O Holy Night!

All week I've been thinking I should write something deeply inspiring and profound in this space. And all week the profundity has not even entered the room, let alone my spirit. It is Christmas Eve, the 67th one in my short life. It is cloudy here with a little snow on the ground. Not picture postcard like, but not that bad either--no storm, milder temps.

Jesus is being born once more in hearts all over the world. It has it's good points, at least when we haven't skewed things and thus caused pain instead of peace. And though I don't feel a bunch of outer "happy-happy", I do feel the deep inner "knowing" that the Christ, that One most transcendent and most intimately within, WAS, IS and WILL BE. And that is enough.

May we all experience moments of that deep knowing and receive the Gift that God so longs to give our searching hearts.

How safe can we get?

Locked out or locked in? That is the question. This post came in part from the hoo-ha about airline safety, but the prime catalyst was a Facebook conversation in which 2 or 3 women discussed their problems with the locks on their houses--getting locked out, having umpteen keys made to be sure everyone in the neighborhood has one, so the lady won't be out in the cold when she forgets her keys or the door blows shut or whatever.

I understand. I have done the same thing several times; caught in the cold, not wearing enough clothing and locked out. Every time, I think why do I keep my doors locked all the time? What am I afraid of? What are the chances that someone will break in? Wouldn't it cause less damage if this imaginary bandit could just walk in? What difference would it make otherwise? I've lived in my house since 1976 and things have been OK. Does that mean I'm foolish enough to think it couldn't happen? Of course not. I just wonder if the odds are worth all the effort we put into satisfying our desire for security.

And if "they" are locked out, doesn't that mean "I'm" locked in, protecting my treasures from others, separating myself from the neighborhood, the community, the world? How open am I, if I lock myself up with my "stuff" all the time?

And then there's the airlines. I have no desire for myself or anyone else to be blown up. At the same time, listening to world news, it's clear that terrorists can strike anytime and anywhere. I wish there was some way to know our relative safety if we did nothing at all at the airport compared with the de-humanizing herding that goes on now. My guess is the "victory" for the terrorists is the amount of resources we are spending out of fear. It's all about fear and all it takes in case people start to feel a little safer, is another well-placed bomb--a nice little "reminder" of who has the power. That's why it's called "terror".

I don't know what the answer is, but I don't think it's more security measures. If we put as much money and human effort into education, clean water supplies, basic medical assistance, and listening to and respecting the poor and oppressed with open minds and hearts, as we do into "security", maybe we could become a great leader of nations once again.

Eric Hoffer, the wise philosopher, said that if people have to choose between chaos and order, they will always choose order, no matter how much freedom they lose. Is that where we are?

Honestly folks, there's no security! Only in the One who gives us each new day. May that One set us free!

The "Magic" of Carrie Newcomer

It's been a long time coming. I hope whatever readership this blog attracts hasn't given up on it entirely! At least you had a good Mary Oliver poem to read--and read and read.

My body, mind and spirit have been most challenged these past couple of months. I "preach" about contemplation and reflection and quiet, but sometimes of late I've been most guilty of not listening to that sermon. Good reasons? Sure. But nevertheless, there was some reason why I slept 12 hours last night.

This weekend is the last of the many responsibilities. I am excited and hopeful, because Carrie Newcomer, a woman whose passion, spirituality and creativity are remarkably authentic and engaging, is coming to our church. She'll help folks discern how they can integrate the passions of their spirits with the expectations of their daily work. She'll sing some of her beautiful and provocative music. She'll help raise a heap of money for the food bank. And she'll radiate the deep peace and joy that comes from her soul.

It's taken many hours of effort to bring this about and were it not for the generosity of my friends, Jean and Tom, we could not afford to do it. And all of it will be worth while, because together we'll celebrate life, we'll affirm the possibilities for peace, we'll remember who we are and Whose we are.

And so today I will breathe. Please join me!

A lovely poem

Tomorrow morning, bright and early, I fly to New Mexico and live at Ghost Ranch for a week--my ninth trip to that beguiling place. Not much time for blog writing, so I decided to post one of my favorite Mary Oliver poems.

"Heron Rises From The Dark, Summer Pond"

by Mary Oliver

So heavy
is the long-necked, long-bodied heron,
always it is a surprise
when her smoke-colored wings
open
and she turns
from the thick water,
from the black sticks

of the summer pond,
and slowly
rises into the air
and is gone.

Then, not for the first or the last time,

I take the deep breath
of happiness, and I think
how unlikely it is

that death is a hole in the ground,
how improbable
that ascension is not possible,
though everything seems so inert, so nailed
back into itself —
the muskrat and his lumpy lodge,
the turtle,
the fallen gate

And especially it is wonderful

that the summers are so long

and the ponds so dark and so many,

and therefore it isn't a miracle

but the common thing,
this decision,
this trailing of the long legs in the water,
this opening up of the heavy body

into a new life: see how the sudden
gray-blue sheets of her wings
strive toward the wind; see how the clasp of nothing
takes her in.

On this beautiful autumn day, I wish you well and pray for us all to have deep joy and peace!

Why those two lines persist in being so large, I have no idea.