In this time of preparing our hearts for the coming of the
light, we notice the darkness around us.
As we await the birth of a sacred innocence powerful enough to change
everything we lament the dis-eases that persist. In the midst of socially acceptable saccharin illusions of hope
we called together a small group of counter-culture companions on the journey in a series of
three evenings called Loss, Lament, and Letting go.
The Christ Child was born on the fringe of a global Empire. His
coming was foretold and yet unknown to his own people. They had not seen a
miracle since the temple candles that burned without oil six generations
earlier. The customs that once held together the tribe, the family, and body
and soul were now supplanted by an armed economy swathed in a religion of
priviledged power. Their own faith had been seduced by “the way things are”
into a passive, safe, spiritualized conformity.
The coming of the Christ was announced to all - but the only
ones who heard it were stargazers and shepherds – awake to the night’s voice.
And so, with our small group of companions, we dared look
into the growing dark. We spent time sharing what lay heavy on our hearts and
the despair that can deafen our
listening souls.
The following is my offering to the group – combined with
Jo’s – which we share with you now.
God
who is weak
God
who doesn’t know
God
who cries and wails with us
God
without answers
God
how I hate the silence, the dark, the questions, the insecurities that bind me
God
how I hate this tide of conservative fear that cuts and sweeps and smothers the
social good.
I am
terrified of our estrangement from the very life force that is constant on this
gorgeous planet where we may find ourselves.
Daily I monitor on line the encroachment of radioactivity from Fukushima
into the Pacific. The nausea
deepens.
No
bad words are bad enough to use!
I
mourn losses – the blindness that affects us, the crazy climate we now know,
the black violence erupting from the cold white alienating violence in
Ferguson, the Israeli squeeze on Palestine, the on-going chain-store style
militarization of the world by the U.S.. All in the name of a peace that makes
enemies out of desperate and angry people who need bread and not bombs.
How
many replacements for real Love are there?
Christmas is a nightmare – Satan’s Claws. I try to skitter out of that dark denial with
some hopeful jingle…How has the birth of the truly human, which is as divine as
any existent thing, been so defiled?
Across
the country, across the globe, there is a tightening of public purses in the
name of fiscal restraint that serves to fatten the Golden Calf.
This
tide, this wave, this cancer of apathy and cynicism and fear smothers me too.
God
make me a fish
who
can swim in the dark silent waters
and
breathe in the worst of our natures.
And
God let me be of a school of such fish.
May
we together
discover courage
discover the belly laughs
discover in the midst of what’s
failing
some ways to adapt, evolve, exist until this tide turns
as it must.
We
breathe under water - by grace and on purpose. We breathe in the terror and
dread. Inside our bodies the sacred alchemical healing we are all born with
happens - and we breathe out our ecstatic exaltation of being alive and a
conduit of the love that connects every thing.
Already
that tide is spending its last.
breaking
on the rocks of time’s give and take
and
the moon will pull back
those
merciless waters
to
reveal the naked truth
We
need one another.
In our enemies hearts lives our salvation.
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