The
Chickasaw
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Like a foreign getaway, it was a
total change of pace. The setting; a vibrant green oasis in a miniscule valley
in the stark high desert of the San Gabriels, the sky
clear, the air cool and fresh. I find it understandable that some might choose
to withdraw from an often FUBAR world, grow apples and meditate or pray.
The monks are hospitable, the food
good, basic, freshly prepared. The ambience slides strongly toward the
medieval. No radio, TV, newspapers, computers, silence (lunch being an
exception). This is a part of the Rule of the Order of Saint Benedict. During
dinner one monk reads such as The Lives
of the Saints, or The History of Monasticism in
I found much to celebrate there,
including the generosity, frugality and simplicity of the monks. Sure, I can
find a few trivial things to disagree about with my Catholic friends: The
existence of god, satan,
heaven, hell, vicarious atonement, original sin, the virgin birth,
transubstantiation, a woman’s right to choose, immaculate conception
(Immaculate? Sex is always dirty if
you do it right) and a few other details. But I didn’t go there to discuss
theology. I returned refreshed with lots of notes for new material (I’d been
unable to confront my word processor for a week.)
It
was good to go. It’s good to be back. In honor of that visit, a monastic poem
seems in order. The following, originally titled “The Canticle of the Creatures” is now
commonly known as “Canticle to Brother Sun.” It was written by St. Francis of
Frčre Jaques Guthrie,
Ed. & Publisher
Canticle to Brother Sun
By Francis of
All praise is Yours, all glory, honor and
blessings.
To you alone, Most High, do they belong;
no mortal lips are worthy to pronounce Your Name.
We praise You, Lord, for all Your creatures,
especially for Brother Sun,
who is the day through whom You give us light.
And he is beautiful and radiant with great splendor,
of You Most High, he bears your likeness.
We praise You, Lord, for Sister Moon and the stars,
in the heavens you have made them bright, precious and fair.
We praise You, Lord, for Brothers Wind and Air,
fair and stormy, all weather's moods,
by which You cherish all that You have made.
We praise You, Lord, for Sister Water,
so useful, humble, precious and pure.
We praise You, Lord, for Brother Fire,
through whom You light the night.
He is beautiful, playful, robust, and strong.
We praise You, Lord, for Sister Earth,
who sustains us
with her fruits, colored flowers, and herbs.
We praise You, Lord, for those who pardon,
for love of You bear sickness and trial.
Blessed are those who endure in peace,
by You Most High, they will be crowned.
We praise You, Lord, for Sister Death,
from whom no-one living can escape.
Woe to those who die in their sins!
Blessed are those that She finds doing Your Will.
No second death can do them harm.
We praise and bless You, Lord, and
give You thanks,
and serve You in all humility.
The
Chickasaw
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