Making the Invisible, Visible

Everything in the Church is a Sacrament. A Sacrament is something that brings a spiritual reality into a physical manifestation.

Holy Communion is of course a sacrament, but so is the putting on and wearing of the priest’s vestments. So is the touching of the hem of the vestments by the laypeople. Because when the Priest puts on the vestments, he puts on Christ and loosing himself in Christ fully becomes himself as the holy Icon of Christ. When we as laypeople touch the hem of the priest’s vestments we don’t simply offer a symbolic gesture. Rather, we become in a spiritual reality the bleeding woman, darting between the righteous, hoping that no one notices our uncleanliness that would banish us from the presence of our Lord and Master. Hoping beyond hope, that we can get just close enough to simply graze the hem of the cloak of our master and that alone would be just enough to bring us the inspiration to keep living with our bleeding and brokenness and rejection. And barely, just barely daring to hope for fullness and health and the light of His Face upon our hearts and bodies.

This, then is really an Icon of our hearts as they graze the hem of His glory in prayer. Sometimes this is shown and at other times it remains hidden as the uncreated light is hidden in darkness. Everything is a sacrament, everything is an Icon, everything is holy, every story is about Jesus and the need or redemption of the world.

Thanks and Praise be to God,
John

Sin and Obedience in the midst of Grace

This evening, on our way to Paraclesus, we were walking through the parking lot of  St. John’s.  I was noticing how open and upfront all the backyards of all the church’s neighbors were.  I could in a sense, see into their lives through the openness of their backyards.  I thought of how the grace of our parish, of our church building even, was at that very moment overflowing and spilling into the yards and lives of our neighbors and how unaware many of them probably were of the presence of this grace and how in the presence of this unknown grace they were (like most of us) probably living out their lives in unabashed sin and unaware blasphemy in the presence our Creator’s grace.

Then I began thinking about how I live out my life in the presence of grace and how because of my wife, my parish and the Holy Spirit, I am blessed with even momentary awareness of that grace that flows through all of creation.  Yet even with that further grace of momentary realization I continue to (in full awareness most of the time) live out my life in unabashed sin and forgetfulness. I do this in spite of the constant presence of my own temple, of my own body and spirit.  I live in sin even enthusiastically most of the time, in spite of the constant presence of the temples of other peoples bodies and spirits.  But I am suddenly aware of how amazingly heart breaking that is; that my sin reaches to such a depth and is so complete that even in the constant shadow of the temple of of the holy spirit, I am so terribly sinful.  I am a mad man that poisons himself and all Creation, though he thinks it to be medicine.

If the first act of sin cast not only man, but all of creation into a downward spiral, then every time we sin today, we perpetuate not only the fallenness of man but also the fallenness of all Creation. Then so too the inverse is true. If we live our lives in the newness of Christ’s redemption, in the recreation of reality through the death and resurrection of Christ, if we live lives aspiring toward holiness in the grace and forgiveness of our God, then each act of obedience, love and contrition of heart, not only restores us to an original state, but in reality restores for at least a moment (or is at least the beginning of) all reality and Creation. (sorry for the run on sentence.)

Squirrels vs. Lobsters

(This was my second essay for my college Comp 1 course. I think I went outside the parameters of the assignment and a little off the deep end. I was supposed to write a simple comparative essay.)

Scheer 1

John F. Scheer

Amy Handy

English 1301

June 22, 2010

Squirrels vs. Lobsters

Today we are looking at whether to befriend squirrels or lobsters. Or to put it differently; whether to befriend people who are Squirrel-ish vs. people who are Lobster-ish. While academics demand clear and concise arguments, they still need to be entertained once and a while. Hopefully this essay accomplishes both. I am using allegory to express my points and by the end you will know who is more amiable, a squirrel or a lobster.

Squirrels are well adjusted and sincere, that’s why they make better friends than lobsters. Squirrels sacrifice their own pride and are willing to laugh at themselves just a bit, they quickly find themselves surrounded by people that love and care for them and their “abnormalities.” Lobsters say they want friendship but never follow through on doing the work. They have greater difficulty building solid lasting relationships. They struggle with letting go of all the fears of what they might loose or what the other will think once that person really gets to know you.

Being a lobster, I can tell you without a doubt that squirrels make better friends. When a lobster invites you over for dinner the first thing you smell is the ocean, salt water brine and rotting organic matter from various flora and fauna. You glance around nervously looking for where you should sit, but all you can see are a couple of rocks and a bed of seaweed scattered about. Not to mention the temperature, how could anyone but a lobster be comfortable in those arctic depths? The lobster stares at you blankly like a deer in the headlights, opens his mouth slightly as if to say something to put you at ease but quickly shuts it again and looks awkwardly at the sandy floor. You clear your throat and lean in for an awkward hug but the lobster shies away either because he’s cold blooded or he’s afraid of accidentally pinching you. You then force yourself to say, “Sooo, what’s for dinner?”

Being a scavenger, the lobster nods with an uncomfortable sideways glance to the cornucopia of rotting carrion and ocean plants.

“Oh, uh help yourself,” he says. You then try and fake an emergency phone call from your niece about your brother being in a car accident, but in mid farce you and your crustaceous comrade simultaneously realize that there is no cell phone reception on the bottom of the ocean. Your four eyes lock and the intolerable awkwardness continues.

What happens when you meet the lobster at the park while you are both walking your pets? As you see him approaching, you franticly look for an escape. You look to the left and right of the trail, but there are little signs that say, “Please don’t walk on the grass.”

“They’re just signs!” You think. But suddenly the gardener is squatting there and looking straight at you as if to say, “Don’t even think about it bubba.” You glance down the path again. Seeing the lobster coming closer and closer, the knot in your throat growing bigger and bigger, the cold lines of sweat run faster and faster down your body. You swallow the unbearable knot in your throat and look for a distraction. Luckily, George, your dog, starts relieving himself on the trail. This was probably the first time you ever actually looked forward to picking up after your dog. While bagging the waste, the lobster walks up behind you, clears his throat and says, “Hey what are you up to?”

You take a long pause and just before it begins to seem like you’re ignoring him you whip around and say, “Just walking my dog. What about you?” His antennas spell out the word, I-N-C-R-E-D-U-L-O-U-S.

“I’m walking my krill,” he responds. Then you notice the seemingly empty fish bowl in his claw and, as if reading your mind, he says, “Yeah, they’re pretty small animals.” Trying to move on you start talking about the gulf oil spill, gesturing with your arms out of nervous compulsion, flailing them about in flamboyant fashion to signify that you are feeling completely calm and comfortable with this meeting, but are still disgusted with the tragedy. Mid flail the doggy bag breaks, its contents make a slow motion arc through the air and land directly at the shoes of the intolerable gardener. But instead of laughing and making a joke out of it like a squirrel might do, the lobster just stands there with his eyes bugging out of his shell and his hind left leg nervously ticking on the gravel. Where’s a squirrel when you need one?

Or what about when you find yourself volunteering at the soup kitchen, standing elbow to claw with this decadent decapod?  You try and keep your own eyes focused on portion control, line speed and making polite small talk with the food recipients. This is so that you don’t seem haughty. You can’t help noticing out of the corner of your eye, the lobster’s eyes are fixated on the soup; his mouth keeps smacking as if from over salivation. He is handing out considerably smaller and smaller portions of food than anyone else; no doubt he is hoping for leftovers. The food recipient’s eyes keep glazing over as they pass the lobster’s food station. They keep unconsciously licking their lips, not while staring at the soup, but while staring at the lobster. They envision him on a platter or sitting in the soup bowl instead of serving it. The lobster keeps taking “smoke” breaks because he says that all the staring is making him anxious. Though, you know he’s going into the kitchen to check for leftovers or rooting around the dumpster for a tasty treat. All the other volunteers keep giving each other knowing glances whenever anyone asks “Have you seen lobster around?” But no one is willing to call him out on his un-philanthropic behavior. Being good idealists they just believe that Karma will get him in the end. Being a lobster, no doubt it will.

A squirrel on the other hand is a horse of a different color. After a long hard day of making coffee seem interesting, and your own personality warm and inviting, you walk to your door stoop. The squirrel pops his head out and hollers down in a tone, cheerful, yet relaxed for a squirrel, “ `Ello guvna! `Ow about after you get settled in, you come up for a wee bit o’ herbal tea?” You detect no presumption or expectation in his voice, just wanting a bit for some company. So you tell him, yes, you’d be delighted. Now after a quick refresh and change of clothes, you go ahead and put yourself up in the cozy doorway of the squirrel drey, which resides in the tree above your house.

The sun is setting and you can still feel a hint of warmth from it as a gentle breeze caresses your nostrils with a hint of apples and cinnamon from the squirrel’s warmly lit home. Before you’re able to knock on the door, he opens, almost bowls you over with a satchel of leftovers for the birds, and is surprised to see you standing there. “Oh pardon me chap!” He exclaims with a smile, not a hint of awkward reservation in his voice. If this were lobster’s house though you might be thinking that he was standing there behind the door peeping and waiting with a trash bag to make it seem as though he were just on his way out. But this thought quickly fades as the sweet smell of herbs de provance fills your head and the gentle rumble of a stew invades your ears. He invites you in and immediately you notice how comfortable yet not overwhelmingly tidy the little drey appears. The squirrel invites you out onto his deck. He quickly scurries back in and returns with a tray of steaming acorn and vegetable stew and two cups of cinnamon apple spice tea. You thought you were full from the three black bean tacos you picked up earlier, but somehow the aroma of the stew and tea make you realize you’re hungry again. After a light meal and hearty conversation, you give the tell tale grunts and sighs that say, “I enjoyed myself thoroughly, but it’s time to go.”

“Well I better not keep you up too late since you’ve got an early morning ahead of you,” says the squirrel. You and the squirrel say “tatah” and you both retire for a satisfied slumber.

If you were locked up in your home all day writing an essay about squirrels vs. lobsters, who would you ask to meet up for coffee, a brisk walk and some nutty conversation to clear your head? A squirrel perhaps could pull it off. You are walking down Main Street to the coffee shop and just before you get to the door you feel your back pocket and realize with chagrin, you left your wallet sitting on the banister at the bottom of the stairs. You even put it there so you wouldn’t forget it on accident and cause an embarrassing situation with the squirrel. But now not wanting to make the squirrel wait, you decide to pretend that you already had coffee at home and didn’t want anything anyway.

The bell chimes as you walk in and so does the squirrel’s grin as he gets up from the table. You both embrace for a tasteful “manly” hug. “What are getting today?” He asks.

“Oh I had some coffee this morning. I’m good.” You respond.

“Oh bollocks, I got your tab. I’m certainly not gonna sit here drinking coffee alone.” Says the squirrel. You give a sheepish smile and order. The squirrel elbows you in the ribs and says, “I bet you left your wallet on the banister at the bottom of the stair.” You both bust up laughing because you know it’s true and he’s just that kind of friend, that knows your quirks and that just makes him like you more.

When you feel inspired to do something positive for the community, who would you invite to plant trees on Arbor Day, a lobster or a squirrel? Squirrels are naturally community oriented and spiritual. A squirrel scurries around hiding acorns, then forgetting where he put them, looks for another and forgets where that one was planted and the cycle continues. Before you know it, the squirrel has planted an entire forest out of pure forgetfulness and nonattachment to worldly possessions. Century after century, as those acorns grow into towering oak trees, the squirrel has built hundreds of squirrel homes for future squirrel generations. On top of that, these are “green” homes that repair the ozone layer and give us the air we breathe. How could you ask for more from a squirrel?

A squirrel, always forgetting where he buried his acorns, may have a little short term memory loss. He may even have some ADD, jumping from branch to branch in search of another acorn, but surely you can see these don’t detract from a meaningful friendship between you and him? So I ask you who of these two creatures would you prefer to call “friend”? I know for me, claws down, squirrels make better friends.

Thank you very much.

What do You want?

(This was my first essay for my college Comp 1 course.)

What do you want?

“Why are you taking a college course?” This question is so fraught with ego. Mainly because human beings are professional bullshitters, both of themselves and people they want to impress. If you can come up with a polished and sophisticated answer anyone will believe you, even if you don’t believe it yourself. It’s called sales and if you sell others long enough you’ll probably end up selling yourself or jumping off a cliff figuratively or otherwise.

Dr. Garcia told me that I would be a wonderful counselor due to my strong intuitive abilities; that I was a natural psychologist because I translated my human experience through sign and symbol. My wife says that I am a great writer, but apparently by the end of this essay you will find out if she’s biased or not. Based on the crazy antics I employ to make it through the doldrums of the retail coffee industry (with my sanity intact), my coworkers say that I should be an actor, comedian or God forbid a writer. Sam, my catholic co-belligerent in coffee slanging, says that I’ll probably end up as a priest. He thinks I have some kind of self control over my “passions”. But that’s probably just a deception to make myself look good in front of others. With all these people telling me what I should or could be, how do I sort it all out on the inside? How do I know what I really want?

“What do You want?” the little boy asked me, his brick wall stare penetrating my insecurities. I noticed he put an emphasis on the “You” so that I wouldn’t take his question flippantly. He had dusty dark blond hair, corn blue eyes and a serious stare that could only come from looking at your own subconscious face to face. The kind of deep ageless stare that you see on a child’s face that makes you realize that children are people too, like grown-ups without presumption. He looked exactly as I had around the age of eight or nine except for the hair and eyes. The colors were muted, like in an old color photograph from the 60’s. Then the boy closed his eyes, he turned and I awoke suddenly with a snort, in the driver’s seat, my eyes adjusting to the dim light of the mid-day sun. During lunchtime I must have fallen asleep from the heat of the beating sun on my smashed up Toyota Tercel. I was drenched in sweat, grit and coal dust from work. My prayer beads were still in my left hand and I could feel the vibrating buzz of Allah washing over me.

For a few months now I had been learning meditation, prayer and spiritual healing from a Sufi healer named David. It had become a rollercoaster of mystical experience where God seemed to be opening himself to me at every turn, prior to that I felt disconnected, malcontent, orphaned from myself. But now I had found my True Love. I couldn’t take in enough. All I wanted was to sit, meditate, pray and bask in the glory of the divine.

Earlier that morning I got up to make the 45 minute drive to the east Austin blacksmith shop I worked at. As I made the drive down Airport Boulevard I was in love with everything and everyone. The whole world was my beloved and even if others didn’t consciously recognize it, we were caught up in a sea of unity where everything and everyone was holy and loved.

In those moments I definitely know what I want. I want to swim in the sea of God’s love and I want everyone else swimming with me. I want peace, harmony, a sense of purpose, satisfaction and fulfillment. I want to not be angry and to stop hurting others through my rage and for others to do the same. I want to affect peace and harmony in the world and come home at the end of the day satisfied with my labor. I want my labor not to serve the gross inequalities of this upside-down kingdom, but to help humankind back to their true nature. In essence I want to help us remember some of the most vital things we’ve chosen to forget.

Louis, my blacksmithing mentor, challenged my dreams with an apophatic approach of never believing that I really knew what I wanted and calling “bullshit” anytime he smelled it. He also helped me to remember what it was to labor and be satisfied with your days work even if you’re not satisfied with the result. David helped me to remember what my true essence was and much as the experience of learning Sufi prayer and meditation set me on a path to find what I wanted from my faith, I am hoping that college will help me find what I want from the right vocation and be satisfied with the days work. I don’t expect a mystical experience, but I do hope to find some guidance.

Thank you very much.

This was from Me

“This was from me” is a famous letter written by saint Seraphim of Viritsa that he sent to his spiritual child, a bishop who was in a Soviet prison at that time; this homily “This was from me” is written as a consolation and counsel to the bishop to let him know that God the Creator addresses to the soul of man.

Have you ever thought that everything that concerns you, concerns Me, also? You are precious in my eyes and I love you; for this reason, it is a special joy for Me to train you. When temptations and the opponent [the Evil One] come upon you like a river, I want you to know that This was from Me.

I want you to know that your weakness has need of My strength, and your safety lies in allowing Me to protect you. I want you to know that when you are in difficult conditions, among people who do not understand you, and cast you away, This was from Me.

I am your God, the circumstances of your life are in My hands; you did not end up in your position by chance; this is precisely the position I have appointed for you. Weren’t you asking Me to teach you humility? And there – I placed you precisely in the “school” where they teach this lesson. Your environment, and those who are around you, are performing My will. Do you have financial difficulties and can just barely survive? Know that This was from Me.

I want you to know that I dispose of your money, so take refuge in Me and depend upon Me. I want you to know that My storehouses are inexhaustible, and I am faithful in My promises. Let it never happen that they tell you in your need, “Do not believe in your Lord and God.” Have you ever spent the night in suffering? Are you separated from your relatives, from those you love? I allowed this that you would turn to Me, and in Me find consolation and comfort. Did your friend or someone to whom you opened your heart, deceive you? This was from Me.

I allowed this frustration to touch you so that you would learn that your best friend is the Lord. I want you to bring everything to Me and tell Me everything. Did someone slander you? Leave it to Me; be attached to Me so that you can hide from the “contradiction of the nations.” I will make your righteousness shine like light and your life like midday noon. Your plans were destroyed? Your soul yielded and you are exhausted? This was from Me.

You made plans and have your own goals; you brought them to Me to bless them. But I want you to leave it all to Me, to direct and guide the circumstances of your life by My hand, because you are the orphan, not the protagonist. Unexpected failures found you and despair overcame your heart, but know That this was from Me.

With tiredness and anxiety I am testing how strong your faith is in My promises and your boldness in prayer for your relatives. Why is it not you who entrusted their cares to My providential love? You must leave them to the protection of My All Pure Mother. Serious illness found you, which may be healed or may be incurable, and has nailed you to your bed. This was from Me.

Because I want you to know Me more deeply, through physical ailment, do not murmur against this trial I have sent you. And do not try to understand My plans for the salvation of people’s souls, but unmurmuringly and humbly bow your head before My goodness. You were dreaming about doing something special for Me and, instead of doing it, you fell into a bed of pain. This was from Me.

Because then you were sunk in your own works and plans and I wouldn’t have been able to draw your thoughts to Me. But I want to teach you the most deep thoughts and My lessons, so that you may serve Me. I want to teach you that you are nothing without Me. Some of my best children are those who, cut off from an active life, learn to use the weapon of ceaseless prayer. You were called unexpectedly to undertake a difficult and responsible position, supported by Me. I have given you these difficulties and as the Lord God I will bless all your works, in all your paths. In everything I, your Lord, will be your guide and teacher. Remember always that every difficulty you come across, every offensive word, every slander and criticism, every obstacle to your works, which could cause frustration and disappointment, This is from Me.

Know and remember always, no matter where you are, That whatsoever hurts will be dulled as soon as you learn In all things, to look at Me. Everything has been sent to you by Me, for the perfection of your soul. All these things were from Me.

(Cited from Orthodoxwiki.org)

St. Seraphim of Sarov

St. Seraphim of Sarov asked for these remarkable words to be inscribed on his tombstone and they make me weep:

“When I am dead, come to me at my grave, and the more often the better. Whatever is on your soul, whatever may have happened to you, come to me as when I was alive, and kneeling on the ground, cast all your bitterness upon my grave. Tell me everything and I shall listen to you, and all the bitterness will fly away from you. And as you spoke to me when I was alive, do so now. For I am living, and I shall be for ever.”

It was love at first sight.. er read.. with him. It may seem kinda early but he seems like he might become my patron saint. It’s like my heart seems to just naturally/ mystically open to him, in spite of all the scar tissue and heart break. He is able to access the broken parts that seem completely impervious to myself otherwise. It’s so amazing how much Love flows through him. I struggle a lot with loving customers at work. In my job I get really tired of people… dealing with all their scruples, selfishness and caffeine addiction backlash, etc. (Don’t get between an addict and their drug, unless you’re ready for a fight. “Just say Yes!” as the sbux motto goes.) He had hundreds of people visiting him daily and he never tired of them, always happy to see them. I already really love him and his life. Thanks be to God!

The catholic Church

“

What about the men who run about the countryside  painting signs that say “Jesus saves” and “Prepare to meet God!”  Have you ever seen one of them, and I wonder what goes on in their minds.  Strangely, their signs do not make me think of Jesus, but of them.  Or perhaps it is “their Jesus” who gets in the way and makes all thought of Jesus impossible.  They wish to force their Jesus upon us, and He is perhaps only a projection of themselves.  They seem to be at times threatening the world with judgment and at other times promising it mercy.  But are they asking simply to be loved and recognized and valued, for themselves? In any case, their Jesus is quite different from mine.  But because their concept is different, should I reject it in horror, with distaste?  If I do, perhaps I reject something in my own self that  I no longer recognize to be there.  And in any case, if I can tolerate their Jesus then I can accept and love them.  Or I can at least conceive of doing so.  Let not their Jesus be a barrier between us, or they will be a barrier between us and Jesus.

“

- Thomas Merton, New Seeds of Contemplation, Ch. 15 “Sentences”, pg. 106

My Heart is a Wine Glass

My heart is a wine glass and only Allah can make it sing. Only He can fill it. Only His touch to the lips of my heart has the right pressure and friction to produce the resonance that makes it sing and shatter into a million pieces. Only the voice of God can speak my pieces back into the Oneness that can only be filled by Him. I long to be Sufi.

Whether I be Sufi or Christian, I don’t know. I know the basics of what I believe. I know what my heart believes. I know that my faith always seems to be walking on the razor’s edge. CERTAINLY i don’t boast with this. So much i wish i had a normal faith like everyone else that is easily “explainable”. Will I always struggle with this feeling of being an outcast? Jesus was an outcast, and look. So I should be thankful of my “problem” I guess. Maybe belonging to man’s delineation of God’s Kingdom is not my purpose. I don’t know. All I know is that Allah chooses to fill my cup through the Sufis and the Christians. For some reason I don’t find fullness in Sufism or Christianity alone. My cup is filled through Allah and Christ. I know my God, because even when I think I don’t, He knows me. I rest in that.

Christ is in our midst, Insha’Allah.

To a young unbeloved self

If you were married or had a Beloved you would come to realize…

The good you do for your beloved is the same good or actually better than the good you do for yourself.

Why serve yourself for the moment, when the fruits of serving your beloved in the midst of suffering, make your heart and belly full of peace, love, joy and satisfaction?

To serve The Beloved is to serve my beloved. To serve my beloved is to serve The Beloved and to serve My Beloved beats serving myself.  If only I could finally learn this lesson…

may you have deep peace…

Of Crime and Punishment

To be a manager at Starbucks always teaches me of the tension between justice and mercy, judgment and grace.  It helps me to learn the subtlety of loving people, while still holding them accountable.  That we be accountable to the corporation I could care less, fuck “The Corporation”.  Rather that we would be accountable to God in our own hearts or (at least) to each other out of the intrinsic god-person in the core of each human heart (whether you acknowledge God or not).  This tension constantly pulls at the sinews of this god-muscle.

So with that I present this chapter of Kahlil Gibran’s “The Prophet”

“

Then one of the judges of the city stood forth and said, “Speak to us of Crime and Punishment.”

And he answered saying:

It is when your spirit goes wandering upon the wind,

That you, alone and unguarded, commit a wrong unto others and therefore unto yourself.

And for that wrong committed must you knock and wait a while unheeded at the gate of the blessed.

Like the ocean is your god-self;

It remains for ever undefiled.

And like the ether it lifts but the winged.

Even like the sun is your god-self;

It knows not the ways of the mole nor seeks it the holes of the serpent.

But your god-self does not dwell alone in your being.

Much in you is still man, and much in you is not yet man,

But a shapeless pigmy that walks asleep in the mist searching for its own awakening.

And of the man in you would I now speak.

For it is he and not your god-self nor the pigmy in the mist, that knows crime and the punishment of crime.

Oftentimes have I heard you speak of one who commits a wrong as though he were not one of you, but a stranger unto you and an intruder upon your world.

But I say that even as the holy and the righteous cannot rise beyond the highest which is in each one of you,

So the wicked and the weak cannot fall lower than the lowest which is in you also.

And as a single leaf turns not yellow but with the silent knowledge of the whole tree,

So the wrong-doer cannot do wrong without the hidden will of you all.

Like a procession you walk together towards your god-self.

You are the way and the wayfarers.

And when one of you falls down he falls for those behind him, a caution against the stumbling stone.

Ay, and he falls for those ahead of him, who though faster and surer of foot, yet removed not the stumbling stone.

And this also, though the word lie heavy upon your hearts:

The murdered is not unaccountable for his own murder,

And the robbed is not blameless in being robbed.

The righteous is not innocent of the deeds of the wicked,

And the white-handed is not clean in the doings of the felon.

Yea, the guilty is oftentimes the victim of the injured,

And still more often the condemned is the burden-bearer for the guiltless and unblamed.

You cannot separate the just from the unjust and the good from the wicked;

For they stand together before the face of the sun even as the black thread and the white are woven together.

And when the black thread breaks, the weaver shall look into the whole cloth, and he shall examine the loom also.

If any of you would bring judgment the unfaithful wife,

Let him also weight the heart of her husband in scales, and measure his soul with measurements.

And let him who would lash the offender look unto the spirit of the offended.

And if any of you would punish in the name of righteousness and lay the ax unto the evil tree, let him see to its roots;

And verily he will find the roots of the good and the bad, the fruitful and the fruitless, all entwined together in the silent heart of the earth.

And you judges who would be just,

What judgment pronounce you upon him who though honest in the flesh yet is a thief in spirit?

What penalty lay you upon him who slays in the flesh yet is himself slain in the spirit?

And how prosecute you him who in action is a deceiver and an oppressor,

Yet who also is aggrieved and outraged?

And how shall you punish those whose remorse is already greater than their misdeeds?

Is not remorse the justice which is administered by that very law which you would fain serve?

Yet you cannot lay remorse upon the innocent nor lift it from the heart of the guilty.

Unbidden shall it call in the night, that men may wake and gaze upon themselves.

And you who would understand justice, how shall you unless you look upon all deeds in the fullness of light?

Only then shall you know that the erect and the fallen are but one man standing in twilight between the night of his pigmy-self and the day of his god-self,

And that the corner-stone of the temple is not higher than the lowest stone in its foundation.