I gave myself a holiday today. Isn’t it sad that I feel a need to confess and explain this? I woke up feeling like I’d been run over by a truck (it’s been a big week even if not a bad one on a personal level). I had a coffee but I still felt wilted so I went back to bed at about 6:30 or 7. I said “Godde I may miss church if I fall asleep so I promise I will write my blog this week” – since I saw that people had been reading last weeks.
I slept like the dead. I woke up at 11:30 to see people uploading the sermon from church on Facebook. So I read it. And I thought “that’s better than what I was going to write” and I tried to saunter casually away with that comment. Because what faith do I have? I am full of an inner sort of desperation and confusion and now Deleuze and Guattari too (as if I was not bad enough before).
But “like a little child” she pesters us sometimes “you promised, you said we were going to do this together”. And I said “I’ve got nothing to give” so Godde reminded me that I am not here to get things right or lead people but only to play. So I tried to ignore that annoying voice, I said “mate, you’ve got me confused with Jonah” and Godde said “now you are on the right track” and laughed.
And here I am. But it is just play. Like it. Hate it. Ignore it. Or write your own better one. Or play with the ideas in my words or in the readings themselves.
The first reading tells us Godde gave us “good ground for hope”.
What shall we plant in our good ground?
I am still thinking about tubers and rhizomes, covering and uncovering,
having to touch the sweet rain-dark soil
but my hands are cold
everything is cold in July.
“Godde is good and forgiving”
says the psalm but we are fearful
about all the wrong things
and take all the wrong liberties.
We should be bolder, we should be more true.
I feel heavy and it is hard to hope.
“we do not know how to pray as we ought”,
write as we ought,
sing as we ought,
go to sleep as we ought,
stay asleep as we ought,
get up in time for church as we ought,
garden as we ought,
weed and plant as we ought,
we do not know how to work as we ought,
love as we ought,
live as we ought.
you might put in a good word for us, as you do
but teach us,
draw us in
there is no joy unless we pray
as we were called.
But even the Spirit
searching our hearts
summons up only groans.
Is this what we have planted? Cold bones and deepest groans?
I do not know.
The good news tells us
that “an enemy” is responsible
for all the parts we do not like.
As a weed of a person all my life
bringing the not-wanted, the unproductive, the uncomfortable
into the nicely plown fields of life
yes I am a weed but it wasn’t an enemy
Godde, you yourself planted me
spiky as I am.
Tying them into bundles
for burning like a witch
like a woman who does not fit in
who speaks her terrible mind
(all women are secretly witches
but some have forgotten).
Jesus spoke in parables
but that is witch-talk also,
takes root like a mustard seed
and you’ll never be free of it.
“birds of the sky” ha ha
Google what a mustard plant looks like
it’s a weed,
it’s a tenacious, incredibly persistent weed.
But the kindom of Godde will surely not burn
however little we look after
this dear, blue globe of ours.
The kindom of heaven is like yeast
because people don’t go for long
without their minds coming back to food
(and I wish all bellies on the planet
My sister, like Godde
takes flour and yeast and throws it all
into a machine
in the dead of night
loving to work
Baking happens in the darkness
like sowing weeds in the wheat
“an enemy indeed!” it was the wind,
it was the dark
it was the same birds from the mustard bush
yeast in the whole batch of dough
you can’t unmix it once it’s in there.
What do you think of that explanation though
very convenient for a controlling church
very simple, very narrow
no longer parabolic.
I mean no longer a parable
not a parabola (I think).
What shape is a parable?
Not ever the shape
of the status quo
the kindom of Godde is “great and mighty” like a mustard plant,
it is pure as yeast,
it is grains and weeds and we cannot unpick it
the kindom of Godde may be ecosystem, family, dance, festival,
rather than an ordered thing in lines
with hierarchies and progressions
rhizomes not roots
an organism can only grow
(say my old friends D and G)
if it deterritorializes itself
a fixed crystal
it cannot reproduce.
But what can reproduce?
weeds and yeast and mustard
the kindom of Godde
and the forbidden wisdom of witches
I poured menstrual blood on the pine needles
and a mushroom grew
and I ate it with spinach leaves
and a glass of wine.
Matthew redacted on that explanation
of the parable
the kindom of heaven is messy,
living, growing, admixture
“masters” and “barns” came later.
No grain here perhaps
but we are back to our
good, Godde-given ground