Psalm 46, New York, Trinity Church

Dear Gentle Readers,
I was at a Trinity Wall Street Episcopal Church service on Sunday 10/30. I went to an adult education workshop on meditation writing. They are working on gearing up for the production of their Lenten meditation booklet. This class was to attract some writers from the congregation. I went because I am re-discovering how much I like to write. Initially we read a piece by Wallace Stevens called "Thirteen Ways of Looking at a Blackbird". Then we read a portion of Psalm 46 and then our pens hit the paper. I hit on the line "God is in the midst of the city" for my meditation. This also became a generic recap of my tourist time in NYC.

Here, gentle readers, is my piece.

Whirling thoughts with honking
horns rose like the
smoke from the subway
out of the depths of
her being
Surely God is here, she thought.

The ferry, the ice cold seats
Lady Liberty looking impassively down
a white seagull keeps time with
the ferry, perhaps floating on the
arms of God, or just a good prayer
sent up from the city.

42nd Street, Times Square,
Cheap t-shirts, theatre marquees
Toys R Us ferris wheels, throngs
of people moving knowing and unknowing toward our
God who cries, come play
with me.

The strong fences, the broken
earth
silent people creeping reverantly
a green plant springs
a sign
God is here
flowers grow, we provide
the seed.

The stillness of the dark
night for some, days without sleep for others
rejuvenated or broken by the rushing and rattling
of the power of our God, or is it,
just the A train?

Locals, tourists-foreign and domestic
clog the sidewalks, pack into the
trains, yearn for liberty and communion
as we all rush, knowing and
unknowing towards our God.

Rich and poor
old and young, educated and unEducated,
religious and irreverant, women and men, excess and lack, rush
madly, both knowing and unknowing
to the center.

Known and unknown alike,
at last, together, we meet our God
who is in the midst of you,
who is in the midst of me
who is in the midst of the city.

Amen.

Off to compline-(night office)
Lots of love-
Monk_1975