QOTM* -- Dag Hammarskjöld: Peace at the Center and the Power of Nature to Undo Us

(*Quote of the Month)

In the church crowd I ran with while growing up, and on into my seminary days, it was not unusual to hear quotes by Dag Hammarskjöld. A name like that alone was memorable enough to a kid surrounded at the time by few others than Johnson, Hansen, Nelson, Larson, Anderson and Peterson. But even Hammarskjöld himself was a Swede, and a real one, from Sweden itself, unbeknownst to me.

A regional political and then world leader of the mid 1900’s, one rarely hears him quoted today, and this is a pity. He was an extraordinary man. Reluctant though remarkable leader, self-questioning, well-acquainted with the loneliness of leadership, even the periodic loneliness of life, yet deeply Christian, I find that the more I know of him the more moved I am. His musings strike a chord in my own spirit.

Dag Hammarskjöld served two elected terms as Secretary-General of the United Nations, the second in the U.N.'s history, and died what always seems to us a premature death at the age of 56, in a plane crash while on a UN peacemaking mission to Rhodesia in September of 1961. All his adult years he had kept a journal in which he had recorded personal thoughts and insights, some poetic, about hope, faith, doubt, and life in general, as well as some Bible verses and random quotes of others that were meaningful to him, all within the context of a lifetime of public service. It was published posthumously as a book in 1963 under the Swedish title Vägmärken (literally, Trail Marks), and translated into English as Markings. This selection is from a late entry titled, simply, 8.4.59.

In the point of rest at the center of our being, we encounter 

a world where all things are at rest in the same way. Then a 

tree becomes a mystery, a cloud a revelation, each man a 

cosmos of whose riches we can only catch glimpses. 

The life of simplicity is simple, but it opens to us 

a book in which we never get beyond the first syllable.

It’s a lovely observation, and this even in the midst of his frenetic and intense service as Secretary-General. He knew, as do others, that in the midst of overwhelming challenge, what’s at the center is what counts – a place of peace, of centeredness, where nature inspires, where mystery cheers, and where even very common things reveal deep truths. Such is the place where one is emboldened to find courage, reassurance and strength for the journey. Yet here, also, we realize we are ever but children in the school of life.

I am glad to have discovered that centered place, and yet shake my head in awe as I am undone again and again by the profundity of beauty and the wonder of God’s creation.

While I’m in Markings, here’s another beautiful excerpt, no extra charge. Titled July 6, 1961, it was penned mere weeks before his death.

Tired

And lonely

So tired

The heart aches.

Meltwater trickles

Down the rocks.

The fingers are numb.

It is now,

Now, that you must not give in.

On the path of the others

Are resting places,

Places in the sun

Where they can meet.

But this

Is your path,

And it is now,

Now, that you must not fail.

Weep

If you can,

Weep,

But do not complain.

The way chose you –

And you must be thankful.

Whew…

 ~~ RGM, August 16, 2018

P.S. With this blog entry, I return to a writing format I’ve not used in a couple years, my quote of the month. This is not an indication that I will necessarily start doing a monthly quote piece again, as I used to do regularly. But who knows? We’ve just come into a little more time on our hands these days than we’ve had lately, so maybe I’ll be able to get to more than one posting a month, which has been my modus operandi of late. Either way, grace and peace to you…

From My Nature Journal: “Holy Buckets in the World is THAT?”

And the Lord spoke to Moses, saying, “I have heard the murmurings of the children of Israel. Speak to them, and tell them, ‘At evening you shall eat meat, and in the morning you shall be filled with bread: and you shall know that I am the Lord your God.’” It happened at evening that quail came up and covered the camp; and in the morning the dew lay around the camp. When the dew that lay had gone, behold, on the surface of the wilderness was a small round thing, small as the frost on the ground. When the children of Israel saw it, they said one to another, “What is it?” For they didn’t know what it was. Moses said to them, “It is the bread which the Lord has given you to eat.” …The house of Israel called its name Manna (which is to say, “What is it?”), and it was like coriander seed, white, and its taste was like wafers with honey. (Exodus 16:11-15, 31)

Several months ago, our two-year-old granddaughter Myla, pictured at left, coined a new phrase that has taken on with the rest of our family. While several of us were out for a saunter together, she saw something that startled her, opened her eyes wide and blurted out, mixing her newly-learned phrases, “Holy buckets in the world is THAT?”

I recently had one of those ‘holy buckets in the world is THAT?’ moments, and it still has me scratching my head in wonder.

We are up for a few early fall days to close for the year our little cabin in the big woods of Michigan’s Ottawa National Forest. Among the many things to do, large and small, I remembered I had not yet pulled the thermometer that hangs off the end of our dock out of the lake. I was also curious, of course, to know the difference in water temperature since we had last been here a couple months back, because if it wasn’t below 55 yet, I might even take a dip. Pulling up the five-foot string, I noticed immediately that it was heavier than it should have been, and before it broke the surface I saw something dark and strange the size of a large cantaloupe attached to the thermometer’s plastic casing. Hoisting it to eye level, it was some kind of huge,

gelatinous mass of eggs of some sort, the slimy likes of which I had never seen before. Frog eggs? Fish eggs? No, it’s way too late in the season for those kinds of things. Insect larvae eggs? I took out my phone camera to take a photo to show and ask around with some of the neighbors, but my next quick question was whether or not whatever it is was good for the lake. I put it back and launched upon my search. Surely someone will know.

Yet not one of our friends had ever seen or heard of such a thing. Oh, we see weird little masses or strings of eggs floating in the water or attached to lily pads, or odd little creatures coming up out of the lake to leave their watery abode and exoskeletons behind and take flight, but this thing was unusual. So my dear wife went to the Internet on her phone (she is always much quicker than I to think of such a thing), simply keyed in “egg sac under water” and voila, up pops a URL to a site that is quickly becoming one of my new faves, askanaturalist.com, with just our answer. It’s not only fun to read the stupid questions people ask there, but it’s fun to read the great questions people also ask there. (Yes, I know, it’s only a great question if it’s my question, but there are some really stupid things people ask!)

Someone else had wondered what I wonder and included a photo. My strange mass is not an egg mass but a colony of something called bryozoa, and, I was happy to find, it is good for the lake. Nowhere could we find a completely satisfying and simple definition of what bryozoa are, but suffice it to say they are akin somewhat to coral, tiny little filter feeder creatures that clean out impurities as they ingest the water around them. Lo and behold (who knew?), there are in excess of three thousand species known around the world, fifty in freshwater, and fifteen of these in North America, mostly in southern waters. How would you like to make a living as a zoologist who studies such things? Three thousand?

And immediately when I first encountered this mystery the other day and pulled it from the water, I was reminded yet again of one of my favorite things about being a naturalist. And it can be stated in two ways.

·      One: Even after years and years of nature observation, in my case fifty or so, the curious naturalist will come across things he or she has never seen before, and never will again. For example, my daughter and son-in-law, while canoeing, came across an eagle swimming in our lake, like a breaststroker, dragging a dead blue heron to shore it had apparently taken in flight. Crazy!

·      Two: Even after these same years and years of nature observation, the curious naturalist will see things they have not the foggiest clue what they are, things that will utterly astound and mystify them. Take for example my mystery blob. (Does that make this a blob blog?)

For me, it raises the issue of wonder. Any naturalist would do well to have plenty of it. Why? Because we are naturally curious, unless it has somehow been lost along the way. Most creatures actually are naturally curious, not just cats. I can stand on the end of a dock and wave my hands at a loon a hundred yards away, or swing a towel over my head in circles, and it will often come to investigate. It’s curious. It wonders.

Where does simple awe just knock us

back a step or two once in awhile?

Where but in the natural world!

But where do you and I find wonder regularly? Where do we scratch our heads at mystery? Where does simple awe just knock us back a step or two once in awhile? Where but in the

natural world! In our scientific age, many have lost the ability to wonder, yet wonder is a wonderful thing!! Who can keep from being struck by the wonder of children? Wonder is one of the childlike graces I think Jesus had in mind when he said, “Unless you become like a little child…” I like to think that the Israelites spent many, many days in awestruck and childlike wonder about the food God was providing them before they became frustrated with the limitations of their wilderness menu.

So I’ll add my blob experience to the long list of experiences I’ve had that have knocked my socks off. Because for me, to be drawn by the wonder of nature is to be drawn by the mystery and wonder of God.

~~RGM, October 1, 2016

On the Journey with Monty Newton: “If the Rock’s Too Heavy…”

I tried something last month I’d like to do again periodically, and that is feature a column written by a friend or family member.  John Kiemele of Seattle area's Selah Center helped me kick it off in October. I’m going to now call this column On the Journey, and it will only happen as often as I can convince someone to share some writing on a nature theme with me! If you want to take a try at it, or if you have done something in the past you’d like to share with other like-minded seekers of God through nature, be in touch with me and let’s see what we can do.

Today I want to share something with you written by one of my longest-term and dearest friends, Pastor Monty Newton, soon to be retiring from Heritage Bible (Covenant) Church in Arvada, Colorado, one whose writing and preaching I’ve always enjoyed. Among the many things Monty and I have in common is our love for the reflection afforded by nature’s silence and solitude, and maybe even for a certain little cabin in the northwoods of Michigan where we have found such a gift. He wrote this several years ago for his church newsletter, and I thought you’d enjoy it. Be blessed with its message.

In August I drove thirteen hundred miles to a little lake located about fifteen miles northwest of Watersmeet, Michigan, which is about a hundred twenty-five miles east of Duluth, Minnesota. I have a friend who owns a cabin there and he has graciously allowed me to use it for study leaves and vacations.

My first visit, he sent me a little guide for using the cabin, which included how to get there, how to open up the cabin, unshutter the windows, turn on the gas and light the pilot, and where to find the panel to turn on the electricity and the pump for the well. He also warned me about ‘the rock.’

The rock was submerged in about five feet of water just off the end of the dock. Apparently when the previous owners built the dock they either did not know the rock was there or were unable to remove it, so… divers beware! When my brother-in-law and his son, and my son Corky came up for a weekend from the Twin Cities, I cautioned them about the rock before they went in. Naturally, everyone then had to dive in and check out this monstrous water hazard.

Corky was somehow able to get a hold under a corner and budged enough to discover that the rock seemed to be fairly flat on the bottom side. I am tempted to give you the blow-by-blow description of the ensuing battle between the man and the rock, but suffice it to say Corky refused to be defeated by it. In the end he was battered, bruised and scraped, but the rock now rests at the shoreline.

I thought of that rock this week when someone stopped by my study to chat. It was not an easy discussion… Some questions are not all that readily answered, and we both felt a bit frustrated by the fact that the mystery was still a mystery. That’s when she said something to the effect, “Maybe it’s like what Pat says her mother used to say when she didn’t understand something – ‘If the rock’s too heavy, let it lay.’” If the rock is too heavy, don’t pick it up. I think that is one of the most profound statements I’ve ever heard.

There are things that mystify me. In that I am cynical enough and curious enough, I generally rather enjoy poking around in ideas, concepts, questions and issues that I cannot quite get my mind wrapped around. As an amateur theologian I am intrigued when I hear someone suggest things like the Holocaust was the judgment of God against the Jewish people, or that the terrorist attacks in 2001 were God’s judgment against the moral and social sins of the United States. How did, does or will God deal with the issue of sin and judgment?

Or how about questions regarding the sovereignty of God in predestination, foreknowledge and election, and the free will of man? Does God decide who goes to heaven and who does not? Do we have any say in the matter? Or how about, if we all, i.e., Christians, Muslims, Jews, etc. pray to the same God, how can we say that Jesus is the only way to heaven? How could God let anyone suffer and how could a loving God let anyone go to an eternal hell? Why are children born with birth defects? Why is it that all are created equal but not all are equal? When we die, do we go straight to heaven? What is heaven anyway? Where is it? How about hell?

The questioner in Job 11:7 asked, "Can you solve the mysteries of God?" The prophet Isaiah in 45:15 says, "The Lord works in strange and mysterious ways.” And God tells us in Isaiah 55:8-9, “My thoughts are completely different from yours and my ways are far beyond anything you could imagine. For just as the heavens are higher than the earth, so are my ways higher than your ways and my thoughts higher than your thoughts.”

So it is… Sometimes we can wrestle with the rock until we finally get it to shoreline. But sometimes we just have to let it lay.

Thank you, friend Monty.

~~ RGM, November 13, 2015

Blowin' in the Wind: Richard Rohr and "Aweism" (Not Animism!)

("Blowin’ in the Wind" is a regular feature on my blog consisting of an assortment of nature writings – hymns, songs, excerpts, prayers, Bible readings, poems or other things – pieces I may not have written but that inspire me or have given me joy. I trust they will do the same for you.)

Richard Rohr is a popular Franciscan priest and monk, prolific author and retreat speaker, working out of his New Mexico home province based in Albuquerque. His ministry center, The Center for Action and Contemplation, offers a free, daily meditation that may be gotten by subscribing here. Though I have read several of his books (a really good one I read last year is Falling Upward: A Spirituality for the Two Halves of Life – highly recommended!), some day I’d like to get down to Albuquerque and take in one of his workshops or retreats.

Back in January they sent out a devotional called Aweism; it is based on Romans 1:20, a keystone text for those who find nature an important spiritual pathway. Adapted from several of Rohr’s writings, I thought the meditation a dandy, so saved it for use some day in my Blowin’ in the Wind blog feature. Some may think it smacks of animism, yet I do not believe that is so. Besides, humankind can do far worse than making a god out of God’s creation, and usually exceeds itself in doing so.

The Bible text: 

For what can be known about God is perfectly plain, for God has made it plain. Ever since God crated the world, God’s everlasting power and deity is there for the mind to see in all the things God has created. (Romans 1:20)

The meditation:

This amazing, yet all too often ignored, passage says the essential message is written everywhere for all to see, if they indeed want to see.

Both Anthony of the Desert (c. 251-356) and Thomas Aquinas (1224-1274) said there are two books of scripture. The first book of scripture is the natural world… The second is the written Bible, which has only existed for about 2,000 years. We basically threw out the first book for much of those years, although it got worse after the invention of the printing press. We gave most of our attention to the written book, which has kept us in our limited left-brain, outside of direct experience, and with the dualistic mind that the ego always prefers. Mere words, even and most especially “holy words” and authoritative words, when used apart from any experience of an Eternal Word, tend to create argumentative people… [their being] two to three steps removed from true experience.

We did not honor and learn from the first and primary Bible of creation, so how would we know how to honor and properly use the second Bible? We largely mangled and manipulated the written word of God for our own ego purposes, instead of receiving it inside of the mystery, awe, silence, and surrender – which the natural world demands of us and teaches us. Many have said that a fundamental attitude of awe is the primal religious experience and the beginning of the search for God. If we start with mere argument we never leave the battlefield. Imagine a religion called “Aweism!” Instead of wasting time trying to prove or disprove miracles, this religion would be inhabited by people who see that everything is a miracle. Only people who can fully surrender to things beyond themselves can experience awe, wonder, or enchantment.

Surrender is not giving up… Surrender is entering the present moment, and what is right in front of you, fully and without resistance or attempts at control. In that sense, surrender is almost the opposite of giving up…, it is being given to!

We must know that creation is our first and final cathedral. Nature is the one song of praise that never stops singing, as many of the Psalms say. If you are drawn to “kneel” in this cathedral, you can always talk to a Mystery that is so much larger than yourself. It takes no theology classes whatsoever, no proofs, no arguments. Aweism is the one true religion…

Once again, I find this excerpt in the ‘wish I’d said that’ category.

~~ RGM, September 18 2015