Tuesday 25 February 2014

Meditation: An Enchanted Forest by John Gruchy

AN ENCHANTED FOREST

I Chronicles 16:29-34
Colossians 1:15-19
Then shall the trees of the forest sing for joy.


Less than an hour's drive from Volmoed, hidden behind the hills above Stanford and Gansbaai, lies a beautiful valley.  And in that valley is an enchanted forest of indigenous trees named Platbos.  It should not really be there.  The rainfall is too sparse to support a forest which numbers amongst its trees a milkwood  reputed to be a thousand years old.  On the surrounding hills fynbos flourishes, and invasive aliens struggle for control.  But in this enchanted forest above a sand dune with neither a river or spring to sustain it, indigenous trees grow and flourish.  Botanists say it is all an unfathomable mystery.  But there it is!  And Isobel and I have only just discovered it through the kindness of Mike and Moi who took us there the week before last. 

I will not dazzle you with the botanical names of the trees in the forest, but let me mention their popular ones and  how they are described by those who lovingly manage Platbos and extract their essences.  The milkwood is the tree of wholeness; the white pear, the tree of joy; the rock alder,  the tree of bliss; the bladder nut, the tree of self-knowledge; the wild peach, the tree of courage; the hard pear, the tree of forgiveness; the spike thorn, the tree of loving kindness; the saffron wood, the tree of tears; the sea guarrie, the tree of inspiration; the wild olive, the tree of faith; the pock ironwood, the tree of intuition; the cherry wood, the tree of serenity; and  the white stinkwood, the  tree of light.  Their names let alone their smells conjure up a world of mystery and enchantment. 

Forests are the stuff of fairy tales and legends.  In olden times, they were the boundaries between villages, and most villagers seldom ventured alone into their foreboding darkness.  They were places where  danger lurks, strange things happen, monsters hide, aliens dwell and big bad wolves eat straying boys and girls.  It was not impossible, as C.S. Lewis once said, that an ogre might live less than an hour away!   But Platbos, less than an hour from Volmoed, is not a place to fear, it is a place to be renewed, to regain a sense of proportion, a place to discover oneself and share with others your deepest thoughts.  You can walk through its shaded paths, sit under its trees, marvel at its shapes and forms, and sometimes on a moonlit night you might even see a shy leopard seeking its prey or a striped genet clinging to the branches of a stinkwood tree.  But it is also a metaphor for another dimension to life, the world of soul and spirit that is threatened by the often barren environment created by science and technology, and controlled by machines.

I am not decrying science or its passion to find an answer to every question, solve every problem, uncover everything long hidden, or explore new territory.  After all, to be human is too seek answers to questions that baffle, and find solutions to that which threatens life.  Nor am I decrying machines, after all, I love my Isuzu bakkie, the Festool mitre saw in my workshop, the computer on my desk, and we all applaud advances in medical technology.  We are the grateful beneficiaries of the achievements of science and technology. We could not have easily got to Platbos without Mike's 4x4!  So it is necessary to find a creative balance.  Machines, forests, animals and humans can live in harmony to our mutual benefit.    But science can be destructive as well as life enhancing, and machines that improve the quality of life and facilitate work also pollute the air we breathe, greedily devour ancient forests, and build soulless cities of concrete and steel where cars rule.  

It is true that the Old Testament prophets sometimes identified enchanted forests or sacred groves with idolatry, superstition and sorcery, yet they  and the psalmists also used nature and forests as metaphors for the renewal of life, anticipating the day when the trees of the forest would once again clap their hands in joy and sing praises to God.  Think about our OT reading today.  After placing the Ark of the Covenant in the tabernacle or tent of meeting, King David sang a hymn of thanksgiving.  When we truly worship God in his holy splendour, he declared,  the heavens are glad and the earth rejoices, the sea roars, the fields exult, and " the trees of the forest sing for joy."  That is why, as St. Paul puts it, the whole creation groans in expectation of a humanity that has come to its senses and begun to care for it with renewed love and energy. 

We are fortunate to be living in an age today when people across the globe are seeking to reclaim the enchanted forests that are so necessary for life in its fullness, protesting against the greed that  destroys the trees that renew the very air we breathe.  For we have come to see that if you rid the world of its enchanted forests and all that they symbolize as well, you rid it of the essences of life.  So it is not surprising that there has been something of a hankering for places of enchantment to which we can retreat, a desire to escape into the forests in search of solitude and the renewing of soul.  Or, as the young couple I married last Saturday decided, the desire to marry in the vineyards beneath the towering Klein Swartberge outside Ladismith in the Klein Karoo.   Is this not why Tolkien's Lord of the Rings, C.S. Lewis'  fantasies and J.K. Rawlings tales have captured the imagination of so many?  And is this not why there are encouraging projects in our often barren townships to plant trees and make gardens?  And is not the reason for this a thirst for life in its fullness, a rediscovery of soul and spiritual well-being, even if only vaguely acknowledged?

The desire for and attraction of enchanted forests is not just naive romanticism; it is the recognition that we need  places and spaces like Platbos and Volmoed because we are more than meat, and desperately need to recover and renew our souls.  For the enchanted forest is about more than forests and trees;  it is a metaphor for the spiritual dimension of life, the realm of soul, the mystery of being human, and being encountered by  the ultimate  mystery we name God.   So it is not surprising that a  walk in an enchanted forest or garden, a wedding beneath towering mountains, a stroll along the coastal path or to the waterfall on Volmoed  can lead us deeper into the mystery of God revealed in Christ.  For "in him all things in heaven and earth were created," through him "all things have been created," and "in him all things hold together."  

There is an intriguing verse in the Gospel of Thomas, the most important of the apocryphal gospels from the first centuries of Christianity.  It is a saying of Jesus: "Raise the stone, and there you will find me; cleave the wood, and there I am." (77)  It was probably excluded from the New Testament because it seemed to support the idea that everything is God, what we call pantheism.  But another reading could be that while everything cannot be identified with God, the Spirit of God is the energy that pervades and gives life to the whole of creation.  So if you are looking for Jesus the Christ you might well find him not only in the church or in Scripture but also in nature.  In celebrating this Eucharist we give thanks for and with the whole of creation for the Christ in and through whom everything holds together.  For us the whole earth is the Lord's and everything in it is a sacrament of his beauty and love.  No wonder the trees of the forest clap their hands and sing for joy.

John de Gruchy

Volmoed     
20th February 2014

Meditation: Sawdust & Shavings by John Gruchy

SAWDUST & SHAVINGS

Matthew 7:1-5
Why do you see the speck in your neighbour's eye, but do not notice the log in your own eye?

There is a German proverb which reads: "Wo gehobelt wird, da fallen Spรคhne!" Loosely translated it means that shavings fall to the ground wherever shaving takes place.  You can't shave and expect no shavings.  In other words, there are always consequences to our actions.  I learnt this proverb last Saturday after a long conversation with German visitors about sawdust -- what interesting topics we sometimes get into!  Earlier I had mentioned to them the book Bill Everett and I are writing called "Sawdust and Soul" and my friends asked me to tell them what sawdust is as they had never heard the word before.  So we discussed all the possible German translations and in the end realised that, as in English, so in German, there at least two words that can be used.  These distinguish between the small specks of dust that result from sawing wood, and the shavings that are made when you plane wood.  Of course, when you turn wood on a lathe you get plenty of both because you cut, shave and sandpaper!  Today the upmarket vacuum cleaners used in a workshop collect shavings in one bin while the sawdust, being lighter, is sucked into another.

Did you know that sawdust has many uses?  Making particle boards and fake snow, providing grip on wet or icy road, soaking up oil spills, feeding plants, starting a fire, filling wood holes and defects, chasing away weeds, lightening up cement and providing fuel for boilers.  There is a whole conversation on the web about how people use sawdust and shavings, some of it quite graphic and not particularly salubrious!  I have also discovered that there is a sawdust art festival, several design studios called sawdust , someone called the sawdust girl, and even a sawdust mountain which is described as " a melancholy love letter of sorts" whatever that means!  There is also a web page of sentences in which the word "sawdust occurs."  Take these as an example:
  • The unreduced nose of the wine combines figs, apricots, nectarines, scented candle wax and hard wood sawdust.  (Life's too short to drink that one!)
  • Are you on a yeast free diet and tired of eating sawdust or cardboard tasting bread?  (Yes, indeed, sounds like a gluten free diet!)
  • Small wonder its promoters can't see the wood for the trees: they all have sawdust in their eyes.

This last one could well have been said by Jesus!  After all, as a carpenter he would have been very familiar with sawdust and shavings.  The problem with many people is not that they cannot see the wood for the trees, as we often say, but they cannot even see the trees because their eyes are full of sawdust!  And sometimes it is not dust a sprinkling of sawdust that gets into their eyes with stinging effect, but a whole log that blinds them totally! 

Sawdust may have many uses, but it is also toxic.  When it gets into your eyes it burns, when it gets into your body it can cause serious allergies, and some is also carcinogenic.  It is precisely for this reason that there is such a strong emphasis today in woodworking, especially when using power tools, on the need to suck up sawdust not just from the floor after you have finished working, but to suck it up out of the air as it comes off your machines and before it gets into your lungs.  It is not so much the shavings and dust particles you can see that are the problem, but the very tiny specks of dust that float in the air and get into your eyes, your lungs and, I might add, into your hair as well!  So don't mess with sawdust, it can be a killer.

Sawdust is not only physically toxic, when used as a metaphor, as it is by Jesus, it refers to a spiritual blindness that destroys relationships, preventing us from seeing ourselves and others as we should.  But it is, as Jesus also says, nothing compared to having a whole chunk of tree, bark and all, in your eye!  "Why do you see the speck in your neighbour's eye, but do not notice the log in your own eye?" asks Jesus.   Imagine not noticing a log in your eye and yet being able to see a tiny speck of sawdust in someone else's.   What a good example of Jesus' humour as a way of undermining our self-righteousness.

Jesus is speaking about the danger of judging others -- something we are all prone to do, and sometimes do too often for our own and others good.  But the saying could apply more widely.  If we have sawdust or logs in our eyes, we not only cannot see the wood for the trees but, as I have already mentioned, we also cannot see the trees.  In other words sawdust and logs in our eyes is a metaphor for that spiritual blindness, that prevents us from seeing the world with open eyes.  Not only do we fail to see the beauty around us, not least in trees themselves,  or the good in other people, we also fail to see the plight of people who suffer from poverty, illness and old age, or the despair in the eyes of angry unemployed young people, or that other people are hurting.  When Jesus opens the eyes of the blind, it is not only those who are physically blind, but also those of us who cannot see as we should, and above all see things differently from Jesus' own point of view.

Sometimes it may be necessary to exercise and express criticism, to challenge people about things that are wrong.  So I don't think Jesus is saying that it is always wrong to do so.  What is toxic is when we do so in the wrong way and for the wrong reasons, especially in a self-righteous and destructive way.  Before we criticise others for a speck of sawdust in their eyes which prevents them from seeing our side of the argument, we must be aware of and get rid -- not just of the speck in our own eyes, but the LOG!  In other words,  we need to be more self-critical and far less critical of others.  It is the same as not casting the first stone.  How easy it is to find fault with others; how difficult to see our own faults, the shavings that fall to the ground all around us, in fact the chunks of wood that blind us and so prevent us from seeing!  And it is not just us as individuals who sometimes cannot see, or who are wrongly judgmental, it is also true of the church.  For  this reason Peter writes in one of his letters in the New Testament that "judgment begins with the house of God!"  In other words even before the church begins to challenge faults in the lives of others and of society more generally, it is judged for its own failures and should therefore get its own house in order.  So don't let sawdust get in your eyes, or logs blind you.  We might miss seeing the wonder and beauty that surrounds us.  And let us be slow to judge, for we will certainly be judged in turn.   

John de Gruchy

Volmoed    
13 February 2014

Meditation: Glimpses of Glory by John Gruchy

GLIMPSES OF GLORY

Luke 9:18-23, 28-36
“they saw his glory.”

According to the Christian calendar, the Feast of the Transfiguration is celebrated this coming Sunday as a prelude to Lent.  In the Eastern Orthodox Churches it is one of the greatest of the Christian festivals. The story is familiar to us all, but we sometimes forget where it comes in the gospel narrative.  According to Luke, the transfiguration follows a few days after Peter’s confession that Jesus was the Messiah.  But clearly Peter and the other disciples had a different understanding of what that meant to that of Jesus himself.  For them, Jesus as the Messiah was the one who would soon overthrow Roman rule, establish God’s kingdom in Jerusalem and, so they hoped, they would reign with him in his glory.  But Jesus knew, as he told them, that the true Messiah would suffer, be rejected and killed, and that the coming kingdom of God would be quite different to what the disciples imagined.  So Jesus tells his disciples that if they want to follow him further, they would have to take up the cross and go with him to Jerusalem.  This was shattering news, dashing their hopes of an early triumph and victory, and an important place in the coming kingdom of God soon to be established. 

About eight days after this episode, so Luke tells us, Jesus takes Peter, John and James, his closest companions, up the mountain in order to pray for strength for the task ahead.  As he prayed “the appearance of his face changed, and his clothes became dazzling white.”  Then the disciples saw Moses and Elijah appear with Jesus.  Even though they were exhausted, they were wide awake and, says Luke, they saw God’s glory.  It was truly a mountain-top experience.  No wonder they implored Jesus to build some dwellings there so that they could stay longer and delay the journey to Jerusalem and perhaps even avoid it altogether.  But no sooner had they made their request than a cloud engulfed them and, according to the story, they heard a voice telling them that they had to listen to Jesus and follow him.  A moment before they were basking in glory anticipating triumph; now they were terrified. Jesus’ understanding of Messiah had been confirmed.  They had to listen to him.  There was no turning back, no staying on the mountain.  Soon they were down again on the plain, continuing their journey to Jerusalem and the fateful events of Jesus’ passion that awaited them.  They had glimpsed the glory of God; now they had to face the cross.

Religion can become a form of escape, a way of building tents on the Mount of Transfiguration where we can bask in the glory.  Or it can offer false promises and hopes, of triumph without the cross, of personal glory without sharing in the struggle for justice and peace in the world, or standing in solidarity with those who suffer.  But we cannot stay on the mountain tops of religious experience if we are to follow Jesus.  We have to come down to earth and face the realities that daily confront us. 

Our dear friend and teacher Midge was buried yesterday.  Daily we receive news of other friends who are suffering from cancer or who are going through very hard, difficult and painful times.  The situation in Syria has become horrific, the conflict in Afghanistan continues, car bombings recur daily in Iraq, there is war in Mali.  Poverty surrounds us, corruption thwarts service delivery, and violence against women and children abounds.  And we all have our own personal challenges to face, relationships that need reconciliation, afflictions that need healing.  It is perfectly understandable that we might want to find some way of escape from facing the realities that confront us.  That is why people seek help through anti-depressants, take drugs, or drink too much.  We naturally want to turn back, or stay on some emotional or spiritual high rather than go down into the valley and onward to whatever Jerusalem faces us.  And, of course, there are some forms of religion that are attractive precisely because they shield us from reality, whether the reality of a world in need, or the reality of our own need of wholeness.  Lent reminds us that we cannot celebrate the victory of Easter without the journey to the cross, there is no shortcut, no avoiding the road to Jerusalem and the inevitable confrontation with the powers that seek to prevent and even crush the coming of God’s reign of justice and peace.  But as we set out on the journey again as if for the first time, we are reminded of who Jesus really is as the one who fulfills the prophets, the one who is truly God’s son, the true Messiah. And, we are given a glimpse of Easter glory that will be revealed. 

We come to this sanctuary day by day and week by week to glimpse the glory of God in the face of Jesus Christ.  But we are soon back in the office to take those phone calls that too often convey bad news, back to our homes to care for those who are in need, back to the ordinary affairs of life seeking to make ends meet.  It is good to climb the mountain and pray on its summit, good to meet Jesus, Moses, Elijah and all the company of heaven surrounded as we are by a “great cloud of witnesses,” good to break bread together.  But we cannot stay here.  We cannot live in the sanctuary any more than the disciples could stay on the mountain top.  A glimpse of glory must suffice to sustain and help us through those times when we are tempted to turn back from the cross, wash our hands in despair or cynicism.  So we dare not miss those glimpses of God’s glory when they do break into our lives in moments of transfiguration that change our perspective and give us hope and courage for the long haul.  Of suffering triumphantly endured, of love transforming lives, of light breaking into dark corners, of peace achieved in situations of conflict, of broken lives made whole, of truth destroying lies, and beauty transfiguring ugliness.  These glimpses of the coming kingdom of a world transformed, glimpses of the victory of Easter, are sufficient for the journey. 


John de Gruchy

Volmoed  7 February 2013

Meditation: Trees have Souls by John Gruchy

TREES HAVE SOULS
I Samuel 16:1-7
Matthew 5:1-8

Mortals look on the outward appearance, but the Lord looks on the heart.
Blessed are the pure in heart.

Anton gave me a beautiful coffee-table book for Christmas  entitled The Soul of a Tree by George Nakashima.  Nakashima was the foremost woodworker and cabinet-maker in North America in the twentieth century.  A Japanese American by birth, he studied architecture in Japan and Paris, and then followed his passion in designing and building beautiful furniture.  In The Soul of a Tree, he tells his life's story.  He also describes his way of making furniture -- from the selection of the wood through to the finishing touches.  There is so much in the book that I found inspiring as well as challenging as a woodworker, but I also found spiritual insight and wisdom in its pages.  Nakashima had a deep love and respect for trees.  He often walked in the forests near where he lived on the West Coast of the United States, and had an intimate knowledge of trees from all parts of the world.  He saw beyond their outward appearance to their inner beauty, and this enabled him to select the wood he needed in order to make beautiful furniture.  His furniture was not ostentatious as though he was in competition with the wood, trying to make it more beautiful.  His aim was to allow the inner beauty of the tree reveal itself in what he made.  For me, the most memorable  comment he made was that a tree can have two lives.  First as a tree growing to maturity and then,  at the right time and not before, when it is harvested and transformed into something beautiful at the hands of a craftsman.  Nakashima describes his experience:

There is a drama in the opening of a log -- to uncover for the first time the beauty ,,, of a tree hidden for centuries, waiting to be given this second life. (95)

The genius of a master craftsman like Nakashima is that he can give new birth to a tree.  Through his skills, the beauty locked in a tree is brought to life again as a table, or chair, or cabinet to bring joy to many. 

I am in a very junior league to the likes of Nakashima, but I am also excited when, on working with wood, I discover a beautiful grain that I had not expected to find beneath the bark.  This does not happen when I buy wood already planed and cut at Penny Pinchers.  It might be fine pine or meranti and some has good character for making something functional -- an artist's easel, a work table or what have you.  But when I obtain some mahogany or red oak, some camphor or olive, some walnut or kiaat that is still rough, and maybe  still enclosed in bark, and begin to work with it on the lathe, or open it up with the saw and plane,  I can't wait to discover the secrets beneath the surface which, in many ways, will determine what I make.   It is this inner beauty, this secret beneath appearances, that is the soul of a tree,  a soul that has developed over years, even centuries, the source of its nurture and growth.   Without this inner life, the heart wood enclosed by sap wood, the tree would die.  The inner life might be very simple and plain in colour as in the maple tree or ash, or it might be complex and exotic as in wild olive, but it is beautiful whichever way you look at it.  The external beauty of the tree, majestic as it might be, is dependent on its hidden beauty which, when revealed may be as wondrous to the eye.

When Samuel was sent by God to find a king to replace Saul he was commanded to go to Jesse in Bethlehem.  Jesse had several sons to choose from, and Samuel thought they were all pretty good candidates for the post, especially Eliab the eldest.  But God rejected them all, except David.  It is not how they appear, God told Samuel, that is important, "for the Lord does not see as mortals see'; they look on the outward appearance, but the Lord looks on the heart."  That is, what lies hidden beneath the surface, for it is what lies at the heart of the person that will determine  how that person lives.

The heart is a metaphor for that which lies hidden deep within us, the real me, the soul, who I am, and therefore the person God sees behind the rough bark that encloses us.  What God sees may have already become beautiful, but whether that is so or not,  God always sees the potential for beauty even in plain pine or the drift wood that the waves of life cast on the shore. Like a master craftsman  God can visualise the beauty we can become in his hands like an old tree reborn.  -- just as Bill Davis could see in the fallen branch of the camphor tree here on Volmoed the beauty of the risen Christ who stands before us in the sanctuary.   It is this inner beauty, whether in a tree or a person, that makes an outer beauty possible.  Only good trees bring forth good fruit, as Jesus taught.

We don't actually know much about Jesus' outward appearance.  Every great painting of Jesus like Bill's sculpture is different from the next.  But each is an attempt to bring to the surface the beauty that  lies hidden in the mystery of his being the one through whom we see the face of God.  And that is the clue to understanding the beauty of Jesus as well as our own.  There was nothing false about him.  He lived the truth because he was the truth.  What you saw, you got; his deeds and words were one.  It was who he was in himself, the secret of being who he was, that made possible what he said and did.  That was what was beautiful about him!  And that is what true beauty is always about; it arises out of a beauty within.  So in the end there is a correspondence between the heart wood hidden behind the bark and the beauty that begins to emerge as God gets to work on our lives and brings it to birth.  It may be hard work with some of us, for there is much to prune before any beauty appears.  But it doesn't matter whether you are an alien tree, a grand old gnarled oak, a hardy acacia, or a guava tree, you have a God-given potential for beauty waiting to be brought to the surface and revealed to all.

John de Gruchy
Volmoed 6 February 2014