Epiphany Blessings, Finding the Path

 Friends, I am forwarding part of my SpiritCare weekly meditation to you all so I can extend Epiphany Blessings. Please excuse any duplication you have received. I have also included a photograph taken of the middle front door of the church of St. Aquinas in Reno. We spent an extra day in Reno, and took a morning walk as the snow melted from the night before.  A friendly greeter at the church told us that the copper came from a mine in Nevada. I was so stunned I forgot to ask about the artist. It was a beautiful morning.   

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"When the magi had departed, an angel from the Lord appeared to Joseph in a dream and said, "Get up. Take the child and his mother and escape to Egypt. Stay there until I tell you, for Herod will soon search for the child..."  

Matthew 2:13    

  

Meditation: 

   

[On our recent trip ] I did miss celebrating Epiphany with the San Lorenzo Community Church, and as we travelled, I found myself pondering the journey of both the Holy Family and the Magi. The Christmas story is rich, and the older I get the more I love its mystery and wonder, as well as the reminder to listen to our dreams and intuition.  It is so easy to get wrapped up in the comings and goings of the Herods of our time. Yet, we know there is so much more to this sacred life we have been blessed with.  

When I walked into the house after our arrival, I laughed out loud. Our mantle was still decorated, and the four creches I had brought out of their boxes were still out. The Christmas mugs were still in the cabinet. The artificial poinsettias were still blooming, and the small gnomes from my childhood were still in their usual Christmas spot, and they were still smiling.  We opted to not decorate a tree because we knew we would be leaving just after New Year's, and I do not like to be hasty in taking down the decorations. I happily settled back into Epiphany, and yesterday, as I began preparations for this coming Sunday's worship service, I was reminded that Epiphany, like Christmas, is a season. A season of learning again to listen and to ponder, and to remember that not even the most desperate power wielding Herods can possibly outlast or outwit God. Glory be.   

I leave you for now with this beautiful Christmas prayer from the book, I Wonder as I Wander, The 12 Days of Christmas with Madeleine L'Engle by Bruce G. Epperly. On a whim I ordered the book before we left, so it, too, was waiting silently on the front porch to welcome us home.   

  

A CHRISTMAS PRAYER  

   

"'Brightest and best of the stars of the morning, 

dawn on our darkness and lend us your aid,' 

in the time in which leaders have 

lost their moral compass 

and the world is at risk. 

Let your starlight and sunlight 

shine in and through us, 

radiating forth to bring light to the world, 

love to the lonely, and hope to the fearful. 

Guide my feet, so that I might 

"go tell it on the mountain that 

Jesus Christ is born" 

right here and now in this holy moment. 

Let the Spirit of the Christmas Star 

guide me in the year ahead. 

With the Magi, let my life be a gift to Jesus 

and to all his children, human and nonhuman alike. 

In the Name of the Way-Maker and Life-Giver, 

let it be so!  

   

The last of my bayberry candles are lit, and I wish you all a blessed Epiphany season. 

   

Love and Blessings, 

Rev. Sue Ann 

   

hymns quoted:  

"Brightest and Best", Southern Harmony, 1835  

"Go Tell It on the Mountain", African-American Spiritual 

Epiphany Blessings

 This fine writing is a reminder that we will always create havoc as long as we think that this world is for the taking. Life is not for plundering. We know all too well the disastrous results of such primitive thinking. Let us be like the Magi, and simply accept the invitation to make this journey. May we not plant flags, but leave only generous gifts in our wake.  Let us travel with dignity and reverence, trusting our dreams and the beckoning stars. God calls us ever on.  I am grateful to travel with you for awhile. 

The moment when, after many years
of hard work and a long voyage,
you stand in the centre of your room,
house, half-acre, square mile, island, country,
knowing at last how you got there,
and say, I own this,
Is the same moment the trees unloose
their soft arms from around you,
the birds take back their language,
the cliffs fissure and collapse,
the air moves back from you like a wave
and you can't breathe.
No, they whisper. You own nothing.
You were a visitor, time after time
Climbing the hill, planting the flag, proclaiming.
We never belonged to you.
You never found us.
It was always the other way round.

~ Margaret Atwood      

       

  

image: I cannot find the name of this painting, but it is attributed to the illustrator, Joseph Christian Leyendecker (1874-1951).  It came to me via the FaceBook page, Sacred Christmas.