Be Our Companion O Lord in the Way

Good afternoon, dear reader. This week a friend asked for poem recommendations “that might lend hope and vitality in this time of frustration and fear.” The first poem that came to mind was this one, which appeared in the New Yorker just after 9/11. I remember it so clearly even now, the way it was set on a complete page, the way it breathed into the moment without denying the pain and shock and bewilderment as we considered what might come next, and how we would manage going forward. It’s for our moment. 

Also for our moment is (always) Scripture. We can only move forward confidently with the Word as our companion. We’re getting close to the end of reading Romans together! Today we’re in Romans 14 (NIV).

Paul’s context here is trying to reconcile the newly converted with those who don’t have other traditions to deal with—or even to give up—in the name of Christianity. It’s hard to let go of old habits, especially if they were once considered essential (such as back in the day, not eating meat that had been used in sacrifices). I don’t see the harm in continuing habits that are personally meaningful in shoring up one’s faith in God. But how do we (personally and corporately) decide on the essentials we must agree on to be Christians together? And which beliefs and practices are “nonessential?” It’s a good time to sift these things in our hearts.

The Life Application Bible’s note to this chapter stresses the need to take a faith self-inventory. “In areas of strength, we should not fear being defiled by the world; rather we should go and serve God. In areas of weakness, we need to be cautious. If we have a strong faith but shelter it, we are not doing Christ’s work in the world. If we have weak faith but expose it, we are being extremely foolish.” What is our faith life like today, and where do we want it to be next year? In ten years, and at the end of our days? It’s in the small course corrections now, with the Lord as our companion, that will shape daily life with meaning and unite us to the will of God for each of us.

So how do we make these changes to our habits of mind, body, and spirit? Paul’s answer is to learn to trust the Holy Spirit, our advocate. We have to make space and listen. What we’re led to do and believe by this internal Knowing can then be tested in community, as well as be supported by Scripture. It makes the Christian life a constant and ongoing process when we’re engaged in this interdependent way. It’s not pleasant to be admonished, but done in the right way it can be very loving. And it can, as a friend said recently, deepen our ties to one another when we grapple with the real stuff together and not just the surface niceties. In this moment anyway, some of the superficial is being burned away.

Try to Praise the Mutilated World

by Adam Zagajewski

Try to praise the mutilated world.
Remember June’s long days,
and wild strawberries, drops of wine, the dew.
The nettles that methodically overgrow
the abandoned homesteads of exiles.
You must praise the mutilated world.
You watched the stylish yachts and ships;
one of them had a long trip ahead of it,
while salty oblivion awaited others.
You’ve seen the refugees heading nowhere,
you’ve heard the executioners sing joyfully.
You should praise the mutilated world.
Remember the moments when we were together
in a white room and the curtain fluttered.
Return in thought to the concert where music flared.
You gathered acorns in the park in autumn
and leaves eddied over the earth’s scars.
Praise the mutilated world
and the gray feather a thrush lost,
and the gentle light that strays and vanishes
and returns.

(Translated, from the Polish, by Clare Cavanagh.)