November Season
By Peter Menkin

Mary was a lovely girl, serene; so given to an open heart,
Friend of God like Abraham, seminal archetype welcoming

The Holy Ghost. What comes here November time? Pentecost
Days of spirits and united souls, saints in heaven and memories
Of the dead. “Where sorrow and pain are no more.”
Mystical Holy Ghost.

Steadfast, “mystical body of thy son,” what is the light that shines
Perpetual, for You do support us all the day long.

In mercy we wait, we pray, we believe Holy Ghost:
Mary was a lovely girl, devout and promising woman of sorrows
And joys.

Pentecost, how the Spirit did lead her to obedience
By invitation of an angel of God. Mystical Holy Ghost.

What Spirit is this that leads her to “…the glorious company of apostles…”
we pray in glory everlasting for all souls bask in that light,
Renewing even the spirit of our minds, the Prayer book says.

Mary was a lovely girl, serene, so we turn to her life of joyful service--
Pentecost. In the heavens and on earth, just a phrase that speaks
Of memory where lives eternal lives the wonderfully created, renewed dignity of human nature.

Is this not a cross? The Dead, gone. Remembered this November
Season of reflection and changing season. Follow Him.

Mary was a lovely girl,
And in her joy she has done so, follow him,
now in the company of all the Saints and Apostles.

Audio reading by poet is here:

In Celebration & Praise of The Annunciation
of Our Lord Jesus Christ to the Blessed Virgin Mary:
“Hail, thou that art highly favored…”

A reflection,
Peter Menkin, Obl Cam OSB
Church of Our Saviour (Episcopal)
Mill Valley, CA USA
(North of San Francisco)
Wednesday Eucharist, March 25, 2009
Lesser Feasts and Fasts, 1994

Isaiah 7: 10-14
Hebrews 10: 5-10
Luke 1:26-38
Psalm 40: 1-11

In the name of God: The Father, Son, and Holy Spirit.

The word of David is fulfilled this day as we celebrate Mary, who says “Yes,” to the Lord. The obedient young woman, the virgin Mary, Mother of God, says “Yes,” to the Lord after the Angel Gabriel greets her: “Hail, you that are highly favored…”

Let us add our voices and hearts with others, as we consider: Let the heavens rejoice, and let the earth be glad. The fields shall be joyful, and all the trees of the wood before the Lord, because He cometh. And in what way, what special way, did God give his only Son to mankind? Born of a virgin, bringing into the history of God and man a new life with God in Christ, a new period in the history of the divine-human relationship that will be for ever and ever. For Gabriel said in greeting: “Hail, you that are highly favored…”

The pure Virgin Mary cast in her mind what manner of salutation this might be. And the Angel immediately proceeded to say, The Lord is with thee: fear not, Mary; for thou hast found favor with God. Behold, thou shall conceive in thy womb, and bring forth a son, and shall call him Jesus.

He shall be great, and shall be called the Son of the Highest; and the Lord God shall give unto Him the throne of His father David, and He shall reign over the house of Jacob for ever: and of His kingdom there shall be no end.

Then said Mary unto the angel, How shall this be, seeing I know not a man? Shall I still remain a virgin?

And while she was yet in perplexity as to these things, the angel placed before her the summary of his whole message, and said to Mary, “The Holy Ghost shall come upon you, and the power of the Highest shall overshadow you; therefore also that holy thing which shall be born of thee shall be called the Son of God.” Meekly, then, did grace make election of the pure Mary alone out of all generations.

Mary was obedient, and holy. She was pure. It was goodness that brought Jesus Christ into the world, and specifically the goodness of God who loves us that brought the Saviour of the world and mankind. Listen to these words in celebration of Mary by a woman poet:

Virgin
by Luci Shaw

As if until that moment
nothing real
had happened since Creation

As if outside the world were empty
so that she and he were all
there was--he mover, she moved upon

As if her submission were the most
dynamic of all works: as if
no one had ever said Yes like that

As if one day the sun had no place
in all the universe to pour its gold
but her small room

Let us imagine together this event, so awesome and holy, so large and cosmic as to create in us the need to recognize that God’s ways are not our ways.
The Annunciation of Our Lord Jesus Christ to the Blessed Virgin Mary is the beginning of Jesus in His human nature. It is through His mother that He is a member of the human race. So the story tells us: The virginity of Mary before, during, and after the conception of her Divine Son was always considered part of the deposit of faith. The Incarnation of the Son of God did not in itself necessitate this exception from the laws of nature. Through Mary a new generation begins of the children of God.

We recite words like these that make the miracle real: “…[M] aker of heaven and earth, /of all that is, seen and unseen…God from God, Light from Light, /true God from true God, /begotten not made…”

The Redeemer does not arrive in the way of earthly generations: the power of the Holy Spirit enters the chaste womb of the Virgin, forming the humanity of Christ.
This Holy Spirit, which enters Mary in its creation, creates an incarnate God, a man to be born of woman, in Mary’s womb. But the spirit of Christ Jesus is so large, so immense, so cosmic a spirit that He is in reality begotten into the world. In the words of the Hymn by Third Century Syrian Poet Ephrem:

He dwelt in the vast wombs of all creation.
They were too small to contain the greatness of the Firstborn.
How indeed did that small womb of Mary suffice for Him?
It is a wonder if (anything) sufficed for Him.
Of all the wombs that contained Him, one womb sufficed:
[the womb] of the Great One Who begot Him.

The womb that contained Him, if it contained all of Him,
Is equal to the wonderful womb
That is greater than [the womb] of His birth.

As we celebrate and remember Mary and the Annunciation, her obedience to God, let us thank God for this cosmic act in love of humankind. Let us be grateful for Christ Jesus and his life. Again, the poet Ephrem may with his voice, help us--we join him when he writes:

Glory to Your coming that restored humankind to life.
Glory to that One Who came to us by His First-born.
Glory to that Silent One Who spoke by means of His Voice.
Glory to that Sublime One Who was seen by means of His Dawn.
Glory to the Spiritual One Who was well-pleased…

…Glory to that Hidden One Whose Child was revealed.
Glory to that Living One Whose Son became mortal…
…Glory to that One Power Who fashioned Him.
The Image of His greatness and Form for His hiddenness…
…Glory to that Hidden One Who even to the mind
Is utterly imperceptible to those who investigate Him.

Of what became of Mary in her life with Christ--we know this of the Lenten season from the Lenten story and text “The Way of the Cross.” In the hymn “Stabat Mater,” we are reminded that she kept her station at the Cross: how sad and “sore distressed / Now as she, that mother blessed /Of the sole-begotten-One.”

At the end, the body of Jesus is placed in the arms of His mother. She tells us to behold and see if there is any sorrow like hers…”for the Almighty has dealt very bitterly with me.” Our hearts go out to Mary. We are moved by her life, and mostly by her faith and obedience.

For His tender mercies sake, let us say together:

Holy God,
Holy and Mighty,
Holy Immortal One,
Have mercy upon us.

You have redeemed the world. Amen.

Reflection on Poetic Wellspring
a poem
by Peter Menkin
revise 2009, from 2001

Introduction: "Anglican Poetry as a Spiritual Path" with Pamela Cranston held in October 2001 at St. Stephen's Episcopal Church in Belvedere, CA USA (north of San Francisco) was a wonderful, memorable meeting and talk which I remember in this poem I wrote. This is the final revise on it, 8 years later, posted at the end of this Peter Menkin blog entry. First, other poems by poets better known than this aspiring poet.

We have women Priests in The Episcopal Church USA, and the poet Pamela Cranston is one of them. Her work is sometimes published in the American "Anglican Theological Review," and I have one of her books. I've posted one of her poems at the end of this entry, and noted it as hers from the very good workbook that was party to the talk. This poem by her titled, "Searching for Nova Albion" is from an unpublished mansucript, Carriers of Strange Fire, copyrighted 2001.

The Priest Zoila Schoenbrun, my friend, put the talk together at the Church where she served, before her retirement. Because Lent is coming, and the Annunciation March 25, here this poem by Luci Shaw for the moment:

Virgin
by Luci Shaw

As if until that moment
nothing real
had happened since Creation

As if outside the world were empty
so that she and he were all
there was--he mover, she moved upon

As if her submission were the most
dynamic of all works: as if
no one had ever said Yes like that

As if one day the sun had no place
in all the universe to pour its gold
but her small room

Pulitzer Prize winner Annie Dillard says that, "Luci Shaw gives us faith in writing at its most revelatory...a passionate embrace of creation's radiance."

Luci Shaw, born 1928, is but one poet in the "book" of poets Mother Pamela put together. Here is The Rev. Pamela Lee Cranston from the same "book."

Searching for Nova Albion
by Pamela Cranston

Today I went westering,
like Sir Francis Drake,
along the boulevard
that bore his name.

I drove past burger joints and bookstores,
theaters and boutiques,
past remnant groves of redwood trees
rapt in contemplation,
past oyster beds bubbling by Tomales Bay,
past depressed dairies sailing on the open moor,
Ghost ships splintered by the muscling mist,
to the furthest curb of Marin County.

Drake’s Beach lay fourteen miles out:
shafts of sunlight washed
the white curdled cliffs
leaving its yellow softness there.
I rinsed my eyes
and tried to see how Drake
would have seen this sandstone land.

And did his feet in ancient times
walk upon this pleasant strand?

Surely he saw the greedy gulls—
their feet like pink rubber spatulas;
saw ribbons of kelp lying in clumps
of tangled brown mops;
the lonesome pelican bobbing on the waves—
a tiny submarine, periscope up;
the Chinese calligraphy
of sandpiper tracks;
and the walls of green glass rising
in the sea’s silent elevator,
brimming towards thunder.

Except, there were more of them.

Let me be clear.
I am not like Francis Drake,
that merry rogue explorer—
his spirits addicted to high adventure.
I am like the earnest chaplain, Mr. Fletcher,
more tentative and bookish,
seasick below deck,
nervously thumbing his Prayerbook,
praying for dry land,
as one would for rain.


I tend to seek safe passage,
wherever I go.


But who can stand to see
the stripping of Albion’s beauty?
Who is willing to be the last
to hear a curlew sing?

Why I post the poem on Nova Albion here is I live in Marin County, in Mill Valley, north of San Francisco, CA USA, and I think it tells so well of the area--the poem does. Thank you Pamela. Wonderful poem!

These credits for this poem "...Albion..."
Searching For Nova Albion, in The Anglican Theological Review, Vol. 83, No. 4, pgs. 821-2, Fall 2001.

The poetry gathering was an area event, and people from the entire Bay Area of Episcopal Churchgoers were invited. I don't think we had more than ten participants. I was one, and this is the poem I wrote about the morning event.

Reflection on Poetic Wellspring
By Peter Menkin
February 19, 2009


We reflect in words.
We reflect on poetry
and God, and faith in this room
at Church. The morning light
is remarkable here.

The colors of the room
are present to the bright
morning time, windows clear to day
letting in much light and largeness
that the privacy of the heart
is awake, more so.

The words in their rhythm,
in their depth,
in their resonance move us.

How we are in slumber is noticed during awakening,
and being more alive in the eternal
we grasp time together.

So these poetic lines illuminated
with morning hours and friendship
bring life to sensibilities aesthetic.

These times allow us with God, to come, go
abide
with knowledge; we are passing through,
journeying with what is given.
That is the renewing sigh of gift.

This sacred place is special, for we
expect the Holy and religiously spiritual
by its place and purpose.

Do we poets not add to praise
and recognition of Christ? Yes.
Holy Spirit of the Season, come,
hear our words.

The season is changing at the end of Pentecost,
knowing the risen Lord.
This is song of the poems,
in the attention of those present,
in the hour of joint concentration.
It is that we are new renewed.

New living members grow
among the spirit's times, we in quiet pray:
present growing light,
illumine us.
We are in these bodies that are
flesh of man and woman as before time itself;
we know the ancient, and feel our humanity.

Images: Middle images from this place:

http://imageandspirit.blogspot.com/

That is, "Image & Spirit," a blog part of Episcopal Church Visual Arts Network.
The third image: Jeanelle McCall, all rights reserved. This address: http://imageandspirit.blogspot.com/search?updated-max=2008-09-21T07%3A55%3A00-04%3A00&max-results=25
Title of work: "Voice Within."

Second image title: "Honoring the Dark." These notes from the posting on "Image & Spirit." Photo by Jan Neal. The photograph above honors the dark and oddly served to examine my shadow's fascination with this image of what looks like a monster - actually a cicada - perched on the head of the blessed Mother Mary statue who stands guard at the entrance of my garden. Read about the symbolism of the cicada, to include its Christian symbolism and enjoy the irony of this image captured by my shadow at The Sacred and the Profane. The entry is found here:
http://imageandspirit.blogspot.com/search?updated-max=2008-09-21T07%3A55%3A00-04%3A00&max-results=25

The Sacred and Profane is found here:
http://digitalartadvocate.squarespace.com/studio-journal/category/nature





First picture by Rick White of Mill Valley, CA USA showing Mount Tamalpias. Rick's notes on the photograph: On a daily walk along Corte Madera Creek I'm never without my Nikon. This day, stopping to admire Mt. Tamalpais' profile, I impulsively lay down face-forward into a patch of dandelions, so to catch the setting sun shining through this seed-pod's perfect globe.

Last image, a gathering of people at Church. I've lost the reference to it for a credit, my apologies.

Advent, the season for preparation for the birth of Christ...

The best thing about this poem is that it says, "Mary says 'yes' to the Lord." I like that very much, it is so wonderful. "My soul proclaims the greatness of the Lord,/ my spirit rejoices in God my Savior." That from "The Song of Mary" also called, "Magnificat." I know my poem doesn't compare to it, yet I join my voice with others in proclaiming the wonder.

What song we Hear, what Peace...

by Peter Menkin

Angels are a light to the eye,

offering clarity of the night, bringing

joy in message and presence

of the morning through day;

this season again what song, what peace~ Mary

who says yes to the Lord.

Was it dark, the darkness of the hidden life,

among the secrets of the darkness of night,

when Mary said yes to the Lord?

It seemed she was so alone, young, but a girl.

Innocent. In the darkness of the world,

in the time of man's darkness for lack of God.

Turning away from Him,

lost in man's history.

When Mary said yes to the Lord.

The Angel brought light,

to Mary, to mankind in a darkness of faith,

adrift in the history of man's making.

When Mary said yes to the Lord.