Happy New Year—Always We Begin Again

We are less than 24 hours into Advent, and I am officially in love with our new wreath. Designed by our novice, Jen, and assisted by one of our maintenance men in its construction, the wreath is a spiral that winds its way up to Christmas, a holiday with symbolism we so desperately seek this year.

Since Advent starts the new liturgical year, can we just say that it's 2021 now?! Please?!

What is so beautiful about the Advent wreath is not only the structure, but also its symbolism. When we walked into chapel for our first vigil last night, there was a paper with an explanation of the wreath for us to read. (Kudos to whomever wrote this...I don't know where to give credit.)

Symbols surround us. This Advent season, the Advent wreath is one that invites us to remember that we are one (the circle) and that each candle invites us to focus on a specific attribute: Hope, Love, Joy, and Peace.

We have inserted the spiral into the center of the wreath to call to mind one of the most ancient symbols in nature, science, and the spiritual journey.

In many ancient cultures the spiral depicts the path that leads the soul to evolve and move toward knowledge of the path of enlightenment. It is also a feminine symbol which is linked to the generative force of the universe and the mystery of birth.

Even science has confirmed that the universe moves in spirals. If you look, spirals are everywhere: from shells to the movement of electrons, from fingerprints to the shape of hurricanes.

The Advent wreath invites you to move around it as it has a different perspective from every point of view. May your Advent journey invite you to do the same.

Great...right? Here are a few more angles that I photographed as the light poured in this morning. Again, this is the best time of year for standing in awe at our stained-glass windows in chapel.

And, of course, what would a new year be without a new baking endeavor. Inspired by the finale of the Great British Baking Show, I decided to try making something I haven't tried before...puff pastry...in the form of pain au chocolat. You have to make dough, and then laminate it with butter by folding and resting the dough three times, creating 81 flaky layers through the gift of exponential growth. I began the process on Friday evening, and they came out of the oven this morning. Yes, they were delicious.

Before...

(Yes, that is a slab of butter.)

After...

May your Advent be full of renewed hope, love, joy, and peace.

Let us walk in the holy presence.

The Parable of the Talents

These are the reflections I offered on the gospel (Matthew 25:14-30) during yesterday's Liturgy of the Word.

My favorite poem comes from none other than my favorite poet, Mary Oliver. In the poem, At the River Clarion, she begins, “I don’t know who God is exactly.” And she continues, “But I’ll tell you this.” Then Oliver writes about God being part of all creation: the good/the bad, the happy/the unhappy, and so on. She tells us that “we do not live in a simple world,” and a few lines later that “we receive, then we give back.”

I stood up here about eight months ago as I reflected on the Samaritan woman. I told you all that I wanted to practice seeing creation outside a binary view: no good and bad; no right or wrong. I told you that doing this required a movement out of my brain and into my heart.

Well, I don’t know who God is exactly, but I’ll tell you this: In my lectio with The Parable of the Talents there is the obvious interpretation toward which my brain instinctively leaps: Use your gifts and don’t squander them, lest something bad happens. There is also the less obvious, like the interpretation Benedictine Abbot John Klassen offered us during our 2018 retreat: Maybe those two servants who doubled their talents took advantage of others to multiply what had been given, and the third servant wasn’t interested in playing the same games. And then there’s the movement into my heart in which Jesus challenges me to go deeper with the parables, not to simply say that I will be punished if I do not use my gifts, or that the older brother should have been less resentful when his younger sibling returned home. We do not live in a simple world.

I don’t know who God is exactly, but I’ll tell you this: I hear the third servant say to the master, “I was afraid,” and I connect because I know how often fear becomes the reason I choose to bury my talents: fear of being overextended, fear of not using my gifts perfectly, fear of feeling as though my talents aren’t as useful or as important as someone else’s. It is in those moments when I choose fear that a voice of God enters into my head, saying, “You wicked and lazy servant.”

I don’t know who God is exactly, but I’ll tell you this: Those words are not the voice of God. Rather, they are a voice of God that I allow my brain to manifest when fear overtakes love. They are a voice of God that enters my brain when my trust in the goodness of creation, and the piece I am of it, wanes.

The Parable of The Talents is not about God judging me for my choices. That’s a simple way for my brain to explain away my own judgments of how I use, or fail to use, my gifts, and we do not live in a simple world. For me, this parable is about what happens when I bury my talents in fear. And in those moments, God does not punish me and send me away. No, what God does is beckon me closer to the Source of Love; God uses the Holy Fire deep within to illuminate more clearly all that I have received, and to ignite me to give it all back. At least that has been my experience thus far. But, that beckoning does feel like a punishment when I would rather take the easy road and ignore the sacred wealth I have received.

I don’t know who God is exactly, but I’ll tell you this: God has entered our human existence in the fullest way. And if God is here in our midst, and we take that truth seriously, then we, too, must become that beckoning divine source for one another in community. We must challenge the fear-based behaviors around us. When we challenge with love, it is not a punishment, but rather a call to the conversatio that we have vowed to one another.

I don’t know who God is exactly, but I’ll tell you this: I have no idea how God is going to continue challenging me to use my talents. But I know that if I believe in a God who will call me a wicked and lazy servant, I will be fearful to use them. I believe that our God, who is here and now, and who will come again, we know not when, is an all-encompassing pulse of love. There’s no possibility for any of us to be wicked and lazy servants in the heart of that Love. The voice of God says to us, “Your pulse beats in rhythm with mine. You can trust what you have received, and give it back freely. That’s all it takes for a job well done.”

May we continue to live in the Love of God.

Let us walk in the holy presence.

P.S. Pray for our beloved Amma Willow. The intense wind in NWPA uprooted her yesterday.

Do you have time to linger?

With the gift of a late start to the workday yesterday, I found myself in my room while the birds were eating breakfast. I had also noticed that my feeder on my window was beginning to slip. I opened it up to try and fix the suction cups, but it didn't work. I decided to hold out the feeder since the birds were still flying close by. After some continued to land in my "hand-held feeder," I thought I would try something that I've been meaning to do for a while.

One of my sisters had told me that she was able to get birds to land directly in her hand when she held food there. A bird-tamer of sorts, she showed up at the same time each day, and the birds, as smart as they are, began showing up with her. It wasn't long before she literally had them eating out of her hands!

After a little experimentation myself, combined with a little morning lingering, I enjoyed the same beauty and joy. For all you bird lovers, it was as wonderful as you might imagine. A treat for all!

And a bonus...an iris blooming in fall!

Let us walk in the holy presence.

Invitation

Mary Oliver

Oh do you have time

to linger

for just a little while

out of your busy

and very important day

for the goldfinches

that have gathered

in a field of thistles

for a musical battle,

to see who can sing

the highest note,

or the lowest,

or the most expressive of mirth,

or the most tender?

Their strong, blunt beaks

drink the air

as they strive

melodiously

not for your sake

and not for mine

and not for the sake of winning

but for sheer delight and gratitude –

believe us, they say,

it is a serious thing

just to be alive

on this fresh morning

in the broken world.

I beg of you,

do not walk by

without pausing

to attend to this

rather ridiculous performance.

It could mean something.

It could mean everything.

It could be what Rilke meant, when he wrote:

You must change your life.

A Song Keeping Me Going These Days

Yes, just like everyone else, I am experiencing very human days lately. My emotions are a little bit of everywhere, and this afternoon I could feel my election anxiety beginning to spike even higher.

I am grateful that our community is part of the group of women religious vigiling for peace, for the safety of voters and poll workers, and for the unity of our country. We are taking turns here, in quiet prayer in our chapel, from 8pm this evening through 8pm tomorrow night. I just returned from my 30-minute contribution a moment ago.

May you find moments of peace tomorrow and beyond. I hope this song, that I found via a friend's Facebook post, gives you a moment of respite, too.

Please. Please. Please. VOTE.

From my home to yours, peace upon you and upon our country.

Let us walk in the holy presence.