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I’m still reeling from last weekend. I was ordained into full connection in The United Methodist Church, as was our friend, the Rev. Haley Eccles, and ten others. Two classes of folks were also commissioned into ministry, which is the step prior to ordination. Two because this year’s class was approved, as was the previous year’s, originally held up by an outspoken few in protest of inclusion. For each of us, it was the culmination and affirmation of years of work, and the celebration of many more to come. So in part, I feel it’s a good week to let a pro do the heavy lifting, but also: this is one of my favorite things. A favorite poem, sure, but even beyond the category, it moves me. I don’t memorize well, but I can recite this poem, and have carried it with me in the days following the ordination service. Take a moment with e e cummings’ “i thank You God for most this amazing”. i thank You God for most this amazing
day:for the leaping greenly spirits of trees
and a blue true dream of sky;and for everything
which is natural which is infinite which is yes (i who have died am alive again today,
and this is the sun’s birthday;this is the birth
day of life and of love and wings:and of the gay
great happening illimitably earth) how should tasting touching hearing seeing
breathing any—lifted from the no
of all nothing—human merely being
doubt unimaginable You? (now the ears of my ears awake and
now the eyes of my eyes are opened)
Because of my (half-self, half-Derrick) imposed word limit, I can’t spend as much time as I might sharing the myriad ways this poem opens my eyes and ears and heart, but it does. Again and again. The joy of the day, of new life and vision, possible even for those so lost they feel dead. That the beauty of creation can share truth, can speak it, show it, invite us into it. As I’ve read the poem over the years, different parts have hit harder for me. This week it has been “lifted from the no / of all nothing”. That likely speaks of the theological concept of ex nihilo, or “out of nothing” as we consider creation (see Genesis 1), but I think it also a profession that the work of God happens even in the depths of wherever we are. Following the stanza of birth after death, of new life and love, the poet finds “tasting touching hearing seeing / breathing” as expressions of that new day, and wonders how anyone could doubt God’s hand in not just creation, but the lifting up out of death into that glorious experience. But that isn’t by happenstance, and it isn’t by “pulling yourself up by your bootstraps”. It is a part of God’s ongoing creative work, a part of God’s love and grace, that we are “lifted” out of nothing into something glorious. God is at work, ever at work, to move us to abundance. I share this poem not just because I am feeling joyous in the hopes that you are, too, but because the poem speaks to my journey. Of a call to ministry in the life of someone who thought that wasn’t possible. Of ears awakened and eyes opened to the world in new ways, and a growing appreciation for everything “which is infinite which is yes”. I pray this poem invites you into a celebration of this day, or if you aren’t in a place where joy feels available, perhaps you receive hope for a new day of life and love. And if I or San Marco Church can come alongside you on the way, that would be our privilege. And one more thing: as mentioned, I don’t memorize well, but this poem’s exception is because I’ve performed Whitacre’s piece based on it. It’s a magnificent work, and if you’d like to hear the unique impression and expression of it – and if you’d like to hear it performed by the Vocal Arts Ensemble of which I was a part – you can click here to do so. See you Sunday! Rev. Ben Richards
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