Fresh Green Blessings Michael R. Malley "Michael the Parson"

Genesis 9:8-17: Then God said to Noah and to his sons with him, (1) “As for me, I am establishing my covenant with you and your descendants after you, and with every living creature that is with you, the birds, the domestic animals, and every animal of the earth with you, as many as came out of the ark. (2) I establish my covenant with you, that never again shall all flesh be cut off by the waters of a flood, and never again shall there be a flood to destroy the earth.” (3) God said, “This is the sign of the covenant that I make between me and you and every living creature that is with you, for all future generations: (4) I have set my bow in the clouds, and it shall be a sign of the covenant between me and the earth. (5) When I bring clouds over the earth and the bow is seen in the clouds, I will remember my covenant that is between me and you and every living creature of all flesh; and the waters shall never again become a flood to destroy all flesh. (6) When the bow is in the clouds, I will see it and remember the everlasting covenant between God and every living creature of all flesh that is on the earth.” (7) God said to Noah, “This is the sign of the covenant that I have established between me and all flesh that is on the earth.” (NRSV)



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Anthropocentrism as a way of thinking and perceiving focuses on the primacy of humans, over and above all other animal and plant life. As the eco-theologian John Cobb notes, we are all rather anthropocentric, though it varies by degree. We rightly recognize that many Native American religions challenge our human-centered views with a recognition of the spirit of a river, mountain, tree, or animal.



We tend to regard the Judeo-Christian tradition as anthropocentric. There are good reasons for this. European explorers and Bible-thumpin’ settlers came to the Americas with their other-worldly, Heaven-focused theologies. They raped the New World and laid waste to land, plant life, and animals (as well as the indigenous peoples) proclaiming that such work was their destiny owing to their God.



It is surprising to find that the Bible those pioneers were thumpin’ often stands in direct opposition to anthropocentric thought. It does emphasize the covenantal relationship between God and humanity, but a human-centered reading misses much. After the flood narrative, God speaks of his covenant seven times. The covenant is far vaster than human concern, all seven times it embraces all earthly creatures, as well as the Earth itself: (1) and with every living creature..the birds, the domestic animals, and every animal of the earth...as many as came out of the ark. (2) never again shall all flesh be cut off by the waters of a flood, and never again shall there be a flood to destroy the earth. (3) between me...and every living creature...for all future generations: (4) between me and the earth. (5) between me...and every living creature of all flesh; and the waters shall never again become a flood to destroy all flesh. (6) the everlasting covenant between God and every living creature of all flesh that is on the earth. (7) between me and all flesh that is on the earth.



It is a testimony to the power of our anthropocentric presumptions that humans have ignored this seven-fold wallop of God. It is chilling, but perhaps not surprising - just express empathy or concern for animals or plants and note the reaction. And at the center of these seven ancient sacred proclamations, in the fourth one, God’s promise is most succinct, It is a “covenant between me and the Earth.”



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You may (or may not) push against the other-worldly, Heaven-focused theologies of your ancestors, but do you question their anthropocentric worldviews? Name a place in your concern that is not human-centered. Place that concern into the center of your meditation. What action might you take this week regarding your non-anthropocentric concern? How might

John 14:25-27 [Jesus said,] “I have said these things to you while I am still with you. But the Advocate, the Holy Spirit, whom the Father will send in my name, will teach you everything, and remind you of all that I have said to you. Peace I leave with you; my peace I give to you. I do not give to you as the world gives. Do not let your hearts be troubled, and do not let them be afraid.”



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Thich Nhat Hanh writes, “The Holy Spirit, the energy of God in us, is the true door. We know the Holy Spirit as energy and not as notions and words. Wherever there is attention, the Holy Spirit is there. Wherever there is understanding, the Holy Spirit is there. Wherever there is love and faith, the Holy Spirit is there. All of us are capable of recognizing the Holy Spirit when it is present.”



Thay equates the Holy Spirit with Mindfulness. This may seem blasphemous to some - but perhaps only to those who have not experienced true mindfulness:  Have you experienced 100% presence? Have you been immersed - saturated - in complete gratitude for this moment? Have you experienced such total awe and wonder that a child’s face, a bumblebee, the swaying of the grass, or a song’s refrain places you on the verge of joyful tears?



What does it mean if we embrace Thich Nhat Hanh’s view of the Holy Spirit as Mindfulness? It means that the Holy Spirit is available 24/7. Tonight, after dinner, you can choose to practice mindful breathing or mindful waking and enter into a state of mindful presence; tonight, after dinner, you can invite the Holy Spirit into your home and into your being. Tomorrow morning as soon as you open your eyes, in the middle of the afternoon on Saturday, if you happen to wake up at 3:45 am one day next week, at any time, you have the option of being with the Holy Spirit through the practices of mindful breathing, mindful walking, and mindfulness meditation. As John’s Gospel implies, the Holy Spirit is made available to us - right now and always.



Breath. Spirit. Presence. Holy. Available. Now.







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The Holy Spirit is not to be limited by notions and words. Thich Nhat Hanh describes the Holy Spirit as the energy of God that is available to us right now. Take a few moments to notice your breathing. Be aware of your in-breath …. your out-breath …. your in-breath …. your out-breath. Let your breathing slow down, naturally. Breathe in and out as you read these words: In …. Out …. In …. Out … In …. Out.



Notice your body. Sit upright (if possible), but relax. Notice your muscles: in your neck, your back, your arms, your legs. Where are your muscles clenched or tight? Invite those muscles to relax with your out-breath, return to awareness of your posture with your in-breath, then invite the muscles to relax again on the out-breath: In-Posture …. Out-Release …. In-Posture …. Out-Relax …. In-Posture …. Out-Ease….



The Holy Spirit is available to us:  In …. Out …. In …. Out. Right now.



(Music: Courtesy of Adrian Von Ziegler, "Circle of Life." )

Matthew 5:30 (KJV): And if thy right hand offend thee, cut it off, and cast it from thee: for it is profitable for thee that one of thy members should perish, and not that thy whole body should be cast into hell.



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D.T. Suzuki tells the story of Gutei who, when confronted by a nun to “say a word of Zen,” finds himself unable to say a proper word and feels pitiful. After the nun leaves, a Mountain God tells Gutei that he will be visited in the flesh by a Bodhisattva to enlighten him regarding Zen. Sure enough, the Bodhisattva Tenryu visits Gutei. Gutei tells Tenryu of his humiliation with the nun and of his “firm resolution to attain the secrets of Zen.” Tenryu says nothing, but just lifts one finger and, all at once, Gutei’s mind opens to “the ultimate meaning of Zen.” Thence, whenever anyone visited Gutei and asked him about Zen, he said or did nothing, but just held up his little finger.



A boy in the temple observed his master Gutei and imitated him. When the boy told Gutei about this imitative practice, lifting his own little finger, his master Gutei cut off the boy’s finger with a knife. “The boy ran away screaming in pain, when Gutei called him back. The boy turned back, the master (Gutei) lifted his own finger, and the boy instantly realized the meaning of the ‘one-finger Zen’ of Tenryu as well as Gutei.”



Neither Matthew 5:30 nor the D.T. Suzuki story are invitations to self-mutilation. They provide images intended to jar us out of complacency, without the need for actual bloodletting.



In this life, if we do not die suddenly, we may spend many hours, weeks, or months on our deathbeds. What will we do with such an opportunity to reflect on our lives? At that point, we might ask, Have I, like the boy in the Buddhist temple, maintained some “outer form” of ritual and tradition - perhaps even posing as pious? Have I maintained some “outer form” of “responsibility or success” though truly my words and actions were devoid of depth and meaning?



Drawing from Matthew 5:30, on our deathbeds, we might ask ourselves, What actions, speech, ideas, concepts did I hold onto as essential even though they wrought me in “hell” on this Earth? What so-called “necessities” might I have cut away? And, if I had, would I have escaped the hellish hungry ghost realm in this life? Would I have been more than a “living corpse,” “one of the dead burying the dead”?



What would it have taken to jar me out of my complacency?



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We are all dying. Of course, in this moment, few of us are on our deathbeds. Death may be years - perhaps several decades - away, yet we may still begin to ask the above questions. You may, today, choose to copy down or compose one “deathbed question” and tape it to your bedroom wall as a daily reminder. You are invited to choose a question that invites you into the difficult, on-going praxis of cutting and casting away the ideas, words, projects, lifestyles, thoughts, things, and actions which place you in the hellish hungry-ghost realm. You are invited to do this so that  “thy whole body” may dwell in heaven on this Earth, for it is profitable for thee that one of thy members should perish, and not that thy whole body should be cast into hell.







(Music: Courtesy of Adrian Von Ziegler, "Circle of Life." )

Jeremiah 10:12-13,16b: It is he who made the earth by his power, who established the world by his wisdom, and by his understanding stretched out the heavens. When he utters his voice, there is a tumult of waters in the heavens, and he makes the mist rise from the ends of the earth. He makes lightnings for the rain, and he brings out the wind from his storehouses...for he is the one who formed all things.



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Jeremiah 10:1-16 is a polemic against the worship of carved wooden images painted with silver and gold by artisans. Jeremiah says that they are “like scarecrows in a cucumber field, and they cannot speak; they have to be carried, for they cannot walk” (v. 5).



For Jeremiah, the Great Sacredness is a living, breathing G-d who is deeply immersed in Earthly life, “He makes the mist rise from the ends of the earth. He makes lightnings for the rain, and he brings out the wind from his storehouses.”



One with even a rudimentary knowledge of Earth sciences or meteorology and weather patterns might smile condescendingly at Jeremiah’s primitive understanding, but please do not allow a rational, empirical mindset to negate your access to the poetry and epistemology behind Jeremiah’s words. To view the “quaking Earth” (v. 10) or the “rising mist” (v. 12) as G-d-powered (v. 12) may appear quaint and archaic, but to embrace Jeremiah’s way-of-knowing is to experience each flash of lightning and gust of wind (v. 12) as sacred; it is to embrace every element of the natural world as G-d-inspired; it is to celebrate every act of nature as imbued with the Sacred - and, dear Lord, what positive environmental change could be wrought if we would even begin to look at our Earth through such eyes?



This is not an other-worldly theology focused on individual eternal prizes given to the selves with the greatest self-focus on their individual salvation. No, this is a theology of wholeness - a theological embrace of the entire Earth. This is a theology wherein G-d is alive in this present moment, voiced in “a tumult of water” (v. 13), wrathful in an earthquake (v. 10), breathing and being with us here on this planet, in this present, “the one who formed all things.”



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We tend to think of scientific or empirical thinking and spiritual or religious thinking like a single light switch: To turn on one is to turn off the other; to turn on religious thinking is to turn off empirical thinking OR to turn on scientific reasoning is to douse the light of a spiritual worldview. Need we be so naively dualistic? A room can be lit by an overhead light that allows us to delineate lines and contours and examine details with meticulousness. Alternatively, a candle or small lamp can be used for lighting, allowing for shadows and darkness, giving us a diffused melding of lines and contours while creating a “warm feel” in the room. Is one truth and the other a lie? Might a candle-lit room create an experience that is palpably different than that created by good, strong fluorescent lighting, but no less true? Can we access “various lighting” at different times? Can we even simultaneously combine different types of lighting - creating new experiences - giving us fresh insights, new perspectives, greater understanding, and fueling further curiosity about all that exists in the room?





(Music: Courtesy of Adrian Von Ziegler, "Circle of Life." )

Psalm 4:4 (NRSV): When you are disturbed (or angry), do not sin; ponder it on your beds, and be silent.



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Thich Nhat Hanh writes in the Fourth of his Five Mindfulness Trainings: “When anger is manifesting in me, I am determined not to speak. I shall practice Mindful Breathing and Mindful Walking in order to Recognize my Anger and Look Deeply into My Anger. I know that the Roots of my Anger can be found in My Wrong Perceptions and in My Lack of Understanding of the Suffering in Myself and in the Other Person.”



Many people interpret Buddhist teachings, such as Thay’s, as being aligned with contemporary entreaties for each person to “speak their truth,” but neither Buddhism nor Christianity offers such an individualistic model. Thich Nhat Hanh holds that it is certainly ideal to speak one’s truth, but only - and this caveat is non-negotiable - only if one is not speaking out of anger or speaking in a way that is hurtful or harmful to others. Thay’s Buddhist teaching aligns sweetly with the Judeo-Christian teaching of Psalm 4:4, When you are disturbed or angry, do not sin; ponder it on your beds, and be silent.



Neither the Buddhist Mindfulness Training nor Psalm 4 are saying we should suppress our anger. Instead, they are calling for a response of silent awareness, contemplation, and mindfulness. Drawing from the New Revised Standard Version (NRSV) of the Bible, this pondering on one’s bed in silence fits well with Thich Nhat Hanh’s mindful breathing and mindful walking in order to look deeply into one’s anger. The wording in the King James Version (KJV) however, is even more befitting:  rather than Ponder it on your beds and be silent, King James reads, Commune with your own heart upon your bed, and be still.



In other words, When anger is manifesting in me, I am determined not to speak. I shall be still and commune with my own heart.



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As a response to our own anger, the first thing that Psalm 4:4 and Thich Nhat Hanh’s Fourth Mindfulness Training call for is silence, but what then? The psalm suggests lying in bed. The monk suggests mindful walking or mindful breathing (perhaps while lying in bed?). Practice mindfulness. Get to stillness and presence. Then what? Commune with your heart - recognize that anger and look into it. At first, we may not even recognize that we are angry. Have you ever said, “I’m not mad!” in the midst of your raging storm? Most of us have made such false declarations. Once our anger is acknowledged, however, we can move toward observing it. There is a vast ocean between, “I am angry,” and “I can feel and sense the anger that is in me.” If we ponder in our beds or commune with our hearts at this level, then we can begin to explore the roots of the anger. Thay suggests three roots: 1) Our misperceptions; 2) the suffering within us; and 3) the suffering of the other that is spilling out and causing us to suffer. Any of these three elements or any combination of the three may have contributed to our anger. As we move toward mindful stillness within ourselves, we can consider each of these three root causes to anger with questions like: 1) Did I misunderstand or misperceive something here? 2) What deeper suffering in me was triggered because of this incident? 3) What suffering in him or her caused them to behave that way toward me?













(Music: Courtesy of Adrian Von Ziegler, "Circle of Life." )

Isaiah 2:4 (NRSV): He shall judge between the nations, and shall arbitrate for many peoples; they shall beat their swords into plowshares, and their spears into pruning hooks; nation shall not lift up sword against nation, neither shall they learn war any more.



Joel 3:10: Beat your plowshares into swords, and your pruning hooks into spears; let the weakling say, “I am a warrior.”



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Many people who regard the Bible as sacred focus on the overall meaning of the entire Bible. They want everything to fit a set of ethical or moral norms or to fit within a specific creed or a particular theology. Such is the work of a contortionist. If we are to fit every line of the Bible into a single theological framework, we must twist and bend the text. Like the effort of creating a tightly twisted coil, such work requires great force and endurance. The text is likely to spring back in defiance if the contortionist relaxes.



Those who mock the sacrality of the Bible claim victory every time the Biblical text recoils: Look at the inconsistencies! Do you claim that that misogynistic story of rape and violence is a spiritual teaching?! How can you call this book “sacred”?



Can every line fit a specific creedal view? Is every line sacred? Is any line sacred?



What is possible beyond binary thinking? Relational dialectics allows for the tensions of contradictions in interpersonal relationships. For example, a healthy couple may value both predictability and novelty in their relationship. We all dwell with contradictions and within contradictions. We may celebrate, enjoy, regret, or be confused by the contradictions we see in ourselves and our loved ones.



Within Buddhism, koans, such as the famous “What is the sound of one hand clapping?” embrace and value contradiction, as do Buddhist sacred texts, such as the Diamond Sutra. In Buddhist sutras and koans, such tensions are intentional and instructional. Within the Judeo-Christian Bible, with its many books and countless authors, the tension of contradictions may be far less intentional, but it is no less instructive.



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Beat your swords into plowshares. Beat your plowshares into swords. What do we do with diametrically opposed views that claim truth or sacrality? How do we handle contradictions within the Bible? Do these Biblical contradictions serve to teach us anything about greater contradictions in our present lives and current culture? How do we resolve the tensions when one line of the Bible touches our soul and nourishes our spirit while a line in the next paragraph revolts us? And, if we do not “resolve it,” how do we “sit with it”? Can we learn by listening to how others sit with the same text? What about the unheard voices that might respond to disturbing Biblical texts? Can we generate such voices? What value does that hold? What do you do when the text supports your theology and refutes a contrary theological view? And what do you do when the text confronts or opposes your own perspective? Is there “spiritual value” in this process of wrestling with the tensions of Biblical text and/or “sitting with” the tensions? What makes any text, Biblical or otherwise, sacred?









(Music: Courtesy of Adrian Von Ziegler, "Circle of Life." )