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Tag: Rene Girard

Anthropology/Christianity/Culture/Freedom/Love/Mercy/Spirituality

Our felix culpa – happy fault

Posted on November 28, 2013 by stephen t berg / 8 Comments

For over a decade he sat watching poplar trees through a front window. And for seven of those years he was part of a little gathering that met each Wednesday—se...

Anthropology/Atonement/Christianity/Contemplation/Culture/Mercy/Politics/Religion/Spirituality/Violence/Writing

1000 Grow Mercy dispatches

Posted on October 30, 2013 by stephen t berg / 8 Comments

When a blog reaches 1000 posts, it’s time to take stock. Grow Mercy was, is, an experiment. In a way it began through the power of a sentence, in the context of...

Anthropology/Christianity/Mercy/Religion/Violence

The first human—in the beginning was the word

Posted on April 15, 2013 by stephen t berg / 4 Comments

It is of course the case that the posts one thinks about at length, beats one’s head with, are those that are of the least interest to most people. Nevertheless...

Atonement/Christianity/Spirituality/Violence

Visible victim decontructs myth

Posted on March 29, 2008 by stephen t berg / 7 Comments

Here's a link to my article in today's Edmonton Journal. The article is a reflection of my (attempted) Easter poem. Icon of the crucifi...

Over the coming months, I’ll be slowly retiring Grow Mercy. This Easter marks 20 years and some 1500 posts. (And here, a deep bow to you, for reading and/or responding.) I’ll not, however, be retiring the impulse behind Grow Mercy, but will be shifting, exploring, following a hybridized urge, and a genre to suit. For me, what these decades have increasingly revealed is how writing is a spiritual path. Now, for whatever time and energy remains for me, I’ll be tilting more toward The Ragged Psalmist, still inchoate, but the handle feels like it fits. I do hope you’ll subscribe.

Why — The Ragged Psalmist?

Because some stubborn ember, still warm, compels me to write some cobbled songs — praise and lament, cries and sighs — and sound them back to the sacred Mystery.

To throw a wrench into a world geared up for business; to resist the moneychangers in their corporate temples — because poetry is political, and light is its administrative wing.

Because old lies and old words screw us over and must be remade to tell the truth; because our glossary of mockery needs burial, and the lexicon that’s left needs anointing.

To strive to honour the life of a sparrow; attend the spell of a dead star — whose light we still see; to feel, down to the bone, the quantum foam, we all flail in.

To thicken compassion and thin out aggression; to oppose injustice and hate in a way that excludes no one, not even the hater.

To let failure, discouragement, suffering and perishing have their say, without any spoon of bromide; to let joy, delight, and beauty come as they may.

To penetrate darkness and delusion — and so discover all this love in us.

Because mindfulness and mercy need constant oxygen.

Because in the time that’s left I want to tattoo the implications of our “forgiving victim” on the body suit of my heart.

Because reality points to unity — and we must hurry to catch up.

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