“………Eat, drink, be happy.
Accept the miracle.
Accept, too, each spoken word,
spoken with love.”
~from Mary Oliver’s ‘Logos’

This past Sunday we celebrated the sacrament of communion at worship. The entire service was a unique, combining the different and distinct worship styles that are available every Sunday morning. The service was welcome for some, and I’m sure, challenging for others. Given the way in which both Christmas and New Year’s fell on Saturday, it seemed the best use of  everyone’s energy and time and provided for a larger number of people in one service rather than a small number in each. All in all, I felt both Sundays reflected the snapshot of a faith community that is diverse and yet flexible enough to be open to having things not follow the eternal mantra of the church: ” But we’ve always done it this way.”

During the service we shared music from the various styles beloved by each community. We were careful to balance the service with what seems to be the most important parts of liturgy for each. Prayers were said, the peace of Christ was passed, an offering was received. And finally it was time for communion.

I have to admit that I had been centered on some other details of the service and had forgotten to look carefully as to where I was to stand as I served the communion bread. After the Eucharistic prayer and the Lord’s Prayer was spoken, all those who were to serve the gathered community came forward and we took the bread and cup from the table. I took the bread and headed to the nearest place only to realize I was not where I should be. But then I saw one of our young ones looking at me with knowing eyes. I followed his lead to the other side of the sanctuary and we took up our places as people walked forward to receive the elements. The moment we began, I knew I was in for a holier than usual moment.

This young boy, standing tall and confident with the communion cup in his hands followed my quiet offer of bread to the first person with the words: “The cup of hope. For you.” His spoke these words as he looked the receiver straight in the eyes. He did not mumbles these words or wait for my lead in any way. He just stood there offering both word and cup boldly over and over. I found myself rising to the occasion. I spoke my words: ” The bread of new life offered for you.” with greater presence and intensity than I normally do. Slowly,as people came toward us, I had the sense that they were anticipating what they were about to receive. There was nothing rote or ‘I’ve done this a hundred times’ feel to it. What was happening was real, for this moment in time, for each person.

Later I thought about all the clergy I know and have experienced who offer this meal with that same old, same old sound in their voices. I have, no doubt, at times been one of them. We might be able to talk endlessly about the theology of sacraments, about what communion is or isn’t, what it means and doesn’t.  There are plenty of clergy and other adults who don’t give it much thought because they are unsure what they really believe about this central act of our worship. Still others would say that someone so young as my co-server has no understanding of the depth of this important act.

All I know is that on Sunday I had the privilege…..and the blessing…..to stand by a young one who spoke with the voice of a prophet. Clearly, boldly, loudly, he proclaimed what he knew and what he had to offer: ” This is the cup of hope. For you.”  For those who were nourished by his presence and his words, I would bet they will not soon forget what it was like to celebrate this sacrament…….this outward and visible sign of an inward and spiritual grace.

I am certain that I will remember it for a very, very long time.

Today has been a gift of a day. I have taken a day apart to write, read, pray and spend some quiet time with myself as I stare out the window of a friend’s lovely home. As I sit in a comfortable chair looking out at a frozen, snow covered pond, the fact that this is pure blessing is not lost on me. This is what is called a retreat day and it is a good thing to have at the beginning of a new year. I have had the luxury of watching the sunlight move and play on the trees and across the surface of the frozen pond. Outside the window, chickadees and other small birds flit from bare branch to the feeder that is nestled at the edge of the pond. A moment ago a blue jay swooped in like he owned the place, which for that window of time he did. But earlier, when the downy woodpecker was having breakfast, he would not have been the Alpha.

Earlier this week, I sat with my co-workers at a meeting where we discussed what it  means to feel you are standing at a threshold. Of course, each new year is a threshold, a beginning of sorts. We talked about how difficult it is to photograph a threshold, how it it nearly impossible to see through the lens and capture what you intuitively know or what you desperately hope. So much of this difficulty is about light. The way light spills through an open door, or across a gate that is slightly ajar can be challenging to capture in a photograph. It can also be challenging to understand what the open door can mean. To what are we being called? Is there enough light to see where we are going? Or is the real goal to be able to move with confidence, or at least patience, into a darkened place, through a darkened door?

In one of many books I have stacked around me right now, the short, simple four line poem reads:
at every turn,
wherever you are,
unexpected,
God says BE STILL.

Standing at a threshold requires us to take a few moments to get our bearings before we step forward. Having the courage to become attuned to the call of an opening……or a closing……door, demands a deep breath and a moment of silence before proceeding. Taking the time and patience that is needed before stepping toward the light that seeps through the crack of an open door or the new year, challenges us to remember that the Holy is the companion who accompanies us at every turn, even when we are least aware. Thresholds may bring many things we assume will be on the other side but also unexpected experiences.

Today I have watched the winter birds flit and flurry. But I have also observed them sitting still atop towering trees. In the silence they are waiting for the threshold of spring that is yet far off. But the ever increasing light that is offered each day speaks of what is to come.

In silence and in expectation, we wait.

“May there always be two thousand acres of sky above us.
May there always be the story of the earth beneath us.
May there always be the song of the air between us.
And may the love that shook creation from God’s hand,
shake us alive,
that we may walk God’s way,
now and always.”
~Roddy Hamilton

The grayness of winter is starting to settle in. We took all the decorations off our Christmas tree last night and packed them away for another year. While clearing away these yearly additions to a house brings a certain feeling of cleansing, of a return to order, there is also a sadness and loss of color that seems to add to the starkness of the view outside our windows. Like a child who loves the glitter and glow of Christmas, I could be one of those people who could be convinced to leave the tree up until Easter or till the snow melts…whichever comes first. In Minnesota this can be risky business.

This year Easter comes nearly as late as it can be. Given that our snow came early and with a vengeance, we have said more than once that ‘this could get old fast’. Yesterday as I was reading a book of worship resources I came across the poem/prayer above. It seemed the perfect words for these long, gray, often monotonous days that rest between the sparkle and flash of Christmas and the greening and promise of Easter. During these winter days we often need to be ‘shaken alive’, to remember to stay awake to how God is shining into the world.

I particularly love the image that it was love that shook creation out of God’s hand. The poet seems to imply that the Holy One was holding onto creation, saving it for another time. But love swept in and shook the foundations of the Source of All and Creation was born. It is a profound image for all the creations of our smaller yet important lives. How often it is that it takes love to shake us up, to cause us to let go of what it is we want to hoard……guilt, shame, resentment, greed, insecurity, anger…..until we find ourselves giving birth to something that lay hidden just beneath the surface of all that is good within us. In these moments when nothing will do but love, we are shaken alive. Shaken alive to the possibilities, shaken alive to a newness we never imagined, shaken alive to what it means to be a beloved creation of God.

In those moments when the shaking subsides and we find ourselves standing on the firm earth, breathing in the precious air, being held in the arms of the expansive sky, we glimpse what it means to walk in God’s way. It may only be one moment or a thousand. But when it happens it is a good thing to give thanks for being shaken. Shaken alive.

“Ask advice of every wise person and blessing of every holy one.”
~John O’Donohue, To Bless the Space Between Us

On Christmas Eve morning, my husband and I were having coffee in one of our favorite neighborhood haunts. It was the ‘calm before the storm’ so to speak. At noon I would begin the several worship services of which I was privileged to be a part. Each service has a distinct flavor and spirit and it takes a certain energy of presence to make my way through the afternoon and evening. So we sat quietly drinking our morning coffee watching the people and cars maneuver through yet another bout of snow. It felt good to not have any responsibilities for the moment. To simply be.

We watched as people came in to pick up their Christmas Eve orders. Boxes of colorfully decorated cookies.  Frosted Christmas breads and rolls for the evening’s sandwiches. One man was picking up an order to deliver to a Czech neighborhood. I didn’t even know there was such a neighborhood in St.Paul!  We listened to the banter between this particularly jolly man and the bakery workers as they  told him they had thrown in an extra loaf for him. Clearly the Christmas spirit was alive and well in this cozy little establishment.

Finally an older gentleman who had been talking with the employees began making his way out the door. He stopped just short of actually opening the door and turned toward us. His smile was bright and welcoming. First, in typical Minnesota fashion, he talked with us about the weather. Then before we knew what was happening, we were engaged in conversation. He revealed that he had been a butcher, still was on a part time basis. That he had left his wife of many years at home this morning while he was out running errands and she was preparing food for Christmas. He asked us how long we had been married and told us he had been married for, I believe, sixty or more years. He told us about his children and asked about ours. Before we knew it we were sharing so much more than a random dialogue with a stranger.

Now this may on first blush sound like just a lonely older person who liked to talk. But the important part of the story is that over and over he spoke of how blessed he was. When we would tell him the facts of our lives which he searched out, he would say ” You  are blessed.” And finally as he turned to leave, he looked back and said: “God bless you.” And smiling to the point that his cheeks had now turned rosy and his eyes twinkled, he left.

Sitting there on Christmas Eve morning, we were dumbfounded. Had we just encountered an angel? In fact, he did look a little like George Bailey’s Clarence! The only thing missing from his angel-speak was the common ‘fear not!’ but this life-long butcher was doing the work of an angel. Spreading good news with words of kindness and a deep presence to the world around him. Speaking words of blessings as he moved blissfully through the world. There was certainly do doubt in our minds that we were blessed, had been blessed my this chance encounter.

In this lovely book by John O’Donohue mentioned above, he writes that  blessings are ‘seen as a communication of life from God. Once the blessing is spoken, it cannot be annulled or recalled.’ Someplace in this city I love walks a man who knows the intricate work of butchering animals to feed the hungry. This same man knows the sacred art of offering blessing, of feeding that deeper part of each of us that needs a reminder: We are blessed.

I know it is true because I carried the holiness of his words, his communication of life, into my celebration of Christmas, God-with-Us.

“May the accolade for the first instant of the millennium (new year) make us aware of its flip side: its precious emptiness. ” Jose Reissig

I have never been one for resolutions at the New Year. There is something about them that brings out the rebellious side of me. I can quickly fall into the path of trying to outsmart myself with cheating my good intentions. Sound familiar? My mother might call this behavior that ‘bites off my nose to spite my face’, a common saying of hers. Of course, I am the only one to really suffer the failure of my own noble, though often ill-fated, attempts to better myself.

And so as we enter this New Year I have no grand illusions that I will create the ever common list of resolutions: lose weight, exercise more, save more money….etc…..etc. Today’s newspaper listed these among the top ten resolutions of most people. Though all these would be beneficial to me, this is not the road for me.

Instead I am thinking of my brothers and sisters in the faith who have learned from those in religious community. These are folks who take on what they refer to as a ‘practice’. I like this word much better than discipline, another word that brings out my rebellious nature. To begin a practice, spiritual or otherwise, in the new year seems quite appealing. It also seems as if it might be a path to greater success.

According to definition, to practice is : ‘to do repeatedly in order to learn or become proficient, to create a habit.’ With this clean slate of a new year, I want to practice being healthier. Healthier and kinder. Kinder and more forgiving. More forgiving and fully present to each person I meet. My hope is to practice and practice. To learn, to become proficient at embracing what makes for a healthier mind, body, spirit.

Many of us practice doing things in which we will never be fully proficient. We play scales on a musical instrument without ever making it to the concert stage. We practice dance steps over and over knowing we will never ‘dance with the stars.’ Every day people practice a sport in which they will never be a standout. But there is such great joy in the practice. Tiny moments of beautiful music happens. The mastery of a turn or quick step raises heartbeats and confidence. And the physical engagement in those beloved sports build strength and sometimes a fun-filled community.

Practice.What practice is calling you in the emptiness of 2011? On the blank pages of this new year, what longing within you is waiting to be practiced until deep lessons are planted in your cells? Whatever is tugging at your heart on this final day of 2010, may the new day and the new year find you stepping out with confidence to begin your practice. May each step be repeated over and over and over. Though we may not reach full proficiency, perhaps we will all feel as if we have learned much and are better people for it.

A blessed New Year……..

This morning I went to my bookshelves looking for a particular book of poems. Prayers for a Thousand Years, edited by Elizabeth Roberts & Elias Amidon is a collection of prayers and poems created as a celebration of the millennium. Searching for a poem for worship in the New Year 2011, I realized it had been 10 years since I purchased this collection. How this had been lost on me is probably another story! How can it be that a decade has passed since we were filling our bathtubs full of water, watching and waiting for some unknown catastrophic event to happen?

Do you remember the celebrations of the year 2000? As I write this I recall the silly eye glasses that spelled 2000 and how they made me laugh. But I also remember the beautiful all night vigil we hosted at the church. We prayed our way into the new age on the labyrinth. Prayed and sang and walked, lighting candles to mark our way. I am remembering the young woman who kept watch all night, falling asleep in the middle of this ancient pattern, held in the metaphorical arms of the Holy. I wonder where she is now. I pray she is well and still held in those loving arms.

In the middle of this book of poems these words by Jane Hirshfield appear:

‘ “Almost the twenty-first century” –
how quickly the thought will grow dated,
even quaint.

Our hopes, our future,
will pass like the hopes and futures of others.

And all our anxieties and terrors,
nights of sleeplessness,
griefs,
will appear then as they truly are –

Stumbling, delirious bees in the tea scent of jasmine.’

What had we hoped for the turning of these thousand years? We had not anticipated that our world would be shaken by the events of September 11, 2001. We had not hoped for, not one, but two wars that seem to see no end. We had not seen the economic downturns and  the kinds of corporate and personal greed that shook our trust in human goodness. There have been many disappointments in this warp-speed decade from which we are emerging.

But during these times we have also seen another side of what it means to be human. We have seen people look at their lives with awakened eyes. What is truly important? What do I really need to be happy? To what degree do I need to consume things to be successful, to be fulfilled? We have seen a return to an understanding of where our food comes from and to whom we need to be indebted for it. We have prayed mightily to be reminded of those less fortunate, those who are homeless and need our care. We have watched resilience mount up like the wings of eagles in those who have found themselves unemployed and cast aside. And we have seen babies born, children flourish, songs be written and sung, poems memorized, politicians reach out and work together, new ways of procuring energy be discovered, hearts softened toward those who are different. These and so many more good things have happened in these ten, short years. It is, I believe, important not to let them be overshadowed by all the ones which were not.

As we enter the next decade of these two thousand years, we are still stumbling, still in search of the sweet scent of jasmine. It will probably always be so. But let us not forget to stop our struggling long enough to pay homage to the goodness with which we were created, that blesses us daily. Perhaps then, and only then, do we have a hope of carrying that great goodness into a future healing of our world.

“Then I saw a new heaven and a new earth…..And I heard a loud voice saying,”See, the home of God is among mortals.” Revelation 21:1a, 3a

The last several days have been filled with so much that I have not made it to the computer to write. I trust that for most people these days leading to Christmas and those between its celebration and that of New Year’s has a special quality unlike any other of the year. Even if we are not on holiday from work during this time, the days have a certain ‘other’ quality to them. People seem to be doing the tasks of their days in a different order. The days seem to have a fluidity, melting one into the other. And so I find myself suspended between the beautiful intensity that leads to the celebration of Christmas and the slow slide into 2011.

As I think back on the celebration of Christmas Eve, I am reminded of its sweetness. Moving among several worship services,as I am privileged to do, I am struck with the deep joy I experienced. So many of the people I encountered had such a look of expectation in  their eyes. Of course, the children I spoke with had dreams of what the next morning might hold for them. Would Santa have heard their pleas? I spoke to two young ones whose cheeks grew redder and redder, their eyes brighter and brighter, as they told me their hopes. How they were able to sleep that night is a wonder!

But it wasn’t just the children who carried a deep longing their eyes. The adults, too, had  an extra sparkle. For some it was the grandchild whose hand they held that caused that extra glow. For others it was the presence of a new love or a visiting relative who stood beside them being introduced to friends and family. Still others were present to the simplicity of being in a faith community they hold dear for yet another blessed year.

This story we enter each year, the Christmas story, calls to some very deep part of who we are. The birth of this tiny child who would alter the world forever rings true for each of us in different ways. And yet any one who has given birth, who has been a parent or acted as one, knows that this same thing can be said of all children. Each birth brings a world shattering experience. This tiny one comes into our world and nothing is ever the same again. Our pain is deeper, our joy more overwhelming. Indeed, each of us have caused such an event in the lives who brought us into the world.

As the children of our faith community donned their angel wings, shepherd costumes and Magi crowns again this year, we all sat rapt with attention. It is the same story we have heard time and again. But the truth is that we are not the same and so the story comes to us in new ways. We hear with deeper listening. We sense it with a heart-space grown full of hope. We know the shepherd in each of us and long to be attentive and nurturing for all placed in our care. We recognize the Magi-searching within each of us…hoping for a Star to guide our way. We want to take on the beautiful song-like courage of the angels who bring God’s constant message: “Fear not! Fear not!” And like Mary and Joseph we pray to be surprised by the Holy in ways we cannot turn from, ways we can truly ‘ponder in our hearts’.

During these days which are unlike any others, suspended between the celebration of Christmas and all it can bring and the hope of a new year, I invite you to rest in this on-between place. Perhaps what Christmas has brought will inform the ways in which we each walk into 2011. This expectation for which our eyes glowed and our hearts raced might carry us into a new age. And the world might never be the same again.

It is something for which to hope…..and pray.

“The light shines in the darkness, and the darkness did not overcome it.” John 1:5

For two nights, I have been in the presence of candlelight. On Monday evening, in the midst of yet another snowstorm, I was privileged to gather with friends for a healing circle for a dear man who was to have surgery yesterday. As each person shared a prayer or inspiring words of hope, they lit a small candle to light the way of their words into his heart and into the wisdom of the Universe. We came together in the cold darkness and left in the warm glow of candlelight that held our prayers and our deep hope for this one we love.

Last night was another night of privilege. I attended a service of observance of the Winter Solstice in the beautiful chapel of the Sisters of St. Joseph of Carondolet. We entered the chapel in nearly total darkness, led to our seats by the tiny flashlight held by an usher. Seated in my pew, I waited for my eyes to adjust to the dark space which was lit only by the colored globes of flickering candlelight. Slowly I began to detect familiar parts of this sacred space. As the service evolved through music, the poetry of Rumi and the beautiful reflections of Karen Hering on darkness and light, candles were lit around the sanctuary. More light. It is surprising what light can be shed by many candles all lit at one time in a concentrated area, altars for instance, or birthday cakes. And then finally, we all ringed the beautiful space holding a lit candle in our own hands. The light had spread from one central source, one central Source, and been passed one to the other. (Isn’t this always the case?) These strangers who had come together in darkness, on the darkest night of the year, were now bathed in the beauty of candlelight and one another. We lifted our voices in the chant “Light and Darkness” and carried it into a round. The music of our voices bounced off the walls that have held the prayers of women for at least a hundred years. It was primal and yet held within it a longing for a future yet to be realized.

It is true that we all look better in candlelight. Any one person in either of these situations carried their own inner beauty but, in the pure light of day, are quite ordinary. Flaws exist. The scars of time, worry, and injury mark our faces. But when the light of a glowing candle is held in hopeful hands and lights our eyes and cheeks, mouths and noses, brows and lashes, each of us becomes magical. A thing of pure beauty.

Perhaps, in those moments when candlelight brings life to our watching faces, we connect with our ancestors. Those who first hit stone against stick, saw the flicker of what would change their lives for ever. Perhaps we hold within our faces the gift of fire…..and we cannot help but bask in the hope of a way to tame the darkness that can surround us.

Many of us will have at least one more opportunity to stand in candlelight this week as we gather for celebrations of Christmas Eve. As the flame of the candles are passed from one person to another, I suggest we look, really look at the faces around us. That we look and  hold onto that image for the times when darkness seems to overcome. Hold on and remember, we are the ones who long ago discovered how to bring light out of the dark. Hold on and remember the beauty and the power.

Tonight is the eve of the Winter Solstice…..the shortest day and longest night of the year. It is a particularly rich time of year for those of us living in the northern hemisphere. As darkness has descended over the last weeks, we can trick ourselves into thinking that winter is on the wane. Of course, it is really only beginning. I need only look out my window to confirm this fact. Snow is once again falling like the final scene of White Christmas. However, unlike Bing and his sidekicks, we are not waiting for snow to come to the ski hills. We have plenty to begin with, thank you very much.

Tonight’s observance brings with it a special feature. Tonight there will be a total eclipse of the full moon.The last year North America saw a total lunar eclipse on the winter solstice was 1638. The next is 2094 – making this event a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity. But as I look out my window the skies are so cloudy, it is doubtful whether or not we will be able to see this ‘once in a lifetime’ event.  It is said that the moon will be in a reddish shadow for up to three hours around the time of the eclipse. But will we be able to see?

This question has been following me around all day, nagging at me. Because…….I want to see it! But, then again, there are so many things I want to see, that we all want to see, that remain hidden, invisible to our human eyes. And there are many events which happen that change the course of our lives that remain unseen to us. It is a fact of living. The sheer desire for seeing is often outside our control. Anyone who has lived more than a few years knows this to be the truth.

And so tonight, as the snow falls once again on our streets and sidewalks, I will pinch myself to stay awake to look at the early morning sky. I will scour the heavens for a glimpse of red, or a moment of deep darkness that allows me to know the eclipse is indeed happening.  I will count it among all the unseen things I long to see and believe in. Things like peace and angels, miracles and even God.  This total eclipse is one more message that we are all a part of a vast and amazing Universe. Whether we believe it or not. Whether we can see or not. The apostle Paul said it this way: “For now we see in a glass darkly, but then we will see face to face. Now I know only in part; then I will know fully, even as I have been fully known.”

For this Winter Solstice 2010, that will have to suffice. Blessed be.

“I led them with cords of human kindness,
with bands of love.
I was to them like those
who lift infants to their cheeks.
I bent down to them and fed them.”
~Hosea 11:4

A friend wrote on Facebook about an experience she had this week. She was in the drive through at Starbucks and ordered her morning jolt of caffeine. When she stared to pay, the cashier told her that her coffee had been paid for by the person who had been in front of her in line. She then paid for the person behind her, hoping to start a chain reaction of kindness.

I’ve held this simple act in my consciousness all week. Driving through at Starbuck’s competition yesterday I kept looking in my rear view mirror hoping a car would follow me so I could try this act of paying it forward. I must have been there at on off time. So my chance will have to wait. Running errands with my sons yesterday we talked about what a great and simple idea this is and how surprised and special the benefactors must feel. The question became: why don’t we do things like this more often?

Kindness has a way, I believe, of not only altering our experience, but also providing the opportunity for our way of walking in the world to change. Who knows what might have been happening in the person’s morning when they received the gift of free coffee from a stranger? Who knows how that simple act may have changed their whole outlook on the day, on their life? A simple yet profound act.

Perhaps I am thinking about this even more right now because this morning I had the opposite experience. Taking my packages to be mailed to family around the country, I was greeted with a less than cordial manner by the postal worker. Now I will be the first to admit that their work this time of year must be horrific. And for that I am working hard to muster compassion. But the words and manner of this person’ s actions toward me are still ringing in my body and I am aware of how one person’s actions carries such power.

It seems to me we have a choice with the rising of each new day. Walk the world in kindness or battle our way through with the first words that come to mind, without thought of how those words may affect another. In these remaining days of Advent, as I continue to live into the theme ‘In days to come….great joy’, I pray I can choose the former. It seems the best choice not only for all those I will encounter but for myself and for the world. Walking the world in kindness seems to be the path to great joy.

Sometime during the next week I hope to pay it forward with a cup of coffee for someone. It will be an anonymous gift of something fleeting. But it will also plant in the cells of both giver and receiver a bent toward kindness. A kindness that might counteract whatever experiences either of us might have had or are yet to have.

It seems like as good a goal as any for the walk toward Christmas.

Have a blessed weekend……………….