Every day I consider the lilies-how they are dressed-
And the raven-how they are fed-and how each of these is a miracle
Of Lord-love and of sorrow-for the lilies in their bright dresses
Cannot last but wrinkle fast and fall, and the little ravens
In their windy nest rise up in such pleasure at the sight
Of fresh meat that makes their lives sweet-
And what a puzzle it is that such brevity-
The lavish clothes,
The ruddy food-
Makes the world
So full, so good.
I have spoken of this before in this blog, of my very first sermon ever preached was, “Consider the Lilies.” There is death in that part of the scriptures, for at one point, the parable speaks of how humans throw the grasses into the oven. We are the ones who strip the dresses from the innocent, we are the ravens who look for that which we can raid and kill for our own sustenance, and then some. O Lord, how am I to love all this?
I am on a Zen Buddhist silent retreat this weekend. Perhaps I shall not ask or answer this question, but somewhere in the silence, just love what is.
May it be so.
Will you share a breathe in and out of silence with me today, so that we may hear the dark birds calling and the wind in the grasses?