Some of you know that I have been studying (and blogging) about the importance of the Beat poets (i.e. Ginsberg, Kerouac et al.) in shaping a culture of justice and compassion in the United States after WWII. A decade before most churches and synagogues threw their support behind the movement for Black civil rights, the alienated intellectuals of the Beat generation (not their caricature - the beatniks - but the real deal) were searching for meaning amidst the jazz bebop artists of the day as well as the early pioneers of eco-justice, abstract expressionism, and peace. One commentator puts the challenge of that era like this:
Life was pretty uncertain after two world wars and two atomic bombs in too little time. By 1945, it could go either way and everybody knew it. Edward R. Murrow was on the wireless delivering poetic nightly accounts of the bombing of Europe. Centuries-old nations were tumbling by the month. Blackouts, rationing and depression were a way of li
A full generation earlier, Protestant theologian and pastor, Paul Tillich, discovered that after WWI it was the artists of his day who were best able to capture something of God's still speaking voice. Churches were caught up in their fears - or sentimentality - while the painters, sculptors, dancers, and musicians of the early 20th century were

I underscore this during this week's Prayers and Programs because we are at another key turning point in America. The world is more inter-connected than ever before and what we do ripples across every continent to say nothing of the sky and oceans. So, we can either listen carefully and try to discern what God's still speaking voice might be saying to us amidst the Gulf Coast catastrophe, our two wars, and the on-going economic turmoil - OR - we can try to keep doing what we've always done only to discover that such a life is unsustainable. Repentance, you know, means changing our direction - turning away from what is sinful, destructive, and unhealthy - and moving towards the true image of God in which we were created. Poet Robert Bly put it like this:
Tell me why it is we don’t lift our voices these days
And cry over what is happening. Have you noticed
The plans are made for Iraq and the ice cap is melting?
I say to myself: “Go on, cry. What’s the sense
Of being an adult and having no voice? Cry out!
See who will answer! This is Call and Answer!”
We will have to call especially loud to reach
Our angels, who are hard of hearing; they are hiding
In the jugs of silence filled during our wars.
Have we agreed to so many wars that we can’t
Escape from silence? If we don’t lift our voices, we allow
Others (who are ourselves) to rob the house.
How come we’ve listened to the great criers—Neruda,
Akhmatova, Thoreau, Frederick Douglass—and now
We’re silent as sparrows in the little bushes?
Some masters say our life lasts only seven days.
Where are we in the week? Is it Thursday yet?
Hurry, cry now! Soon Sunday night will come.
One voice that offers a wise, sustainable and faith-based alternative to the current madness is Brian Mclaren who just "blogged" his reaction to President Obama's recent Oval Office speech concerning our addiction to oil, th
e BP disaster, etc. If you are looking for hope - or a light in the current darkness - you may want to read Mclaren's remarks at:
http://blog.sojo.net/2010/06/16/my-initial-response-to-president-obamas-speech/.
Here is a prayer litany for this week from our partners at the National Council of Churches:
A CONFESSION:
Creator God, author of life, source of all meaning, you made a universe of infinite complexity and beauty and entrusted us humans with the care of a tiny jewel called Earth. With the passing of time we came to believe we were owners, not fellow creature dwellers, of this bountiful planet and its extravagant web of life. We have used God’s creation without regard for the impact our rapacity had on the other creatures with whom we share our earthly home. We have acted with craven disregard for complex ecosystems we barely understand.
Tell me why it is we don’t lift our voices these days
And cry over what is happening. Have you noticed
The plans are made for Iraq and the ice cap is melting?
I say to myself: “Go on, cry. What’s the sense

Of being an adult and having no voice? Cry out!
See who will answer! This is Call and Answer!”
We will have to call especially loud to reach
Our angels, who are hard of hearing; they are hiding
In the jugs of silence filled during our wars.
Have we agreed to so many wars that we can’t
Escape from silence? If we don’t lift our voices, we allow
Others (who are ourselves) to rob the house.
How come we’ve listened to the great criers—Neruda,
Akhmatova, Thoreau, Frederick Douglass—and now
We’re silent as sparrows in the little bushes?
Some masters say our life lasts only seven days.
Where are we in the week? Is it Thursday yet?
Hurry, cry now! Soon Sunday night will come.
One voice that offers a wise, sustainable and faith-based alternative to the current madness is Brian Mclaren who just "blogged" his reaction to President Obama's recent Oval Office speech concerning our addiction to oil, th
http://blog.sojo.net/2010/06/16/my-initial-response-to-president-obamas-speech/.
Here is a prayer litany for this week from our partners at the National Council of Churches:
A CONFESSION:
Creator God, author of life, source of all meaning, you made a universe of infinite complexity and beauty and entrusted us humans with the care of a tiny jewel called Earth. With the passing of time we came to believe we were owners, not fellow creature dwellers, of this bountiful planet and its extravagant web of life. We have used God’s creation without regard for the impact our rapacity had on the other creatures with whom we share our earthly home. We have acted with craven disregard for complex ecosystems we barely understand.
Our self-deception has led us to assume we have the capacity to manage environments we exploit to sustain lifestyles that defy the intrinsic interdependence of all life. Now we face the consequences of our idolatry. We thought we were gods; but our recklessness has brought us to our knees, to ask for your mercy and forgiveness for the chaos we have brought about. We pray for the oceans and all the creatures that dwell in it. We pray for the forests and the abundance of life they nurture. We pray for th

A TIME FOR QUIET REFLECTION
AN ASSURANCE OF FORGIVENESS There are no sins so great that the mercy of God cannot forgive. Go with God’s grace to make amends. Embrace lifestyles that will help restore balance and harmony to our Earthly home. Care for those whose environments have been destroyed by our actions and inactions. Amen.
PRAYERS OF PETITION
God, we come to you today with heavy and humbled hearts. We ask that your healing, comforting and strengthening presence be with all those affected by this unfolding tragedy:
For workers injured, missing, and presumed dead from the explosion on the rig and for their families and friends, Lord in your mercy, hear our prayers.
For people working tirelessly to contain the spill and protect fragile ecosystems and communities from its toxic impacts, Lord in your mercy, hear our prayers.
For individuals and communities whose livelihoods depend upon the Gulf of Mexico, Lord in your mercy, hear our prayers .
For your good Creation – from the smallest of sea creatures to the birds of the air - and all your magnificent handiwork at risk of exposure from our human errors, Lord in your mercy, hear our prayers.
For wisdom to understand our dependence on You and strength that we might walk humbly in the path of justice and right-relationships with all Your Creation, Lord in your mercy, hear our prayers.
(Tomorrow we leave for a weekend away at a family wedding... when I return I will be ready to move into Dylan and the Beats: Part Three.)
2 comments:
By Providence I recently picked up a volume of poetry by Canada's Gwendolyn MacEwen (1941-1987)--very dense, difficult stuff. She was a genius. But in the foreword by our novelist Margaret Atwood, Ms. Atwood, who otherwise celebrates the Beat culture in Canada and North America at the time, notes that it was almost entirely a male phenom.
Women tended to be regarded largely as bedmates, muses or creative obstacles to the Beats, and it wasn't until well into the times (early-mid '60s) that women's poetic and artistic voices began to be heard in their own right.
Interestingly, some of the women who were actually present from the get-go of the Beat phenom are only now publishing their perspectives.
I'd say she's right, and that this represents the shadow of the Beat phenomenon. In fact, I think it was represented visually by Joan Baez's pathetic tagging along with Bob Dylan on several of his tours, at one point appearing on stage dressed exactly as he was.
I've been pondering this even as I make my way through the Collected Poems of Allen Ginsberg. It's like a little bit of salsa in a slice of apple pie.
Enjoying your Beat series very much, RJ: don't get me wrong there. :)
My man you are sooo right - as is sister Atwood - re: women. I just finished two essays re: this theme while away at the wedding. And I had the identical thought re: Baez and Dylan, too. Looking backwards, it is one of the most visible and ugly signs of our cultural mysogyny. I am delighted to find some of the women of the era publishing their own insights even at this late date.
And yet... and yet there are still some dazzling insights yet to be mined from these old guys. Glad you are enjoying it, my man.
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