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The 37th prayer listed “for special occasions” in the Catholic Sacramentary, the official Catholic worship book, is the prayer “to avert storms.” The text reads:
Father, all the elements of nature obey your command. Calm the storm that threatens us and turn our fear of your power into praise of your goodness.
When floodwaters converged on Iowa City in early June, Fr. Jeff Belger, director of the Catholic Student Center, said he started to say the prayer at daily Masses. “It was the first time in five years as a priest that I’ve had to use that prayer.”
I’m sure some people are saying it now, as Tropical Storm Fay approaches the Florida Keys. I am glad to know it, and will have it at hand, in my home out on the East End of Long Island once hurricane season gets underway.
Weather-related prayers – for rain in time of drought or protection from violent storms – are based on a concept of God as the one who controls nature. In many cultures, including our own, people expect priests and religious leaders to petition God for favorable weather, a good harvest, a safe voyage through the storm.
Some might say these prayers in times of terror and stress originate from the child within us. But a very famous scene in the Gospels – Christ rebuking the wind and calming the sea (Mark 4:37-41) - reinforces the belief God will intervene to save us, our loved ones and neighbors, our pets and property as the storm descends in fury.
If not, then to give us the strength to face what we must, and adapt with courage to the circumstances we are given, and trust that, whatever happens, we are always in God’s hands. 
As the sun rises, a slight, gray-haired woman emerges onto the worn plank porch of her house and pours a glass of water out onto the sandy soil, lifts the cup to the sun, then drinks the rest of it.
In this daily ritual, artist Meinrad Craighead rebaptizes herself, making a short prayer to God as Mother: “You have given me life. This is my daily prayer. You’re going to take care of me.”
Her work portrays in vivid color both an active visual dialogue with God and a keen sense of the brooding, watching, beckoning power she finds in the land around her, in the sky above, the earth below, in the animals, in our dreams.
Her first real religious experience, at age 7, was not in church but in nature, with her dog, she said. She had retreated from the heat of a summer day to the shade of some hydrangea bushes. Under the flowers’ blue dome, she found herself gazing into her dog’s eyes. “They were as deep, as bewildering, as unattainable as a night sky,” she said of the eyes, and as she stared she felt a rush of water coming from deep within her. 
“I listened to the sound of water inside, saw a woman’s face, and understood: This is God. Soon after this I came upon a photo in a book of a statue of a woman. The recognition was immediate, certain: I knew this was the woman I’d heard inthe water and whose face I had seen in the dog’s eyes. This discovery brought a sense of well-being and gratitude, which has never diminished. Because she was a living force within me, she was more real, more powerful than the remote ‘Father’ I was educated to have faith in.”
“God the Mother came to me and, as children will do, I kept her a secret. We hid together inside the structures of institutional Catholicism. Through half a lifetime of Catholic liturgies, during my school years, in my professional work as an educator, for 14 years in a monastery, she lived at my innermost center, the groundsill of my spirituality.” 
Read the whole, glorious article, Art and Spirituality: In the name of the mother, by Richard Heffern here.
Benedict XVI will be praying this month that all may be more aware of the gift of creation.
The Apostleship of Prayer announced the August intention chosen by the Pope: “That the human family may know how to respect God’s design for the world and thus become ever more aware of the great gift of God which Creation represents for us.” 
Nicknamed “the Pope’s own prayer group,” since the 19th century popes have asked the Apostleship of Prayer to pray for specific intentions each month. Members pledge to pray for them every day.
I had never heard of the Apostleship of Prayer before finding them on Google yesterday. After reading their mission statement, and reading the August reflection for the environement, I joined. I was pleased to see the Prayer for the Month is St. Francis’ Canticle of the Sun, the prayer of this blog.
Their mission is straightforward: “Whatever your walk of life, the Apostleship of Prayer offers you a simple, profound way to live it. We ask you to pray every day for the good of the whole world. That’s our whole mission. We believe prayer is the way to hasten the Kingdom of God on earth. Even if we don’t understand how it works, prayer itself changes things for the better. We also know that those who pray open themselves to loving service of others.”
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“After a few hours of sweating with dirt all over me and insects buzzing around the upper half of my body, I may begin to get a sense of being in tune with nature.”
“It’s at these moments where I take note of a worm that is maneuvering its way out of the dirt or a butterfly that lands silently on a bush next to me.”
“With subtlety and a total lack of self consciousness, I come out of myself, look around, marvel at the majesty of what I am experiencing and begin to take note that I have entered some type of altered state of consciousness.”
Read the whole article here.
Fran Sorin is recognized as one of America’s leading gardening experts. 
The Celtic Wheel of the Year is a book of new and original prayers by Tess Ward and published by O Books. It intertwines the two strands of Celtic Christian and Celtic pre-Christian traditions in a single pattern of prayer. 
Tess Ward was a psychiatric nurse and is now an Anglican priest and spiritual director and counselor. She has been a chaplain at an arts center, alternative worship leader, leads retreats and spirituality groups, and has been “road testing” her prayers for eight years. She lives in Oxford, England, where she is now a hospital chaplain.
Celtic Christians valued the natural environment for its own sake. They valued times of quiet in solitary and often wild places, where they could read Scripture, meditate and pray.
Because they lived close to the natural environment, it is not surprising that Celtic Christians discovered the immanence of God. Their poetry often echoes those Psalms which speak of God in nature (Ps. 19, 89, 98) suggesting a similar spiritual process at work.
The following extract of a poem in the Celtic psaltery is attributed to St. Columba in Iona:
“Delightful it is to stand on the peak of a rock, in the bosom of the isle, gazing on the face of the sea.
I hear the heaving waves chanting a tune to God in heaven; I see their glittering surf.
I see the golden beaches, their sands sparkling; I hear the joyous shrieks of the swooping gulls.
I hear the waves breaking, crashing on the rocks, like thunder in heaven. I see the mighty whales…
Contrition fills my heart as I hear the sea; it chants my sins, sins too numerous to confess.
Let me bless almighty God, whose power extends over the sea and land, whose angels watch over all.
Let me study sacred books to calm my soul; I pray for peace, kneeling at heaven’s gates.
Let me do my daily work, gathering seaweed, catching fish, giving food to the poor.”
“Therefore, neither he that planteth is any thing, nor he that watereth; but God that giveth the increase.”
The writer had evangelizing on his mind with this line, but I thought about my garden. I lovingly covered up the roots with soil; I water the plants thoroughly, even refreshing the leaves; I admire them from close and afar, I glory in their color and wildness.
But it is God who infuses them with life. 
I came across this interesting article about Rabbi Jami Korngold in yesterday’s Daily News.
As the founder of the Adventure Rabbi program in 2001, she has become nationally known for her pioneering work integrating spirituality and the outdoors. Rabbi Korngold lives in Boulder, Colorado with her husband and two daughters.
She was in New York last week to lead a group of 20 souls through the wilderness of Central Park. “For me, walking into Central Park is like walking into the Sabbath,” she said. “But you have to be aware of it and have to create a spiritual place.”
Rabbi Jami Korngold has always loved the outdoors, the place where humankind first met with God. Whether it’s mountaineering, running altramarathons or just sitting by a stream, she finds her spirituality and Judaism thrive most in the wilderness.
In her work leading individuals and groups toward spiritual fulfillment in the outdoors, Rabbi Korngold has uncovered the rich traditions and lessons God taught our ancestors in the wild. In her new book, God in the Wilderness, she shows people that despite the hectic pace of life today, it is vital for us to reclaim these lessons.
I think she is doing great work reminding people of the connection of God and nature in their lives, and awakening that whole part of them. I know her example would have appealed to me as a teenager, college student, and even now, as a person who feels the closest and most in awe of God in nature.
I hope she has a Catholic counterpart!
This month I went with 24 other members of my parish on a week’s pilgrimage, “Ireland – Faith & History.” We generally followed in the footsteps of St. Patrick, a patron saint of Ireland. This former slave fled and then returned to bring Christianity to the fabled isle. He was captured by raiders sent by one of my ancestors, Niall of the Nine Hostages.
Their second patron saint, in whose steps we criss-crossed, is St. Brigid. She was the daughter of a Christian slave and an Irish chieftain. Brigid defied her father by refusing to marry, and instead trooped off with a pack of female friends to live together as a religious community. By accident (or not) she was reputedly ordained as a bishop. St. Brigid is associated with fire and milk – no doubt from her time spent in fosterage with a druid priestess.
Both Patrick and Brigid are associated with holy wells. We had Mass at one of them – Tobernalt Well – near Sligo. This hillside site is just off a small road into the woods. Over time this site has become a sacred grove, with banks of votive candles flickering on the pathways above the well. The effect is enchanting; a blend of natural and Christian divine energy.
The healing stone in the center of the grove has been used as an altar for centuries; perhaps millenniums. It is located just below the well itself. It has a depression at one end where you can rest your back for back pain. On top of the stone are four indentations, said to have been left by St. Patrick’s fingers. If you rest your fingers there, some of the saint’s power is transferred to you.
I walked down the several steps into the well and dipped my hand in the water to bless myself. A clear, pure stream rushes from the source. There is a tradition that the well contains a sacred trout. I believe it – the water is cold enough to support trout.
Fr. Tom began the Mass by reminding us the site was used by Catholics to practice their faith in secret when the area was under the domination of protestant overlords. We need to remember the persecution they endured, their struggle and sacrifice, and never take the practice of our faith for granted. Today, this means standing firm instead of worrying that in some circles our faith might be considered a bit…uncool. (You actually attend Mass? Really?)
I love having Mass outdoors. Sensing the presence of God in all the elements, I fully understand why the Greeks had their temples open to the sky.
The Communion of Saints felt real under the canopy of trees. We stood with all the people who ever came to this sacred place to worship. Several local people who had come to the well joined our group at Mass. They included an elderly man who pushed his wife in a wheelchair up the stony path; a mother holding a baby and chasing a youngster who delighted in skipping around the shrine; a middle-aged woman and her dog, and two young men who knelt to light candles.
After Mass was over I followed the stream to see if I could see the sacred trout. I didn’t find it, but I’m sure it was there, waving its tail slowly in some shadow.
Earth Hour started with a question: How can we inspire people to take action on climate change? The answer: Ask the people of Sydney, Australia to turn off their lights for one hour.
On March 31, 2007, 2.2 million people and 2100 businesses in Sydney turned off their lights for one hour – Earth Hour. If the greenhouse reduction achieved in Sydney during Earth Hour was sustained for one year, it would be equivalent to taking 48,616 cars off the road for a year.
Earth Hour founder, Andy Ridley, said 371 cities and towns from Australia to Canada–35 countries in all–had signed up for the 60-minute shutdown at 8 pm on March 29, 2008.
Ridley, who began Earth Hour last year while working with WWF Australia, said the initiative was about individuals and global communities joining together to own a shared problem – climate change.
Cities officially signed on include Chicago, San Francisco, Dublin, Manila, Bangkok, Copenhagen and Toronto, all of which will switch off lights on major landmarks and encourage businesses and homeowners to follow suit.
“Switching off the lights for an hour is not going to make a dent in global emissions,” said WWF organizer, Charles Stevens. “But what it does do is it is a great catalyst for much bigger changes. It engages people in the processes of becoming more energy efficient.”
Catholics in Toronto who wish to express their love of Earth liturgically will have a chance on March 29th when St. Basil’s Church holds “Earth Hour” vespers.
St. Basil’s, located at Bay and St. Joseph Streets, will mark the occasion with candlelight vespers from 8 to 9 pm. The prayers and readings for the service will focus on creation and the Christian responsibility to be good stewards.
