The first and
last words
you know are
of your mother's
native tongue.
They are not
the names of trees
or how Achilles
perished and fell
from the earth.
They are whispered
to you in the dark
before the light.
They are full
of consonants,
hushed and stoic;
pillars hammered
into the soft dirt
of your history
keeping the vowels
strung together
long enough
for your first and
last breaths.

Image above (and on front-page mastheads):
Wings Of Love by Marilyn Biles.

Words above: Your Mother's Native Tongue by Steve Brightman.

Objects congeal around little specks of Cosmos. Some objects hide and protect us from this immensity. Some objects may form points of access to this immensity. Many are both – we need them to be both.

Images above, top (and on front-page mastheads): Altar of St. Francis and bottom: Bronze Altar #7356 by David Orth.

Words above from Threshold Objects by David Orth. Read more HERE.

In our midst there are anonymous prayer warriors who meditate and contemplate and lift up the needs of this world unto the Lord. I sing praises for those people who pray in secret and storm the gates of heaven on our behalf.

Image above (and on front-page mastheads): Meditation #7 by Virginia Wieringa.

Words above by Virginia Wieringa in ECVA's exhibition: Holy Women, Holy Men.

St. Francis, by Jeanelle McCall, leads visitors to ECVA's latest exhibition: “Holy Women, Holy Men.”

The exhibition’s Curator, Bro. Karekin M. Yarian, BSG writes: Here you will find a sweet array of inspiration, wrought by gentle hands in prayer. It is no small thing to capture the spirits of our prophets and saints in oils and inks; to explore the mystery of holiness in sculpture and fabric and paper and canvas. But here, our friends have called forth the names and images of those who have preceded us. Here, there are windows and doors. Here, there are prayers and pleas. Here, there are the works of the Spirit brought forth from the hearts of faithful and creative warriors.

Image above (and on front-page mastheads): St. Francis by Jeanelle McCall.

Words above by Bro. Karekin M. Yarian, BSG.

I cannot dance, Lord, unless you lead me.
If you want me to leap with abandon,
You must intone the song.
Then I shall leap into love,
From love into knowledge,
From knowledge into enjoyment,
And from enjoyment beyond all human sensations.
There I want to remain, yet want also to circle higher still.

Image above (and on front-page mastheads): The Empty Tomb by Lucy Janjigian.

Words: I Cannot Dance by Mechthild of Magdeburg.

The tree of love its roots hath spread
Deep in my heart, and rears its head;
Rich are its fruits: they joy dispense;
Transport the heart, and ravish sense.
In love’s sweet swoon to thee I cleave,
Bless’d source of love...

Image above (and on front-page mastheads): Incarnate — Be With Us Now by Roger Hutchison. This image will appear on the cover for Without Apology: Sermons for Christ's Church by Stanley Hauerwas (Church Publishing, Inc.
Aug/2013).

Words above: The Tree of Love by St. Francis of Assisi.

Turn my way, O Lord, and hear me; for I am poor, and in misery.
I have prayed to you when I was a child and living in a house with food and water.
Now I am on the streets and the snow and rain show no mercy.
I sometimes beg and sometimes work for food.
It is not easy to stay alive.
People on all sides show me disrespect and take advantage of me.

I have not forgotten you God.
Do not forget me.

Image above (and on front-page mastheads): Shattered Wings by Melissa Strickler.

Words above: Psalm 151 by Jay Begay, a member of Spirit Journey Youth, a Native American Episcopal Youth group from Northern Arizona working on their faith journey step-by-step (an Outreach program of the Diocese of Arizona since 2000). Read "Fling It" here. Read more about Spirit Journey Youth here and here.

Note: Kaze Gadway works with the emerging leaders of the Episcopal Church within the Native American community of Northern Arizona. She says: "They are youth of promise from twelve to twenty."

Almost all of your roots

this world and the next.

Image above (and on front-page mastheads): Terrestrial by Anthony Anchundo.

Words above: One Tiny Inch More by Steve Brightman.

My father died in an accident 6 years ago. He was a constant encouragement to me in my painting and spiritual journey and I still miss him desperately. I remember laughing with him, because though he loved my work, he never quite understood abstract art and was always asking me to paint him a boat. I said, “Dad, even if I do paint you a boat, you won’t recognize it — it will be too abstract.” But there was one painting that he completely understood, and it is the one pictured above titled “Crown."

He said it looked like the crown he would someday receive in heaven with beautiful jewels in it. And that he could also see shadows of the thorny crown that his beloved savior wore for him in the background... and that is exactly what this painting is about.

He had a photo of this painting in his pocket when he died. He carried it around with him wherever he went. I know my father is safely in the arms of Jesus now, and I’m very sure that the crown he received is much more beautiful than this.

Image above (and on front-page mastheads): Crown by Julie Quinn.

Words above by Julie Quinn.

O Lord, we come this morning
Knee-bowed and body-bent
Before thy throne of grace.
O Lord -- this morning --
Bow our hearts beneath our knees,
And our knees in some lonesome valley.
We come this morning --
Like empty pitchers to a full fountain,
With no merits of our own.
O Lord -- open up a window of heaven,
And lean out far over the battlements of glory,
And listen this morning.

Image above (and on front-page mastheads) by Aaron Douglas in God's Trombones: Seven Negro Sermons in Verse: Electronic Edition.

Words above: by James Weldon Johnson in God's Trombones: Seven Negro Sermons in Verse: Electronic Edition.

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