Reflection

(Reflection, by S.P. Bailey)

Origin Story

I wanted to respond to questions on how Owl of the Desert came to be. 

So this is an origin story. 

I remember the moment well.  I wasn't bitten by a radioactive spider or exposed to gamma radiation.  Rather, it happened one afternoon as I surfed the internet in my office.  

It was September 12, 2018.  I was a partner at a law firm at the time and had started to decompress after a stressful day, drinking an ice cold Mountain Dew and snacking on some chocolate covered almonds from Costco.  

While in this double-caffeinated trance, my soul hungered.  

​Browsing books on Amazon, I came across Fire in the Pasture: 21st Century Mormon Poets.

I clicked on the "Look Inside" link and began reading some of the poems.  One of the poems in the collection was by S.P. Bailey called "Prayer."  With his permission, I share it here:

Prayer
by S.P. Bailey

It was picture day. Me: a first grader. I was all ready.
Hair combed. Shirt tucked in tight. Tie clipped on.                                                          
Mom’s orders were clear:
no getting dirty or messing up my hair,
no riding my bike,
no playing in the sandpile,
no playing outside at all.
Those were all the things, especially being forbidden,
I needed to do that day.
I had already learned about the spirit of the law;
how it lets us forget the inconvenient parts
and mostly obey.
So I went to the playhouse, a shed in the back yard,
furnished with a child-sized pantry, table, chair.
It began to rain consequences:
the things you don’t plan for, but choose.
Afraid, hair and clothes already soaked in my mind,
I said a prayer.
Not a rain prayer I had heard before, not the asking or
thanking of desert people for "moisture."
It was the prayer now most familiar to me:
Let me not bear the bad thing I deserve.
The rain stopped. It stopped abruptly.
The thought ‘coincidence’ might have occurred to an adult,
logical, sterile-minded.
That adult might have offered tepid thanks:
"If You did that for me, I am grateful,"
as a scientific explanation fretted in the mind’s back room.
Not me. I knew I had seen the finger of the Lord.
Despite all those farmers’ pleas—for me—He stopped that deluge.
I walked across the back yard and inside.
My eyes: small stones burned by that revelation.

As I read those words, I felt the stirrings of the Spirit.  When I came to the line:

   not the asking or
   thanking of desert people for "moisture"

I poured out my heart in prayer.

And out of that experience I began writing these poems.

Rulers of Sodom

The first poem I wrote was Rulers of Sodom.  The title was taken from Isaiah chapter 1.

   Hear the word of the Lord,
   ye rulers of Sodom;
   give ear unto the law
   of our God, ye people
   of Gomorrah.

(Isaiah 1:10)

I wanted to evoke the feelings of defeat and helplessness we feel in the face of the law, in the face of judgment and self-righteousness.

In the stanza where I paraphrase Isaiah 1:11, I wanted to represent the futility of our "vain oblations" following the letter of the law, which Paul said "killeth" our souls (2 Cor. 3:6).

We find a fascinating statement in Isaiah 1:12:

כִּי תָבֹאוּ לֵרָאוֹת פָּנָי מִי־בִקֵּשׁ זֹאת מִיֶּדְכֶם רְמֹס חֲצֵרָי ׃

   When ye come to appear before me,
   who hath required this at your hand,
   to tread my courts?

Here the Lord is comparing us to dumb animal sacrifices, fouling his sacred ground, going about performing our religious duties without love, without life. 

I gained this insight from Avraham Gileadi, who wrote, "Instead of going to see Jehovah, his people resemble the dumb animals that were anciently brought for sacrifice, which were unaware of their reason for being there. Instead of making an offering of their whole souls to God—as symbolized by the burnt offerings and shedding of the animals’ blood—his people trudge about the temple’s courts defiling it."

(Isaiah Explained,    http://www.isaiahexplained.com/1#one_col​)

The climax of the poem ends with a reference to Malachi's promise:  

   He shall purify the sons of Levi,
   and purge them as gold
   and silver, that they may offer
   unto the Lord an offering
   in righteousness.

(Malachi 3:3)

But I wanted to give an unexpected twist at the end to capture the spirit of priestcraft.  The 450 prophets which Elijah fought and defeated on Mt. Carmel answer Malachi's question: 

Sons of Levi, what makes an offering
righteous? I do not turn, but hear
the whirring of a swarming cloud:
the fervor of four hundred and fifty prophets
praying:
       
          O Baal,
          hear
          us.

Rulers of Sodom​

The Levite frowns at my offering:
Blemish, he says.  I see none, but
can you disagree with his authority? It is woven
into the linen veil of the temple mount.

His hand waves me away, rejecting
what I have chosen for slaughter.
Bleating, I am helpless as a beast watching
the eternal flame flicker upon the altar.

Wordlessly I lead my lamb
a stone’s throw away from the mercy seat:
my beloved blushes as I search 
for the spot perceived by the priest.

My fingers find no burr within the wool,
no broken bones.  The only defect is
my imperfect faith in the correctness
of the Levite’s choice.
          
The priest retreats into the sweet smoke
and frankincense he calls duty.  Secretly
I wonder, Can ground be hallowed
in the shadow of a broken law?
          
Come, see now the mount with holy sight:
its inner court obscenely varicose
with congealed fat. I delight
no more in the blood of bullocks.
            
My first fruits leads me beyond the wall.
Clean nor common are we, unburnt
after all the weary miles traveled
from Jericho.

Sons of Levi, what makes an offering
righteous? I do not turn, but hear
the whirring of a swarming cloud:
the fervor of four hundred and fifty prophets
praying:
       
          O Baal,
          hear
          us.

Reflection

It turns out S.P. Bailey is an artist as well as poet. 

His watercolor, above, Reflection, reminds me of Christ, who stands in the middle, at the center, uniting earth and heaven, man and God, the firmament above and the deep below.

It also makes me think of how each of us is like one of those little rectangles, standing together, reflecting God's vision as we work to create heaven on earth.

Of Good Report

I believe all of us have gifts from God that we can use to glorify his name and to strengthen each other.  Let's be creative: let's create something beautiful together.

   We believe all things,
   we hope all things,
   we have endured
   many things, and hope
   to be able to endure
   all things.  

   If there is anything 
   virtuous, lovely,
   or of good report
   or praiseworthy,
   we seek after 
   these things.

(Article of Faith 13)