Thursday, December 29, 2022
Wednesday, December 28, 2022
Our Inner Star!
The Map You Make Yourself
You have looked
at so many doors
with longing,
wondering if your life
lay on the other side.
For today,
choose the door
that opens
to the inside.
Travel the most ancient way
of all:
the path that leads you
to the center
of your life.
No map
but the one
you make yourself.
No provision but what you already carry
and the grace that comes
to those who walk
the pilgrim’s way.
Speak this blessing
as you set out
and watch how
your rhythm slows,
the cadence of the road
drawing you into the pace
that is your own.
Eat when hungry.
Rest when tired.
Listen to your dreaming.
Welcome detours
as doors deeper in.
Pray for protection.
Ask for guidance.
Offer gladness for the gifts that come,
and then let them go.
Do not expect to return
by the same road.
Home is always
by another way,
and you will know it
not by the light
that waits for you
but by the star
that blazes inside you,
telling you where you are
Is holy
and you are welcome
here.
http://www.janrichardson.com/index.htmlichardson.com ©Jan Richardson. janrichardson.com
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Dark Travels . . .
A Blessing for Traveling in the Dark
Jan Richardson
Go slow
if you can.
Slower.
More slowly
still.
Friendly dark
or fearsome,
This is no
place
to break your
neck
by rushing,
by running,
by crashing
into
what you cannot
see.
Then again,
it is true:
different darks
have different
tasks,
and if you
have arrived
here unawares,
if you have
come
in peril
or in pain,
this might be
no place
you should
dawdle.
I do not know
what these
shadows
ask of you,
what they might
hold
that means you
good
or ill.
It is not for
me
to reckon
whether you
should linger
or you should
leave
But this is
what
I can ask for
you:
That in the
darkness
there be a
blessing.
That in the
shadows
there be a
welcome.
That in the
night
you be
encompassed
by the Love
that knows
your name.
http://www.janrichardson.com/index.htmlichardson.com
©Jan
Richardson. janrichardson.com
Saturday, December 24, 2022
Thursday, December 22, 2022
Christmas Eve reflection . . .
https://bible.usccb.org/bible/readings/122522-night.cfm
GOSPEL LK 2:1-14
Recently I had to have the battery in my watch replaced. So I went
to my favorite jewelers, and while I was waiting, the saleswoman asked if she
could share with me the story of her seven-year-old son. It seems that their
church had just selected the cast of characters for its annual Christmas play,
and her son had been chosen to be Joseph, an obvious honor for this young boy.
Then, imitating her son’s enthusiastic reaction upon hearing this wonderful
news, she placed her hands upon her heart, and smiling, shared his precious
exclamation: “Oh, thank you. I have waited all my life for this!”
God, too, had waited a lifetime, in fact, for an eternity to
become flesh within Mary’s womb and within the world of humanity! Tonight,
we are invited to share in the story of Luke’s account of the nativity, a
narrative that is highly charged with social, religious, and political
overtones. He wrote this specifically for his Gentile/Christian audience and
emphasizes that this divine child has humble origins, with no royal trappings
surrounding his birth. He is born during the course of a journey; the first
guests to his birthday party are the marginalized shepherds. He is a child for
all people, of all nations.
In our Gospel, we further contemplate the scene that is depicted
so vividly: Mary and Joseph are transients, equivalent to the homeless of our
city streets. She is a young woman in a patriarchal society, living in an
occupied nation, and brought her child into the world in the manner of
enormously disadvantaged people, that is, without the security of a home.
Mary and Joseph have traveled some 7-10 days to Bethlehem, so as
to be counted like sheep and registered according to the dictates of the
government. Bethlehem was an
arduous 94-mile journey from Nazareth, and Mary, in the last weeks of her pregnancy, rode on the back of a
donkey. Scholars assert that one could not travel this journey except in the twilight or
early hours of the morning, as both the heat of the day and the darkness of the
night drove people to cover. There were no hotels, restaurants, or waysides,
and sojourners carried water, perhaps some figs, olives, and a loaf of bread,
and slept on the side of the road. It was a difficult,
dangerous, and grueling journey for anyone, but in particular, for a young
woman in the last stages of her pregnancy. Indeed, it is quite reasonable to
assume that no health care provider would ever recommend either the journey or
the primitive mode of transportation for a woman preparing to bring her child
into the world.
Bethlehem is crowded with others who have made a similar journey,
and the expectant parents seek shelter, but to no avail. Finally, they are
directed to a cave, where they shelter with village animals. Upon the birth of
her child, Mary wrapped him in swaddling clothes, the traditional Palestinian
way of securing a newborn, and laid him in a manger.
Meanwhile, the first to hear the message of the miraculous yet
humble birth were shepherds tending their flocks in the fields, laborers of low
economic and social rank. They hurried to Bethlehem and found Mary and Joseph
and the child just as the angels had said. There, within the simple cave, the
displaced couple, the manger, and the shepherds came together to form the clear
image that our God comes to the world through the poor, the marginalized, the
powerless, and the oppressed.
However, if we listen between the lines of Luke’s account, we will
hear a foreshadowing of who this divine child will be as told through the
images, intimations, and figurative language in this sacred
story.
This child, too, will one day ride a donkey into a crowded city,
seeking an inn with an upper room to celebrate the Passover. There will be no
straw-filled manger, but his whole life will be a sacred table of welcoming and
mercy, and he will name himself as bread, wine, the Way, the Life, and a
shepherd who is good.
Raised as a carpenter, he will be familiar with the feel of the
wood beneath his beaten body, remembering the smell of Joseph’s small shop. He
will be laid in the arms of his loving and faith-filled mother once again, as
he is removed from his cross. He will be wrapped in a linen cloth, much like
his swaddling clothes from his moments of birth; but now, they will embrace him
in his death. He will be laid in a cave-like tomb, not warm with the
breath of animals nor shielded by the loving protection of Joseph as he was in
the stable at Bethlehem.
Then, with an inconceivable and unfathomable mysterious movement,
God will bring forth a cosmic energy that will move away stones and break
through boundaries and fears, and God will raise Jesus as the Christ born again
in every heart of humanity.
Yes, even angels will gather once again upon his rising from death
to new life and will sing of his glory as Messiah, Savior, Emmanuel, Wonder-Counselor,
and Prince of Peace. Jesus will have waited for this all his life!
This night’s story is known and re-enacted in almost every country
throughout the world, children dressing up as shepherds, wise ones, Mary and
Joseph, angels and innkeepers, sheep and camels. Yet, what does it mean for all
of us?
Each of us this evening is invited to reflect on our own nativity
story, recalling the images, details, visitors, and celebrations. We each have
been given the task of carrying forward the dreams, the vision, and the mission
of our God. Our faith does not depend upon an empty tomb or a lowly stable. Our
hope does not cause us to look to the heavens for angel choirs or cosmic
convergences of planets or celestial constellations.
But let it be known, “that the mystery of the nativity is that
love is made incarnate every time it deepens in us.” As we grow in love
individually, as a community, and as a people of God, we make love more present
in the world. “As Christmas is born again in each of us, it comes forth again
into the world.” No matter where we live, work, play, grieve, or celebrate, the
message and mystery of the Incarnation cannot be brought out once a year like
the nativity set decorations under our tree.
It is our everyday challenge to accept our call to carry on God’s
dream and vision for all humanity. . . And in the words of Pope Francis
. . . We are “to go forth and preach the Gospel to all: to all
places, on all occasions, without hesitation, reluctance or fear. The joy of
the Gospel is for all people: no one can be excluded.... That
is what the angel proclaimed to the shepherds in Bethlehem: ‘Be not afraid; for
behold, I bring you good news of a great joy which will come to all the
people.”
Finally, since this is the season and night of story, let us be
people of the story . . . stories of faith, hope, resilience, and love, as we
continue to share in the Word, the breaking of the Bread, the cup of Wine, the
sign of peace; and, shortly hereafter, leave for our homes, following the light
of the stars . . . for God has waited an eternity for us this night.
And so we pray:
“Light looked down and saw darkness. “I will go there,”
said light.
Peace looked down and saw war. “I will go there,” said
peace.
Love looked down and saw hatred. “I will go there,”
said love.
So the God of Light, The Prince of Peace,
The King of Love, came down and crept in beside
us.”
(Rev. John Bell)
(previously posted)
Monday, December 19, 2022
The True Mystery of Christmas . . .
The Work of Christmas by Howard Thurman
Saturday, December 17, 2022
Tuesday, December 13, 2022
Solstice Time . . .
The dark shadow of space leans over us. . . . .
We are mindful that the darkness of greed, exploitation, and hatred
also lengthens its shadow over our small planet Earth.
As our ancestors feared death and evil and all the dark powers of winter,
we fear that the darkness of war, discrimination, and selfishness
may doom us and our planet to an eternal winter.
May we find hope in the lights we have kindled on this sacred night,
hope in one another and in all who form the web-work of peace and justice
that spans the world.
In the heart of every person on this Earth
burns the spark of luminous goodness;
in no heart is there total darkness.
May we who have celebrated this winter solstice,
by our lives and service, by our prayers and love,
call forth from one another the light and the love
that is hidden in every heart.
Amen.
Edward Hays from Prayers for a Planetary Pilgrim
Monday, December 12, 2022
Hands of Advent . . .
Catherine Alder
I see the hands of Joseph.
Back and forth along bare wood they move.
There is worry in those working hands,
sorting out confusing thoughts with every stroke.
“How can this be, my beautiful Mary now with child
Rough with deep splinters, these hands,
small, painful splinters like tiny crosses
embedded deeply in this choice to stay with her.
He could have closed his hands to her,
said, “No” and let her go to stoning.
But, dear Joseph opened both his heart and hands
to this mother and her child.
Preparing in these days before
with working hands
and wood pressed tight between them.
It is these rough hands that will open
and be the first to hold the Child.
I see the hands of John,
worn from desert raging storms
and plucking locusts from sand ripped rocks
beneath the remnant of a Bethlehem star.
A howling wind like some lost wolf cries out beneath the moon,
or was that John?
This loneliness,
enough to make a grown man mad.
He’s waiting for this, God’s whisper.
“Go now. He is coming.
You have prepared your hands enough. Go. He needs your servant hands,
your cupping hands to lift the water,
and place his feet upon the path to service and to death.
Go now, John, and open your hands to him.
It is time.”
I see a fist held tight and fingers blanched to white.
Prying is no easy task.
These fingers find a way of pulling back to old positions,
protecting all that was and is.
Blanched to white. No openness. All fright.
But then the Spirit comes.
A holy Christmas dance begins
and blows between the twisted paths.
This fist opens
slowly,
gently,
beautifully,
the twisted fingers letting go.
Their rock-solid place in line has eased.
And one by one the fingers lift
True color is returned
And through the deepest of mysteries,
The holiest of holies,
O longing of longings
Beyond all human imagining this fist,
as if awakened from Lazarus’ cold stone dream
reaches out to hold the tiny newborn hand of God.
Advent ~ God of Everyday, be with us!
May God be with us in strength, holding us in strong-fingered hands; and may we be the sacrament of God’s strength to those whose hands we hold.
May God be with us in gentleness, touching us with sunlight and rain and wind. May God’s tenderness shine through us to warm all who are hurt and lonely.
May God be with us in wonder, delighting us with thunder and song, sunrise and daisy; enchanting our senses, filling our hearts, giving us wide-open eyes for seeing and splendor in the humble and majestic. And may we open the eyes and hearts of the blind and the insensitive.
May God be with us in love and friendship, listening to us, speaking to us, drawing us close as we tremble at the edge of self-gift. May God’s love in us light fires of faith and hope, glow in our eyes and meet God’s love glowing in the eyes of our friends.
May God be with us in compassion, holding us close when we are weary and hurt and alone – when there is rain in our heart. And may we be the warm hands and the warm eyes of compassion for our friends when they reach out to us in need.
May God be with us in joy, thrilling us with nearness, filling our heart to fullness and filling our throat to ringing, singing exultation.
May God be with us in peace, stilling the heart that hammers with fear and doubt and confusion, and may our peace, the warm mantle of your peace, cover those who are troubled or anxious.
May God be with us in simplicity, opening us to a clearer vision of what is real and true, leading us deeply into the mystery of life and may our dealings with others be marked by honesty.
May God be with us today and every day. May God hold each of us, empowering us with understanding, love, and respect.
May God’s forgiveness touch our hearts, enabling us to forgive ourselves and each other.
And finally, may we experience God’s peace and the joy that results from unity and prayer, shared values, and common vision
Author Unknown
Advent ~ A Gentling Time!
Gentle me, Holy One,
into an unclenched moment,
a deep breath,
a letting go
of heavy expectancies,
of dead certainties,
that softened by the silence,
surrounded by the light,
I may be found by wholeness,
upheld by the unfathomable,
and filled with the joy that is You.
~Ted Loder, Guerrillas of Grace
Wednesday, December 7, 2022
The Story of the 4 Candles . . .
The Four Candles burned slowly. Their ambiance
was so soft you could hear them speak...
The first candle said, “I Am Peace, but these days, nobody wants to keep
me lit."
Then Peace's flame slowly diminished and went out completely.
The second candle said, "I Am Faith, but these days, I am no longer
indispensable."
Then Faith's flame slowly diminished and went out completely.
Sadly the third candle spoke,
"I Am Love and I haven't the strength to stay lit any longer.
People put me aside and don't understand my importance. They even forget to love those
who are nearest to them." And waiting no longer, Love went out completely.
Suddenly ... A child entered the room and saw the three candles no longer
burning.
The child began to cry, "Why are you not burning? You are supposed to
stay lit until the end."
Then the Fourth Candle spoke gently to the
little boy, "Don't be afraid, for I Am Hope, and while I still
burn, we can re-light the other candles." With shining eyes, the child
took the Candle of Hope and lit the other three candles.
Never let the Flame of Hope go out. With Hope in your life, no matter how bad
things may be, Peace, Faith and Love may shine brightly once again. (~ Author Unknown)
An Advent Poem . . .
There was a time when there was no
time,
When darkness reigned as king,
When a formless void was all that there was
in the nothingness of eternity,
When it was night.
But over the void and over the night Love watched.
There was a time when time began.
It began when Love spoke.
Time began for light and life, for splendor and grandeur.
Time began for seas and mountains, for flowers and birds.
Time began for the valleys to ring with the songs of life,
and for the wilderness to echo with the wailing of wind
and howling of animals.
And over the earth, Love watched.
There was a time when time began to
be recorded.
A time when Love breathed and a new creature came to life.
A new creature so special that it was in the image and likeness of Love
Of Love who is God.
And so humanity was born and the dawn of a new day shone on the world.
And over humanity, Love watched.
But there came a time when the new
day faded.
A time when humanity who was like God tried to be God.
A time when the creature challenged the creator.
A time when humanity preferred death to life and darkness to light.
And so the new day settled into twilight.
And over the darkness, Love watched.
There was a time of waiting in the
darkness.
A time when humanity waited in the shadows,
And all creation groaned in sadness.
There was waiting for Love to speak again--for Love to breathe again.
And kings and nations and empires rose and faded in the shadows.
And Love waited and watched.
Finally, there came a time when Love
spoke again.
A Word from eternity--a Word
Spoken to a girl who belonged to a people not known by the world
Spoken to a girl who belonged to a family not known by her people
To a girl named Mary.
And all creation waited in hushed silence for the girl's answer.
And Mary spoke her yes.
And Love watched over Mary.
And so there came a time when Love breathed again
When Love breathed new life into Mary's yes.
And a new day dawned for the World
A day when light returned to darkness, when life returned to dispel death
And so a day came when Love became human --a mother bore a child.
And Love watched over Love—
And, lastly, there came a time when
you and I became a part of time.
Now is the time that you and I wait.
Now we wait to celebrate what the world waited for.
And as we wait to celebrate what was at one time, we become a part of that time
A time when a new dawn and a new dream and a new creation began for humanity.
And as a part of time, Love waits and Love watches over us.
Fr. Joseph Breighner (adapted)1980
The
Catholic Review, 11-28-80
Saturday, December 3, 2022
An Act of Love . . .
“Light looked down and saw darkness. “I will go there,” said Light.
Peace looked down and saw war. “I will go there,” said Peace.
Love looked down and saw hatred. “I will go there,” said Love.
So the God of Light, The Prince of Peace,
The King of Love, came down and crept in beside us.”
(Rev.
John Bell)
Gabriel's Experience . . .
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Gabriel’s Annunciation
For a moment
I hesitated
on the threshold.
For the space
of a breath
I paused,
unwilling to disturb
her last ordinary moment,
knowing that the next step
would cleave her life:
that this day
would slice her story
in two,
dividing all the days before
from all the ones
to come.
The artists would later
depict the scene:
Mary dazzled
by the archangel,
her head bowed
in humble assent,
awed by the messenger
who condescended
to leave paradise
to bestow such an honor
upon a woman, and mortal.
Yet I tell you
it was I who was dazzled,
I who found myself agape
when I came upon her—
reading, at the loom, in the kitchen,
I cannot now recall;
only that the woman before me—
blessed and full of grace
long before I called her so—
shimmered with how completely
she inhabited herself,
inhabited the space around her,
inhabited the moment
that hung between us.
I wanted to save her
from what I had been sent
to say.
Yet when the time came,
when I had stammered
the invitation
(history would not record
the sweat on my brow,
the pounding of my heart;
would not note
that I said
Do not be afraid
to myself as much as
to her)
it was she
who saved me—
her first deliverance—
her Let it be
not just declaration
to the Divine
but a word of solace,
of soothing,
of benediction
for the angel
in the doorway
who would hesitate
one last time—
just for the space
of a breath
torn from his chest—
before wrenching himself away
from her radiant consent,
her beautiful and
awful yes.
Jan Richardson is an artist, author, United Methodist minister, and director of The Wellspring Studio, LLC. Widely known for her distinctive intertwining of word and image, Jan blogs at The Painted Prayerbook.