CIRCLE OF BLESSING

Serman for Eco-Justice Sunday, May 2, 2010

by Margery Knott  

I started by wanting to talk about what the medieval mystic, Meister Eckhart, means when he says “Being is God's circle and in this circle all creatures exist.” Then “Circle” reminded me of that wonderful saying that God is a circle whose center is everywhere and whose circumference is infinite. And that reminded me of current scientific descriptions of the Universe. And that reminded me of approximately a zillion other things. And then I thought -- Wait! This isn't a whole semester's curriculum...... And......

So I was sitting on the sofa, wondering what to do, when up popped Coyote,saying “Tell a story!” “Coyote” I said, “I already have too many things to say. And besides, I don't know a story about a circle.” And Coyote just put his hands on his hips, shook his head in disgust, and said “Duh! Tell a story about ME!”

Have any of you met Coyote? He is, among many North American tribes, a Trickster type, a paradox who messes about with everything -- a hero who steals Fire for the people; and the dark figure whose foolishness lets Death into our world. Coyote is always greedy, shortsighted, egotistical-- and imaginative and creative. He loves to test the limits. He doesn't know how to relate civilly to others. When Europeans came to North America, many natives immediately recognized us as fitting right into the Trickster mold.

Trickster--the character, the energy, the archetype-- exists in many forms, on every continent -- but there is one thing on which people throughout the world agree: You can't trust the Trickster. If you follow Trickster's “good advice,” you have no idea where you might end up -- as guest of honor at a feast or being cut into pieces and eaten yourself; you might end up helplessly convulsed in tears....or, just as helpless, in laughter. ... Still, Coyote has been tugging at my sleeve, whispering in my ear & sending me off on great adventures and wild goose chases for many years. I've known him so long he almost feels like a good friend. Surely this time I can trust him....or not... Well, I will begin this morning by taking his advice and telling you one of his stories -- but if it turns out to have been the wrong decision, let's just agree “Coyote made me do it!”

This is a story that is widespread among the various tribes of North America's plains and deserts. The details vary slightly, but the story is remarkably consistent over a huge area. So, as many native storytellers would say, I don't know if this is exactly how it happened, but I can promise that it is true.

This version of the story is adapted from the Cheyenne. I was privileged to spend a summer on the Northern Cheyenne reservation when I was in high school. I didn't learn the story there, but it is still within that particular landscape that I envision this story taking place. So please picture it with me -- some low pine-clad hills, but mostly wide flat plains stretching straight out to the distant horizon. It is summer. Hot, dry. Clear blue sky, relentless sun. Few trees, only rare patches of shade. There is a strong scent of sagebrush, with the underlying smell of dust. A hawk circling overhead has an unobstructed view for miles and miles and miles.

So. Coyote was walking along, and as he went, he saw someone doing the strangest thing. That person said “Eyes, go out!” & his eyes flew right out of his head and hung from the tallest tree. Then, after he had looked all around and seen everything, that person called “Eyes, come back!” and his eyes flew right back into his head.

“Oh!” said Coyote to himself. “I want to do that!” He sidled up to that person and asked sweetly, “Mister, you are so smart. Please teach me how to do that thing with my eyes.” And that person shrugged and said “It's not hard. Just speak in a firm tone and say ‘Eyes, go out!' When you have seen all that you need to see, call ‘Eyes, come back!' “

“Yes, yes,” interrupted Coyote, bouncing up and down with excitement. “I can do that.”

“But,” said that person, “There is one thing you must remember. Never do it more that 4 times in one day.”

“Yes, yes,” said Coyote impatiently. “Never more than four.” And the strange person went on his way.

“Now”, said Coyote, with a big grin. “Eyes, go out!” And sure enough, his eyes flew right out of his head and hung from a branch of the tallest tree. Coyote could see everything! He looked and looked, but after awhile he got a little worried and he called “Eyes, come back!” Sure enough, those eyes flew right back into Coyote's head!

“Well, That was easy,” said Coyote. “Nothing to it!” And again he called, “Eyes, go out!” and up they went to the highest branch of the tree. He looked and looked.

When he saw rabbit nibbling on some grass--way off in the distance--Coyote began to feel hungry. He called “Eyes, come back!” & back they flew & off Coyote ran to get his breakfast. After he had eaten, Coyote thought to himself, “I'm thirsty. But I'm afraid mountain lion might be waiting by the creek.” Then he thought a bit and a 3rd time he called,”Eyes, go out!” He looked and looked and there was nobody by the creek, so he called “Eyes, come back!” And ran off to drink the cool, clear water.

It was so easy. Coyote was full. After a while, he was bored. Coyote wondered what Fox & his wife were up to. A 4th time he called, “Eyes, go out!”

He looked and looked. “Ha!” Coyote chuckled, “I'll have to tease Fox about that next time I see him.” Then “Eyes, come back!” and back them came. After a while, Coyote began to wonder whether the fat prairie dogs had come out of their burrows to enjoy the morning sun. “Eyes, go out!” Coyote called. Up they flew and hung from the tree. Coyote looked and looked. Sure enough, he could see a town of unsuspecting prairie dogs, way off to the east. “Eyes, come back!” Coyote called.

Nothing happened. “Eyes, come back!” But those eyes just stayed up in the highest branch of the tree. Coyote begged, Coyote ordered, Coyote pleaded. Still, his eyes just hung there up in the tree. The sun beat down and blackened them The flies gathered and walked all over them. And Coyote couldn't see a thing.

At last, Coyote lay down and dozed a bit. Suddenly he woke to a tickle, tickle, tickle on his cheek. It was Mouse, who had come to cut some hair from that dead Coyote to line his nest. Quick as could be, Coyote opened his jaws and caught Mouse's tail between his teeth. “Help! Help!” cried Mouse. “Please let me go. I saw that you had lost your eyes, and I thought you were dead. I'm sorry.” But Coyote kept his teeth clenched together.

“Can you see my eyes up in the tree?” he asked the Mouse.

“Yes,” said Mouse. “They are all blackened and shriveled from the sun. Would you like me to climb up and bring them down to you?”

Coyote thought. If they were blackened and shriveled, would his eyes be any good? And if he let go of Mouse, would Mouse just run away?

“No,” Coyote answered. I want you to give me one of your eyes.”

Mouse thought. He thought about his wife and his children. He thought about Coyote's sharp teeth. He took out one of his bright, beady little eyes and placed it in Coyote's left eye socket. Coyote could see. Not much. Just a little. But it was better than being blind. He opened his mouth and let Mouse go.

Coyote got up and went along. But that eye was so tiny, he had to keep tilting his head so that it didn't roll out of his head. Buffalo saw Coyote staggering past and called out, “Coyote, what is wrong?”

Coyote answered, “I've lost my eyes and this Mouse eye is too small. Please give be one of yours.”

And Buffalo, whose heart is great and who loves to give, took out one of his eyes and placed it in Coyote's right eye socket. But that Buffalo eye was too big and heavy. It pulled Coyote's head down -- and then the Mouse eye began to roll out and he had to tilt his nose up to keep it in. And so.... off Coyote lurched, off into the world. 6 (10)

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Well, it's not a very satisfying story.

It doesn't have the neat “happily-ever-after” resolution that Disney has taught us to expect. And there's something else that troubles me about it. A nagging itch, like a flea behind Coyote's ear.... What is it?... It's a sense of recognition -- self-recognition --- as if I'm looking in a mirror and seeing myself and my Western Enlightenment culture.

“Eyes, go out!” We do it all the time. I think first of the unmanned military drones the U.S. is using in Afghanistan and Pakistan -- looking into neighborhoods to see who's there, then--if they think they may have spotted an enemy-- raining down death. “Eyes, Go out!” Spy satellites, radar, surveilllance cameras, telephoto lenses -- sometimes for ill, sometimes for good. I personally love the Hubble telescope and the way it peers back almost to the beginnings of the Universe. And then, at the other end of the spectrum -- microscopes, even electron microscopes that lay bare the working of things too small to imagine-- no doubt improving our medicine, for example, but also allowing us --with great Coyote-like enthusiasm & impatience--to manipulate genes and nano-particles before we've really figured out the consequences.

“Eyes, go out!”

In her book Super, [comma] Natural Christians , the theologian Sallie McFague writes about the “Arrogant Eye,” a term she has borrowed from the feminist philosopher Marilyn Frye. This is the disembodied eye of an intellect that has forgotten the body. It is an eye that stands alone, denying relationship. McFague lists some characteristics of the Arrogant Eye: “disembodied, distant, transcendent, simplifying, objectifying, quick and easy...” (p. 34) The Arrogant Eye considers only itself to be real, to be worthy of respect. Everything else exists only for its use. In Western culture, the Arrogant Eye has been dominant. The roots of this perspective are deep, fascinating, and far too complex to go into here. I'll just mention some old ideas that even now underlie popular thought: God is “way out there”; the universe operates like a machine; things can be understood only by dissecting them; the whole is no more than the sum of its parts & parts are interchangeable; the observer is completely separate from the observed; efficiency is calculated in dollars.

When we use our Arrogant Eye, what do we see?

We see mere objects, things, They are of value not in & of themselves, but of value only as they can further ou r agenda. They are the workers in sweatshops making our affordable clothes, just extensions of our machines. They are the people in China and elsewhere who are paid a pittance to sort through our electronic waste, contaminating themselves and their land with toxic materials, while we feel good about having recycled. Think of the oil hemorrhaging in the Gulf. Is it a result of our arrogant Eye, having gone out and spied an opportunity to get more of the oil we crave? “Eyes, go out!”

Largely as a result of human actions, the Earth is now in the midst of the greatest mass extinction of species since the time of the dinosaurs. Even our own human lives are threatened by our actions; but the Arrogant Eye-- whether caught out in virtual space or up in a tree-- has forgotten that the eye is a part of the body too. And bodies --mine, yours, the rock, the pine, the sea --are part of the Creation that God calls Good.

Fortunately, we can change our visions, our actions, our hearts.

The antidote to the Arrogant Eye is the Loving Eye. McFague stresses that this is not some romantic notion of self-denial or fusion with nature. Rather, the Loving Eye is one that sees Others as complex, as having needs and purposes of their own, as both inextricably related to us and utterly unique & particular--as intrinsically worthy of respect. If you don't think that Earth-others have lives of their own--lives that unfold according to their needs & patterns, not ours-- ask the deer who is eating your favorite flowers, the silt piling up behind a dam, or the violet blooming out of a crack in the sidewalk. Ask a volcano.

The Loving Eye seeks respectful relationship. In this world, that doesn't necessarily mean that the lion (who does need to eat) always lies peaceably beside the lamb (who doesn't want to be eaten). Nothing is that easy. The movements of drifting continents and weather systems have their own reasons and patterns. And it was, after all, the violent destruction of a star that created the molecules of which all living bodies are made. Living creatures do require nourishment, they need to consume -- from the inanimate world and from each other. But the essence of the Loving Eye remains -- not knee-jerk actions based on me, me, me -- but respect, relationship, and (dare I suggest?) compassion.

The writer Iris Murdoch says “Love is the extremely difficult realization that something other than oneself is real. Love...is the discovery of reality.” (p.35, McFague)

Our culture is still pervaded by the Arrogant Eye -- and therefore, in spite of our best intentions, so are we. How do we learn to practice the counter-cultural Loving Eye? Indigenous traditions have much to teach us about letting go of control and entering into profound relationship. So do modern quantum physics & cosmology! And so does our own religious tradition.

Jesus identified with and engaged with the poor, the powerless, the ones who suffer injustice and oppression. They are the ones whom Jesus healed, with whom he ate, to whom he said “ yours is the kingdom of God.” (Luke 6:20) Sallie McFague, Matthew Fox, Thomas Berry, and others have suggested that the Other-than-human world--what we usually call “Nature”-- must now be numbered among the poor and the oppressed. The plights of the human poor and the Other-than-Human are inextricably linked, for it is the same mindset, the same deformed gaze that afflicts and oppresses them both. The Gulf oil-spill, for example. threatens the whole community of life in the area. The wealthier humans will find ways to protect themselves. But the water? the plants? the animals? the soils? the laborer? the fisherman?

Jesus demonstrated that “neighbor” and “friend” are more radically inclusive concepts than his followers had ever imagined possible. Can we extend the practice of neighborliness to include ALL the others in our beautiful earthly neighborhood? When Jesus said, “Be compassionate, as God is compassionate,” I don't think he set limits on the extent of that compassion.

And I think Jesus has shown us how to make friends with these Earth neighbors we've been ignoring for so long. What did he do? He paid attention. He took time to listen, to touch and be touched, to learn names, to eat together, to share laughter and tears, to get to know the true needs of each unique individual he encountered. This was neither domination & control nor subservience or merging. It was radical engagement with the particular. We can follow his example.

Friday morning I went to a local orchard to pick strawberries I noticed how much healthier the plants seem this year, stems firm, leaves deep green. I imagined them having enjoyed the moisture of last winter's snows. The berries shone like brilliant jewels and this year the seeds were so small that the berries were almost slick to my touch. Some berries still had green tips; others were so ripe they fell off into my hand. Another picker, with great delight, held up a huge, double, heart-shaped berry to show her children. As the sun warmed the plants, the berry fragrance became heady indeed. And, of course, I felt obligated to heed the psalmist who said “Taste & see that God is good.” (34:8)

What would it be like if I could approach more interactions in this multi-sensory & grateful way?

What would the world be like if we all came back --literally-- to our senses?

Let's experiment.

Mo Nichols has beautifully adorned our worship table this morning with a glorious array of gifts from the natural world. I invite you to hold them --or others that are precious to you-- in your heart and include them in our communion this morning. And then, come up after the service and not only look, but touch and behold and honor these bits of creation.

When you came into church, you were offered a selection of natural items to take -- stones, shells, pine cones, chestnuts. During the coming days, I invite you to get to know the one you chose. Take it into your hand and into your mind and into your heart. See how it is not only a “book about God” to read for your pleasure, but --even more-- a friend to be discovered for its own sake. Just a you are not a “generic” human, but a unique individual embedded in a web of relationships, so I invite you to think of your pine cone or stone not as “generic” but as one of a kind. Where did it come from? Who has it met and what has happened on its journey so far? What is it becoming?

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I love synchronicity, coincidence -- what a friend of mine calls “God-incidence.” A couple days ago, Timmie Jones sent me something that reminded me of my favorite quote from E.B. White -- one that always seems to describe my disjointed life perfectly and that I actually included in my last Christmas letter, tacitly offering it as an excuse for my not having written all year;

“I arise in the morning torn between a desire to save the world and a desire to savor it, which makes it hard to plan the day.”    E.B. White

And suddenly I realize that “saving the world” and “savoring it” are not opposites, not at odds with each other at all.

Of course, I have to write my senators, sign petitions, use less, recycle, compost. But perhaps the most important gift I can give to this beautiful Earth is to call “Eyes, come back!” I want to call my arrogant, distancing eyes to come back into my fully physical, relational body.

I think it is possible.

I think it is time. Time to gently join hands with both Human others & Earth others, and step back --consciously & compassionately--into the place where we are already standing: into the midst of this diverse & dynamic Universe, this Blessed Circle of Being, this Circle of God's Love.

SOURCES:

Lopez, Barry, Giving Birth to Thunder, Sleeping with His Daughter: Coyote Builds North America (New York: Avon Books, 1977).

McFague, Sallie Super, Natural Christians (Minneapolis: Fortress Press, 1997).

Margery Knott

May 2, 2010

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