Sunday, October 3, 2010

The sacred mistake...

Isn't it fascinating how our mistakes can reveal the heart of God's grace? All week long I thought that the Psalm for the day was 37 but it is actually 137. Well, ok, you could opt for the secondary lectionary reading - which I apparently did - but it was inadvertent. I simply SAW 37 when the page SAID 137.

+ At yesterday's retreat, we did use Psalm 137 for considering how we might sing the Lord's song in a strange and foreign land. Folk culture has made good use of this psalm - and of course "Godspell" got it right, too, with "On the Willows."

+ But I wasn't nearly that intentional: I guess there was a spirit at work in me that not only wanted me to explore Psalm 37, but made certain that I did so, too. It was CLEARLY the right thing for us all in worship this morning.

The ancient Roman Easter Vigil puts it like this after the Paschal Candle has been lit (O felix culpa! O inaestimabilis dilectio caritatis): O happy fault, O necessary sin of Adam, which gained for us so great a Redeemer!

Not being a literalist myself, I like the interpretation that suggests that creation is always under the guidance of God's grace - our mistakes as well as our success - so that good can come from evil and blessing can flow from mistakes for those who trust God and seek God's presence in all things. It is rather like one of the ancient monastic scribes who gets momentarily distracted, makes a small slip of the pen and changes the meaning of a text for generations. (Robert Bly has a fun poem about how bad handwriting can cause both confusion AND new insights!)

The Sufi poet, Rumi, has one take on this truth:
Who makes these changes?
I shoot an arrow right
It lands left.
I ride after a deeper and find myself
chased by a hot.
I plot to get what I want
and end up in prison.
I dig pits to trap others and fall in.

I should be suspicious
of what I want.

I like this poem very much - and feel it points to one truth - but the Spanish poet, Antonio Machado, puts it like this in a way that resonates even deeper.

Last night, as I was sleeping,
I dreamt — marvelous error!—
that a spring was breaking
out in my heart.
I said: Along which secret aqueduct,
Oh water, are you coming to me,
water of a new life
that I have never drunk?

Last night, as I was sleeping,
I dreamt — marvelous error!—
that I had a beehive
here inside my heart.
And the golden bees
were making white combs
and sweet honey
from my old failures.

Last night, as I was sleeping,
I dreamt — marvelous error!—
that a fiery sun was giving
light inside my heart.
It was fiery because I felt
warmth as from a hearth,
and sun because it gave light
and brought tears to my eyes.

Last night, as I slept,
I dreamt — marvelous error!—
that it was God I had
here inside my heart.

Today was a marvelous error - a time of blessed faults - and new insights. So I am grateful. Later this afternoon I will lead a quiet time of Taize prayer - and then pack to visit my father - which will likely be yet another time of felix culpa, yes?

3 comments:

Peter said...

Yesterday, Joyce and I took in "That's How the Light Gets In", a theatrical on Leonard Cohen's music (no dialogue), at our local professional theatre. Magnificent, a must-see.

And we were talking about it today, and both remarked on Cohen's insightful phrase (for which the piece is name): "There's a crack in everything--that's how the light gets in."

Sacred fault, indeed!

RJ said...

How sweet... I can't wait to check it out: thank you so much.

Peter said...

Ooops, title mistake: it's The Light Gets In.

an oblique sense of gratitude...

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