Most every morning, before my prayer journal work, I say aloud: The LORD's Prayer, The Apostles' Creed, a prayer from The Book of Common Prayer (slightly modified), and the Hail Mary.

The first two, of course, were always a part of my growing up years, said every Sunday in church.

The Anglican Prayer added to my repertoire, and the Hail Mary, some many years ago.

I was long uncomfortable with The Hail Mary until I gave it some thought with a Rosary gift from the chaplain at Gethsemani Abbey, Fr. Matthew Kelty.

These traditional elements comprise, for me, a foundation - when all else seems fragile and fluid, or slipping away, I find these elements to be a reminder, an encouragement, to be steady ... or not to worry when my personal reservoirs of faith run dry ...

The mercy, the love, the goodness of God, doesn't depend upon me, though I'm a part of what God is doing. Not my decision, not my effort or faith ... but that of God. And all of it by grace.

𝑂𝑢𝑟 𝐹𝑎𝑡ℎ𝑒𝑟, 𝑤ℎ𝑜 𝑎𝑟𝑡 𝑖𝑛 ℎ𝑒𝑎𝑣𝑒𝑛 ... 𝐼 𝑏𝑒𝑙𝑖𝑒𝑣𝑒 𝑖𝑛 𝐺𝑜𝑑 𝑡ℎ𝑒 𝐹𝑎𝑡ℎ𝑒𝑟 𝐴𝑙𝑚𝑖𝑔ℎ𝑡𝑦, 𝑚𝑎𝑘𝑒𝑟 ... 𝐴𝑙𝑚𝑖𝑔ℎ𝑡𝑦 𝐺𝑜𝑑, 𝑢𝑛𝑡𝑜 𝑤ℎ𝑜𝑚 𝑎𝑙𝑙 ℎ𝑒𝑎𝑟𝑡𝑠 𝑎𝑟𝑒 𝑜𝑝𝑒𝑛 ... 𝐻𝑎𝑖𝑙 𝑀𝑎𝑟𝑦, 𝑓𝑢𝑙𝑙 𝑜𝑓 𝑔𝑟𝑎𝑐𝑒, 𝑡ℎ𝑒 𝐿𝑂𝑅𝐷 𝑖𝑠 𝑤𝑖𝑡ℎ 𝑡ℎ𝑒𝑒 ...

Sure, criticism abounds ... male language and such ... and I'm not blind or deaf to them ...

I say them, I would like to think, mindfully and carefully ... with awareness and sensitivity ...

And so it is, this day, Oct. 1, 2021 ... and God's Peace to all.

"To Judge the Quick and the Dead"

 “From thence he shall come to judge the quick and the dead,” my friend said, quoting The Creed, and then asked: “What does that judgment look like?”

His question caught my attention, but I held my piece for a moment and envisioned the creed, “looking” at it for a moment, and then, boom, the third part of The Creed came into focus. It doesn’t stand alone, or independent of what precedes it - but actually answers the question: “What does judgment look like?” 

For me, at least, God’s judgment is not retribution, but restoration; repairing what has been broken; undoing the damages of sin; restoring the lost to community, healing the broken hearted, and rebalancing, retuning, the earth, and the universe.

In this context, for me at least, the restorative justice of God, the judgment of God, which is never to be feared, but rather welcomed with grateful praise, is outlined in the third element of The Creed: “I believe in the Holy Ghost, the Holy Catholic Church, the communion of saints, the forgiveness of sins, the resurrection of the body, and the life everlasting.”

Here’s is the judgement of God - the work of the Holy Spirit, consistent with Genesis 1 - that which brings life into being, deals with light and fecundity, ordains the trees and fish to make a go of it, reproduce, replicate themselves, create and recreate in their own ways and purposes.

The Holy Spirit initiates the work of Christ from the get-go, from creating community, forgiving sins, giving death a run for the money, to wrapping it up with life undying.

I don’t know what any of that will actually look like, but at least, for me, the third part of The Creed maps out the program - with evidence already at hand - evidence consist with Creation, and then the New Creation. 

When someone raises a question of justice and welcome, it’s the work of the Holy Spirit. When someone offers a cup of cold water to the thirsty, a ham sandwich to the hungry, a jacket to keep a child warm, and a political program to keep in check the hideous forces of greed, it’s the work of the Holy Spirit.

From the moment of creation, to the moment of recreation, and with and through and in every moment of time, the work of the Holy Spirit, bringing to bear upon creation the judgment/justice of God.

This is what it looks like: “I believe in the Holy Ghost….”

God be praised!

I Believe in God the Father Almighty

I believe in God the Father Almighty ...

Father Almighty?
Mother Almighty?
BoomBah.
Bastion.
Biggie.
Beginning.

Everything.
Nothing.
Something.
All over the place.
In every stick and stone.

Every bird and rat and snake and cow and pig and giraffe and hippo and tortoise and porpoise.
Every human being ... I mean, every.
The crotchety neighbor.
The ragged woman on the corner.
The squalling baby.
The border-crossing farm worker.
The refugee from Syria.
And all the riffraff of life.

And the high and the mighty.
The expensive suit people.
The piled up hair people.
The gold-plated people.
Who think the world owes them their living.
Their place.
The station in life.
Their shitty power, which they love so much.
To flaunt at the country club.
While they compare private planes.
And big yachts.
And the latest insider trading schemes.

God ... whatever.

Something bigger than me, my world, everyone's world.
Bigger than the universe.
Something we can hope in.
Hope for.
Maybe even love, sometimes.

I don't know.

It's good to have something beyond me.
Beyond the strife and struggle of the day.
The year.
The century.
The forever of time and death and life and birth and endings and tears and laughter and beer and whisky and weed and heroine and heroes and hoes and hipsters ...

I believe ... that's a big thing.
God ... bigger still.
Father, Mother, Sister, Brother ... close and kind ... yet forever mystery ... beyond ... fearsome sometimes, like a midnight storm breaking fast and furious upon one's sleep ...

Almighty ... thank you.

I believe.