Religious Scholar

A single bird in this tree,

A thousand birds in that.

Why won’t she join the others in

Pre-migratory chat?

The thousand speak, but Nature

Around them lies unseen,

While Life reveals her secrets to                  

The Solitary Queen.

                    --Linda Brown Holt

• The door that lets us in is the same door that keeps us out.

• Music is the string that connects this world to the next.

• Very easily, form becomes a substitute for content.

• The low notes of the organ make our teeth rattle in their sockets. The high notes of the soprano send shivers down our spines.

What's not to like about the Fall?

Walking through the crunchy woods,

Flaming leaves—scarlet, gold--

Underfoot in slippery soggy pads.

Avoid the sweet gum spikes

And chestnut burrs;

Grey squirrels wisely stick

To acorns round and smooth,

Sharp teeth firm on

The gleaming shell

As they ripple through the rustling trees

Into the Fall-dark dell.

Winter's not so near: all's alive,

There's last-chance harvest

Fever in the air.

Goldenrod and snakeroot pollen

Tickle the throat, and

Even deer, fat with winter's threat,

Sneeze and whistle

When we met.

And such a soughing

In the heavy maples' beat:

A wild declivity of falling leaves,

Confetti, at our feet.

We raise arms, leap

Onto parkbench seat,

And scramble back

Into a hidden cove

To catch the echo of

A flock of geese.

Frozen in time and

Fixed on the pond,

Before great splashing in

The lake beyond.

A dozen species—bird, geese,

Ducks—rock with noisy

Eagerness, then flutter in a rush

Of spray and sand,

Hurled to the deep blue sky

By the Lake Spirit's

Open hand.

I wrap a wool scarf tight

Around my neck,

And hurry home,

By the scent of

Hot apple cider and wafers met.

In the fireplace, the Fall's

First embers catch among the sparks

Of smoldering coal.

It's almost Halloween:

You can feel the magic

Thumping in your soul.

             --Linda Brown Holt

                Copyright 2009

What’s not to hate about organized religion?

Pundits issuing orders, damning us to hell if we don’t comply.  Entire populations of humanity branded as second-class citizens, and other highly developed life forms not recognized at all.  Rules and regulations developed hundreds, even thousands of years before the advent of running water.  Obsession with political and fiscal issues that may have nothing to do with spirituality.  Special perks and secret knowledge reserved for the leadership.

Is it any wonder that thousands of intelligent people each year desert organized religion in the search for a lifestyle that values all people, other living creatures and the environment, and a kinder, gentler Deity?

But not so fast. What we may detest in organized religion isn’t so much the religion (content) as the organization (form). What we rail against is not the inspiring or comforting words of Jesus, Krishna, or Mirabai, but rather the all-too-human foibles of the people who run the store. Religious content or meaning is immanent and transcendent. But religious organizations are firmly rooted in the limitations of the world. At its worst, it’s the case of fresh new wine in tattered old wineskins.

Religious organizations excel when it comes to helping people make sense out of the Cosmos and our place in it. They provide a plan, a validated literature, a code to follow, and images to emulate. Sometimes they falter, though, because of human greed, stupidity, arrogance, or the just structural instability.

We may be so disgusted with religious organizations and the leaders who benefit from their survival that we are tempted to give up our practice, however enriching, in the search for truth and authenticity. But in doing so, we may throw out the spiritual baby with the administrative bath water. 

We need to stand back and think again:  what part of our religion do we love, what part do we loathe? Has our faith given us a taste of a higher life or a way to enrich our lives and find meaning in a seemingly chaotic world? Have we found a deep, guiding spiritual presence in our saints and gods, and in the notion of a loving Creator or Primordial Intelligence, that overshadows all the offenses we attribute to overly regulated sects run by self-satisfied satraps?

Chances are, it’s the administrative system that rubs us the wrong way. Can we find a way to accept, endure, or ignore the process and keep the spiritual power of our faith tradition? I think we can. The bath water may be foul, but the baby is bright and shining. Unplug…and hug.

Despite the brash, rebellious verses of his youth, the Victorian poet A.C. Swinburne wrote some deeply felt poetry touching on spiritual themes. Here is a lovely, beautifully written poem on the Soul (using the voice of the Teutonic earth goddess, Hertha), in text and as read by one of my favorite volunteer readers for LibriVox.org, Kristin Hughes.

http://poemhunter.com/poem/hertha

http://ia331317.us.archive.org/3/items/long_poems_003_librivox/hertha_swinburne_klh.mp3