Today is the sixth day of Christmas: Geese A-Laying. I can’t think of the twelve days of Christmas though, without remembering the first, especially when I look out my back window: A Partridge in a Pear Tree.
One of the delights of my house is the pear tree in my back yard. It is almost exactly a year ago that I first saw my house and this pear tree, although at the time, its fruit and essence remained unknown until well after the keys were in my hand.
There is nothing glamorous about a pear tree in winter. Especially mine. It is old, covered with moss, with limbs that are gnarled and sprayed hither and yon. It is not pretty, but its beauty captured me and I have now had the joy of seeing her transform with the sun and seasons: blossoming in the spring, reaching its fullness of leaf in the summer, and yielding its delicious fruitfulness in the fall.
In the stillness of winter, my tree is also transformed. It is alive with the flutter and flurry of winged creatures who come to peck at unseen treasures along bark and limb, as well as feed upon the growing number of feeders I place. And what splendid visitors! There are the sparrows and chickadees who are year round regulars. A flicker, a mourning dove, a nuthatch, a pair of downy woodpeckers and even a hummingbird, not to mention the starlings and crows which often frequent. The other day there was a purple finch, and this morning, a western scrub jay! What treasures! Even the starlings.
I admit I am not a fan of these English birds. I think perhaps there was one afternoon where for one half-hour I was entranced with their colorful sheen, not to mention the recent you-tube video that captured with awe, terror and amazement their murmurings over the waters in Ireland. Yet a fan, I am not, as they displace other nesting as well as feeding birds … even at my tree. However, I have discovered a kind of ironic delight watching the persistence of these starlings trying to feet at my suet hangings. One in particular provided lasting enjoyment as he bobbed and circled like a clown on a rolling ball! For that moment, I had front row circus seats! I am slowly learning and being reminded of God’s delight in this world around. Even the starlings need nourishment. They peck at the little ones, but then the crows come and peck in turn at them (I have a deep respect for crows!). These larger birds eat with gusto and messiness that the littler birds gladly glean from, and there is plenty left for all.
Of all my feather visitors, I have not yet had a partridge or a goose visit my yard or tree, but the honks from the geese are heralding above quite continuously today. Most of them are Canada Geese, I believe, and it warms my Northern heart. I would be quite surprised if a partridge came my way. The birds that do visit my tree don’t stay. But they do return. My tree waits to welcome them. I have the work and joy of resetting the table which is occasionally graced by a rare visitor – like the scrub jay in my pear tree today!
Saturday, December 31, 2011
Sunday, December 18, 2011
Mary - Full of Grace
Sunday, December 18, 2011
Luke 1:26-38
“The power of the Most High will overshadow you”
God is Light. Over and over again in scripture and experience, we encounter God as Light! Yet we read in the account of Jesus’ incarnational beginnings, that Mary will be “overshadowed” by the Most High. How can this be – and why?
I have contemplated the incarnation and this scene many times. Today as I read, I find my gaze shifting from the wondrous miracle about to inhabit Mary’s womb; to the radiant Light of God Most High with eyes seeking to see this “overshadowing”. What I see is akin to an eclipse of the sun, only this time, it is the Light of God the Father eclipsed by the Son by the power of the Holy Spirit – a filter of God’s Grace becoming man so that indeed, we can see and know the face of the Most High. Immanuel: God with us.
Years before this moment of encounter with Mary, the Most High visited and spoke with Moses on Mount Sinai and Moses’ face radiated the Light of the Presence of God so much that it frightened the Israelites: Moses had to hide his face while with his people, and only in the presence of the Lord could Moses remove the veil (Exodus 34:29-35). What is intriguing, is that when the Lord descended upon Mount Sinai to speak with Moses and the Israelites, God came in a cloud of darkness – yet it is within this dark cloud that Moses encountered the Light.
Scripture tells us that no one can look on the face of God and live. Moses encountered God – but only saw His back, not His face. Through the incarnation, God becomes man. In and through Jesus, we can not only hear, see but also touch the living Light of God.
To say yes to God is a holy and terrifying thing. The yes to God is all-encompassing; both in ways that we may understand yet also includes so much more that we cannot yet begin to comprehend. Mary’s yes led her not only to birth, but to stand at the foot of the cross. The grace, with which she was filled from the beginning, enabled a trust so deep in God’s over-arching wisdom so that she could stand with Jesus: when the shadow of sin washed over him on the cross; when the sky turned black as the Father turned his face away; and even as her own soul was pierced.
Her yes was solid.
There was no other place she could be than available.
Filled with Grace.
Filled with Sorrow.
Filled with trust.
I pray that I may have the grace, like Mary, to say yes and let the power of the Most High overshadow me.
Luke 1:26-38
“The power of the Most High will overshadow you”
God is Light. Over and over again in scripture and experience, we encounter God as Light! Yet we read in the account of Jesus’ incarnational beginnings, that Mary will be “overshadowed” by the Most High. How can this be – and why?
I have contemplated the incarnation and this scene many times. Today as I read, I find my gaze shifting from the wondrous miracle about to inhabit Mary’s womb; to the radiant Light of God Most High with eyes seeking to see this “overshadowing”. What I see is akin to an eclipse of the sun, only this time, it is the Light of God the Father eclipsed by the Son by the power of the Holy Spirit – a filter of God’s Grace becoming man so that indeed, we can see and know the face of the Most High. Immanuel: God with us.
Years before this moment of encounter with Mary, the Most High visited and spoke with Moses on Mount Sinai and Moses’ face radiated the Light of the Presence of God so much that it frightened the Israelites: Moses had to hide his face while with his people, and only in the presence of the Lord could Moses remove the veil (Exodus 34:29-35). What is intriguing, is that when the Lord descended upon Mount Sinai to speak with Moses and the Israelites, God came in a cloud of darkness – yet it is within this dark cloud that Moses encountered the Light.
Scripture tells us that no one can look on the face of God and live. Moses encountered God – but only saw His back, not His face. Through the incarnation, God becomes man. In and through Jesus, we can not only hear, see but also touch the living Light of God.
To say yes to God is a holy and terrifying thing. The yes to God is all-encompassing; both in ways that we may understand yet also includes so much more that we cannot yet begin to comprehend. Mary’s yes led her not only to birth, but to stand at the foot of the cross. The grace, with which she was filled from the beginning, enabled a trust so deep in God’s over-arching wisdom so that she could stand with Jesus: when the shadow of sin washed over him on the cross; when the sky turned black as the Father turned his face away; and even as her own soul was pierced.
Her yes was solid.
There was no other place she could be than available.
Filled with Grace.
Filled with Sorrow.
Filled with trust.
I pray that I may have the grace, like Mary, to say yes and let the power of the Most High overshadow me.
Vessels on a Table
Vessels on a table: a wooden bowl, a clay bowl, a bird’s nest.
The ceramic bowl intrigued me: reminded me of the “empty bowls” we’ve been allowing to remain empty this Advent season in my L’Arche community. Every time I see them, I am reminded of the bits of everything that have seeped into my heart and being – the clutter that surrounds and is within me. The empty bowl reminds me of the importance to make space within myself for myself, the other, and for God.
The wooden bowl intrigued me: made from squares of wood, crafted together smoothly – the only way that it seemed not one “carving” was because of the color variation of the crafted pieces. It was angular yet a circle and smooth. It was delicate yet solid. It reminded me of the hodge-podge of my life and how in God’s wisdom, it all “fits” … it also reminded me that, like that bowl, I too need to yield to the sculptor’s chisel.
The birds nest intrigued me: this was the one vessel not made by human hands. It was not purposefully “left empty”. It was not chiseled or made smooth. It was misshaped – one side wider than the other, and for the size of the nest, the hollow was tiny. The materials used were a hodge-podge but there was no order or pattern to the straw, sphagnum moss or even the white dog hairs. It looked as if it was just “put together” with a randomness of haste and uncare. It caused me to ponder though – why the difference in the edges? Why such a small hollow for such a big nest? What bird is it that would have inhabited this nest – it barely looked big enough to house one egg! Yet – aha! The nest is empty because the life/ lives that needed protecting became strong and moved on. While full, that nest protected the tiniest of the vulnerable. I started to see the nest as it might have been from the bottom of the tree looking up. If I were gazing up, would I have seen the birds? Perhaps one side needed to be wider than the other as a way of visual protection … or perhaps to provide a boundary of safety for growing chicks beginning to move around yet still unable to fly.
In being a vessel, I am called and reminded to make room, especially in this time of Advent: this time of waiting. I am called and reminded to make room for Christ in my life. Yet I am also reminded to protect, care and provide for that which is growing inside my spirit and my life. It is not enough to provide nourishment – even though that is important and necessary. I must also safe-guard from dangers (both those from the outside looking in, as well as from the inside looking out) and allow buffer room for growth. I am also reminded of the abundance with which the Creator created, and that clay, wood, straw, sphagnum moss and even white dog hairs have a part in vessel creating!
The ceramic bowl intrigued me: reminded me of the “empty bowls” we’ve been allowing to remain empty this Advent season in my L’Arche community. Every time I see them, I am reminded of the bits of everything that have seeped into my heart and being – the clutter that surrounds and is within me. The empty bowl reminds me of the importance to make space within myself for myself, the other, and for God.
The wooden bowl intrigued me: made from squares of wood, crafted together smoothly – the only way that it seemed not one “carving” was because of the color variation of the crafted pieces. It was angular yet a circle and smooth. It was delicate yet solid. It reminded me of the hodge-podge of my life and how in God’s wisdom, it all “fits” … it also reminded me that, like that bowl, I too need to yield to the sculptor’s chisel.
The birds nest intrigued me: this was the one vessel not made by human hands. It was not purposefully “left empty”. It was not chiseled or made smooth. It was misshaped – one side wider than the other, and for the size of the nest, the hollow was tiny. The materials used were a hodge-podge but there was no order or pattern to the straw, sphagnum moss or even the white dog hairs. It looked as if it was just “put together” with a randomness of haste and uncare. It caused me to ponder though – why the difference in the edges? Why such a small hollow for such a big nest? What bird is it that would have inhabited this nest – it barely looked big enough to house one egg! Yet – aha! The nest is empty because the life/ lives that needed protecting became strong and moved on. While full, that nest protected the tiniest of the vulnerable. I started to see the nest as it might have been from the bottom of the tree looking up. If I were gazing up, would I have seen the birds? Perhaps one side needed to be wider than the other as a way of visual protection … or perhaps to provide a boundary of safety for growing chicks beginning to move around yet still unable to fly.
In being a vessel, I am called and reminded to make room, especially in this time of Advent: this time of waiting. I am called and reminded to make room for Christ in my life. Yet I am also reminded to protect, care and provide for that which is growing inside my spirit and my life. It is not enough to provide nourishment – even though that is important and necessary. I must also safe-guard from dangers (both those from the outside looking in, as well as from the inside looking out) and allow buffer room for growth. I am also reminded of the abundance with which the Creator created, and that clay, wood, straw, sphagnum moss and even white dog hairs have a part in vessel creating!
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