#57.9, Thursday, June 20, ’24

Historical Setting, 629 C.E. Vosges Mts.
 

         Ana and I are all watching Gaia make her way following the string she left for herself, meeting the guests as she goes, soon to reach the surprise our family has tied into her guide line. Hannah had been guarding the secret, and now Gaia wants to introduce Hannah to this man who seems to be alone at this party. She tells Hannah he was the medical practitioner for the Avar guards on the journey.

         So how will Hannah, woman of medicine, healer, background organizer of everyone else’s festival, deal with Gaia’s suggestion that she, herself, meet a man? This is not a medical emergency or a needy plea. Gaia just noticed an opportunity here discovering the balm for an emptiness in Hannah that can possibly find the healing potion for two lonelinesses.

         “Vizsla,” Gaia calls out, “I want you to come and meet my sister-in-law, Hannah.”

         Vizsla follows orders immediately like the good soldier he is. He stands straight, adjusts his cape, glances at his shoes, stretches out his hand, and takes a step toward Hannah, but not two steps to appear improperly forward. His precision makes him awkward, gawky, like a half-plucked gander.

         “Hannah?” he says.

         Gaia adds, “Hannah is a medical practitioner, well-known among the people of this area for her skills and compassion.”

         Now Vizsla seems to know what to say. Hannah, clearly does not. Gaia steps aside, to return to her string.

         So, fearing the surprise will be discovered too soon, Ana takes my arm and hurries me along with her to stop Gaia from that next reach toward the little thatched house.

         “Brandell needs to be with Gaia when she makes this find.” Ana tells me, as she reaches Gaia. “Gaia, Brandell will want his old friends to meet you.” So, Ana and I whisk Gaia off to the far side of the circle of string so that she may meet all the musicians.

         The dancing music starts again and Gaia takes Brandell with her on her walk around the string, greeting people all along the way.

         All of the attention turns to the bride and groom now, as her hand leads along the string to…

         The music stops and now a hush moves throughout the crowd as Gaia’s hand touches one bundle of tightly tucked straw. What is this? She knows by the cheerful sounds of the people it must be something sighted people expected her hand to discover.

(Continues Tuesday, June 25, 2024)


#57.9, Thursday, June 20, 2024

Historical Setting, 629 C.E. Vosges Mts.
 

         Ana and I are all watching Gaia make her way following the string she left for herself, meeting the guests as she goes, soon to reach the surprise our family has tied into her guide line. Hannah had been guarding the secret, and now Gaia wants to introduce Hannah to this man who seems to be alone at this party. She tells Hannah he was the medical practitioner for the Avar guards on the journey.

         So how will Hannah, woman of medicine, healer, background organizer of everyone else’s festival, deal with Gaia’s suggestion that she, herself, meet a man? This is not a medical emergency or a needy plea. Gaia just noticed an opportunity here discovering the balm for an emptiness in Hannah that can possibly find the healing potion for two lonelinesses.

         “Vizsla,” Gaia calls out, “I want you to come and meet my sister-in-law, Hannah.”

         Vizsla follows orders immediately like the good soldier he is. He stands straight, adjusts his cape, glances at his shoes, stretches out his hand, and takes a step toward Hannah, but not two steps to appear improperly forward. His precision makes him awkward, gawky, like a half-plucked gander.

         “Hannah?” he says.

         Gaia adds, “Hannah is a medical practitioner, well-known among the people of this area for her skills and compassion.”

         Now Vizsla seems to know what to say. Hannah, clearly does not. Gaia steps aside, to return to her string.

         So, fearing the surprise will be discovered too soon, Ana takes my arm and hurries me along with her to stop Gaia from that next reach toward the little thatched house.

         “Brandell needs to be with Gaia when she makes this find.” Ana tells me, as she reaches Gaia. “Gaia, Brandell will want his old friends to meet you.” So, Ana and I whisk Gaia off to the far side of the circle of string so that she may meet all the musicians.

         The dancing music starts again and Gaia takes Brandell with her on her walk around the string, greeting people all along the way.

         All of the attention turns to the bride and groom now, as her hand leads along the string to…

         The music stops and now a hush moves throughout the crowd as Gaia’s hand touches one bundle of tightly tucked straw. What is this? She knows by the cheerful sounds of the people it must be something sighted people expected her hand to discover.

(Continues Tuesday, June 25, 2024)

#57.8, Wednesday, June 19, 2024

Historical Setting, 629 C.E. Vosges Mts.

         In a moment for rest from all the dancing, the new poet sings a wailing ballad, a love story it is, but we aren’t sure of what makes a poem a love story just now. There are so many ways each of us is touched with beauty – sometimes it is in the longing or the pain, or the losses, or the hopes. [footnote]

         While Brandell is meeting with some of his old friends who are here tonight with the music, Gaia takes this time to follow the string of wool she has tied around the clearing that will lead her, unguided by any helper, to greet each of the guests sitting along the edge of the circle. She had a good plan. The first guests along the string are the women she traveled with in the caravan of recent Jewish travelers. She discovers, on this occasion anyway, it is the widows from both sides of the river, who have found their common lot among those they once feared. So here the invisible, unspoken heart of their new friendship is the gratitude for Gaia’s imagination for peacemaking. Finding them here together is Gaia’s joy, just now.

         Gaia takes the string in hand and continues to the next guest. I don’t know him. He is a man sitting alone, dressed as an Avar soldier, but he also wears the long robe of a scholar over one shoulder like a cape. The rest of the Avar guard Brandell and Gaia traveled with didn’t come to this event. So, he stirs my curiosity. Gaia seems to know him. She sits right down on the bench next to him and catches his attention away from his mindless staring off toward the place nearby where Hannah stands by herself.  Hannah seems intent on guarding Gaia’s guiding string right at this place where the secret gift of the house awaits her discovery of it.

         After a moment chatting with the fellow, Gaia goes back to following the string, and as she moves nearer the little thatched house her groping after the yarn takes everyone’s attention. But she doesn’t discover the house just now. When she reaches out her hand it is Hannah she touches.

         “Hannah?”

         “Oh Gaia, it’s all so wonderful!”

         “Hannah, there is someone here I want you to meet. He was sitting right here, along the yarn I set …

         “That man you were just talking too?”

         “Yes, he was the Avar guard’s physician, Vizsla.”

(Continues tomorrow)

[footnote] Just to share the moment, as this blogger had just come to this place in writing, our local writing group Lakeshore Writer’s Group, was gathering and submitting works. This poem popped into my inbox with a ding. And it expanded whatever it was I was trying to say about ways of sharing our griefs and disabilities – Thanks Mike Hammer who is a Member of National Ataxia Foundation – National Ataxia Foundation

#57.7, Tuesday, June 18, 2024

Historical Setting, 629 C.E. Vosges Mts.

         The feasting begins. Wine is raised to toast bride and groom. “Here, here” we all are together, beloved people, celebrating every name for love under the canopy of sky and forest. 

         It’s a gluttonous feast, barbaric and loud. The bridal couple and musicians eat first. So, it isn’t long before the music begins that captures the rabble in tempo – the unison beat on a hollow gourd, shared heartbeat of music.

         Thad leads the musicians. This is the first time in a long time Brandell’s musicians have all played their old songs together. After Brandell left, the crowds at the winter parties thinned. Musicians each found new venues. Thad plays for the king now. He dresses in gold and jewels, as when he visited Constantinople on the journey to find a new wife for King Dagobert.  That gift ship was in port in Constantinople a summer ago, so Thad went into the city and found Brandell there simply by following the music. Now Thad is still dressed up in his royal finery, and for his harp he now has a Greek Kithara.  It’s not just because of this versatile harp with many sounds, there are other reasons why this music may be the best it has ever been. Music is the mystical reach touching us in celebration. And it is present here in a rhythm so that even Mater Doe can know is music.

         Now Brandell and Gaia go into the center of the clearing, standing together like two dancers who would start the vine dance. The people murmur, “surely a blind woman can’t dance,” And now she dances.  They dance!  Right at the shouting place in the music, both have that precise little flick of heel, the kick, the dip of the knee, the bend of the hip Gaia does it in perfect time, that was always Brandell’s little special thing. They dance!

         Others join in the dance. And now so many of us are dancing – hands to shoulders, hands to shoulders, a circle inside a circle – one circle turning one way, the other the other, Christians, Jews, Pagans, children, elders, everyone is connected to everyone in God’s huge all-encompassing vine of holy love. We circle around, and then into the center, and then the shout.

         The torches are lit! More food!  More wine! More music! In the dizzying moment of remembrance, I feel the presence of my childhood friend who whispered to all of us who come to feast, “I am the vine and you are the branches…” [John 15:5]

(Continues tomorrow)

#57.6, Thursday, June 13, 2024

Historical Setting, 629 C.E. Vosges Mts.

         It is the poet’s wedding when God is Word, and Word is unspoken breath.

         It is the deaf priest who hears of the love by watching the lips –

                  I – Open in anticipation

                  Love – tongue to teeth, then open, then touch of the lips

                  You – lips for kiss, shared breath with another

         “We celebrate fertility rites — erotica – it is called by some, and just that word itself evokes a poetic pleasure.”  Thus speaks this priest for all, without boundaries, as she reads poetry from an ancient book that speaks, in part of the pagan deities of fertility.

         “Garden fountain, a well of living water,

                  And flowing streams from Lebanon.

         Awake, O north wind,

                  And come, O south wind!

         Blow upon my garden,

                  Let its fragrance be wafted abroad

         Let my beloved come to his garden,

                  And eat its choicest fruits.”  [Song of Songs 4:15-5:1a]

         As she reads the lengthy poem, from the opened walls on one side of the church come the giggles from the youth who have already unveiled the full metaphor of this in its most probably intended way – the fuzzy lambs among the lilies. And from behind us, the choir of sisters from Luxeuil whisper affirmation that the Church is the bride of God, and she, The Church, also knows this “well of living water.” And yet, from the windows on the more easterly side comes the ancient echo of these same words said to be of Solomon spoken in Hebrew from the deep omniscience of rabbi’s voice. Everyone claims it. And everyone knows it is what it is. And so, in weddings we all wish for the husband’s sheep to find their fragranced wanderings into the garden. This day is all about the breath that needs no words.

         Even the chanting of the sisters and brothers of Luxeuil are the Halleluiah’s – holy words – breath, with rarely consonants. Does chanting ever have a joyful sound? Today it does.

         Thank you, God, for always giving us earth’s creative metaphor, showing us in poetry what you want us to know of love.

         Brandell and Gaia go into the crowds of friends for the toasting and feasting and some of us stay behind in the church, the monks and the sisters from Luxeuil, our family, and Mater Doe who takes little Willanod in her arms and she is baptized now.  As her father, Will, wishes for her, she is Christian, and it has been spoken aloud now, “a child of God.”

(Continues Tuesday, June 18, 2024)

#57.5, Wednesday, June 12, 2024

Historical Setting, 629 C.E. Vosges Mts.

         There is no room for all these people to crowd inside the little church. It is a little heap of old Roman rocks once stacked with arched openings down the sides. The walls are opened with gapping window spaces that let in wind and snow all winter and allow Mater Doe to always feed the birds. The large fire that she keeps at the ancient altar year-round is not only a nod to the pagan cults in this random chaos of tradition; it sources warmth. In this season for new life and weddings, guests gather on all sides around the outside of the little church as though the building is a cherished little nest. Maybe this is how, in Christian style, a church which means people, can become the building itself. Will and I have been checking on the guests all around and I am pretty sure everyone can find a good place to see and hear everything of the ceremony from outside through the spaces in the walls.

         Family is inside. Ana and our children and grandchildren crowd together and then the nuns and Gabe’s brothers, the band of monks from Luxeuil have all come inside calling themselves the choir.

         Notably, Gaia isn’t in here. Brandell reminds me, she will need to be led, Papa. Oh, of course. It was my task to set her on the horse, to lead the horse up here, then I was supposed to lift her down, and bring her into the church. But as soon as we arrived here the guests swarmed around like bees to the queen. So, I did leave her out there on her horse with so many friends gathering around. Everyone was reaching up to her to take her hand and tell her she is beautiful and beloved. And I know I am a bit flustered by all this ever-expanding event, but in Brandell’s mind I don’t really have a good excuse for forgetting to bring in the bride. I apologize to Brandell. So, I get on with my task – Gaia forgives, and the wedding begins.

         Weddings are always some variety of skewing of life’s priorities. While celebrating a new union of family, we suspend all our thoughts of daily needs — food sources and shelter. The woman who will do chores forever from this day forward, cleaning up messes, bearing the children, hugging away tears – she is untouchable nobility on this one day. And so, it is a paradox.

(Continues tomorrow)


#57.4, Tuesday, June 11, 2024

Historical Setting, 629 C.E. Vosges Mts.

         Will and his family arrived leading the peasants walking up from the creek.  He goes immediately to the long board sparse for feasting — if it had only been our lambs. But some peasants came with venison and Luxeuil sent a boar in the donkey cart. I would expect to find Will touting the options as people are also arriving from the vineyards on the river. What might he say about the ethnicity of these meat choices with lamb at one end, venison in the middle and a pig at the other end? If he could just quietly appreciate the boar – that would be fine with me.

         But now, he is here with the baby in his arms, and Layla close at his side at the lamb end of the table welcoming everyone as they are arriving from the vineyards.  They’ve had a long day’s journey already, and now, they find Will ready to sort out Jew from Gentile, I fear.

         But why do I fear?  Did I fail to trust that the Jesus’s love would one day infect him with a need for wider love, also? He is answering everyone’s questions as though he is the guide here, introducing himself as “family,” and the baby in his arms is “little Willanod, the youngest niece of the bride and groom.” He brags so proudly.

         “She will be baptized today after the wedding. She was born Christian, you know,” he says to a man who is clearly in Jewish garb. Then he adds, “So here on the feast board we have this fine lamb – if you have a taste for it, and at the far end is the long-anticipated boar. Enjoy the feast but not yet. First the churchy thing.”

         Again, it is so good to hear Will calling himself “one of our family” and the proud father of our newest grandchild. He seems a very different man than the brutish thief who stole Layla away in the middle of the night then ridiculed her Jewish heritage. Dear God, thank you.

         I ask Will to help me direct the people toward the arch openings in the walls of the little stone church so that everyone will be able to see and hear the ceremony even though such a crowd will never fit into the tiny building. He is still bullying people as it is his nature, separating people, saying only the family may go inside. But it is true, there isn’t room for all the guests inside.

(Continues tomorrow)

#57.3, Thursday, June 6, 2024

Historical Setting, 629 C.E. Vosges Mts.

         We are leaving the Creek cottage with the bride whom I have just lifted onto her horse, with me, taking the lead line. We will join in this procession of guests all walking today with more order and purpose than I imagined was humanly possible. Maybe God always knew us to be a community as fine as any community of ants.

         As the procession passes by the Creek cottage. First comes Will, walking the borrowed donkey cart with Layla and the baby on the seat. The back of the cart is filled up with something and a cloth is spread across it. Hannah walks behind. And then come other serfs from the castle fields, apparently allowed to hunt now, since two of them shoulder a freshly smoking spit of venison. And I can see now that here are lots of gifts for that table Brandell made larger. 

         His musicians from his time, here, in the years before he became an artist, follow in the line of peasants. They have their instruments with them. His student Thad is dressed by the royal house of Dagobert, having just returned from a mission for one of the King’s men. He has a Greek styled harp like Brandell’s. I’m sure all these guests are coming to dance.

         Gabe, and some of the monks and also some of the nuns from Luxeuil are on this path just behind these peasants and musicians. Greg and Gaillard come along on horseback near the end, so I just step in front of them leading Gaia on her horse. I don’t know what this is like for her, sensing only the sound and smell and touch and heart of it, but I know it must be a wonder for her, even unseen.

         Behind us now, is Gabe and some others of the monks from Luxeuil. What will they see of a wedding at a church that has no bishops or pope, a church that is called “secular” because it isn’t Roman Catholic? The fact is, some of us think this church offers its welcome as wide as God’s love.

         When I arrive with Gaia I tie her horse near the entrance of the church as so many of the arriving guests are gathering like a swarm to cluster around her, each one waiting a turn to reach up and touch her hand and wish her well.

         Will arrived ahead of us. And I’m a little concerned about what he might be up to.

(Continues Tuesday, June 11, 2024)

#57.2, Wednesday, June 5, 2024

Historical Setting, 629 C.E. On the way to the Secular Church

         We are putting the wedding together today for Brandell and Gaia. Gaia, a blind woman with amazing vision, has only been in this strange land a short time and already the people she has invited number, maybe a hundred and more, if counting so high were even fathomable.

         And we’ve cleared a space behind the little heap of stones that is the church in the woods to make a wide place for the feasting and the dance. And of course, there is that surprise Brandell has for Gaia up there.

         Everyone is buzzing around her, adding flowers for her hair, and chains of daisies around her neck; she is surely the queen bee of the garden and yet she is busy with considerations sending Hannah off with the donkey cart to the castle serf fields for Will and Layla and the baby. And now the cart is coming back up the creek path, followed by a line of peasants who just want to dance again to Brandell’s songs.

         And two miles away in the other direction, Haberd and the mule wagon, as instructed by Gaia, are traveling with the elders of the Jewish refugees and it is likely their whole families are following after the wagon up there.

         Mater Doe is probably standing out there now in the clearing, watching anxiously to see if the old vintners of Burgundy are following after the Jewish families on the same road that once brought the men to her door inquiring for an excuse for a war. She will choose her words of ritual carefully to speak the blessings in the name of the one God who is the love we all share when we notice we are all sharing love. There will not be three gods, or a hundred gods, or one god who chooses only a few, but the God that is God. That is the one God for us all who only yesterday blessed this same ritual of the ants that were gathering between the stones at the farmhouse doorway.

         Brandell has been up here at the “secular” church extending the long table we prepared for the feast.  We made a table long enough for our two butchered lambs and all the trims.  I fear a longer table may look sparse even with the abundance of food we will share today.

(Continues tomorrow)

#57.1, Tuesday, June 4, 2024

Historical Setting, 629 C.E. The Farm in the Vosges Mts.

         I watch our little grandson entranced by something very close to earth captivating his full attention. Well, maybe it is barely above the earth just now.  Most of us stand taller than this child so we are completely numb to this huge event. But he notices it and he can’t stop looking. A whole colony of ants are right here between the stones of the path we walk over several times a day. And here I’ve been oblivious! It seems to be something of major importance and yet only one of us noticed.

         He asks me, as I would seem to be ignoring it, “Does God know about this?”

         “What?”

         “This dark spot on the ground is really nearly one hundred ants.”

         So, I stop and take notice of it. “Surely it is more than one hundred. And I would expect God does know about this, and maybe God has counted every one of these.”

         “So, you think God can count to more than one hundred?”

         “Yes, I’m pretty sure of that. So, what are they doing?”

         “They’re planning a wedding.” He tells me with all the assurance of wide-eyes and all-seeing.

         “Here they are building the church just from these round pieces of dirt they found in this hole, but so many guests are already here, and look, more are coming, and they are all in a long line following a single path. No one is out of line pushing, or running ahead. And look over here, in this line they are coming with gifts…”

         It’s true. The more we watch them the more interesting they become.

         They seem to all move together with one mind and one purpose. It makes me wonder how God might see the wedding preparations we are doing on this particular day. There are none of these single-purposed tidy lines, where everyone follows a great unseen plan building the church as the guests arrive with some bearing gifts. Every human here has their own particular variety of chaos, and nowhere is there any order to be found.

         Dear God, do you know about this? These people to whom you give so much and allow us our choices and creativity and even power over other creatures, are still trying to figure out this ant gift of order and purpose. The musicians will call it the dance. Thank you for letting it be. Amen.

(Continues tomorrow)