Earth Day 2020
Preached 4/19/2020 at SouthWest UU in N. Royalton OH
By Rev. Meg Mathieson
Many of us know the story of Siddhartha, the first incarnation of the great Buddha. We know that he attained enlightenment after meditating under a Bodhi tree. It is said that while he was meditating there, Siddhartha was visited by the god Mara, who sent demons to shake Siddhartha’s resolve.
… (read 83-84 in Radical Compassion by Tara Brach)
Today we join a great and venerable tradition of humans who have turned to Mother Gaia for reassurance. This Wednesday will be the 50th Anniversary of Earth Day, but of course venerating and drawing spiritual nourishment from our planet is older than the Buddha.
We stand - or sit, as the case may be - on holy ground. Ground that is holy because it is the ground. Earth that is our earth, our earth that bore us and sustains us.
We could learn so much from the reverence that indigenous people have shown for our Mother. Wovoka has said, “You ask me to plow the ground. Shall I take a knife and tear my mother's bosom? Then when I die she will not take me to her bosom to rest.”
Chief Seattle said, “All things are connected. Whatever befalls the earth befalls the children of the earth.”
Wow. How does that land, today? In the midst of this international crisis. I’ll read it again - this man was a prophet. Many of these indigenous people were prophets: “All things are connected. Whatever befalls the earth befalls the children of the earth.”
Indeed. All things are connected. Those of us who deny or forget our connectedness are doomed to learn the hard way. We are learning every day how very connected we are, even when we try to separate, we conect, for better or for worse.
May you be safe and well. May the arms of our Mother Earth hold you in the deepest peace.
She is growing ever strong, I’m sure you’ve heard the good news.
New data from NASA this week showed that nitrogen dioxide levels were about 30% below their average. This and similar studies from around the world likely mean thousands of lives will be saved from a decrease in air pollution.
As Coal Usage Declines, Studies have found Dramatic Decreases in Asthma Symptoms and Hospitalizations.
Since Yosemite National Park closed to visitors, bobcats and black bears have commandeered the roadways. Wild boars have descended on Barcelona. The smog over Los Angeles has cleared, and the snow-capped Himalayas are visible from parts of Northern India for the first time in residents’ memories. Seismologists are reporting that the upper crust of the Earth has quieted.
Because we have quieted. We’ve quieted down and let Mother Earth take a much needed rest. A Sabbath, if you will.
Let’s breathe together.
Together in this virtual space.
This space made holy by our presence.
Together with our friends and loved ones.
Together with our ancestors.
Together with the indigenous ancestors and prophets on whose sacred ground we pray, live, and make our beloved community.
I’d like to end with a poem that is titled simply “Earth.”
This is our earth. It falls through heaven like a pearl in a glass of plum wine. There are no other earths that I know of.
There are no other skies that we have mapped. This is our earth.
The Oneness who gave birth to it remains nameless.
There was no midwife then to bring us word of the birth-cry.
We only rejoice that it is. This is our earth. Ice caps its head. Glaciers clasp its feet.
Warm wind, like the breath of a lover, breathes around its breast.
Mountains thrust up to the clouds, bringing joy.
Storms blow across its shores, bringing fear.
Silvery fish capture sunlight and bring it down into the deep, as on shore, valleys spread with ripening fruit.
Cities teem with the poor and disenfranchised in the shadow of golden towers. Children live and also die. Highways throb. Monks sit in silence. Mothers work. Crickets chirp. Teachers plan. Engineers design. Fathers write letters.
People marry with and without the blessings of law. People cry. They laugh, and brood, and worry and wait. This is our earth. There are no other earths. Before its wonder, philosophers fall silent. Before its mystery, poets admit their words are shadow, not light.
And all the great names religious teachers have left to us--
Ishtar, Shekinah, Terra Mater, Suchness, Wakan, Tanka, Gaia--
suddenly refuse to announce themselves. And so we too fall silent,
entering the time where words end and reality begins.
We give her a name, Earth. We honor her and recognize that she is our own Blue Boat Home.
Preached 4/19/2020 at SouthWest UU in N. Royalton OH
By Rev. Meg Mathieson
Many of us know the story of Siddhartha, the first incarnation of the great Buddha. We know that he attained enlightenment after meditating under a Bodhi tree. It is said that while he was meditating there, Siddhartha was visited by the god Mara, who sent demons to shake Siddhartha’s resolve.
… (read 83-84 in Radical Compassion by Tara Brach)
Today we join a great and venerable tradition of humans who have turned to Mother Gaia for reassurance. This Wednesday will be the 50th Anniversary of Earth Day, but of course venerating and drawing spiritual nourishment from our planet is older than the Buddha.
We stand - or sit, as the case may be - on holy ground. Ground that is holy because it is the ground. Earth that is our earth, our earth that bore us and sustains us.
We could learn so much from the reverence that indigenous people have shown for our Mother. Wovoka has said, “You ask me to plow the ground. Shall I take a knife and tear my mother's bosom? Then when I die she will not take me to her bosom to rest.”
Chief Seattle said, “All things are connected. Whatever befalls the earth befalls the children of the earth.”
Wow. How does that land, today? In the midst of this international crisis. I’ll read it again - this man was a prophet. Many of these indigenous people were prophets: “All things are connected. Whatever befalls the earth befalls the children of the earth.”
Indeed. All things are connected. Those of us who deny or forget our connectedness are doomed to learn the hard way. We are learning every day how very connected we are, even when we try to separate, we conect, for better or for worse.
May you be safe and well. May the arms of our Mother Earth hold you in the deepest peace.
She is growing ever strong, I’m sure you’ve heard the good news.
New data from NASA this week showed that nitrogen dioxide levels were about 30% below their average. This and similar studies from around the world likely mean thousands of lives will be saved from a decrease in air pollution.
As Coal Usage Declines, Studies have found Dramatic Decreases in Asthma Symptoms and Hospitalizations.
Since Yosemite National Park closed to visitors, bobcats and black bears have commandeered the roadways. Wild boars have descended on Barcelona. The smog over Los Angeles has cleared, and the snow-capped Himalayas are visible from parts of Northern India for the first time in residents’ memories. Seismologists are reporting that the upper crust of the Earth has quieted.
Because we have quieted. We’ve quieted down and let Mother Earth take a much needed rest. A Sabbath, if you will.
Let’s breathe together.
Together in this virtual space.
This space made holy by our presence.
Together with our friends and loved ones.
Together with our ancestors.
Together with the indigenous ancestors and prophets on whose sacred ground we pray, live, and make our beloved community.
I’d like to end with a poem that is titled simply “Earth.”
This is our earth. It falls through heaven like a pearl in a glass of plum wine. There are no other earths that I know of.
There are no other skies that we have mapped. This is our earth.
The Oneness who gave birth to it remains nameless.
There was no midwife then to bring us word of the birth-cry.
We only rejoice that it is. This is our earth. Ice caps its head. Glaciers clasp its feet.
Warm wind, like the breath of a lover, breathes around its breast.
Mountains thrust up to the clouds, bringing joy.
Storms blow across its shores, bringing fear.
Silvery fish capture sunlight and bring it down into the deep, as on shore, valleys spread with ripening fruit.
Cities teem with the poor and disenfranchised in the shadow of golden towers. Children live and also die. Highways throb. Monks sit in silence. Mothers work. Crickets chirp. Teachers plan. Engineers design. Fathers write letters.
People marry with and without the blessings of law. People cry. They laugh, and brood, and worry and wait. This is our earth. There are no other earths. Before its wonder, philosophers fall silent. Before its mystery, poets admit their words are shadow, not light.
And all the great names religious teachers have left to us--
Ishtar, Shekinah, Terra Mater, Suchness, Wakan, Tanka, Gaia--
suddenly refuse to announce themselves. And so we too fall silent,
entering the time where words end and reality begins.
We give her a name, Earth. We honor her and recognize that she is our own Blue Boat Home.