Thursday in the Third Week of Advent

Blessing for the Longest Night

by Jan Richardson

All throughout these months

as the shadows

have lengthened,

this blessing has been

gathering itself,

making ready,

preparing for

this night.

It has practiced

walking in the dark,

traveling with

its eyes closed,

feeling its way

by memory

by touch

by the pull of the moon

even as it wanes.

So believe me

when I tell you

this blessing will

reach you

even if you

have not light enough

to read it;

it will find you

even though you cannot

see it coming.

You will know

the moment of its

arriving

by your release

of the breath

you have held

so long;

a loosening

of the clenching

in your hands,

of the clutch

around your heart;

a thinning

of the darkness

that had drawn itself

around you.

This blessing

does not mean

to take the night away

but it knows

its hidden roads,

knows the resting spots

along the path,

knows what it means

to travel

in the company

of a friend.

So when

this blessing comes,

take its hand.

Get up.

Set out on the road

you cannot see.

This is the night

when you can trust

that any direction

you go,

you will be walking

toward the dawn.

© Jan Richardson. janrichardson.com

- See more at: http://adventdoor.com/2011/12/19/winter-solstice-blessing-for-the-longest-night/#sthash.HcWczdp7.dpuf

Wednesday in the Third Week of Advent

A Reflection from Iona

The land is waiting for the frost,

to destroy the diseased plants, to cleanse the soil of pests;

waiting for the snow to blanket and protect new shoots;

the world is waiting for the shortest day, the longest night,

for the turning of the year and the return of the light.

The people are waiting, waiting for justice - 

to change their lives.

Refugees are waiting, in their in-between world,

to return home, for the past to be restored,

or for the future to be different....

The world is waiting.

Prayer

God of latent life and growing shoots,

we wait for you in an expectant world:

we long for your wisdom to be at work in our lives

and, with our brothers and sisters,

we yearn for your justice to be done on earth.

Amen

From Advent Readings from Iona by Brian Woodcock and Jan Sutch Pickard

Tuesday in the Third Week of Advent

Fine Particulate Matter
by Ron Cebik


I am made of stuff ,
Fine particulate matter,
Or so I was told
By the somber minister
As she made a mark
Drawing a cross on my brow 
With black soot and grease 
Made holy by some bishop 
Unaware of death
Having left its dark icon 
Beneath the surface
Indelibly on the soul
Immune to dogmas
Meant to calm the anxious heart
Beating to order
Warriors that take up arms 
Against the assaults
Fearful institutions wage
Lest the free walk out
Into the daylight of truth
That o ers nothing, 
Demanding everything 
Excepting the soul,
Yours to keep until the day
It is given up
In the blowing winds of change, 
Breaking forever
The mold you made to hold
The pearl of great price,
Fine particulate matter, 
Dancing in the wind, 
Grounded in sacred memories 
Balancing our lives
On the edge of not knowing 
And uncertain faith,
We seek our unique meaning 
In the swirling dust
Shifting shapes before our eyes 
Preventing contact
With anything substantial
To a rm the truth
We are more than what we seem.

Thus again we kneel
Receiving the timeless sign
Only others see
Hidden from our line of sight, 
Blessed denial
Of how fragile the life we hold 
Together in hope
The time will never arrive
When the black thumb leafs 
Through the prayer book searching 
The proper collect
To signify it is now
The journey begins
To the edge of what lies beyond

Imagination.

©Ron Cebik 2008

Monday in the Third Week in Advent

Ready for Silence
By Madeleine L’Engle

Then hear now the silence
He comes in the silence
in silence he enters
the womb of the bearer
in silence he goes to
the realm of the shadows
redeeming and shriving
in silence he moves from
the grave cloths, the dark tomb
in silence he rises
ascends to the glory
leaving his promise
leaving his comfort
leaving his silence

So come now, Lord Jesus
Come in your silence
breaking our noising
laughter of panic
breaking this earth’s time
breaking us breaking us
quickly Lord Jesus
make no long tarrying

When will you come
and how will you come
and will we be ready
for silence
your silence.

Amen.

Sunday in th Third Week of Advent

In light of the historic climate agreement reached yesterday in Paris in which 195 nations, rich and poor, signed a covenant to reduce greenhouse gas emissions. This is the first globally unified step taken to address the urgent need to protect creation from encroaching climate change. For this landmark consensus, we give thanks! And so today's reflection is from 

Joy of Heaven, to Earth Come Down
by The Rev'd. Margaret Bullitt-Jonas

The world into which we were born is shuddering before our eyes. Maybe half the world's species could vanish before the century is out. Almost all scientists agree that unless we move swiftly toward energy conservation and efficiency unless we make a transition to clean, safe, renewable energy, unless we redesign the infrastructure of our economy so that it is no longer based on fossil fuels  - and do this at top speed - then we face runaway climate change. Without decisive action to cut greenhouse gas emissions, the result of global warming - rising seas, extreme weather events, heat waves and droughts, food and water shortages - will cause unimaginable hardship. ....

That is one big picture of reality. Here is another, just as real. God is the maker of heaven and earth, of all that is real, seen and unseen. Our Creator God loves the universe into being - every leaf and twig, every dolphin and galaxy. God in Christ redeemed it all, fills it all, and longs to restore it all. And God the Holy Spirit empowers us to become healers of the earth, taking action especially on behalf of those who are weak, hungry, marginalized, or poor, since they are the ones with whom Jesus particularly identifies....

How wonderful it would be if, one hundred years from now, our descendants looked back to us with gratitude for stepping up boldly in the face of the ecological crisis and for acting quickly and lovingly to protect life on this planet...


From the Third Sunday in Advent, pp. 41-2.

Friday in the Second Week of Advent

Song
by Allen Ginsberg

The weight of the world

             is love.
Under the burden
             of solitude,
under the burden
             of dissatisfaction

             the weight,
the weight we carry
             is love.

Who can deny?
             In dreams
it touches
             the body,
in thought
             constructs
a miracle,
             in imagination
anguishes
             till born
in human—

looks out of the heart
             burning with purity—
for the burden of life
             is love,
but we carry the weight
             wearily,
and so must rest
in the arms of love
             at last,
must rest in the arms
             of love.
No rest
             without love,
no sleep
             without dreams
of love—
             be mad or chill
obsessed with angels
             or machines,
the final wish
             is love
—cannot be bitter,
             cannot deny,
cannot withhold
             if denied:

the weight is too heavy

             —must give
for no return
             as thought
is given
             in solitude
in all the excellence
             of its excess.

The warm bodies
             shine together
in the darkness,
             the hand moves
to the center
             of the flesh,
the skin trembles
             in happiness
and the soul comes
             joyful to the eye—

yes, yes,
             that’s what
I wanted,
             I always wanted,
I always wanted,
             to return
to the body
             where I was born.

Amen.

Thursday in the Second Week of Advent

Today is the Feast Day of John of the Cross

John of the Cross (San Juan de la Cruz) (24 June 1542 – 14 December 1591), born Juan de Yepes Álvarez, was a major figure of the Counter-Reformation, a Spanish mystic, Catholic saint, Carmelite friar and priest, born at Fontiveros, Old Castile. Saint John of the Cross was a reformer of the Carmelite Order and is considered, along with Saint Teresa of Ávila, as a founder of the Discalced Carmelites. He is also known for his writings.

John learned the importance of self-sacrificing love from his parents. His father gave up wealth, status, and comfort when he married a weaver's daughter and was disowned by his noble family. After his father died, his mother kept the destitute family together as they wandered homeless in search of work. These were the examples of sacrifice that John followed with his own great love -- God. 

From the writings:

“Some of these beginners, too, make little of their faults, and at other times become over-sad when they see themselves fall into them, thinking themselves to have been saints already; and thus they become angry and impatient with themselves, which is another imperfection. Often they beseech God, with great yearnings, that He will take from them their imperfections and faults, but they do this that they may find themselves at peace, and may not be troubled by them, rather than for God's sake; not realizing that, if He should take their imperfections from them, they would probably become prouder and more presumptuous still. They dislike praising others and love to be praised themselves; sometimes they seek out such praise. Herein they are like the foolish virgins, who, when their lamps could not be lit, sought oil from others.” 

                                                                                            ― John of the Cross, Dark Night of the Soul



“ To reach satisfaction in all, desire satisfaction in nothing. To come to possess all, desire the possession of nothing. To arrive at being all, desire to be nothing. To come to the knowledge of all, desire the knowledge of nothing. To come to enjoy what you have not, you must go by a way in which you enjoy not. To come to the possession you have not, you must go by a way in which you possess not. To come to what you are not, you must go by a way in which you are not.   

                                                                                                                   ― John of the Cross

“I came into the unknown
and stayed there unknowing
rising beyond all science.

I did not know the door
but when I found the way,
unknowing where I was,
I learned enormous things,
but what I felt I cannot say,
for I remained unknowing,
rising beyond all science.

It was the perfect realm
of holiness and peace.
In deepest solitude
I found the narrow way:
a secret giving such release
that I was stunned and stammering,
rising beyond all science.

I was so far inside,
so dazed and far away
my senses were released
from feelings of my own.
My mind had found a surer way:
a knowledge of unknowing,
rising beyond all science.

And he who does arrive
collapses as in sleep,
for all he knew before
now seems a lowly thing,
and so his knowledge grows so deep
that he remains unknowing,
rising beyond all science.

The higher he ascends
the darker is the wood;
it is the shadowy cloud
that clarified the night,
and so the one who understood
remains always unknowing,
rising beyond all science.

This knowledge by unknowing
is such a soaring force
that scholars argue long
but never leave the ground.
Their knowledge always fails the source:
to understand unknowing,
rising beyond all science.

This knowledge is supreme
crossing a blazing height;
though formal reason tries
it crumbles in the dark,
but one who would control the night
by knowledge of unknowing
will rise beyond all science.

And if you wish to hear:
the highest science leads
to an ecstatic feeling
of the most holy Being;
and from his mercy comes his deed:
to let us stay unknowing,
rising beyond all science.” 

                              ― John of the Cross



“There is a........reason also why the soul has traveled safely in.....obscurity; it has suffered: for the way of suffering is safer, and also more profitable, than that of rejoicing and of action. In suffering God gives strength, but in action and in joy the soul does but show its own weakness and imperfections. And in suffering, the soul practices and acquires virtue, and becomes pure, wiser, and more cautious.” 
                           
                                                                                                    ― Saint John of the Cross, Dark Night of the Soul