Tuesday, October 30, 2012

The Deeper Mysteries of Halloween


Halloween originated as a Christian holy day (holiday) called the "Eve of All Saints" or "All Hollows Eve." The evening of October 31 was the first time that the feast of remembrance of all Saints could be celebrated in the churches. November 1 is the Feast day of All Saints, but just as Christmas celebrations begin on Christmas Eve, so All Saints begins on All Saints Eve.

The following poem, by Ed Pacht, is dramatic and evocative. It takes the form of a Litany and speaks of the deeper mysteries of Halloween. The secularization of Halloween has caused people to lose the original meaning of this Christian holiday. Traditonally, this is the time of the year when all those who had died are remembered by name during the service and thanks offered for their lives. In the earliest days of Christianity many who had died that year were martyred for their faith; some crucified, some beheaded, and some burned alive.

Today Halloween is a cheap fall festivity. It is about costumed children going from door to door, asking for treats. It has been used also as an excuse to damage property and disrespect tradition.



Ghosties


From ghosties and ghoulies and
things that go bump in the night,
good Lord, deliver us.

In the darkness of the night,
in fevered imagination of troubled mind,
in nightmare dream of restless sleep,
in waking terror of fearful heart,
evil takes form, and flesh of a sort, and walks.
Incarnate, as it were, in the world of men, it walks,
and, walking, works its ills, and cursing brings
along the path its blackened steps have trod.

From ghosties and ghoulies and
things that go bump in the night,
good Lord, deliver us.

In the minds of men are many monsters,
many terrifying evil creatures, calling, crawling,
running, flying, dead, undying,
squeezing, seizing, captivating
those who fall afoul of their devices.
Fairies foul are chasing children, 
choosing that they may be changelings;
Sirens sweetly singing summon sailors to their death;
Ghosts inhabit houses where they once drew breath;
and Voodoo dead, as Zombies, walk upon the earth.
Trolls beneath the bridges, Yeti upon the ridges,
and in the forests hungry lurk in packs 
the men made wolves,
and worst of all, with piercing fangs 
in dark of night there walk,
or fly on leather batlike wing and seek warm humankind
to drink and drain from them life's blood and terrify
the ones yet living who believe 
that Vampires truly are.

From ghosties and ghoulies and
things that go bump in the night,
good Lord, deliver us.

Graven in stone in old cathedrals,
penned in ancient manuscripts,
carved in wood for illustrations,
described in words in countless books,
there are the countless kinds of demons,
filling Hell, o'erflowing to the earth,
in the ugliness of every evil to be seen,
tricking, tempting, fouling all that will
allow the Devil's hosts to have a place
and ultimately to destroy.

From ghosties and ghoulies and
things that go bump in the night,
good Lord, deliver us.

And, O my friend, if thou believest 
that this fearsomeness is real,
and that these terrors stalk the night,
and by this truth is justified thy fright;
or if thou doubtest what hath been said,
and refusest that thou walk'st in dread;
then, friend, thou must now ope thine eyes,
behold what lies beneath the skies,
and see the horrors seen by God on high,
the greatest horrors that are most nigh,
for the fearsome evil in thee doth lie,
and of that evil doth the spirit die.
   
From ghosties and ghoulies and
things that go bump in the night,
good Lord, deliver us.

Far darker than the thoughts of men,
more evil than the things that might have been,
the darkest evil can be found within
thy heart where dwells the curse of sin,
a horror to the God above,
a deep offense to holy love,
convincing thee that it is right
to see thy brother's faults as blight,
worse by far than thine own life,
for he is weaker in the strife
than thou,
and thou by deep and dark and hidden lie
hast by devil's voice been made the measure,
choosing some for trash and some for treasure,
knowing not the everlasting love of Him
for thee
and he
and all who have to darkness fallen,
bit by ancient horrid curse, condemned,
and doomed,
and justly earning full damnation
such as thou dost fully merit
and eternal death thou shouldst inherit.

From ghosties and ghoulies and
things that go bump in the night,
and from fearsome darkness deep within,
good Lord, deliver us.

Yet, my friend, He hath delivered,
as His holy Blood outpoured,
and upon the Rood His Body
with one final breath expired.
There in death he tasted to the fullest
all that thou and I deserved,
buried, broke the bonds of prison,
and triumphant leads the way,
reaching out to all that follow
a glorified, yet nail scarred hand.
Yes, my friend, he conquered horrors
and the terrors no more reign,
and, when asked, hath sins forgiven,
and for Him no sin so great
exists that stops redemption,
save one,
self-righteousness.



--Ed Pacht

Wednesday, October 24, 2012

What are we required to prove?



Q.E.D.
(Quod Erat Demonstrandum)

by Amy Fogelstrom Chai

That which must be demonstrated
Is never what we think;
Angles, sections, slices, arcs fall
Neatly, in Euclidean order.
Time marks every palm and etches each eye— 
Geometry

That which must be divided
Is never what we expect;
The numerator stands, needing no other
Until, completed by another
One divides one, the solution remains--
Unity

That which must be comprehended
Is rarely what we see;
Answers seem beyond our grasp
And will be, unless together
We seize the compass, and trace the heavens--
Infinity

And what are you and I required to prove?
Nothing



Tuesday, October 23, 2012

Monsters, Mummies, Banshees and Blobs


Here are some delightful poems for the season of ghosts and ghouls. All are written by a talented fifth grader named Shelby Stuart.


The Vampire at the Amusement Park

What an embarrassment. What a shame.
I no longer have my own good name.
Do you promise not to peep?
On the Upside-Down Coaster – I fell asleep!



Big Sister Mummy to Brother

I told you not to pull my hair
many times before.
Even though it’s barely there’s
no reason to ignore.
You’re being as annoying
as a big old moth.
So PLEASE stop toying
and stop yanking my cloth!



Banshee’s Blunder

Yes, I know it’s sensible.
It’s truly comprehensible.
But still, I feel
like some kind of nut
when on the roller coaster
you taped my mouth shut.



The Blob’s Fast Food Dining

I cannot believe what I’ve seen.
I started to lose my slimy sheen.
I screamed as loud as I was able
when I saw gum under the table.


Saturday, October 20, 2012

Cynthia Erlandson's "These Holy Mysteries"


Cynthia Erlandson studied writing at Wheaton College (Illinois). Since 1990, she has been writing poetry that reflects her love of the sonorous language and liturgical themes of the Book of Common Prayer. I'm not sure which edition inspires her the most, but it probably isn't the 1979 prayer book, which falls short on poetic beauty, liturgical elegance, and theological substance.

In her volume of poems, These Holy Mysteries (a line taken from the Eucharistic Prayer), Cynthia treats the liturgical seasons of the Church. Her poems are rich in alliteration and explore the contrasts of light and darkness, drought and flood, and feast and fast.

Cynthia Erlandson's poems have appeared in Touchstone and in A Widening Light: Poems of the Incarnation (edited by my friend Luci Shaw, with whom I used to worship at Bethany Chapel in Wheaton). Here are 2 of the poems that appear in These Holy Mysteries.



Easter Monday

-Luke 24:13-35

With hearts eclipsed by Friday’s three-day night
And eyes still blinded to their master’s face,
They hear his sermon, senseless that his light
Has thrown the flames of hell to dark disgrace.

The evening sun begins to set its fire,
Their hearts to burn, the longing lenten night
To roll away, and dawning of desire
To rise, lit by a death-defying light.

His broken hands break bread in sacred rite;
Their sudden vision flares to brightest mirth.
Their blindness gone, he vanishes from sight;
And they, with fiery hearts, will light the earth.


Autumn Pentecost

Shining wine-red trees tremble
in a rushing Whitsuntide wind
that rattles the breathing, bornagain world
with vibrant revival,
quickening ten thousand quaking tongues
to sing a fiery sanctus.
Flickering sun-colored flames crackle,
shake, break the blue,
rejoicing in orange exuberance.
Golden glorias explode in October ecstasy,
quickening the pentecostal pulse.
Burning bushes burst into sursum corda for
the season’s second coming.
The zealous horizon resounds:
variegated voices
sing staccato doxologies,
speaking of him who spake by the prophets,
shouting their credo:
I believe in the Holy Ghost.

Wednesday, October 17, 2012

Synchronized for a Moment


Locus Iste

An ambulance 
rumbled past
the outdoor 
choir concert
on a last-of-
summer Sunday 
in Utrecht

there for one
brief measure
we saw 
the choristers 
sing its siren

their open 
mouths howling 
the news 
of a heart 
stalled some-
where down 
the street

then it was
back to Bruckner 
and the slow 
diminuendo 
of voices
softening into 
God’s silence.

--Emily Ruppel


From God and Nature: Fall 2012

Thursday, October 4, 2012

Haiku about Life and Dreams


Ethan Seevers (grade 11) handed me these two haiku on Wednesday and I like them.



Life is life a fight.
You can either win or lose
But do not give up.



Dreams can be visions
Coming to you while you sleep.
They educate you.