The Hound of Heaven

Hound of Heaven

“The name is strange. It startles one at first. It is bold, new, and fearless. It does not attract, but rather the reverse. But when one reads the poem, this strangeness disappears. The meaning is understood.”—J. F. X. O’Connor, S. J., in A Study of Francis Thompson’s Hound of Heaven (John Lane Company, 1912), p. 7.

Once a week, I meet with friends who share how God works in their lives. I attend this meeting on Saturday morning because I believe in miracles, which are always affirmed by what I hear and see. These are people once caught in addiction who thought there was no way out—but somehow, through the grace of God and with the help of community, found a new life. I give up my Saturday morning to meet with people I have seen for years and others I have never met. There are people from all walks of life, many of whom I would not have known otherwise.

People often talk about when they realized there might be a way out of their old lifestyle. They call it a moment of clarity. Many were desperate. Some knew this was not the path they would ever choose, but there they were.

They were all initially uncomfortable when they came to the group for help. I attended this 12-step group for the first time around Thanksgiving. I can remember seeing posters about a Thanksgiving potluck. I remember thinking, I don’t enjoy being here, and goodness knows I don’t want to eat with these people either! Today, over thirty years later, most of the people I go out to eat with are those I met through this community!

Many talk about how they did not understand what gave them the courage to attend this meeting. Story after story reveals that there is something greater than all of us—caring, loving us, and calling us to become the persons we were created to be. I also observe this phenomenon in individuals seeking spiritual direction. Something is calling us out of our God hole—the God, the Christ within us, who, deep down inside our being, makes us aware that we are unconditionally loved.

In 1893, Francis Thompson wrote a 182-line poem about his experience of being “hounded” by God, which he titled The Hound of Heaven. I could not have given a better description.

Another reader, Don Follis, reminds us about his experience with The Hound of Heaven.

“The Hound of Heaven is relentless, patient, tenacious, and, thank God, good!”

Don also sent a quote from C.S. Lewis’ The Lion, the Witch, and the Wardrobe.

“Aslan is a lion—the Lion, the great Lion.” “Ooh,” said Susan. “I’d thought he was a man. Is he quite safe? I shall feel rather nervous about meeting a lion.” “Safe?” said Mr. Beaver, “Who said anything about safe? Course he isn’t safe. But he’s good. He’s the King, I tell you.” 

Joanna. https://www.joannaseibert.com/

There is a 12-step Eucharist at St. Mark’s at 5:30 in the chapel every first Wednesday of the month.

Snow on Our Tulips

 America the Beautiful

“America! America! God mend thine every flaw,

confirm thy soul in self-control, thy liberty in law.”

—Katherine Lee Bates

Sometimes we have a patriotic hymn sing-along at church before major holidays such as the Fourth of July. One of my favorites is the music of Katherine Lee Bates’s poem, “America the Beautiful.” “O beautiful for spacious skies, for amber waves of grain.” Bates wrote the hymn after she arrived in a prairie wagon on top of the 14,000-foot Pike’s Peak near Colorado Springs in the summer of 1893.

I connected to the poem and the hymn when I helped plan a pediatric radiology meeting at nearby Colorado Springs in 1994. I took a six-month sabbatical from Children’s Hospital to prepare for the international pediatric radiology meeting. I had much help from people all over the world, but I also had a touch of what Parker Palmer calls “functional atheism,” believing I was the “only” one who needed to get most of the work done.

After a year of planning, everything was finally ready. I vividly remember sitting in a board meeting in May at the event hotel just before the conference began. I looked out of the adjacent wide bay window and observed, to my horror, the beginning of the last winter snow in May! I had planned in detail a multitude of outdoor activities that would now never see the light of day. I now keep a beautiful picture of snow on the tulips in front of the hotel to remind me how little I can control in life.

There were a multitude of other hiccups. We recorded speakers for a video of the meeting. One speaker did not like his recording and required us to redo his filming at least five times. I will always be indebted to Marilyn Goske, whom I had casually asked to watch over the video of the speakers. She patiently stayed with the speakers and missed the entire meeting to complete this task.

Another hiccup was our evening entertainment after dinner. We had scheduled the Air Force Academy Cadet Choir. Then, without warning, they were called to maneuvers. Our meeting planner booked a local children’s chorus. I worried this would be amateurish and poorly performed. But, as you might expect, they were the most charming, talented, and poised children performers I have ever seen. They ended their concert by going to individual members of the highly educated, sophisticated audience, holding their hands, and singing directly to them. We all gave them a standing ovation through our tears, remembering that the children we serve as physicians can teach us so much about life and the beauty of America, as expressed in “America the Beautiful.”

Another lagniappe at the meeting. Two pediatric radiologists, who lived on different continents apart, decided to get married at the meeting. Overnight, our meeting planning arranged a beautiful ceremony for them. To date, there has never been another wedding at that annual meeting!

I also learned from this meeting that, no matter how hard I try, I am not in charge, and that God provides me with fantastic people around me who will take over overwhelming situations. I especially learned at the dinner that when a door unexpectedly closes, the next door that opens is often surprisingly magnificent.

Joanna https://www.joannaseibert.com/

Lessons from Pickett's Brigade Reunion

 Lessons from Pickett’s Brigade Reunion

“And who is my neighbor?”—Luke 10:29.

Ken Burns’ television series on the Civil War describes a remarkable scene on the fiftieth anniversary of the Battle of Gettysburg, July 3, 1913, when the remainder of the two armies stages a reenactment of Pickett’s Charge. The old Union veterans on the ridge take their places among the rocks, and the old Confederate veterans march toward them across the field below—and then something extraordinary happens. As the older men among the rocks rush down at the older men coming across the field, a great cry goes up—except that instead of doing battle, as they had a century earlier, this time, they throw their arms around each other and embrace and openly weep.

In 1914, during World War I, German, British, Belgian, and French troops in the trenches along the Western Front mingled with each other during a brief Christmas truce, even singing “Silent Night” and other carols in solidarity. Recently, we have observed something similar at World War II memorials, such as Normandy, where German, English, French, and American soldiers have wept together and shared their stories. We have also seen it when American soldiers return to Vietnam to share stories with those they once bitterly fought against.

This repeated action of shared love and story can tell us something about war. So many who have fought on foreign fields can be our strongest advocates against war. They know what they—and those who once were their enemies—have lost. They share a common life-altering experience that only someone who has been through it can truly understand.

Those in recovery of any kind also know how awful their life of obsession was before their healing from addictions to alcohol, drugs, sex, food, etc. They can relate to those who remain trapped in their addiction. Most of all, they can minister to those still suffering and offer hope that their lives can be different. They do this by sharing the story of their life in addiction, contrasted to what it is like now in recovery.

Those who have overcome mental illness can become advocates for others who suffer from this common disease. People who were once homeless can offer restorative hope to those on the street. Cancer survivors can encourage and pray for others who have been recently diagnosed, giving them strength and support.

This story goes on and on and on. We are healed as we reach out of ourselves, share our stories, and listen to sufferers in situations we know all too well. We realize “who IS our neighbor.”

Some call this becoming wounded healers.

Joanna. https://www.joannaseibert.com/