On the next to last day of the year, I read for the third time, His Dark Material, by Philip Pullman, a young person's fantasy novel, that to me is a sophisticated thesis on the theology of Dust, the symbol in my mind of love energy. Pullman's trilogy adds new meaning to the Biblical phrase: "From dust we came and to dust we will return." Methinks the reference is to star dust? And over Christmas watched yet again one of my favorite Yuletide movies, The Family Man, starring Nicolas Cage. For me the movie explores the interplay between the world we find ourselves in and the reality that we imagine. I'm always struck by how the energy of the imagined flows into our lives and if we let the whole process unfold it changes us beyond what we ever thought possible. And you?
Any books or movies struck you??
Tuesday, December 29, 2015
Thursday, December 3, 2015
Advent for Nones
Deep in the cold and busyness of this time of year, can we really dare, we who have schooled ourselves in reality and take an adult pride in our rational world, we who take pride in our cynicism and worldly knowledge of what is, do we dare. I double dare you.
Can you entertain a time of longing and yearning, even one that you know is a hopeless, an impossible dream. Nickos Kazantzakis told of an old Greek who lived high in the mountains. Each morning before sunrise he would go out and call up the sun. That kind of wisdom declared Kazantzakis is what is needed today.
And that is the daring that I see is required to enter Advent. The doorway which is the opening to the longing and the yearning that lies within the human heart is the threshold. And it within the mystery of the longing and the yearning that the happening, not perhaps what one had hoped for but the deeper miracle occurs.
Advent for the Christian is a preparing for the birth of the Christ Child, for the rest of us perhaps the hope for the birth of new live, for the realist it is simply the returning of the sun.
But who among us sophisticates has the courage to hope for what is beyond our reach. And yet without the longing for something more in our lives, and remaining true to what we know is the real world, how can we call down the miracle of rebirth?
Let's just say that today I have stepped through the threshold, but have not the courage to tell you more. It for me is precious and I fear the belittlement of making it known to others. Also I need so say that tomorrow I will possibly find myself sitting in the darkness. This is my Advent. And you, my friend?
Deep in the cold and busyness of this time of year, can we really dare, we who have schooled ourselves in reality and take an adult pride in our rational world, we who take pride in our cynicism and worldly knowledge of what is, do we dare. I double dare you.
Can you entertain a time of longing and yearning, even one that you know is a hopeless, an impossible dream. Nickos Kazantzakis told of an old Greek who lived high in the mountains. Each morning before sunrise he would go out and call up the sun. That kind of wisdom declared Kazantzakis is what is needed today.
And that is the daring that I see is required to enter Advent. The doorway which is the opening to the longing and the yearning that lies within the human heart is the threshold. And it within the mystery of the longing and the yearning that the happening, not perhaps what one had hoped for but the deeper miracle occurs.
Advent for the Christian is a preparing for the birth of the Christ Child, for the rest of us perhaps the hope for the birth of new live, for the realist it is simply the returning of the sun.
But who among us sophisticates has the courage to hope for what is beyond our reach. And yet without the longing for something more in our lives, and remaining true to what we know is the real world, how can we call down the miracle of rebirth?
Let's just say that today I have stepped through the threshold, but have not the courage to tell you more. It for me is precious and I fear the belittlement of making it known to others. Also I need so say that tomorrow I will possibly find myself sitting in the darkness. This is my Advent. And you, my friend?
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