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IN THE STAINED GLASS PRESENCE
OF GRATITUDE & GRACE

Scientists say that Galaxy M31
is “a place of miracles”, two hundred thousand light years wide
and one hundred thousand light years high!
They say the Rose Galaxies, ARP 237, are a different kind of 
miracle – the shape of the flower slowly evolving as a smaller galaxy
is gradually lengthened by the swirling forces of a much larger
galaxy it is currently passing through 
To the mind that is human, flawed as it is, nothing can come from nothing,
and nothing in a universe perpetually engaged in evolution, transition,
metamorphosis and decay is ever reduced to a state of material extinction!
So let us accept that in the beginning it was “God” that created the heavens
and the earth – a big bang gesture launching all manner of geology and gasses,
of fires and ices, the physics of gravity, the chemistries of hydrogen, oxygen
and volatile life perpetually expanding with the velocity of light; the circular
kinetics of rotation and orbit, the pyro-dynamics of black hole and star birth
and galactic extension; explosive, intriguing, provocative  displays from
an enigmatic essence impossible to ignore!
Was it an arrogant maneuver in a minute of pique? A nervous reaction to the
oppressive silence of the empty and the vast? Perhaps a simple attempt to make
a moment more interesting that got more exciting the more it got out of hand?
And here we all are on a small blue planet, whirling and wobbling, unworthy and
wealthy, fighting the seductions of righteous entitlement and the frightening
complexities of our sentient and self-conscious lives, struggling to become the
responsible stewards of a sacred anomaly, a Gaian intelligence that allows us to be, 
and be aware that we are, if for only a moment, in an exquisitely intricate
manifestation of “God” – not the Abrahamic “God”, whose scriptural domains
are the Judean, the Sinai, the Arabian deserts, the well-guarded routes toward
heaven and hell, the rigid regimes of rituals and rules, and the demeaning
demands for worship or worse, but a different divinity, an infinite, eternal, 
transcendent existence whose awesome theatrics and silent poetics are the
essence and soul of all that there is, who simultaneously, somehow, without
Tanakh or Torah, Bible or Koran, is the “God” of my wants, the “God” of
my needs, the stained glass presence of morning and evening and morning again
and the gratitude and grace they inspire!
It is the source of my wonder, the source of my awe, 
the One who in quietly calling my name says
“Be still and know that I am!”
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