Sixth Day of Christmas

 On Sunday I was able to see water returning to the sea. I paused for a moment to witness that beautiful cycle before I stepped over the small stream. This is also the rhythm of Christmas when we return to the stories again and find our place among them. Hopefully, we do not simply step over them without pausing to listen to what new understanding is waiting to be born within us. By returning to the ancient scriptures, we learn again that despite the Herods of the world, we are held in a tender heart - the heart of the universe.   

Last night I dreamed that I was in a small and beautiful library made of wood. I am not there to read, however, but to witness the marriage of my brother (In my waking life I have neither brother nor sister.) I am with a woman whom I know as Mother (not the biological mother who birthed me into this life). She is creating a sort of crown for my soon to be sister-in-law: a circular universe based on the position of the eight planets of our solar system. However, where she might have placed a planet, she is attaching a tiny red rose along a thin, transparent plastic thread that will soon be formed into a circle. The roses are made of fiber. The creator of this small universe said that the thread will dissolve, but the roses will stay in their circle and will offer protection to her daughter-in-law whenever she wears it, not just on her wedding day.  

Despite the beauty that I am seeing, in the dream I am anxious. We are in Mexico, and I do not know the language. My mother tells me not to worry; I will understand.

    

As I was writing this, I heard my phone ding letting me know I had received a text. I wondered if it might be my friend letting me know that the birth of her granddaughter had begun. Alas, it was a notice announcing a shoe sale. The baby, as far as I know, is still safe in the sea of her mother's womb. I shall have to pass on the offer of a good deal on a  pair of shoes just now.     

  

"Listen, O drop, give yourself up without regret,

and in exchange gain the ocean.
Listen, O drop, bestow upon yourself this honor,
and in the arms of the Sea be secure.
Who indeed should be so fortunate?
An Ocean wooing a drop!
In God’s name, in God’s name, sell and buy at once!
Give a drop, and take this sea full of pearls."

~ Rumi

First Sip  

     

           

           

  

     

The photograph is one I took in June, 2024. The rose, as you can see, is not red, but I think it reflects the tenderness I experienced in the dream.  

--

Fifth Day of Christmas

 Yesterday (Sunday) Tyler and I both had the day off. Tyler briefly made the suggestion that we might use the day to clean the house. I quickly vetoed that logical and very sound suggestion. We then decided to explore Marin County. The traffic was not heavy so it was a pleasant drive. Where we ended up was Stinson Beach. We fairly quickly found parking and walked down a short staircase to the ocean.  

It had been years since we were there last. The beach is wide and flat with large rocks at one end. No dogs or other pets are allowed. (I am unclear as to what other sort of pets might enjoy the beach, but I guess those in charge want to be clear that no domesticated animals would be welcome. I think horses are right out.)  Partly because of this ordinance and partly because Stinson Beach does not seem to be a rabble rouser sort of town, the beach is clean, and the sea birds do seem a little calmer.  After our explorations, we then walked back up the stairs and found a place for lunch. It was warm and sunny enough to comfortably sit outside. 

As we ate and talked, a thought came to mind  that surprised me: "I am not sure I deserve this happiness." I mentioned this to Tyler who asked me, "Why would you think that?".

 I really had no answer. 

 

This morning I think happiness is a practice. It is also something we receive, like grace. It can be fleeting. One day you are basking in the sun eating a french dip sandwich, the next morning you are despairing about the news. Happiness takes a steady hand on the rudder as we live our lives, hopefully in gratitude and in relationship with the Sacred and with others on this journey.

 In the book,  A Way To the Heart of Christmas, editor Brian Linard includes a few paragraphs written by Alfred Delp, S.J.  I was unfamiliar with Father Delp's writings, but I have now learned that he was imprisoned and eventually executed by the Nazis. Although his hands were kept bound, he was able to write and smuggle his notes out with his laundry. That means there was someone there to receive them. I think there are good reasons why his book, The Prison Meditations of Father Alfred Delp, is worth reading, and I intend to do that. Was Father Delp happy as he wrote in prison? Highly unlikely. Yet, his faith held firm. He knew his purpose, and I am grateful for the inspiration.        

   

"God is with us. That was his promise ... And that promise has become a reality in our lives, in quite a different way from what we expected, a much fuller and much simpler reality than we had thought it would be. 

We should not try to avoid God's burdens. They are the way to his blessing. If we continue faithfully to follow the hard way, bearing God's burdens, we shall discover the inner source of reality and the world will reveal itself as being not silent in a sense that is quite different from what we had imagined. The silver threads of the divine mystery of all reality will begin to gleam and sing aloud for us. Those burdens will become a blessing for us, as soon as we recognize them and bear them as God's burdens."   

Alfred Delp, S.J. 

  

I have no answers as to why there are those who seem to think of little else other than controlling, imprisoning, torturing, and killing others. These actions are cowardly and ultimately do not work. They will never have the last word. The last word will always belong to God which means truth and love will prevail. Therefore, we can indulge in experiencing our happiness when it surfaces, knowing it is a gift. I know to some that seems an oversimplification, and it probably is. However, I think Father Delp knew and trusted that simplicity. 

Brian Linard and New City Press seem a bit lax about identifying actual sources such as books, but at least we have enough to follow the thread, which I always enjoy. This quote may or may not be from his book of prison meditations, but from another book of his. It does, however, seem like a good place to start. Regardless, blessings as you follow your thread this Christmas season and always. Trust your burdens and your joy.  Please leave us a trail. We are listening for your song.           

       

  

image:  "The Way Can Get Rough, But It Is Worth It"

             Stinson Beach, December 28, 2025

Thine Advent Here

Yesterday I finished my last Advent worship script for this year. I have always liked Advent, but this year, I found the ancient words of Isaiah and Luke deeply moving. Sitting in the predawn hours reading Isaiah proved to be a practice I think I want to continue. The prophet's continual reminder to trust God even in the midst of a marauding empire was humbling. This Sunday my small in number congregation will sing "People Look East" and hopefully as we sing we will remind one another that Love will come as Guest. Love will also come as a Rose, a Star, and  the Lord. Love just continues to come. That is who God is and what God does. The earth is bathed in this love. However, too often, we dismiss love.  In the midst  of earthly violence, despair, and greed, love can seem to be a quaint idea from another time, and Christmas is just another item on the calendar to be checked off come December 26. Let us not be foolish.   

Tyler and I did not put up a Christmas tree this year, but as usual I set out my twelve small gnomes on the speaker by the front window (Well, one figure is actually not a gnome but a small boy who has been with the gnomes for so long that any year now I expect to unpack their box and see that he has grown a white beard.)  I also decorated the mantle. I brought out two small creches, and I found fresh batteries for my candles that sit in the living and dining room windows. I purchased these candles just after 9/11. They automatically come on when darkness arrives, and turn off when there is sufficient light. For some reason, when the batteries expired the last time, I did not replace them. Maybe I needed to get a sense of the darkness of unlit candles - I needed to be reminded  how much a small light matters.  

I am an older pastor. I almost retired last year, but the election brought home to me how  important community is in times such as these.  There are health and mobility concerns  in the congregation now that were not so apparent in past years. One beloved member passed.  About three years ago we sold our much too large for us property. The proceeds have been invested, and we donate any interest we receive to 501c3's who are actively engaged in serving the hungry, the unhoused, and our beleaguered environment. We worship on Sundays in a small historical chapel  on a busy street. I am convinced that when we sing, angels come and listen. Not because we sing particularly well. They come because the acoustics of the building are so good that not only are our voices amplified, but also our hearts.  

 Look for the love; it can always be found, often in surprising places. Listen to the angels who always seem to say, "Be not afraid.". Listen to your heart. I preached all this when I was younger, and I am grateful I can still stand and preach it today.  

I am grateful for all of you.        

        

    

 image:  Gnomes and One More,  2025   

Give Us a Word

I have been pondering the word lagom, trying to make it one of my own.   I have learned that the origin of the word is Swedish, 19th century, and means "the principle of living a balanced, moderately paced, low-fuss life: those who achieve lagom routinely take time to appreciate their surroundings, take several breaks during the workday, dress from a minimal and versatile wardrobe, and treat others with respect and kindness.. (Dictionary.com)."   I believe this is a state of mind worth cultivating.   

 

"If you want to become whole, 

let yourself be partial. 

If you want to become straight, 

let yourself be crooked. 

If you want to become full, 

let yourself be empty. 

If you want to be reborn, 

let yourself die.  

If you want to be given everything, 

give everything up."     

   

Tao Te Ching, Chapter 22, excerpt 

Stephen Mitchell    

   

Words that can guide us to a beautiful Christmas.   I have long held the belief  that in Christ, we fit  because of our incompleteness.  We are like pieces of a jigsaw puzzle. It is only when we come together, that a more complete  picture can be revealed.   In John 15:12-13, Jesus says, "This is my commandment: love each other just as I have loved you. No one has greater love than to give up one's life for one's friends."   A way of deciphering this is to  make room for one another.  Make yourself less so everyone can become more.  Be that grain of wheat that falls to the ground so that a more abundant harvest can be sown.     

  

Peace on the journey.  Remember it is in our hearts where Christ is revealed.    

   

photograph:  Mountain View, May 2015