christmas eve: dazzling darkness.

"In the time of King Herod, after Jesus was born in Bethlehem of Judea, Magi from the East came to Jerusalem asking, 'Where is the child who has been born king of the Jews? For we observed his star at its rising, and have come to pay him homage.’ When King Herod heard this, he was frightened, and all Jerusalem with him; and calling together all the chief priests and scribes of the people, he inquired of them where the Messiah was to be born. They told him, ‘In Bethlehem of Judea; for so it has been written by the prophet: “And you, Bethlehem, in the land of Judah, are by no means least among the rulers of Judah; for from you shall come a ruler who is to shepherd my people Israel.” Then Herod secretly called for the Magi and learned from them the exact time when the star had appeared. Then he sent them to Bethlehem, saying, ‘Go and search diligently for the child; and when you have found him, bring me word so that I may also go and pay him homage.’ When they had heard the king, they set out; and there, ahead of them, went the star that they had seen at its rising, until it stopped over the place where the child was. When they saw that the star had stopped, they were overwhelmed with joy. On entering the house, they saw the child with Mary his mother; and they knelt down and paid him homage. Then, opening their treasure-chests, they offered him gifts of gold, frankincense, and myrrh. And having been warned in a dream not to return to Herod, they left for their own country by another road." Matthew 2:1-12

"There is in God (some say)
A deep, but dazzling darkness."-Henry Vaughn

Sometimes God is born
like a wild star calling us
in a new direction,
blazing a new path
that has never been imagined.
Sometimes God is born
out of such a deep, darkness
that we forget it, too, is dazzling.
Sometimes when God is born,
more real and alive
than we ever expected,
we are frightened to our bones
because we know
it will change us forever.
Fear and violence
will seem appropriate reactions--
And so will wonder
and pure uncontainable joy.
Will we barricade our doors
and hold meetings
carefully mapping a plan
to keep our power,
to protect what is ours,
to hold onto our way of life?
Or will we kneel
to weep, rejoice and dream
like children?
I pray that when I see
that wild star
I will have courage enough
to throw open the treasure chest
of my life and fling all my gold
out into the untamable blue of sky.
I pray for the courage
to be dazzled.

advent 6: spring forth.

"The days are surely coming, says the Lord, when I will fulfil the promise I made to the house of Israel and the house of Judah. In those days and at that time I will cause a righteous Branch to spring up for David; and he shall execute justice and righteousness in the land. In those days Judah will be saved and Jerusalem will live in safety. And this is the name by which it will be called: ‘The Lord is our righteousness.’" -Jeremiah 33:14-16

Through the
hardened mud
I can just
make out
a thick vein
of root.
A promise of
new life
flowing.
I can just glimpse
the newness
of green unpeeling.
Sometimes we
need a concrete justice.
The kind that comes
only with great effort;
The sort that
can be measured
with a scale.
Righteousness that
we break apart and
put together again
with a hammer.
But this tree of life
comes at its own time,
everywhere
in hidden places
below the surface.
No tool of steal
can create or destroy it.
And just when hope
is almost lost--
Look! Just there--
A Branch
Springs Forth
in the midst
of winter.

advent 5: witness to the light.

"There was a man sent from God, whose name was John. He came as a witness to testify to the light, so that all might believe through him. He himself was not the light, but he came to testify to the light. The true light, which enlightens everyone, was coming into the world." - John 1:6-9

A window
is a simple,
beautiful thing
letting in all that light
into places of dim
and shadow.
We know,
of course,
that it is
not the source
of the light.
It is just glass
and wood and glue.
And a few bent nails
barely holding
it all together.
Still, it is only by
this bit of clarity,
that the sturdy walls
we've built
for ourselves
are punctured.
We can only
call it a Miracle,
a Witness,
this little box
that frames
the glimmering world.

advent 4: the word.

"In the beginning was the Word, and the Word was with God, and the Word was God. He was in the beginning with God. All things came into being through him, and without him not one thing came into being. What has come into being in him was life, and the life was the light of all people." -John 1:1-4

A word
in the beginning
when everything
was blank and new,
like a crisp white page,
the story
yet to be written.
A word
still pulsing,
glowing, dancing,
between the lines
of faded sentences.
A word
amid the
overcrowded
scrawling of centuries.
A word
rejoicing
in the wild spinning
of new tales.
A word
entwined in
the layers and layers
of telling and retelling,
of making new.
A word
from which
all others come.

advent 3: keep watch.

"Beware, keep alert; for you do not know when the time will come. It is like a man going on a journey, when he leaves home and puts his servants in charge, each with his work, and commands the doorkeeper to be on the watch. Therefore, keep awake—for you do not know when the master of the house will come, in the evening, or at midnight, or at cockcrow, or at dawn, or else he may find you asleep when he comes suddenly. And what I say to you I say to all: Keep awake."-Mark 13:33-37

Keep Watch

In the quiet still
hours of winter
it is too easy
to close the door.
To make a cozy place
in the midst of the known,
To build a house
made of the ordinary,
with no room
for unexpected guests.
A place to curl into
the gentleness of sleep,
and hide in the safety
of closed eyes.
But keep watch:
the door refuses to latch.
At any moment, even now,
it could be flung open
to the Miraculous.
If you look you will see
the door is already ajar,
and a sliver of glimmering light
cracks open your easy darkness.

advent 2: you are not lacking.

"Grace to you and peace from God our Father and the Lord Jesus Christ. I give thanks to my God always for you because of the grace of God that has been given you in Christ Jesus, for in every way you have been enriched in him, in speech and knowledge of every kind-- just as the testimony of Christ has been strengthened among you-- so that you are not lacking in any spiritual gift as you wait for the revealing of our Lord Jesus Christ. He will also strengthen you to the end, so that you may be blameless on the day of our Lord Jesus Christ. God is faithful; by him you were called into the fellowship of his Son, Jesus Christ our Lord." -1 Corinthians 1:3-9

I wonder if the young sapling
considers the height
of the towering oak
and thinks itself lacking.
Does it question
its smallness?
No matter
one's age in years,
there is that dull throb
of impatience, of want:
the ache to be more.
But the generous sky
tells another story:
bathing the sapling in light,
enriching it with water.
Oh Child, says the sky,
You are not lacking.
You have all that you need.
It is enough to put down shy roots,
and unfurl your fragile branches.
The wide newness of this day
is all the grace you need.

advent 1: awake to everything.

This Advent I am challenging myself to spend time daily reflecting on scripture through word and image. By the end of Advent I hope to have created a kind of half breed advent calendar and lectio-divina art project. I'll be sharing these images and short poems here on this blog. I hope you'll join me in this journey of expectation and incarnation, and I invite you to share your own reflections.

"Besides this you know what hour it is, how it is full time now for you to wake from sleep. For salvation is nearer to us now than when we became believers;the night is far gone, the day is near. Let us then lay aside the works of darkness and put on the armour of light; let us live honourably as in the day, not in revelling and drunkenness, not in debauchery and licentiousness, not in quarrelling and jealousy. Instead, put on the Lord Jesus Christ, and make no provision for the flesh, to gratify its desires." -Romans 13:11-14

Armor of Light

Winter's gray
has settled like dust
over everything
and with it
the long hours
of crisp cold dark.
We cover ourselves
layer by layer
for protection
from all that we dread
and all that we fear,
including ourselves
and each other.
Awake, awake
you say,
awake to everything,
your voice crackling
with light and hope.
And I begin again
to strip away these
useless layers--
strong and stubborn as steal--
So I might wrap myself
in the soft warmth
of your presence
and wear it like a second skin.

words like the sun

They can be like a sun, words.

They can do for the heart

what light can

for a field.

-St. John of the Cross
Love Poems from God

Hidden Things

Hidden Things

I.
Yesterday I was with two fifteen year old girls
and our conversation turned to dreaming.
They told me they wished
we could build a secret room:
A place they could come
whenever they were in need.
Like the youth room, I asked.
No, more sacred.
The church sanctuary, I offered.
No, a room of our own, they answered,
sounding strangely like Virginia Woolf
A name they would not know if I said it.
But with longing worthy
of any creative genius they insisted:

We want a place where
no one could find us.

II.
I once heard the poet Mary Oliver
explain that she hides
pencils in the woods and fields
of Massachusetts--
Just in case inspiration should strike
when she was empty handed.

A world away on the West Coast
when I go walking I feel myself
secretly hoping to find
one of her hidden pencils.
Geographically impossible, I know.
But still, I look for hidden things
to help me feel less empty-handed.

A Longing Poem

I cannot find the place
where Aliveness is.
Where God moves.
It is as though Divinity
is just on the other side
of the wall,
Whispering.

I sit entranced
ear pressed against
cool plaster.
I listen with
every nerve,
Every cell open,
Hoping to hear
God's voice.

I can make out
muffled syllables
and muted sounds-
Enough to know
Someone is there,
Someone is speaking.

I feel caught here:
my ear glued to the wall
my being tense
with waiting.

Because I fear losing
the Sound altogether
I do not get up,
I cannot get up
to look for the door
to the other side.

scattered divinities.

To live like a monk
is to walk slowly
noticing the curvings of the earth,
the gentle swells of breathing grass.
A monk dwells in holy sacred syllables:
Latin and Hebrew and Greek--
Sounds that cannot be made sense of
but are known in the soul
as one knows breath
and darkness
and light.
She lingers, noticing
small miracles,
And touches relics
with ordinary fingertips
just to feel the life lived
pulsing beneath the threadbare surface.

To live like a monk
is to see the world as a church,
every moment a cloister
where great mysteries unfold.
The air is never empty
but heavy with the flapping
of great unseen wings
as angels move to the pulse of time
in a rhythm ancient and eternal.
To live as a monk is to feel
that soft brush of holiness
fluttering softly against human skin.
She makes no pronouncements or prophecies,
but curls her lips in a quiet smile
and sings soft indecipherable songs
of sweet divinities scattered everywhere.