A faith embodied

"The Word became a human being and, full of grace and truth, lived among us. We saw his glory" -John 1:14

How is the Word made flesh in our lives? 

Teresa of Avila once said that"Christ has no body now on earth but yours; no hands but yours; no feet but yours. Yours are the eyes through which the compassion of Christ must look out on the world. Yours are the feet with which He is to go about doing good. Yours are the hands with which He is to bless His people."

The Word is God, the source of life that brings light to humanity, the light which the darkness has never overcome.

Where can you see the light which Jesus, the Word incarnate, brings in to the world this Christmas?

Sometimes it takes a bit of work to spot the mystery of God in our midst. He can be where we least expect him. The Lamb of God over whom the shepherds watched was an unlikely messiah. Three noble men travelled from afar based on the ancient methods of celestial navigation to honour a newborn king in a stable. Are we looking in the right places? Are we open to finding the Lord and Master on whom we model our lives wherever we are lead irrespective of our own preconceptions?

Can we learn to roll with what we find- no room at the inn, an infant of uncertain origin, an angel or an inkling inviting us to participate in a bizarre or frightening adventure? Can we keep moving toward the light of God in spite of our lack of understanding? Can we welcome God?

"Aren’t there annunciations
of one sort or another
in most lives?

         Some unwillingly
undertake great destinies,
enact them in sullen pride,
uncomprehending.

More often
those moments
      when roads of light and storm
      open from darkness in a man or woman,
are turned away from

in dread, in a wave of weakness, in despair
and with relief.
Ordinary lives continue.
                                 God does not smite them.
But the gates close, the pathway vanishes."

-Denise Levertov

I am

""I am Pure Consciousness,  the underlying essence of all elements and beings. Nothing whatsoever exists separate from My Divinity. There is no power in the cosmos that does not emanate from Me and belong to Me. The entire universe is suspended from Me as if I were the string in a necklace of jewels. The gems may differ vastly, but the force holding them all together, the central thread, is Me, Divinity.

I am the innate nature of everything. In pure water I am the sweet taste. In the sun and moon I am the radiance. In the very center of human beings I live as virility and courage. I am the sacred Word... and I am the sound of it heard throughout the universe.

"I am the slight, delicate scent, the sweet fragrance of the earth. I am the brilliance in both fire and sun. I am the light of Divinity in all beings. I am the subtle spirit in spiritual practices that gives them their existence - I am the love in the devotee, for example, or the austerity in the ascetic, or the sweet sense of charity in the giver.

"I am the primordial seed of all entities, the power of discrimination in those who are intelligent, the splendor within all resplendent beings and things.

"Of the strong, I am their might and vigor. As I am beyond all attachments, I am the power in unselfish desire. I am the subtle force in good actions that puts them in harmony with the welfare of humanity. I am the innate urge to help others." 

-The Bhagavad Gita: A walkthrough for Westerners by Jack Hawley at p.69

"I am the Good Shepherd" as featured in the book The Christ Jouney which features several of the great "I am" sayings of Jesus accompanied by a commentary by Sr. Wendy Beckett. See https://www.piano-nobile.com/publications/42/ for details.

“God said to Moses, “I am who I am.” And he said, “Say this to the people of Israel, ‘I am has sent me to you.’"Exodus 3:14 “I am the bread of life; he who comes to Me shall not hunger.” John 6:35  “I am the light of the world; he who fallows Me shall not walk in the darkness, but shall have the light of life.” John 8:12  “I am the gate; if anyone enters through Me, he shall be saved, and shall go in and out, and find pasture.” John 10:9  “I am the good shepherd; the good shepherd lays down His life for His sheep.” John 10:11 I am the resurrection and the life; he who believes in Me shall live even if he dies.” John 11:25      “I am the way, and the truth, and the life; no one comes to the Father, but through Me.” John 14:6  “I am the true vine, and My Father is the vinedresser.” John 15:1   “Truly, Truly, I say to you, before Abraham was born, I am” John 8:58 Who am I? They often tell meI stepped from my cell’s confinementCalmly, cheerfully, firmly,Like a Squire from his country house. Who am I? They often tell meI used to speak to my wardersFreely and friendly and clearly,As thought it were mine to command. Who am I? They also tell meI bore the days of misfortuneEquably, smilingly, proudly,like one accustomed to win. Am I then really that which other men tell of?Or am I only what I myself know of myself?Restless and longing and sick, like a bird in a cage,Struggling for breath, as though hands were compressing my throat,Yearning for colors, for flowers, for the voices of birds,Thirsting for words of kindness, for neighborliness,Tossing in expectations of great events,Powerlessly trembling for friends at an infinite distance,Weary and empty at praying, at thinking, at making,Faint, and ready to say farewell to it all. Who am I? This or the Other?Am I one person today and tomorrow another?Am I both at once? A hypocrite before others,And before myself a contemptible woebegone weakling?Or is something within me still like a beaten armyFleeing in disorder from victory already achieved? Who am I? They mock me, these lonely questions of mine. Whoever I am, Thou knowest, O God, I am thine! -Dietrich Bonhoeffer who died in a concentration camp in April 1945 See http://www.dbonhoeffer.org/ for more.

“God said to Moses, “I am who I am.” And he said, “Say this to the people of Israel, ‘I am has sent me to you.’"Exodus 3:14

“I am the bread of life; he who comes to Me shall not hunger.” John 6:35

 “I am the light of the world; he who fallows Me shall not walk in the darkness, but shall have the light of life.” John 8:12

 “I am the gate; if anyone enters through Me, he shall be saved, and shall go in and out, and find pasture.” John 10:9

 “I am the good shepherd; the good shepherd lays down His life for His sheep.” John 10:11
I am the resurrection and the life; he who believes in Me shall live even if he dies.” John 11:25
    
“I am the way, and the truth, and the life; no one comes to the Father, but through Me.” John 14:6

 “I am the true vine, and My Father is the vinedresser.” John 15:1  

“Truly, Truly, I say to you, before Abraham was born, I am” John 8:58

Who am I? They often tell meI stepped from my cell’s confinementCalmly, cheerfully, firmly,Like a Squire from his country house.
Who am I? They often tell meI used to speak to my wardersFreely and friendly and clearly,As thought it were mine to command.
Who am I? They also tell meI bore the days of misfortuneEquably, smilingly, proudly,like one accustomed to win.
Am I then really that which other men tell of?Or am I only what I myself know of myself?Restless and longing and sick, like a bird in a cage,Struggling for breath, as though hands were compressing my throat,Yearning for colors, for flowers, for the voices of birds,Thirsting for words of kindness, for neighborliness,Tossing in expectations of great events,Powerlessly trembling for friends at an infinite distance,Weary and empty at praying, at thinking, at making,Faint, and ready to say farewell to it all.
Who am I? This or the Other?Am I one person today and tomorrow another?Am I both at once? A hypocrite before others,And before myself a contemptible woebegone weakling?Or is something within me still like a beaten armyFleeing in disorder from victory already achieved?
Who am I? They mock me, these lonely questions of mine.

Whoever I am, Thou knowest, O God, I am thine!

-Dietrich Bonhoeffer who died in a concentration camp in April 1945 See http://www.dbonhoeffer.org/ for more.

Lost Blessing

It doesn’t always

mean to go astray.
But somehow
this blessing knew
it would find you here—

here in this place
where even you
don’t know where
you are.

This blessing
regrets to say
it left its compass
at home.
It is without map,
chart, GPS.
It has hardly
any native sense
of direction.

This blessing
appears to be
nearly useless,
in fact.

But—
and I know
this might not be
encouraging—
it purely loves
getting lost.

This blessing
has learned to breathe
when it has left
every landmark behind,
when it has seen
its last signpost,
when dark has
begun to fall
while it is
still far from home.

This blessing
knows the prayers to say
when it has misplaced
its way,
the chants
that will help it
find the path
where it seems
no path could ever be.

This blessing
is good at finding
fellow travelers.

It loves the company
of the lost,
the wandering,
the confused,
the ones who have been
walking in circles
for days;

loves helping them
find water, shelter,
shade;

loves keeping vigil
so they can
safely rest.

The point of this blessing
is that it has
no real point.

It just wants you to know
you are not alone,
have never been,
will never be—

that it will go with you,
will wander with you
as long as you want,
as long as it takes,
gladly being lost with you
until your way
appears.

—Jan Richardson

The Dream (Charles Peguy)

I myself will dream a dream within you
Good dreams come from me, you know

My dreams seem impossible,
not too practical.
not for the cautious man or woman
a little risky sometimes,
a trifle brash perhaps...

Some of my friends prefer
to rest more comfortably,
in sounder sleep,
with visionless eyes-

But, from those who share my dreams
I ask a little patience, 
a little humour;
some small courage,
and a listening heart –
I will do the rest

Then they will risk
and wonder at their daring.
Run, and marvel at their speed...

Build- and stand in awe at the beauty of their building.

You will meet me often as you work,
in your companions who share the risk,
in your friends who believe in you enough
to lend their own dreams,
their own hands,
their own hearts
to your building...

In the people who will stand in your doorway.
stay awhile,
and walk away knowing they, too, 
can find a dream.

There will be sun-filled days,
And sometimes it will rain,
a little variety!
Both come from me.

So, come now-
Be content.
It is my dream you dream,
my house you build,
my caring you witness,
my love you share-
and this is the heart of the matter.

Tough Love

Love wants to reach out and manhandle us,

Break all our teacup talk of God.

If you had the courage and

Could give the Beloved His choice, some nights,

He would just drag you around the room

By your hair,

Ripping from your grip all those toys in the world

That bring you no joy.

Love sometimes gets tired of speaking sweetly

And wants to rip to shreds

All your erroneous notions of truth

That make you fight within yourself, dear one,

And with others,

Causing the world to weep

On too many fine days.

God wants to manhandle us,

Lock us inside of a tiny room with Himself

And practice His dropkick.

The Beloved sometimes wants

To do us a great favor:

Hold us upside down

And shake all the nonsense out.

But when we hear

He is in such a "playful drunken mood"

Most everyone I know

Quickly packs their bags and hightails it

Out of town.

- Tired of Speaking Sweetly by Hafiz 

"Prayer is not just spending time with God. It is partly that - but if it ends there, it is fruitless. No, prayer is dynamic. Authentic prayer changes us- unmasks us, strips us, indicates where growth is needed. Authentic prayer never leads us to complacency, but needles us, makes us uneasy at times. It leads us to true self-knowledge, to true humility."

~  St. Theresa of Avila

Called to Become

From Edwina Gateley, There Was No Path So I Trod One (1996, 2013)

You are called to become
A perfect creation.
No one is called to become
Who you are called to be.
It does not matter
How short or tall
Or thick-set or slow
You may be.
It does not matter
Whether you sparkle with life
Or are as silent as a still pool.
Whether you sing your song aloud
Or weep alone in darkness.
It does not matter
Whether you feel loved and admired
Or unloved and alone
For you are called to become
A perfect creation.
No one's shadow
Should cloud your becoming.
No one's light
Should dispel your spark.
For the Lord delights in you.
Jealously looks upon you
And encourages with gentle joy
Every movement of the Spirit
Within you.
Unique and loved you stand.
Beautiful or stunted in your growth
But never without hope and life.
For you are called to become
A perfect creation.
This becoming may be
Gentle or harsh.
Subtle or violent.
But it never ceases.
Never pauses or hesitates.
Only is—
Creative force—
Calling you
Calling you to become
A perfect creation. 

Petition

I see glimpses of the flickering fire of your love
and catch a glimmer of the sparkling treasure from which you made me-

I wish to submit my often proud, judgmental, jealous self to you that
you might draw out your precious child and labourer for your kindom.

Only by your grace can I seek and hear the truth
without fighting for a falsehood-

Only by your grace can I shirk the fetters of
pride and fear which bind me.

I ask you to be gentle enough with me that
I still have the strength and wherewithal to reach
for your outstretched hand-

I bring you this stubborn shell in the hope
that you might accept me as I am and
transform me into a
faithful
and joyful
companion

I like what I see

Covenant by Margaret Halaska osf

The Father knocks at my door, seeking a home for his son: 

Rent is cheap, I say I don’t want to rent. I want to buy, says God. I’m not sure I want to sell, but you might come in to look around. I think I will, says God. I might let you have a room or two. I like it, says God. I’ll take the two. You might decide to give me more some day. I can wait, says God. I’d like to give you more, but it’s a bit difficult. I need some space for me. I know, says God, but I’ll wait. I like what I see. Hm, maybe I can let you have another room. I really don’t need that much. Thanks, says God, I’ll take it. I like what I see. I’d like to give you the whole house but I’m not sure – Think on it, says God. I wouldn’t put you out. Your house would be mine and my son would live in it. You’d have more space than you’d ever had before. I don’t understand at all. I know, says God, but I can’t tell you about that. You’ll have to discover it for yourself. That can only happen if you let him have the whole house. A bit risky, I say. Yes, says God, but try me.
I’ll let you know.
I’m not sure – 
I can wait, says God. I like what I see.

Sacred Moments

The house was small- one room really. Preparations had been going since early morning- bread baked, water collected, lamb slaughtered, spiced and stewed, potatoes picked. the guests had been in and out with their contributions.

They sat down to eat and catch up. They knew the sacrifice which had enabled the feast and savoured each bite, delighted at the pleasure of sharing in this occasion with one another. The boy of the house chasing his cousin or another child under the table or round a grown-up serving another helping of the feast. The wine flowed and the fire at one side of the room was kindled and stoked. They sat around on rugs, on stools, the edge of the bed. They told stories- ancient promises and prophecies. And they sang- chanted rhythmic folk melodies as someone beat out the tempo on a lap and another blew into a flute. The men jumped and stamped and clapped and turned- not enough room for half of them but that's no reason not to dance-

The boy knowing all the steps even though he's just a tot. The music speeding up and the movements getting more clipped, running into one another- a stream of twirling and leaping. They laugh and pat one another on the back when the dance can go no quicker or longer and they settle down. The man of the house more breathless than most- no longer a young man.

The hint of sweat is masked by smells of wood smoke, dinner spices, and dried fruits, incense and alcohol. The air is thick with love and laughter and solmenity. It is important to mark these days. Later the women cry out age-old haunting laments- the mother sings the sweet and sad air her mother used to sing on these occasions. They remember all who have gone before.

It's late and the guests make for home. The hosts see them to the door. They embrace- palms to backs damp from dancing. Anxious lest those leaving catch a chill as they head out into in the crisp starlit night. Those departing laugh off the concern- warm and merry as they are. Looking toward the heavens, the couple recall a sky such as this which overlooked the arrival of the son some years ago. They catch each other's eye, grateful for the grace of fidelity and for present joy.

The boy is exhausted from the days excitement and is up long past his bedtime. He sits at the edge of his cot to wash his face, hands and feet from a bowl and nearly nods off mid-ablution. The husband sits close to him and supports the child's slight frame as the wife kneels and gently wipes dry the little feet. In love, she also washes her husband's feet before they lay down the resting child. The husband takes the cloth and bowl, kneels before his wife and pours water on her feet too, left then right. He rubs her soles, wraps each one gently with the dry cloth before tenderly kissing the tops of her feet and ankles. He tickles her playfully.

It has been a long day, intensely satisfying and the family are grateful and content. Husband and wife lie down on bedding next to the child. Curled up together in the firelight, her back to his front, they watch the fall and rise of the boy's breath.

"The child grew in wisdom, and God's blessings were upon him... So he went back with his parents to Nazareth where he was obedient to them. His mother treasured all these things in her heart and Jesus grew both in body and in wisdom, gaining favour with God and people." Luke 2

Broken (Sue Wharton, 24 February 1991)

It lay in fragments, shattered, broken, marred:

the vessel crushed – its beauty torn apart.

The pattern that had formed its outer glory

                in dust and splinters split upon the ground.

The shape it once had held lay there no more –

                the etched design of years we’d grown to know –

                the potter’s handiwork returned to nought,

                lay fractured, rudely scattered on the earth.

Anguish held me and torment choked my soul;

                the agony of brokenness – the pain,

                the severing of the known, the shadows of the past

                grief overwhelmed me, shook me as I cried.

The hidden inner parts were now displayed,

                a myriad pieces in the seeing light,

                their covering a mask, was swept away;

                unveiled, their shame and torture laid to view.

Some trod that way and trampled underfoot

                or threw aside the remnants as they passed;

                yet others would deride the crumpled flask

                seeing no beauty in the scattered clay.

Yet in the desperation of my heart

                I see the potter, weeping, stooping down;

                gently he cradles the fragments, lifting them close,

                not one is missed, each piece is sought and held.

My precious workmanship, the pleasure of my hands

                I fashioned you and gave you life and form;

                how is your beauty scarred, your tenderness exposed,

                who plundered the secret places of your heart?

Who savaged the love I planted deep within?

Bruised and rejected you brought sorrow, tears?

Such pain I see, torment and misery,

                deep dark despair – yet you were made for joy!

You were not made to bear this heavy load;

                you have been crushed – but you are in my hands.

The Master Potter gently took each piece,

                and built again a vessel as he chose.

Its shape was softer than before – its tracing fine,

                he breathed his healing love to seal each join;

                it was a patient work, he did not rush

                to force the fractured remnants into place,

                but held each one until the pain had ebbed,

                then quietly joined them in his new design.

I felt the newness of the Maker’s touch

                and saw with wonder how he brought again

                a treasure, fashioned to his glorious plan;

                a new creation, out of brokenness.

He held it now with pleasure in his eyes,

                yes, and with love and set it in its place.

‘You have come through the fire, my little one,

                you have been ravaged – now you’re made anew,

                rejoice to me my child born out of love,

                and know that I was broken once – for you.'

Prayer is like watching for the King Fisher

Prayer is like watching for

The kingfisher. All you can do is

Be there where he is like to appear, and

Wait.

Often nothing much happens;

There is space, silence and

Expectancy.

No visible signs, only the

Knowledge that he’s been there

And may come again.

Seeing or not seeing cease to matter,

You have been prepared.

But when you’ve almost stopped

Expecting it, a flash of brightness

Gives encouragement.

- Ann Lewin

Journey of a Lifetime - Paula Finn

"You're on the journey of a lifetime...

A journey no one else will travel and no
one else can judge - a path of happiness
and hurt, where the challenges are great
and the rewards even greater...

You're on a journey where each experience
will teach you something valuable and you
can't get lost, for you already know the
way by heart.

You're on a journey that is universal
yet uniquely personal, and profound yet
astonishingly simple - where sometimes
you will stumble and other times you
will soar. You'll learn that even at your
darkest point, you can find a light - if you
look for it. at the most difficult crossroad,
you'll have an answer - if you listen for
it. Friends and family will accompany you
part of the way, and you'll walk the rest
by yourself... but you will never be alone.

Travel at your own pace. There'll be time
enough to learn all you need to know and
go as far as you're meant to go. Travel
light. Letting go of extra baggage will keep
your arms open and your heart free to
fully embrace the gifts of the moment.

You may not always know exactly where
you're headed, but if you follow the desires
of your heart, the integrity of your
conscience, and the wisdom of your soul...
then each step you take will lead you to
discover more of who you really are, and it
will be a step in the right direction on the
journey of a lifetime"

A Woman's Psalm (139) - Emily Nabholz SCN

You have searched me and know me.

I am a woman...on a journey through life
I am searching for my innermost self to claim who I am as a woman
I am going beyond reflection
I am a woman on an inner search

This inner search leads me to stop running away from you
      - to trust your ever abiding presence
      - to trust your inner workings in me as a woman

I am a woman full of light and shadows
        full of love and fear
        full of hope and despair
But you are there to lead me - to help me
You are the light of my life
I could ask the darkness to hide me
You call me out of darkness
Darkness and light are all the same to you
You accept me just as I am
A woman of light and shadows; love, fear; hope and despair

As I look around and remember your goodness to me my heart is glad
As a woman, I ever seek you in all your ways

You created every part of me
You put me together in my mother’s womb, 
In the womb of life, I am nurtured and nourished, protected and loved
I praise you for the gift of life - for the gift of being woman

I am a woman of remembering, I am a woman of reflection
I realize the days you give me are all recorded in your book
Your thoughts are so above my thoughts, your knowledge of me is too deep 
It is beyond my understanding

Examine me, O Lord, and know me through and through
Let me be naked and open before you, for you are my God
I am a woman in awe and praise of you
Teach me to pray
Pray within me, my Lord and my God

Merton's Prayer

MY LORD GOD, I have no idea where I am going. I do not see the road ahead of me. I cannot know for certain where it will end. Nor do I really know myself, and the fact that I think I am following your will does not mean that I am actually doing so. But I believe that the desire to please you does in fact please you. And I hope I have that desire in all that I am doing. I hope that I will never do anything apart from that desire. And I know that if I do this you will lead me by the right road, though I may know nothing about it. Therefore I will trust you always though I may seem to be lost and in the shadow of death. I will not fear, for you are ever with me, and you will never leave me to face my perils alone.

— Thomas Merton from Thoughts In Solitude

The least of me

"What if the “least of these” that Jesus talks about turns out to be part of our own selves? The parts of ourselves that are sick and homeless and hungry and thirsty and naked.

We are called to love ourselves in our entirety: to honour every part of ourselves — not just our strengths but our manifold weaknesses. Even our anger and despair and doubt.

We are called to accept all in ourselves that we have abandoned and hidden or denied or undervalued, to drop the pretence and posturing we adopt to make ourselves acceptable, to reconcile our inner conflict and division against ourselves, judging ourselves harshly and badly, neglecting ourselves — to love ourselves as we are loved by God.

We are called to face our true centre, to resolve to live out of the selves that have been loved since the foundation of the world.

We are called, too, to love one other as we love ourselves. Indeed, how we love ourselves will determine how well we can love the other: we are all made in the image of God.

So who do we find most difficult to love? Aren’t they people who remind us of the parts of ourselves we fear or dislike?  We are called to love each other in our entirety. Even the parts, especially the
parts, we would prefer to ignore, deny or overlook. We are called to value each other equally. And we are called to love even those we make the outsider, who represent the things that we have banished."
-Sheena McMain

Edwina Gately's Balance

So much struggling –

realizing that I need a balance

between reaching out and reaching in.

I need to do some things just for me,

like paint and play

and read and build sandcastles.

I need to stop for a long time

to think about that.

Where did I miss it? Lose it?

For joy is the centre of ministry.

Joy should precede ministry,

nurture it and fulfil it.

But I am so intense about ministry,

and take it so solemnly

(as if I were responsible for it)

that I become weighed down,

by its ups and downs,

its disappointments and its failures.

I suffocate joy with

seriousness …

I imagine everything depends on me –

when everything is God’s business,

and God has already taken care of

all her creation

and all her people.

We are only to talk with each other

be with each other,

love each other,

God’s is the healing, the growing, and the fulfilling.

When I lose perspective

and imagine everything,

(or most things)

revolving around myself,

I make myself

a little god,

and lose my joy.

For I was never made

to be a little god – only

to be loved

by the Great God.

Perhaps I am too busy

trying to love other people

instead of learning to love myself.

When I can do that

I might begin to understand

how great God’s love is.

When I go through

darkness, heaviness and anxiety,

it is God’s invitation

for me to stop

looking outwards

and start

looking inwards.

And be loving and gentle

with myself.

I am called to minister

for my own joy.

When my joy diminishes,

so does my ministry.

When I have fun and

enjoy myself

God does.

Then I am most like God –

Who is joy!

Awaken Me -Joyce Rupp

Risen One,
come, meet me
in the garden of my life.

Lure me into elation.
Revive my silent hope.
Coax my dormant dreams.
Raise up my neglected gratitude.
Entice my tired enthusiasm.
Give life to my faltering relationships.
Roll back the stone of my indifference.
Unwrap the deadness in my spiritual life.
Impart heartiness in my work.

Risen One,
send me forth as a disciple of your unwavering love,
a messenger
of your unlimited joy.

Resurrected One,
may I become
ever more convinced
that your presence lives on,
and on, and on,
and on.

Awaken me!
Awaken me!

(from Out of the Ordinary)