Miracles in the Silence

 The 19th century German novelist Wilhelm Raabe wrote, "The greatest miracles take place in great silence." 

Hmm. Not so sure I agree with that, especially at this time of year. I am one hundred per cent sure that the miracle that was the birth of Jesus did not take place in "great silence".  Mary was an ordinary human woman, and would have felt all the pain and travail of labour - I'm sure she would not have suffered in silence. And Joseph would have breathed awkward words, intended to be of comfort. The animals would have been moving around in their stable and outside, perhaps the sounds of distant Bethlehem would have been heard, or the calls of night birds and animals.

The birth of every child is a miracle. I have been through it twice and I have never lost my sense of awe and wonder. That a single act of love can lead to the growth of another human being over nine months, changing from a few cells into a fully-functioning human baby. That my body provided everything the growing foetus needed to nourish it. That I was able to endure the pain of labour because I knew (hoped desperately) that in the end, I would have a living, healthy baby. That miracle happened twice for me.

Our world is full of miracles, if we have eyes to see. As many of you know, I walk regularly in Salcey Forest and am able to observe at first hand the miracle that is the annual cycle of the seasons. At the moment, most of the trees are bare of leaves, which have formed a wet slush underfoot and the bushes have been nearly denuded of berries by the hungry birds. But after Christmas I will soon see shoots of new green, the annual miracle of renewal. By March, the Forest will have transformed into a burgeoning green miracle. Then in the Autumn, the trees will remember the necessity of a season of dormancy and will begin to shed their leaves once more.

Miracles do not only happen in nature. How we interact with each other can result in changes of heart and mind - surely a minor miracle in itself.

But I do believe that *appreciation* of each miracle, as it happens, does take place in "great silence" - that moment of awe and wonder when we take in the miracle that it taking, has taken place.

I love the prayer, quoted by Rachel Naomi Remen in her book, My Grandfather's Blessings:

Days pass and the years vanish

and we walk sightless among miracles.

Lord, fill our eyes with seeing 

and our minds with knowing.

Let there be moments when your Presence,

like lightning, illuminates

the darkness in which we walk. 

Help us to see, wherever we gaze,

that the bush burns, unconsumed.

And we, clay touched by God,

will reach out for holiness and

exclaim in wonder,

"How filled with awe is this place

and we did not know it."

May we all have the sight to perceive the everyday miracles in our lives. Amen

Movement, Change and Transformation

 This week's quotation, by Hungarian spiritual writer, Elisabeth Haich, really struck a chord. "Life," she wrote, "is movement, change, transformation."

And of course, she's right. Much though we may hate to hear it, as often as we may kid ourselves that our lives are going on very much the same as they always have, it isn't true. I'm not the same person as I was yesterday, or last week, last month, let alone last year.

Because we live in a world where we are always encountering new things - new experiences, new people, new thoughts and ideas, new nudges from the Spirit. And we cannot help being changed by them. It may take us a while, screaming, protesting, and dragging at the hand that is trying to lead us forward, but we'll get there in the end.

How much better to be open to movement, change, transformation. To embrace it, even... I honestly believe that it is up to us to keep our hearts and minds and spirits open to new experiences, so that we may grow as people.  It's also important to be nice to ourselves, to understand our natural inclination towards the status quo, and not beat ourselves up when we resist movement, change, transformation. And to understand that these things are just as hard for everyone else we know, and not to blame them when they, too, resist.

Letting go of the old can be even more difficult. Many of us find it easier to hold on to old grudges, old hurts, old griefs, preferring to stay behind our armoured souls in case life hurts us once again. It is much more courageous to doff our armour, reveal our vulnerabilities and embrace the new. But it is a wonderfully rewarding way to live.

Each of us has been given a brain and a heart to approach the new in a spirit of curiosity, rather than dread. Let us use them as best we can, so that we may grow into the best people we can be. Let us pray to be awake and aware and open to new experiences.

The Wonderful in the Everyday

When I woke up this morning, the sky was blue and clear - such a joy after the torrential rain of the past few days - I might even go for a walk (well wrapped-up) later. Which fits well with this week's quotation, from American writer Pearl S. Buck, who wrote, "The true wisdom of life is to see the wonderful in the everyday." I have written about the wonder I feel when I walk in Salcey Forest many times, particularly here.

Yet wonder is not only to be found in the natural world. I remember some years ago,I blogged about being in Tesco's one December morning, slogging through the crowded store, feeling very bah-humbuggerish, when I saw a small child in a pushchair gazing with wonder and delight at the Christmas decorations on the ceiling. They weren't "ho, hum, just another Christmas" to him, they were a source of wonder. He taught me a lesson I have never quite forgotten. "Out of the mouths (and eyes) of babes..."

So this year, in spite of torrential rain, and the potential of a new lockdown cause by the Omicron variant of Covid, I'm going to make a strong effort to be aware of, to live in the wonder and appreciate the beauty and wonder all around me.

 

Does Love Require Freedom?

 Regular readers of this blog will know that I use a weekly quotation as inspiration for it. And it is rare for me to disagree with the writers, poets, artists, philosophers and theologians chosen by the compilers of the Harenberg Calendars. But this week I do. The quote is by German writer and poet, Heinrich Heine, "Love requires freedom in order to exist and flourish."

No, it doesn't. Love is the greatest power in the world. It is stronger than fear, stronger than hate, stronger than anything. I believe that Love is God's presence at the centre of everything. And I believe that in the end, it will ultimately prevail.

Some may think that this is ridiculously naive, stupidly optimistic. And if we look around at our world, they may have a point. Yet in the darkest places, the most hopeless times, something gives people the strength to resist evil, the power to carry on when bad things happen. I believe that thing is Love.

I believe that Love is a real power in the world. Which has been proclaimed down the centuries. We only have to read St Paul's Letter to the Corinthians, in which he speaks of the power of Love:

"If I speak in the tongues of mortals and of angels, but do not have love, I am a noisy gong or a clanging cymbal. And if I have prophetic powers, and understand all mysteries and all knowledge, and if I have all faith, so as to remove mountains, but do not have love, I am nothing. If I give away all my possessions, and if I hand over my body so that I may boast, but do not have love, I gain nothing.

Love is patient, love is kind, love is not envious or boastful or arrogant or rude. It doesn not insist on its its own way, it is not irritable or resentful, it does not rejoice in wrongdoing, but rejoices in the truth. It bears all things, believes all things, hopes all things, endures all things.

Love never ends. But as for prophecies, they will come to an end; as for tongues, they will cease: as for knowledge, it will come to an end. For we know only in part, and we prophesy only in part; but when the complete comes, the partial will come to an end. When I was a child, I spoke like a child, I thought like a child, I reasoned like a child; when I became an adult, I put an end to childish ways. For now we see in a mirror, dimly, but then we will see face to face. Now I know only in part; then I will know fully, even as I have been fully known. And now faith, hope, and love abide, these three; and the greatest of these is love."

So no, Heine, love does not require freedom in order to exist and flourish: it is the most poweful force in the world.

The Path of the Night

 The Lebanese mystic and poet, Khalil Gibran, once wrote, "Dawn can only be reached by following the path of the night."

Dawn is one of my favourite times of day - if I'm awake in time to witness it. The night sky begins to lighten slowly as the sun begins to rise. Sometimes gold, sometimes orange, sometimes red, sometimes purple, and all the shades inbetween - sometimes, I stand at my bedroom window for minutes together and watch the eastern sky change before my eyes. It is never the same twice and always a source of gratitude and wonder. Here is one from a month ago (although my photo does not do it justice):

I think the point that Gibran is making is that we will not really appreciate the beauty of the sky at dawning unless we have experienced the darkness that comes before it. And as in the real world, so in the spiritual world.

I do not know anyone who has not gone through dark periods in their lives, companioned by gloom, depression and despair. Which makes the return of the light even more precious, because we know what it is to be without it. 

And I think we can take his words as a promise too - that there *will* be a time of light and beauty after the darkness, that our night will not last forever. But that we have to walk along the path of the night to get there, have to do the shadow work first.

Which is probably one reason why I find such value in stories - the stories in which the hero/ine has to go through all kinds of trials and tribulations before attaining their goal. But at the end, the goal is reached or achieved and the light can return. Reading such stories is a promise of future light to come, that the darkness will have an end, if we have faith in the possibility of dawning. I know that when we are in the middle of the darkest passages of the night, the darkest times of our lives, it can be difficult to believe that better times are ahead. But they always are. We just have to hang on to hope, hang on to faith.

Discovering Our Wings

 The 20th century Mexican painter Frida Kahlo wrote, "Art and love are the wings that carry us to heaven." 

And yes, they are certainly two of them. But I think the wings that carry us to heaven are many and varied, not just art and love. The wings that help each of us to "heaven" will be unique to each person. And they may be things we do ourselves, or experiences that happen to us.

And I guess it depends what we mean by "heaven". I don't think that Frida Kahlo meant the realm of God and his [sic] angels when she wrote this. My Concise Oxford Dictionary gives several definitions and the one I think she was referring to is "place or state of supreme bliss or great delight."

I can only speak for myself. A contemplative walk in Salcey Forest, or surrounded by beautiful lakes and mountains is one of my surest, most reliable routes to the experience of heaven. Or spending time with the people I love. Or the process of creation, whether that is with a pen or a crochet hook.

I believe that heaven can also be found in our experiences. For example, a moment of deep connection with another person or other people can feel like heaven. I can remember attending a showing of the first Harry Potter film, Harry Potter and the Philosopher's Stone, with my husband and children and at the end, the entire audience broke into applause. 

The shared joy of common experiences can be found in many places, if we are awake enough to notice them - singing together, walking on a Pride march, the Anniversary Service of our General Assembly meetings, having a deep conversation, heart-to-heart, with another person.

What are your wings?

Seize the Day (or not)

 The title of this blogpost comes from the Roman poet, Horace, "carpe diem quam minimum credula postero", which means, "pluck the day, trusting as little as possible in the next one." A similar sentiment is expressed by Dante Alighieri, who wrote, "One waits for time to change, the other grabs it firmly and acts."

A couple of decades ago, I would have agreed wholeheartedly with both Horace and Dante. I have always found it easier to jump into a situation and *do* something, rather than sitting passively, waiting for something to happen to me.

But in recent years, I have learned that we are called human beings for a reason. We are not called human doings. Sure, there are times and places where action is imperative and we should be "up and doing" as the hymn writer says. Nevertheless, I have learned that simply being also has its place. Time to sit still, breathe, reflect, Simply Be.

Because it is when we give ourselves time to Simply Be, to be still, to wait on the time, that deeper insights come, those nudges from the Divine that we would otherwise not have noticed, being too busy rushing from one place to another, one task to another.

There is a fascinating article by Zindel Segal on the Mindfulness website, here. In it, he explains that the mind has two basic modes: Doing mode and Being mode. He says that the job of the Doing mode 

"is to get things done—to achieve particular goals that the mind has set. These goals could relate to the external world—to make a meal, build a house, or travel to the moon—or to the internal world of self—to feel happy, not make mistakes, never be depressed again, or be a good person. The basic strategy to achieve such goals involves something we call the “discrepancy monitor”: a process that continually monitors and evaluates our current situation against a model or standard—an idea of what is desired, required, expected, or feared."

The focus of the Being mode, on the other hand, "is “accepting” and “allowing” what is, without any immediate pressure to change it. “Allowing” arises naturally when there is no goal or standard to be reached, and no need to evaluate experience in order to reduce discrepancies between actual and desired states. This also means that attention is no longer focused narrowly on only those aspects of the present that are directly related to goal achievement; in being mode, the experience of the moment can be processed in its full depth, width, and richness."

I come closest to Being when I am out walkig in Nature and can lose myself in the glories of creation. I have also found that simply being conscious of the Being mode has enabled me to stand back sometimes, breathe, and allow and accept what is happening in that moment. It's hard, but so worthwhile. It is a richer, less stressful way to live.

And... breathe.