sermons
Seven Big Words
Puhpowee | Life Force
Ivy Anthony
Jan 22, 2023
Today I would like to honor and acknowledge the land upon which we worship. The ancestral lands of the Massachusett people – the original inhabitants who still regard this land as sacred and shot through with the force of life.
Good morning everyone!
We are in a series called, SEVEN BIG WORDS. Where Lydia, Steve and I get to talk about any word we are inclined to talk about. This series will run us right up until the season of Lent – so another month – where very broadly speaking we will be centering Lent around the theme of Earth.
I’ve been doing a lot of reading and research in advance of Lent for a couple of projects that I’m involved in. And so I wanted to offer a word that has surfaced for me as I’ve been reading a book by Robin Wall Kimmerer. It’s a book titled, “Braiding Sweetgrass: Indigenous Wisdom, Scientific Knowledge and the Teaching of Plants.” This book was published 10 years ago – and I’m just getting to it now – for such a time as this, I guess!
It’s a stunning book – and it speaks to the lessons we can gather from First Nations people. Robin is a Native American, a mother, scientist, professor and member of the Citizen Potawatomi Nation. Her experience at the intersection of science and indigenous wisdom is incredibly rich and spiritual. It’s been an honor to be in the process of learning and (un)learning from her in so many ways.
Her book tells the history of her people and their forced displacement from their lands – which was originally in the southern tip of the Lake Michigan area. In the span of a single generation her ancestors were “removed” three times, by European settlers, and US federal Indian removal policies. Removing and stealing their names, their land, their knowledge, their children, their people and their language.
Robin has been trying to learn and revive the language of her people. Language that holds – not just words – but language that is the heart of their culture, their thoughts, their way of seeing the world. Language that was washed out of the mouths of Indian children in government boarding schools and by missionaries. And she’s been trying to learn from only nine (!) fluent elders left in the whole world – who speak the Potawatomi language.
As an adult she stumbled across a word as she was researching traditional uses of fungi by her people – and the Potawatomi word is, “Puhpowee.” It’s a word that describes the force that causes mushrooms to push up and appear overnight. It speaks to the
“unseen energies, the unseen spirit that animates everything, all of life.”
As a biologist herself, Robin was stunned that such a word existed.
“In all its technical vocabulary, Western science has no such term – no words to hold this mystery. You’d think that biologists, of all people, would have words for life. But in scientific language terminology is used to define the boundaries of knowing. What lies beyond scientists’ grasp remains unnamed.” (49)
This morning I’d love to continue to engage and learn from this Potawatomi word, “Puhpowee,” and to honor it. We’ll also take a look at the story of Mary Magdalene and the resurrected Jesus, as they meet in a garden.
For six years before I became a pastor here – I was a teacher in an outdoor classroom at a local elementary school. I had started a small non-profit called the Planting More Project. Its vision was to build Outdoor Classrooms in schools, and to actively grow food that would benefit the school community and it’s families. As well as to seek partnerships with like minded entities in the town to provide fresh food to say local food pantries, and join forces with nearby farms to up the awareness of community supported agriculture.
The first year – I was so ready. I had every ounce of our class time detailed, the perfect growing plan to maximize how many plants we could get in the ground – when we’d start seeds inside, and when we’d rotate and put new stuff in the ground – to ultimately feed the most people…
My students were initially kindergarteners and first graders – which meant that within minutes….. 99% of my best laid plans were absolute trash. Our classroom was situated in between two playgrounds which meant the allure of running off and seeing how many of your classmates would follow you – became the foremost activity.
I did discover however that “watering” the gardens was a highlight for kids. And I could send a team of kids to one raised bed to water, and be teaching and planting in another simultaneously.
EXCEPT I couldn’t.
That plan actually meant that all the garden beds became flood scenes.
Where newly planted seedlings soon were floated on the top of water.
Tiny radish, beet, and lettuce seeds – no longer in their rows. Not even in the boxes anymore.
Every.single.kid covered in soil which was super fun for a second – but quickly led to them crying and wanting to go inside.
These gardens meant to promote growth, fruit, life – went sideways in the strong stream of a hose – and appeared to be swamps of mud and tears.
The image of life as a garden is a rich one. One that we often align with verdant flora and fauna. Working in the patterns and behaviors that promote harmony and flourishing. . . a natural way of being… with our partnership and tending and attention and cultivation.. And how true it can be.
And we also know that our lives are often side-swept – by pandemics, violence, tragedy, where all the best of our “tending” couldn’t have changed or prevented the course.
It’s why this word ‘Puhpowee’ gives me hope. Not hope that just floats above the harsh realities of our days, but hope that is grounded in the histories of people that have endured being in the mud and grit – and still hold onto the mysteries of our faith, of the Divine – of that force of life that will not give up even in our darkest, dankest, moldy places.
It points me to the life force that Scripture starts with… that life starts with…
LIFE FORCE
In the first garden of scripture, in Genesis 2:7 it says that,
“YHWH God formed an earth creature out of the clay of the earth, and breathed into [their] nostrils the breath of life; and the earth creature became a living being.” (The First Egalitarian Translation).
Some scholars think that this first human breath of life – was more like a “gasp” as this life force filled its lungs. A sudden appearance of the unseen – now felt and living within skin.
I can tell you that the experience of returning to that outdoor classroom the following week (after the great flood) and finding that indeed some seedlings had found their roots in the soil again and uprighted themselves – and that some seeds were already sprouting and offering their first leaves to the sun… was *gasp-like* Not only to see such life emerge – but to remember, to return to a knowing that there is a life-force that continues to work on our behalf – even when we can’t.
The Old Testament shows the Spirit—this life-giving Spirit of God—as the divine power that creates, sustains, and renews life
(Genesis 1:2).
“This power of the Spirit is found in the prophetic books of Isaiah, Ezekiel, and Joel. Where God brings breath to dry bones – showing the power of the Spirit to give life, always. Even in situations of death, sorrow, despair, and hopelessness, the Spirit can move – and move us”
…it can come in the night and show up in the morning, it can bring back to life what was dead…Korean-American theologian Grace Ji-Sun Kim
The image of life as a garden of course holds the pattern of life and death and life and death and life and death again. But in the seasons of life that are so fallow – rife with hard, frozen ground – where there isn’t even the tiniest mushroom of hope – they are real and hard and long seasons.
It’s in part why I want to look at the story of Mary Magdalene and Jesus meeting in the garden after his death, here it is in John 20.
John 20:11 – 17
11 Now Mary stood outside the tomb crying. As she wept, she bent over to look into the tomb
12 and saw two angels in white, seated where Jesus’ body had been, one at the head and the other at the foot.
13 They asked her, “Woman, why are you crying?”
“They have taken my Lord away,” she said, “and I don’t know where they have put him.”
14 At this, she turned around and saw Jesus standing there, but she did not realize that it was Jesus.15 He asked her, “Woman, why are you crying? Who is it you are looking for?”
Thinking he was the gardener, she said, “Sir, if you have carried him away, tell me where you have put him, and I will get him.”
16 Jesus said to her, “Mary.”
She turned toward him and cried out in Aramaic, “Rabboni!” (which means “Teacher”).
17 Jesus said, “Do not hold on to me, for I have not yet ascended to the Father. Go instead to my brothers and tell them, ‘I am ascending to my Father and your Father, to my God and your God.’”
*And she went on to tell the disciples – as he asked – that she had seen “the Lord!”
Among the many striking things about this passage – is that Mary doesn’t go anywhere else to tend to her grief.
The tending she needs – somehow intuitively she knows – is going to be found in the garden – where her friend, Jesus is supposed to be.
Grief is one of those “big words” – that holds a world within itself. A word that none of us ever wants to encounter fully – because when it becomes part of our story – we know there’s little we can do but let the flood come, and give way to it.
Grief can feel like a world ending without our permission. For the disciples and Mary – the world had died in the night as they knew it… As Jesus was crucified.
For the Potawatomi people – their world as they knew it died as they marched by gunpoint along the Trail of Death – losing half of their people on that journey.
Grief doesn’t wait for us to be ready to receive its weight. It floods our familiar paths. It ambushes, it takes over, it bullies its way into our thoughts, our bodies, our hearts.
And grief is unwieldy, it’s not picky… It hovers over the space where we’ve lost what’s precious to us or where what is good and right in us has been trespassed… And it attempts to take root right in that most tender spot. It has the ability to disorient and disrupt our way of living.
Grief is a force of its own.
An invasive one.
And Mary walks into this garden draped in strips of grief.
And yet, finds a tomb of grief draped in linens that pointed to life.
And as she turns from the empty tomb toward the garden she sees the gardener.
*I imagine her gasping here – as the earth creature in the first garden did…*
That gasp that holds a zing of life, of hope – of deep knowing – that has been covered for a bit… but now pushes through – puhpowee.
An awareness of the unseen spirit of God that animates the world around us, our breath, the wind.. The mist in a garden at dawn.
“There’s my friend Jesus, the gardener – the one who planted the whole garden since the beginning of time.”
Mary is often regarded as making a mistake here – mis-identifying Jesus as a gardener…
But I don’t think it was a mistake – I think in her turn and gasp – she has listened to the spirit, the breath, the wind of God. .. and knows he is indeed a gardener, as well as Jesus.
Robin Kimmerer says that in the Potawatomi language there are very few letters in their alphabet…so the clusters of consonants that come together sound like wind in the pines and water over rocks – sounds that her ears may have been more delicately attuned to in the past, but no longer. And as she began to invest time in learning again she said,
“you really have to listen.” (53)
Our words try to name and describe what we see. It’s why science terminology polishes the way of seeing. But it falls short of fully capturing the way of listening that also allows us to detect life, to perceive the Spirit – that runs so invisibly – yet so thunderously through all things.
I was constantly correcting kids of their perceived mistakes in the outdoor classroom. Plant here, use this much dirt, space so many inches between plants. At one point I saw a kid ripping up all the radishes that were primed for delivery to the pantry in a couple days… and trying to plant little sunflower seedlings they had started inside … I literally picked him up under the armpits and relocated him away from that raised bed. No no no this is a mistake…
And the teacher was like, “…um… you can’t move kids.”
And the truth is, this child wasn’t making a mistake, he had actually been listening all along – NOT TO ME – but to the source of all life – he had noticed that the soil was most sun-soaked in that particular edge of the garden.. A place prime for sunflowers to stretch. . . . And a not so great place for radishes that appreciated cooler temps.
It’s so natural whether in times of grief, or determined vision, or exhaustion to shrink our words down for safety… to limit – define God to a realm of knowing.
What we lose though as we do this is space to listen – space to gasp – the sense that the word puhpowee points us toward… to life, to movement, to growth… to dirt, to mystery, to miracles, to mess…. It’s hard for so many of us, we like to have the right name – terms for things. We don’t like to rip stuff up out of our lives even if we know it’s been waiting for a long time.
4-LETTER WORDS OF JESUS
I had joked with Steve & Lydia when we were considering what this series about words would look like – and I suggested,
“how about we do a series on the 4-letter words of Jesus?”
You know like – hope, love, gift, rest, LIFE.
That conversation happened over email – so I couldn’t really read the tone in the replies – but needless to say it was a no-go.
But it is these words that root our faith – hope, love, life – which are in jeopardy, if we don’t let them breathe – they are shot through with this life force – alive.… if we continue to let them be free… to let them be lived, embodied. That’s what makes them BIG, right? It’s how we engage with all of creation – the natural world around us – without worrying that we are comprising Jesus or God in any way – but hold our hands open to the sacredness of it all.
We can know how, where, when, who to love – but we can’t always fully understand how the force of love, the spirit of love – continues to keep our hearts beating – for one another… in disagreement, hurt, distress, or grief.
We can grasp and try out practices that help ground us and offer us hope. Meditation, prayer, gratitude – but we don’t quite fully understand why an early morning bird’s song, like the Carolina wren’s – or why the burst of green from a pine tree in winter, or why the owl’s call at night makes us gasp and fill our lungs with hope.
We can know that a nap, or a refusal to hustle or a good night’s sleep is the rest we need… but not fully understand how such rest can return so many of you to your ancestors – can heal your aching bones and spirit – that have been crying out for centuries.
Love, hope, rest are not only concepts -they are of spirit. And that spirit – as evident in nature, as evident in us – will not relent. Will keep pushing up – as this word, puhpowee offers us – seemingly overnight, and in the places that will demand us to perceive with greater listening the freedom and expanse – the space it requires.
Robin talks about the English language – how it is a noun-based language – somewhat appropriate to a culture that seems to be obsessed with “things”. (53)
Only 30 percent of the English words are verbs, but in Potawatomi the proportion is 70 percent – which means that 70 percent of words have to be conjugated and have different tenses and cases…making it an incredibly hard language to learn.
European languages assign gender to nouns – but Potawatomi does not divide the world into masculine and feminine.
As Robin was learning the Potawatomi language she was frustrated finding it so complex, cumbersome, the distinctions between words for a beginner so subtle – And because it is such a verb heavy language – nouns used in English become animated, often with the verb, “to be.” So something regarded as a person, a place, a thing – suddenly takes on movement….
“To be a bay, to be a Saturday, to be a hill, to be red.” (53, 54)
“To speak is those possessed with life and spirit in Potawatomi one must say, yawe. To be. Isn’t that interesting – Yahweh the unspoken name for God of the Old Testament and yawe of the New World both fall from the mouths of the reverent.” (56)
To be.
To have breath of life within.
To be the offspring of Creation.
The use of so many verbs gives credence to a culture that believes everything is alive.
The life that pulses through all things – that animates all things.
That allows rocks to be animated, mountains, trees, birds, etc..
And it is the same life force that frees/ liberates us from the demons of being “right,” or having to dominate, of being trapped, of being dead in spirit.
It is the same force as Luke tells us that freed Mary Magdalene when Jesus cast out seven demons from her. Mary walks into the garden knowing what it is to be imprisoned in a tomb…and yet she also knew what it was to be called to life again. The *hope* the *love* the *faith* that called her back to life – was not of her own doing. The heart of this word, Puhpowee, is what called her name even before Jesus did.
It’s what tended to her grief in a dark garden alone … the spirit … even before the gardener came into view.
The spirit ….. maybe it’s meant to keep us connected to life – by all means possible. In surprising, undefined, “un-termed” ways..
Maybe it’s how we see angels – in a room soaked in death.
Maybe it’s how we find Jesus in the morning -after a night of insomnia.
Maybe it’s how we hear our name – in the silence we find at the end of our ropes.
Maybe it’s how we find a new idea for a project after a conversation with a neighbor.
Maybe it’s how we find peace in leaving a job that defies all logical choice.
Maybe it’s how we find the courage to say sorry.
Maybe it’s how we find the courage to not say sorry.
Maybe it’s how we find freedom from all that tries to trap us.
*Maybe it’s how we keep living when it seems like the world is full of only dank, dark, mildewy tombs at every turn…
*Puhpowee* – the life force that is in all of creation – that frees us to encounter Jesus – by whatever name we might call him.
God breathed into Mary, God breathes into the little kid in my outdoor classroom, God’s life force is in those sunflowers that still fill the school garden bed, God is breathing in me and in you – so that we can breathe the life of God back to the world…this is the pattern of life and growth –
“Do not hold on to me,”
Jesus says to Mary [go breathe – go gasp]
“go tell my siblings.”
Nobody thinks that one small kindness is going to change a life – but it might change a moment, and in that moment something small can grow – and can even grow overnight.
It could be the smallest movement, the calling someone by name across a parking lot, an extra 2 minutes after service to intentionally say “hi,” and learn someone’s name, a small text, a “thank you”… Robin’s language teacher – gives her small class of 10 people –
“thank you’s” to everyone for breathing LIFE into the language, even if it’s only a single word they speak.”
A single word.
This is the life we have to offer one another – by the Spirit – a single word, a single moment, a single action – it holds the life force of the Divine – it’s how we can show up, appear to one another with creation in our hands and breath.