Yesterday, I ran across two friends I have not seen in awhile. With one, I stopped and talked. While we touched of the difficulties of this time, in reality we spoke more of the encouragement that beauty and friendship can bring. With the other, A Book of Psalms by Stephen Mitchell, I gratefully perused its pages over a bowl of soup. A very good day.
Psalm 1
Blessed are the man and the woman
who have grown beyond greed
and have put an end to their hatred
and no longer nourish illusions.
But they delight in the way things are
and keep their hearts open, day and night.
They are like trees planted near flowing rivers,
which bear fruit when they are ready.
Their leaves will not fall or wither.
Everything they do will succeed.
The Psalms speak as poetry and prayer. Some of them are very good poems. But as prayer, even the greatest poems are inadequate. Pure prayer begins at the threshold of silence. It says nothing, asks for nothing. It is a kind of listening. The deeper the listening, the less we listen for, until silence itself becomes the voice of God.
- Stephen Mitchell
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