.
Recently,
the gaze—
eye to eye
heart to heart—
blends praise
confession
lamentation
supplication
waiting
knowing
resting
in One.
When your glory passes by
we have to find a rock cleft.
You are so often seen in the
blink between the eye’s lashes,
the space between words,
the sprouting green from the cracks
on the pavement.
And when your glory passes by
we are not having a party,
but hidden, shielded.
All your goodness is too much for us.
And instead, we think,
‘what was that?’
Like a lightening fork in the dark,
or a touch so brief, hard to discern.
But we stretch it out
in our thoughts, imagination,
that the touch or sliver of light
becomes enough
to illuminate our days,
and our nights –
though they might be spent
in the cleft of a rock.
Ana Lisa de Jong
Living Tree Poetry
May 2020
‘Then Moses said, “Now show me your glory.”
And the Lord said, “I will cause all my goodness to pass in front of you, and I
will proclaim my name, the Lord, in your presence. I will have mercy on whom I
will have mercy, and I will have compassion on whom I will have compassion.
But,” he said, “you cannot see my face, for no one may see me and live.”
Then the Lord said, “There is a place near me where you may stand on a rock.
When my glory passes by, I will put you in a cleft in the rock and cover you
with my hand until I have passed by.
Then I will remove my hand and you will see my back; but my face must not be seen.”’
Exodus 33
For more poems for Ana Lisa de Jong, check out the free downloads available in our store:
by Christine Sine
Over the last couple of weeks, I have started my day by lighting a circle of candles around me. Like the Celts of old, I love circles and circling prayers and often incorporate these in my spiritual practices. At this time of year, as we approach the solstice, I often greet the dawn with the soft glow of the sunrise reflected on the Olympic mountains outside my window, and say goodbye to the day with the even more breathtaking colors of the sunset over the mountains. It makes me feel as though I am indeed surrounded by God’s light. God’s embracing presence gives me strength, comfort and security in the midst of the ongoing trauma of our world.
My interest in circles as an expression of faith came from Celtic Christians who lived between the 5th & 8th centuries. They believed that a circle, with no break, created a complete whole, affording no access to the devil.
Monasteries were often surrounded by a circle of crosses declaring that the space within was sacred and different – dedicated to God and claimed as a place where God met people who were offered sanctuary and hospitality.” The Celtic Resource Book Martin Wallace
As I sit in my circle of light, I feel that same sacred presence surrounding and sustaining me. I close my eyes and draw an imaginary circle in front of me as I describe in this exercise adapted from a traditional circling prayer or CAIM. As I did so, I was reminded of a quote by Hermes Trismegistus that I came across recently:
God is a circle whose centre is everywhere and whose circumference is nowhere.”
I interpret this to mean that each of us is centered in the presence of God and that God’s presence moves out from us to embrace everyone and everything. There is no boundary to God’s presence or to God’s love. Nothing can extinguish the light of God. It might be hidden as it is presently behind the blanket of smoke that the winds are sweeping towards us from the fires in California, Oregon and Washington. It might fade into darkness as the sun fades into night, but it is always there. It is always waiting for the right time to reappear. Wow, what a wonderful thought to begin the day with.
As I reflected on this a few days ago, I was reminded of another time I wrote about the emerging light of God and a saying attributed to an ancient monk:
How do we know when the dawn has come? Is it when we can see the mountains clearly? No. Is it when we can see a dog or a cat nearly in the emerging light? No. It is when we can see in another the face of God. That is when the dawn has surely come.”
As I pondered all of this over the last few days, the following prayer bubbled up within me. I have been using it each morning as part of my candle lighting ritual. I have found it to be a wonderful way to start the day, aware that not only do I stand at the centre of God’s love, but that I also provide a centre for God’s love out of which others can be touched and embraced with divine light and love.
Today, we stand in God’s circle of light,
Breathing in, breathing out.
Today we stand in God’s circle of light,
Light before, light behind,
Light on left, light on right,
Light buried deep within.
Today, we stand in God’s circle of light,
With friends and family, neighbours and strangers,
With all the people of the world.
Together we stand in God’s everlasting light.
Encircled, embraced,
United into one family,
From every nation and culture and creed.
Let this circle hold us,
Let this circle sustain us,
Let this circle surround us,
With the bright and shiny presence
Of the Eternal One,
Who leads us into light.
© Christine Sine September 2020
Here is today’s contemplative service from St Andrews in Seattle. Find a quiet place, light a candle and enjoy.
A contemplative service with music in the style-of-Taize for the Fifteenth Sunday after Pentecost.
Carrie Grace Littauer, prayer leader, with music by Kester Limner and Andy Myers.
Permission to podcast/stream the music in this service obtained from One License with license #A-710-756 with additional notes below. “
‘The Kingdom of God,”” Bless the Lord My Soul,” “God is Forgiveness,” and “Da Pacem Cordium” – Copyright and all rights reserved by GIA/Les Presses de Taizé.
“Kyrie for September 13th” – Text by Kester Limner, Music by Andy Myers, shared under the Creative Commons License, Attribution (CC-BY)
By Lilly Lewin
Many students are starting classes this week in the States and I am reminded to continue to pray for all the teachers, professors, moms, dads and grandparents who are working hard to make this happen both in person and virtually. Nothing is easy or normal in the land of Covid19. Many of us are trying to figure out how the calendar moved on to September while we are still stuck back in May or June!
As many of you know, I get inspired to pray with every day things. Just as Jesus used the things he found on his walks and daily life, like sparrows and lilies, I love to use the things that I see around my office, kitchen and the Dollar Store as inspirations. So here are some school/office supply prayers to inspire your journaling and reflections this weekend!
Pencils with an Eraser…
What are the mistakes you’ve been making that you’re longing for Jesus to erase? Make a list of these. Talk to Jesus about them. Know that Jesus loves you and forgives you & erases all these things! Now use the eraser to erase all of your list! Your slate is clean! Amen!
Maybe it’s not mistakes you need Jesus to erase. Maybe fears & frustrations are cluttering your heart and mind. Make a list of these. Talk to Jesus about them. Now use that eraser and let Jesus erase all your fears and those frustrations too! Thank you Jesus!
Pens and Post-it Notes…
We are starting a new season. What is the new story, new chapter, new adventure Jesus is inviting you to join him in writing? Even in the midst of all this uncertainty and confusion, ask Jesus to show you what his vision is! What words come to mind as you consider a new season, a fresh start? Use some post-it notes and write down some words that inspire you and give you hope. Post them around to encourage you to pray and dream! Write down a story or poem about a new adventure you’d like to go on with Jesus between now and Christmas.
Tape or Glue…
There so many things in our world right now that need mending. So many broken things that need to be taped back together. Tear off a piece of tape. What is on your heart that needs healing, that needs to be stuck back together? Things in your personal life, in your family, in your city, in your country. Maybe you need more than one piece of tape to use as you pray! Fell the stickiness of the tape or notice the messiness of some glue. Let Jesus hold these things for you. Know that Jesus is in control. Ask Jesus to mend these broken things.
Hand Sanitizer…
Go slowly as you rub your hands with hand sanitizer. Notice the scent, pay attention to how it feels as you put it on your hands. Consider the protection it provides. Thank Jesus for his protection. Now consider those who do not have hand sanitizer or a way to easily wash up each day. Pray for them. Buy an extra container of hand sanitizer to share with someone else or make a gift to your local homeless shelter.
Crayons…
I love crayons! Sometimes we all need a little coloring therapy. Doodle, draw, get an old fashioned coloring book and just go for it! What colors inspire you? Which colors bring you joy? What do you notice about the texture of crayons on the page or paper? Don’t worry about being an artist or being perfect… enjoy the process. Play and pray with the colors. Allow the Holy Spirit to inspire you.
What other school supplies inspire you to pray? I’d love to hear about what Jesus shows you! And keep a pencil on your desk or somewhere you will see it this week to remind you continue to pray for students, teachers, and all those helping get school and learning started this year.
by Lisa DeRosa
Tomorrow, September 11, 2020, marks the 19th year since the tragic day that we remember and grieve in the United States. I remember entering my 4th grade classroom that morning to find the TV on, which was not normal. The news showed images that my young, sheltered mind was not able to take in. We weren’t able to play outside because we were on lockdown until the end of the day. A classmate’s dad was scheduled to meet in one of the World Trade Center towers that morning, but he missed his flight from the west coast. Our family faced several days without Dad after his Navy base was locked down in San Diego. That next year, he served in the Gulf with limited communication with us back home for nine months. This is what I remember about that day.
My husband and I traveled to New York as part of our honeymoon trip a few years ago. I was not emotionally capable of entering the memorial museum with my husband, but spent reflective time at Ground Zero and the Firefighter’s Memorial. It was eery. Life around it was rebuilt and moving at its normal speed. I could not imagine the amount of work that went into clearing and restructuring the streets, buildings, and city.
Image by David Mark from Pixabay
Recently, a stranger struck up a conversation with me while I was in a high rise building in Bellevue, WA. After just a few minutes, she opened up about her life since September 11, 2001 when she said goodbye to her fiancé on the phone as he died in one of the towers. I asked her how she has coped over the years, to which she responded that she has tried everything. Drugs, yoga, counseling, alcohol, meditation, marriage and divorce, a successful career, and finally as a last resort, she started going to a church and wondering about God. Her raw emotion that she was willing to share with a total stranger was both surprising to me and refreshing. Real.
All of this remembering reminds me that I cannot control people, places, or things. I cannot control events that occur around me. But, I can take one day at a time. I can be present to those whom God has gifted me with in my life. I can check in on loved ones and friends so they know how I care about them. And I can trust that God is my hope, my strength, my safe place and my peace. God sits with me in the pain and the remembering if I am willing to go there. The gentleness and love of God is there in the midst of my sorrow, tears, and grief.
I appreciate so much this prayer that Christine has adapted over the years as she has “meditated on the horrors of war and terrorism, the plight of refugees and the atrocities and useless killing and maiming that resulted”.
God, so much violence, so much pain, so much heartache.
May our remembrances of this day instill within us a horror of war,
And help us stand against the atrocities caused by terrorism.
As we grieve with those who still mourn,
And share memories with those who cannot forget,
May we be stirred by your love and compassion for all.
As we remember those who bravely responded,
And gave their lives to save others,
May we draw strength from their selfless sacrifice.
As we stand with strangers who became neighbours that day,
Sharing and caring for people they did not know,
We give thanks for their generosity and hospitality.
May it remind us of the call to be good Samaritans,
Reaching out across race and culture to other victims of violence.
So many in our world have lost loved ones to terrorism and war,
So many have been displaced from homes and country,
May their plight fill us with a longing for peace.
Let us seek for understanding and reconciling,
And not turn from your kingdom ways.
Above all God may we remember your faithfulness,
And learn to trust in your unfailing love.
Amen
Below are resources to help facilitate your remembrance of September 11, 2001.
- September 11th Resource List
- Litany for 9/11 by Fran Pratt
- In search of peace: Remembering 9/11 by Jeannie Kendall
- 9/11 – Ten Years Later
- Remembering 9/11, and Praying for Peace
- Remembering 9/11 – May It Call Us to Peace and Not to War
- Memorial 9/11 Prayer and Pope Francis Call to Peace
- Remembering September 11, 2001 by Michael Moore
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