{"id":52,"date":"2012-04-22T02:09:00","date_gmt":"2012-04-22T08:09:00","guid":{"rendered":"http:\/\/www.patheos.com\/blogs\/egregioustwaddle\/2012\/04\/through-our-sister-mother-earth-praise-god\/"},"modified":"2016-05-02T11:34:45","modified_gmt":"2016-05-02T17:34:45","slug":"through-our-sister-mother-earth-praise-god","status":"publish","type":"post","link":"https:\/\/www.patheos.com\/blogs\/egregioustwaddle\/2012\/04\/through-our-sister-mother-earth-praise-god.html","title":{"rendered":"Through Our Sister, Mother Earth, Praise God"},"content":{"rendered":"\n<\/head>
<\/div>\n
Yes, I am celebrating Earth Day. And no, in spite of what you read in my blog or in other people\u2019s comboxes, this does not (necessarily, anyway) make me a pagan disciple of Gaia-worshiping hippie nuns with degrees in creation-centered theology, thank you. I am also not going to use this space to trigger a combox steel-cage match on global warming, the wisdom of filling the earth and subduing it, or the outrage of being deprived of my inalienable American right to finally remember to pick up a 4-pack of cheap incandescent light bulbs only to have two break in the bag on the way home and the other two be burned out already.<\/div>\n

Let\u2019s leave all that aside today and share some reminders of the amazing gift of God that surrounds and sustains us daily, in the words of a couple of religious who aren\u2019t currently being investigated.<\/p>\n

The Canticle of the Creatures<\/b>
\nFrancis of Assisi\u2019s praises of the Creator as imaged in creation emerged from a profoundly dark night of the soul, when the saint had retired in dejection, thinking his mission was over, to Chiara\u2019s convent at San Damiano where that mission began. This great hymn of joy was first sung in Francis\u2019s own Umbrian dialect, and is generally considered to be the first literary work ever composed in the language that would later become Italian. On the basis of the familial relationship with all creation Francis exhibits in the Canticle, he was named the patron saint of the inconvenient truths of ecology.<\/p>\n

\"\"<\/a><\/div>\n

Most high, all powerful, all good Lord! All praise is yours, all glory, all honor, and all blessing. To you, alone, Most High, do they belong. No mortal lips are worthy to pronounce your name.
\nBe praised, my Lord, through all your creatures, especially through my lord Brother Sun, who brings the day; and you give light through him. And he is beautiful and radiant in all his splendor! Of you, Most High, he bears the likeness.
\nBe praised, my Lord, through Sister Moon and the stars; in the heavens you have made them, precious and beautiful.
\nBe praised, my Lord, through Brothers Wind and Air, and clouds and storms, and all the weather, through which you give your creatures sustenance.
\nBe praised, My Lord, through Sister Water; she is very useful, and humble, and precious, and pure.
\nBe praised, my Lord, through Brother Fire, through whom you brighten the night. He is beautiful and cheerful, and powerful and strong.
\nBe praised, my Lord, through our sister Mother Earth, who feeds us and rules us, and produces various fruits with colored flowers and herbs.
\nBe praised, my Lord, through those who forgive for love of you; through those who endure sickness and trial. Happy those who endure in peace, for by you, Most High, they will be crowned.
\nBe praised, my Lord, through our Sister Bodily Death, from whose embrace no living person can escape. Woe to those who die in mortal sin! Happy those she finds doing your most holy will. The second death can do no harm to them.
\nPraise and bless my Lord, and give thanks, and serve him with great humility.<\/p>\n

\"\"<\/a><\/div>\n

Two from Gerard Manley Hopkins<\/b>
\nA 19th century English convert to Catholicism and Jesuit priest, Hopkins too suffered from lifelong bouts of depression, but his poems in praise of God\u2019s creation reflect only joy and hope. That joy was with him at the end: His last words were, \u201cI am so happy. I am so happy. I loved my life.\u201d<\/p>\n

Read these out loud to get the full music of Hopkins\u2019s sprung rhythms.<\/p>\n

Pied Beauty<\/b><\/p>\n

<\/div>\n
Glory be to God for dappled things\u2014<\/span><\/span><\/div>\n
\u00a0 For skies of couple-colour as a brinded cow;<\/span><\/span><\/div>\n
\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 For rose-moles all in stipple upon trout that swim;<\/span><\/span><\/div>\n
\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 Fresh-firecoal chestnut-falls; finches\u2019 wings;<\/span><\/span><\/div>\n
\u00a0 Landscape plotted and pieced\u2014fold, fallow, and plough;<\/span><\/span><\/div>\n
\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 And \u00e1ll tr\u00e1des, their gear and tackle and trim.<\/span>
\n
\n<\/span><\/div>\n
All things counter, original, spare, strange;<\/span><\/span><\/div>\n
\u00a0 Whatever is fickle, freckled (who knows how?)<\/span><\/span><\/div>\n
\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 With swift, slow; sweet, sour; adazzle, dim;<\/span><\/span><\/div>\n
He fathers-forth whose beauty is past change:<\/span><\/span><\/div>\n
\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 Praise him.<\/span><\/span><\/div>\n
\u00a0<\/span><\/span><\/div>\n

God\u2019s Grandeur<\/b><\/p>\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\n
THE WORLD\u00a0is charged with the grandeur of God.<\/td>\n<\/a><\/td>\n<\/tr>\n
\u00a0\u00a0It will flame out, like shining from shook foil;<\/td>\n<\/a><\/td>\n<\/tr>\n
\u00a0\u00a0It gathers to a greatness, like the ooze of oil<\/td>\n<\/a><\/td>\n<\/tr>\n
Crushed. Why do men then now not reck his rod?<\/td>\n<\/a><\/td>\n<\/tr>\n
Generations have trod, have trod, have trod;<\/td>\n<\/a>\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a05<\/i><\/td>\n<\/tr>\n
\u00a0\u00a0And all is seared with trade; bleared, smeared with toil;<\/td>\n<\/a><\/td>\n<\/tr>\n
\u00a0\u00a0And wears man\u2019s smudge and shares man\u2019s smell: the soil<\/td>\n<\/a><\/td>\n<\/tr>\n
Is bare now, nor can foot feel, being shod.<\/td>\n<\/a><\/td>\n<\/tr>\n
<\/td>\n<\/tr>\n
And for all this, nature is never spent;<\/td>\n<\/a><\/td>\n<\/tr>\n
\u00a0\u00a0There lives the dearest freshness deep down things;<\/td>\n<\/a>\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a010<\/i><\/td>\n<\/tr>\n
And though the last lights off the black West went<\/td>\n<\/a><\/td>\n<\/tr>\n
\u00a0\u00a0Oh, morning, at the brown brink eastward, springs\u2014<\/td>\n<\/a><\/td>\n<\/tr>\n
Because the Holy Ghost over the bent<\/td>\n<\/a><\/td>\n<\/tr>\n
\u00a0\u00a0World broods with warm breast and with ah! bright wings.\n
<\/div>\n
<\/div>\n<\/td>\n<\/tr>\n<\/tbody>\n<\/table>\n

For all this\u2013for all our sullying and wasting and failure to steward\u2013nature is never spent. Let your prayer today be to spend some time with our Sister, Mother Earth. Do her a favor: plant something, clean up after yourself, adopt a stray, go barefoot, recycle. Most of all, on this Earth Day, seek out whatever is fickle, freckled (who knows how?), and through it, praise Him.<\/p>\n<\/body><\/html>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":"

Yes, I am celebrating Earth Day. And no, in spite of what you read in my blog or in other people\u2019s comboxes, this does not (necessarily, anyway) make me a pagan disciple of Gaia-worshiping hippie nuns with degrees in creation-centered theology, thank you. I am also not going to use this space to trigger a […]<\/p>\n","protected":false},"author":1086,"featured_media":0,"comment_status":"closed","ping_status":"closed","sticky":false,"template":"","format":"standard","meta":{"footnotes":""},"categories":[1],"tags":[],"class_list":["post-52","post","type-post","status-publish","format-standard","hentry","category-uncategorized"],"yoast_head":"\nThrough Our Sister, Mother Earth, Praise God<\/title>\n<meta name=\"description\" content=\"Yes, I am celebrating Earth Day. 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