Light of Joy and Life

This week's quotation is by Honoré de Balzac: "Light is a symbol of joy and life." As simple as that...

And yes, my heart is lifted by visions of light, by photos like this one. I do a quiet sit each morning, and at this time of year, I often witness the return of the sun at dawn from my bedroom window, as the sky changes from black to darkest blue, then red and orange and yellow, before metamorphosing into what we call "the clear light of day".  It fills my heart with wonder at the beauty of God's universe.

In our Unitarian services, we light a candle, a chalice light, at the beginning of each service. The symbolism of this is deep and wide-ranging. It is a symbol of life, and shared community, and also of the hope that comes from being in community, together.

Quakers speak of "the Light within", which is their term for the divine spark that is in each of us. I have a beautiful set of Zen Osho Tarot cards, and one of them shows a shining figure inside a foggy shape...

It reminds me that this divine Light is deep within each of us, waiting to be noticed, and attended to.  And also that a similar divine spark resides deep within every single human being - old, young, male, female, non-binary, of whatever sexual orientation, class or race. A part of each of us that has never been wounded, never suffered grief.

And I believe that it is our job, while we are here in this life, to recognise the divine spark, that of God, in others, and reach out to it in recognition and joy. So easy to write, so very hard to remember, sometimes...

Following the Beam of Light

This week's quotation is by Ralph Waldo Emerson: "One has to learn to catch and follow the beam of light that flashes inside him" [her/them].

I have long believed that there is a divine spark within each of us, which the Quakers call "that of God in everyone".  It is interesting that the phrase "divine spark" also refers to light...

This end of the week has been a dark time for many of us, as the government not of our choosing has been returned to power. I have seen many sad, angry posts on Facebook, and a whole heap of despair and fear, for our society, for the NHS, for those worse off than we are, and also for ourselves, which is legitimate, after all.

How can we move on? How can we get past this and find the mojo to continue to work for the good of society, to stand on the side of love, to carry on supporting good causes?

I think that the only reliable way of doing this is to connect with this "beam of light that flashes inside us". For me, and I would guess, for many, the simplest way to make this connection is in the silence of meditation or contemplative prayer. Or by sharing silence in a community that cares.

It is only when we re-connect with the light which is our divine centre, that we can respond faithfully and constructively to the sh*t that happens in our lives. Otherwise, we often end up throwing a quick solution at a problem, which is like applying sticking plaster to a serious wound, and hoping it will heal.

A. Powell Davies wrote a beautiful prayer, which is speaking to me right now:

O God who hast given us the vision of a world made beautiful and good,
be with us as we seek once more that faith
that makes our dreams come true.
When it seems to us that all before is dark,
give us to remember that so it seemed
to many who went before us.
When mistrust and doubt are upon us
and we are battling bleakly with despair,
let us know that the great and good of every time
have had to find their way, as we must,
by their courage and in confidence and trust.
Help us, O God, to keep close company with their spirits.
Amen

The Light of New Hope

I will never forget the Christmas of 1989. I was pregnant with my son, my first-born, and just beginning to show. I was in my fourth month, and was awash with feelings of serenity and awe about the miracle that was happening to me. Although I hadn't yet felt life stirring within, I knew that deep inside my body a new person was growing, and that my wonderful, clever body was supporting him and nourishing him. And that was this was occasion for awe and gratitude.

On the second Sunday of December, I went along to our service at Northampton Unitarians, and broke the news that I was expecting a child. They were all very happy for me. But the icing on the cake came during the service, which was our Christmas service. (Then, as now, we only met on second and fourth Sundays, and that year, the fourth Sunday was after Christmas). One of the readings that lay leader Peter Galbraith had chosen, all unknowing, was the wonderful section early in the Gospel of Luke in which Mary rejoices about being blessed with child. The bit that starts: "My soul magnifies the Lord, and my spirit rejoices in God my Saviour, for he has looked with favour on the lowliness of his handmaiden. Surely, from now on, all generations will called me blessed; for the Mighty One has done great things for me, and holy is his name." I really felt the joy that she must have been feeling. More, I felt exalted, that I was going to participate in the miracle of bringing forth a new life.

Twenty four years later, I still believe that becoming a parent was one of the most important events of my life. Being a parent changed me in fundamental ways - from the moment of my son's birth, there was always someone else to consider, someone else's needs to take into account, and someone else (later two someone elses when my daughter was born) to love and to nurture, and to be overjoyed and frustrated by, in roughly equal measure. Being a parent has been a roller-coaster for me, with wonderful highs and devastating lows, and I would not have missed a day of it.

image: gograph.com

At Christmas, we celebrate the birth of one particular child, two thousand years ago, who grew up to have a profound influence in the world, through his teachings and his message and his example.  For me, this is the true meaning of Christmas. But today I want to think about the potential for good that is represented by the birth of every child, and also about the inner child that dwells within us all.

Sophia Lyon Fahs wrote: "Each night a child is born is a holy night - a time for singing, a time for wondering, a time for worshipping." Yes. This is something I believe so deeply. It is one of the foundations of my Unitarian faith - that the birth of every child should be an occasion for rejoicing, not just that of Jesus. Every single child born of man and woman has the potential to make a difference in the world, and to leave it a better place than he or she found it.

Perhaps it is our job as Unitarians to provide the space and the community in which individuals can grow to become the best people they can be, giving them the opportunity to "Cherish that of God within you, so that this love may grow in you and guide you," as the Quakers would say. If this is so - and I believe it is -  every Unitarian congregation and every Unitarian has an awesome responsibility - to nurture that of God in other people, and in ourselves, so that the world might become a better, kinder, gentler place, in which everyone has enough to eat, a roof over their heads, a place to sleep, and other human basics such as freedom from fear and freedom to grow into their unique and proper selves.

But we cannot do this unless each of us recognises for ourselves that we are "unique, precious, a child of God." My starting point for this blogpost was a beautiful reading called A Manger of the Heart by the late, and sorely missed, Simon John Barlow, which was published in the Christmas edition of the Cotswold Group Newsletter. The first lines really grabbed my attention: "Prepare the way to welcome your inner child, / The being of love and light / The spark of holiness that lies deep in us all."

And I do believe that there is a spark of holiness within every human being, "that of God in everyone", to use the Quakerly phrase. Our job, here on this earth, today and tomorrow, is to recognise that spark, in ourselves, and in each other. This is the same as Jesus's great injunction to "love your neighbour as yourself." Love your neighbour as yourself - both parts are vital, because it is not possible to truly love your neighbour unless you first love your true self, your inner child, your spark of the divine.

Later on, Simon John advises us to "Commit yourself to nurture your inner holiness / To seek joy wherever it may be found; / To give and receive love every moment of life; / To keep to the paths of beauty, truth and love." These are quite tall orders. We are all human beings, fallible and broken, but I believe that this injunction to committing ourselves to nurture our inner holiness is a path of hope.

The Power(lessness) of God

I was sitting in the silence of the Quaker meeting house this lunchtime, pondering the phrase "there is that of God in everyone."

I take this to mean that there is a divine spark - whether you call it "God", "the Spirit", "the Light within", "the still, small voice" or "conscience" - in each and every one of us. The Hindus have a word for it, which they use as a greeting: "Namaste" - "The divine in me recognises and honours the divine in you."

And it came to me that the only power that God has in our world is through us. I don't believe that He (or She or It) is omnipotent, otherwise how would bad things be allowed to happen? If God could truly do anything He wanted, surely He would simply "reach down from heaven" and stop evil-doing or natural disasters in their tracks? As this obviously doesn't happen, I am forced to the conclusion that He must have something different in mind.

I believe that God is all-loving, but powerless to intervene in the affairs of the world. He can influence what happens in only two ways:

1. by giving us the attributes - kindness, compassion, strength etc - to deal with whatever comes our way, and
2. by working through us as that of God within, to make the world a better place.

Rabbi Lionel Blue recalls a conversation with God "in a south German church by some railway lines leading to a former labour or concentration camp:

LB: 'Where were you during the prayers which were said in those cattle trucks of human misery?'

No answer.

LB: 'Were you drunk or dozing? Would it have hurt you so much to take a hand?'

No answer.

LB: 'But you've got no hands - so you're useless!'

As I go through the door, raging within me, my inner voice answers,

Him: 'You're the only hands I've got in the world - over to you!'
LB: 'I've no answer, but now I know the next step for me.'"

This means that each one of us is responsible for our own words and deeds - God can work through us, but the responsibility is ours. So we need to learn to become aware of that divine spark within us, and pay attention to what it is saying. So far from our fate resting in God's hands, the world's fate rests in our hands.