I am a wilderness voice, shouting,
“Straighten a pathway for the Holy.”
What awakens you to the wilderness cry?
flowing inexorably toward equinox,
and all round the northern rim spring is tightly coiled.
Reeling from the roar
and wanton wastage of war,
we worry as history predictably rhymes.
In confused wastelands
of ash and rubble
where precious lives lie cruelly crushed,
behind suffocating smoke and sorrow
an ancient ache heaves and sighs for another way,
a different direction, a great turnaround.
Surely the era of domination,
has long since passed.
The wreckage of “civilization”
from monumental ruins and museums
broadcasting its humbling truth
that, sooner or later,
every empire must crumble.
Inevitably, under nature’s patient vigil,Joe Grant, Scratchings
monumental epochs and idols, return to dust—primordial
paste of recreation.
With stubborn tenacity, green shoots and soft
rains eventually expunge every trace of hubris, and with
gentle persistence welcome human-kin back into a greater
chorus, with the wild embrace of natural renovation.
When the Carpenter’s Way became Roman Rule,
some returned to the life-affirming palace of wilderness,
to recover “eremos”- wild place of silent solitude.
These desert-dwelling hermits
sought to reclaim age-old
wisdom that inspires the poet, prophets and mystic in us.
Bewildered by nature, among untamed creature kin,
healing they sought
and hermitage they found, from …
imperial forces and slavish lifestyles,
the conquest of land and populations,
the commodification of Creation and canonization of violence.
We each must have two pockets …Rabbi Bunam
In right pocket are the words,
“For my sake was the world created.”
In the left, “I am earth and ashes.”
While contentious cries, faded flags, false ideologies
rouse and rally masses
for the manufacture of death,
rooted in imperial domination,
consumer culture continues
to exact its toll on soil and soul.
Deprived of sacramental communion with the wilds
humus-beings seek solace in synthetic spiritualities
and distant, divorced divinities.
Deaf to the voice of wilderness,
how on earth do we recover hermitage,
solitude of the wilds that reclaims and leads us home?
Something sacred is coming this way.Steven Charleston, Episcopal Bishop of Alaska, memeber of the Choctaw nation
That is how my ancestors would have said it.
In the midst of all this turmoil and confusion,
when we cannot clearly see the path before us,
when we feel trapped in a situation we cannot control,
then I believe the wise elders of my holy heritage
would climb to the high place of the heart,
draw the circle of reason and faith around them,
and stand to sing their prayers into the open sky of the history to come.
They would not shrink into a corner afraid,
but rise up to catch the first light of what was coming into being all around them.
We are living in a time of emergence.
We are the witnesses to a great renewal.
The world is full of the fear of birth and change,
Scratchings invites one to explore a world of meaning delving deep beyond the surface to something truly human, truly spirit, truly personal. Challenged to ask the hard, difficult questions, the ones that come when you are deep in silence, or tending a garden, I found that Scratchings takes you on a path not necessarily where you will find the answers but to a profound engagement in the on-going and evolving search for truth. Your own. Touching a yesterday that opens gently into a tomorrow. A safe place to remember. A wonderful place to Dream.
- Sr. Sue Scharfenberger, osu, Lima, Peru.