S3 Ep3 Devotion

Network Sting: MSW Media

Martin: Hello and welcome to the third season of the Martin Sheen Podcast with yours truly, Martin Sheen, of course. And I’m delighted to be back hosting this podcast pilgrimage where the destination is still and always will be the journey itself. Along the way, I plan to share stories and personal memories of some of the many people, places and events that have helped to shape my lifelong happy and continuing struggle as an artist and a man to unite the will of the spirit with the work of the flesh. I also hope to explore poetry as a powerful form of expression and communication by proxy, as it were, and how poetry is such a vital and necessary component of our spirituality and our public discourse. And from time to time, I’ll invite friends, fellow actors, poets, scholars and family members to join our pilgrimage and discuss what inspires their artistic journey. And so, friends, let us continue.

Martin: In February 1968, during the ongoing Tet offensive, the North Vietnamese government, in a goodwill gesture invited American peace activists Father Daniel Berrigan and Howard Zen to Hanoi to retrieve three American POW pilots and return them safely to the US which they gladly did at great personal risk. The first night of their peace mission in Hanoi was spent in a bomb shelter and during an American B29 bombing raid.

But Daniel Berrigan’s commitment to nonviolent peacemaking to end the war at great personal risk was displayed once again just a few months later when he and his brother Philip, both Catholic priests, along with seven other peace activists, engaged in a daring nonviolent action against the war by entering the federal draft board headquarters in Catonsville, Maryland in broad daylight, where they gathered as many draft card files as they could carry out into the parking lot and burned them with homemade napalm. This unprecedented action caused an uproar even in the peace movement and the so-called Catonsville nine were facing years in federal prison when Daniel wrote the following in his book Night Flight to Hanoi, explaining the group’s extraordinary action : Our apologies, good friends, for the fracture of good order, the burning of paper instead of children, the angering of the orderlies in the front parlor of the charnel house. We could not, so help us God, do otherwise. We say killing is disorder. Life and gentleness and community and unselfishness is the only order we recognize. For the sake of that order, we risk our liberty, our good name. The time has passed when good people can remain silent, when obedience can segregate people from public risk, when the poor can die without defense. We ask our fellow Christians to consider in their hearts a question that has tortured us night and day since the war began: How many must die before our voices are heard? How many must be tortured, dislocated, starved, maddened? How long must the world’s resources be raped in the service of legalized murder? When and at what point will you say no to this war?

Father Daniel Berrigan was an American Jesuit, as well as an author, teacher, peace activist and poet. He was also a dear friend and mentor. He was born in Virginia, Minnesota, on May 9, 1921. He was raised in Syracuse, New York, and he was ordained in 1951. He died April 30, 2016, in New York City. Dan Berrigan was 96 years old.

Martin: Zen poem by Daniel Barrigan.

How I long for supernatural powers, said the novice mournfully to the Holy One. I see a dead child, and I long to say arise. I see a sick man, I long to say be healed. I see a bent old woman. I long to say walk straight. Alas, I feel like a dead stick in paradise. Master, can you confer on me supernatural powers? The old man shook his head fretfully. How long have I been with you and you know nothing? How long have you known me and learned nothing? Listen. I have walked the earth for 80 years. I have never raised a dead child. I have never healed a sick man. I have never straightened an old woman’s spine. Children die, men grow sick. The aged fall under a stigma of frost. And what is that to you or me but a turn of the wheel, but the way of the world. But the gateway to paradise? Supernatural powers. Then you would play God, Would spin the thread of life and measure the thread for 5 years, 50 years, 80 years and cut the thread? Supernatural powers. I have wandered the earth for 80 years. I confess to you, sprout without root, root without flower. I know nothing of supernatural powers. I have yet to perfect my natural powers. To see and not be seduced. To hear and not be deafened. To taste and not be eaten. To touch and not be bought. But you, would you walk on water? Would you master the air? Would you swallow fire? Go talk with the dolphins. They will teach you glibly how to grow gills. Go listen to eagles. They will hatch you, nest you, Eaglet and airmen. Go join the circus. Those tricksters will train you in deception for dimes. Birdman, Batman, Poor fish sprouting fire, moon crawling at sea forever. Supernatural powers. Do you seek miracles? Listen. Go draw water, hew wood, break stones. How miraculous. Listen, blessed is the one who walks the earth five years, fifty years, eighty years. And deceives no one and curses no one and kills no one. On such a one the angels whisper in wonder, behold the irresistible power of natural powers, of height, of joy, of soul, of non-belittling. You dry stick in the crude soil of this world. Spring root, leaf, flower, trace around and around and around an inch, a mile, the world’s green extent, a liberated zone of paradise.

Martin: We’re gonna take a little break here, but I assure you there’s much more to come. Stay tuned.

Martin: Welcome back.

Martin: Consider This the prayer of St. Francis.

Lord, make me an instrument of your peace. Where there is hatred, let me sow love. Where there is injury, pardon. Where there is doubt, faith. Where there is despair, hope. Where there is darkness, light. Where there is sadness, joy. O divine master, grant that I may not so much seek to be consoled as to console, to be understood as to understand, to be loved as to love. For it is in giving that we receive, it is in pardoning that we are pardoned, and it is in dying that we are born to eternal life.

Martin: The following is a selection from the book Blessed Among Us by Robert Ellsberg. The book is filled with daily reflections that explore the lives of saints as well as ordinary men and women with extraordinary stories of courage and spiritual awakening.

Dorothy Stang. On The morning of February 12, 2005, Sister Dorothy Stang, an American born missionary nun who had spent 40 years in Brazil, set off for a meeting of landless farmers. Along the muddy trail, her way was blocked by two hired gunmen who asked whether she carried any weapon. In reply, she produced her Bible and began to read the Beatitudes. Blessed are the poor in spirit, blessed are the peacemakers. And then they shot her.

Sister Dorothy was born in Dayton, Ohio, joined the Sisters of Notre Dame out of high school and volunteered in 1966 to work in Brazil. Eventually, she was drawn to the remote regions of the Amazon jungle and the cause of poor farmers who were exploited and robbed by rich loggers and cattle barons. She had come to see the connections between defending the rights of the poor and protecting the ecological balance of the rainforest itself. Well into her 70s, she trudged through the mud and thick forest to attend prayer services and labor meetings. Her efforts on behalf of the farmers and the imperiled rainforest marked her as an enemy by those who hired her assassins. Her death aroused the government of Brazil as well as the whole world to the cause of ecology and justice for which she offered her life. Her quote, I light a candle and look at Jesus on the cross and ask for the strength to carry the sufferings of the people. Don’t worry about my safety. The safety of the people is what’s important. Sister Dorothy Stang was 74 years old.

Robert Ellsberg is an American publisher specializing in religious and spiritual exploration. He is editor in chief and publisher of Orbis Books. He lives and works in upstate New York with his wife.

Martin: Now here Chimes by Henry Wadsworth Longfellow

Sweet chimes that in the loneliness of night salute the passing hour, and in the dark and silent chambers of the household mark the movements of the myriad orbs of light. Through my closed eyelids, by the inner sight, I see the constellations in the arc of their great circles moving on and hark, I almost hear them singing in their flight. Better than sleep it is to lie awake o’ er canopied by the vast starry dome of the immeasurable sky, to feel the slumbering world sink under us and make hardly an eddy, a mere rush of foam on the great sea beneath a sinking keel.

Henry Wadsworth Longfellow was an American poet and educator. He is known for his style of lyric poetry, presenting stories of mythology and legend, such as the Song of Hiawatha and the Village Blacksmith. He was born on February 27, 1807 in Portland, Maine, and died on March 24, 1882 in Cambridge, Massachusetts. Henry Wadsworth Longfellow was 75 years old.

Martin: The following is by Sister Ann Montgomery from the book Arise and Witness, a collection of her poetry that is a beautiful and frank exploration from the Gospels.

Here now Zacchaeus.

Curious or crazy, I climbed and lay clinging, caught in the clouds that cluttered the sky of any mind. The leaves dancing, taunting and veined hypnotic hands the foolish fancy that I could see. Dizzy to dreaming, my eyes are drawn down to a world whirled in madness, its still center a tree, roots serpent coiled and tearing a cave dark to its core, poised at the plunge, I am caught by a cry. Come down quickly, come down. I would stay with you today. Stoop to enter the door of your flesh. Steep the way and narrow between pride and passion, fire and water. One must pass alone, and so we go together.

Sister Ann Montgomery was born November 30, 1926 in San Diego, California. She died August 27, 2012, in Atherton, California. Sister Anne was 86 years old.

Martin: We’ll be right back.

Martin: And we’re back. Thanks for staying with us.

Martin: Consider This arrogance is ignorance matured. Attributed to Jesus, yes, that Jesus from the Gnostic Gospels.

Martin: The Imprisoned Soul by Walt Whitman.

At the last tenderly from the walls of the powerful fortressed house, from the clasp of the knitted locks from the keep of the well closed doors let me be waft, let me glide noiselessly forth with the key of softness. Unlock the locks with a whisper set ope’ the doors. O soul, tenderly be not impatient. Strong is your hold, O mortal flesh. Strong is your hold, O love.

Walt Whitman was an American poet, essayist and journalist, as well as a novelist. He is considered one of the most influential poets in American literature and often referred to as the father of free verse. He was born in Huntington, New York on May 31, 1819, and died in Camden, New Jersey on March 26, 1892. Walt Whitman was 72 years old.

Martin: The Pelicans at White Horse Key by Robert Bligh Occasionally spreading their wings to the sun, pelicans dive for fish from dawn till dusk. The Lord of this world is a painter working at night in a dark room. Earth is the place where we’ve agreed to throw away the gifts that Adam’s grandfather gave us during the dark time before eternity was born. The lover’s body belongs to ruined earth. The scattered stars belong to the Milky Way. The potato field belongs to early night. The Monitor lizard is a child of the mother and a favorite. The monitor holds a snake, immobile for an hour and then eats. We know it’s good not to have sharp opinions, but would you still think so much of Noah if he had thrown away his bag of nails. Four times this month I have dreamt I am a murderer and I am. These lines are paper boats set out to float on the sea of Repentance.

Robert Bly, American poet, essayist and activist, was born on December 23, 1926 in Parley County, Minnesota. His best-known prose book is Iron John: A Book About Men, published in 1990, which spent 62 weeks on the New York Times Bestseller list and is a key text of the mythopoetic men’s movement. Robert Bly died November 21, 2021 in Minneapolis. Mr. Bly was 94 years old.

Martin: I invite you to delve further into the works of the poets I shared with you, and I hope you seek out writers and poets whose work speaks to your hearts and minds with the power to inspire your life. If you’ve enjoyed what you’ve heard here, please subscribe to my podcast, The Martin Sheen Podcast with your host, yours truly, Martin Sheen. Of course, wherever you find your podcasts, yeah, I still have to say that. You can find a complete list of the poets and titles of their poems that I’ve chosen at our website themartensheenpodcast.com

I want to thank the people who make this poetry podcast possible. Our producer and research assistant, Renee Estevez, whose explanation of the Internet really gets me thinking… What’s for lunch? And our sound engineer and editor, Bruce Greenspan, the man behind these rich and seamless recordings with the much-deserved nickname the Sound Surgeon. And I especially want to thank you, our listeners, for joining me.

And so, friends, we part with the prayer from Tagore.

We are called to lift up this nation and all its people to that place where the heart is without fear and the head is held high. Where knowledge is free, where the world has not been broken up into fragments by narrow domestic walls. Where words come out from the depths of truth and tireless striving stretches its arms towards perfection. Where the clear stream of reason, has not lost its way into the dreary desert sands of dead habit. Where the mind is led forward by thee into ever widening thought and action, into that heaven of, freedom, Dear Father, let our country awake. Amen.

Renee: The Martin Sheen Podcast. All rights reserved. No part of this podcast may be reproduced, distributed or transmitted in any form without prior written consent of the author and TE productions.

The book excerpt, Night Flight to Hanoi and Zen Poem by Daniel Berrigan is included in this podcast with granted copyright permission and remains the property of the Daniel Berrigan Literary Trust, who who we thank for this opportunity to share his writings.

“Blessed among Us: Sister Dorothy Stang” by Robert Ellsberg is included in this podcast with granted copyright permission of the author, who we thank for this opportunity to share his work.

“Zacchaeus” by Sister Ann Montgomery is included here with the granted copyright permission of Art Laffin and Carol Sargent, who we thank for this opportunity to share her writings.

“The Pelicans Ah at White Horse Key” by Robert Bly is included in this podcast by granted copyright permission of Mary Bly, who we thank for this opportunity to share her father’s poems.