Rising in Love: An Easter Reflection

 “And when the Sabbath was past, Mary Magdalene, and Mary the mother of James, and Salome, bought spices, so that they might go and anoint him. And very early on the first day of the week they went to the tomb when the sun had risen. And they were saying to one another, “Who will roll away the stone for us from the door of the tomb?” And looking up, they saw that the stone was rolled back; for it was very large. And entering the tomb, they saw a young man sitting on the right side, dressed in a white robe; and they were amazed. And he said to them, “Do not be amazed; you seek Jesus of Nazareth who was crucified. He has risen, he is not here; see the place where they laid him.” Mark 16: 1 – 6 

In the approach to Easter this year, I have been drawn to the imagery of the stone rolled back, and I have been contemplating what it might mean for me, in my life. This month, I have been undertaking a 21-day Sadhana, facilitated by my yoga teacher and the supportive community of fellow practitioners that surround her, focused on a variety of practices for opening the heart to new opportunities. Sadhana is a Sanskrit word meaning 'discipline' in pursuit of a goal, and in Kundalini Yoga it refers to a daily spiritual practice done with the goal of transcending the ego.

The image of the stone rolled back and the empty tomb have become for me a metaphor for the opening of my heart. The tomb stone represents death, separation, the ego, the false self, all the ways I close myself off from love. The stone rolled back to reveal the empty tomb represents life, union, the true self, all the wondrous possibilities of a lived in the fullness of love.

The journey of Lent is a microcosm of life's spiritual journey – the continuing transformation from death to life, from fear to love. We begin on Ash Wednesday by acknowledging our mortality and our human frailties. We end on Easter Sunday by celebrating the triumph of love over death and our own participation in that great, universal love – the miracle of resurrection that happens within us and around us every day when we forgive ourselves and others, and acknowledge our interconnection with all beings. 

St Epiphanios of Cyprus, one of the Early Church Fathers, in a homily given on Holy Saturday, Easter Eve, said, "I order you, O sleeper, to awake. I did not create you to be a prisoner in hell. Rise from the dead, for I am the life of the dead. Rise up, work of my hands, you who were created in my image. Rise, for you are in me and I am in you. Together we form only one person and we cannot be separated."

Franciscan spiritual teacher Richard Rohr describes the journey from the false self to the true self as a returning home to the truth of who we are in God and who God is in us, which is love. In his book, Immortal Diamond, he writes, "Many Christians begin Lent on Ash Wednesday with the signing of ashes on the forehead and the words from Genesis 3:19, which is just the first shocking part of the message, "Dust you are and unto dust you shall return." But then we should be anointed, Christed, with a holy oil on Easter morning, with the other half of the message: love is always stronger than death and unto that love you have now returned.”

The true self, the connected self, is the self that acts in love and from love. But it is not always easy to choose love. Sometimes it is easier to choose the illusion of separation. Easter reminds us that we always live in union with the divine, but sometimes we cover up this reality with the stone of a hard heart and we need to roll away the stone and recover our true nature.

The UU minister Paul Stephan Dodenhoff, in his piece Why I Celebrate Easter, writes, “Every day offers us, yet again, the chance to experience our own Divinity and spiritual Transformation. The stone is rolled away and the tomb is left empty every time we acknowledge our own Christ Reality—or whatever name you choose to use—and the Christ Reality of all beings and things as part and parcel of the Ultimate Divine Mystery in which we “live and move and have our being.” To do that, we must die to our small, petty ego-selves: a difficult, often painful process.”

During my Lenten Sadhana journey, there were some days on which I  found myself experiencing resistance to completing my yoga practice. This is not unusual for me, since I can struggle with the discipline required to maintain a consistent, daily spiritual practice. But this resistance didn't feel like that. It felt like I was resisting the process of continuing to open my heart wider. Eventually I realised my resistance was linked to some difficulties I was experiencing in my relationship with a friend. 

This friend has always been what I would politely call 'scatty' but recently the results of their behaviour had left me feeling hurt. My friend had made commitments which they had not kept. They apologised, but I had spent what felt like too much time and energy picking up the messy pieces they had left behind, on several occasions. I was beginning to become resentful and in danger of hardening my heart towards them. I realised if I didn't address the issue then I would eventually have to walk away from the friendship. 

When a relationship is abusive and the other person does not respect us, the best thing we can do is to walk away. This friendship is not like that. My friend is a good person, who is kind, funny and very good company. They also happen to be forgetful and lead a chaotic life, which means they don't always honour their commitments. It is part of the way they are wired. It is no use hoping they will change. 

I didn't want to lose the friend I love, but I had begun to feel that love for my friend and love for myself were in conflict, pulling me in different directions. How could I act with love for both myself and for my friend?

First, I had to take a step back and acknowledge that it was my bruised ego that was causing me to feel annoyed and under-valued, that my friend had not deliberately set out to hurt me.  And then I made the decision to pull back from some of the plans we had made together, to give myself space to consider how I might approach things differently in future.

Ultimately, I know that if I want to keep my friend, I have to keep them warts and all. I choose to stay in relationship, to risk feeling hurt and let down again. I choose to open my heart to love, knowing that I may not always like the consequences. Sometimes love is hard work. The ego is not transcended in one day or even in the space of a 21-day Sadhana.

I believe in the inherent goodness of people. I believe that people rarely do hurtful things deliberately. Sometimes it may be through ignorance or because they are hurting themselves. Opening our hearts to people doesn't mean we need to condone their behaviour. It means we open our hearts to their pain and try to understand where they are coming from. 

Humans are hardwired for connection and community. We are hardwired for love. We may not always like what the people we love do or don't do. We make not always like all the people in our communities. But we can choose to keep loving them, even when it feels difficult. I believe that, in the end, love is always worth it.

This Easter, may we recognise our interdependence with all beings, how we are woven into the fabric of being itself. May we accept that we are loved unconditionally and keep returning to the truth of that love, that we may offer love and forgiveness to one another. And may we give thanks for the gift of new life that we receive each morning upon waking, and the opportunities each new day brings.

I leave you with the words of UU minister Molly Housh Gordon from her piece We Keep Rising in Love, “Is new life possible? Is love stronger, even, than death? The question itself invites us to rise up, and to live as though it were true—to make it true in our living... You can crush Love down, bury it, cover it over, but it will rise. It will reach for the sun, and we will reach for each other. Love will have the final word, even if that word is just a question, a wild possibility, a whisper to rise and follow wherever it may lead. Communities formed and nurtured in love will rise up for and with each other again and again.” Amen.

"Do the little things" - On Peace, Justice, and the Wisdom of the Warrior-Sage

"These days Welsh people have begun to adopt the daffodil as their emblem, but originally it was the leek. David is said to have been the son of a prince, and to have been brought up as a man of war. He was, however, a Christian and had no wish to spend his life in killing. He joined the Church, and started a monastery where he became well known for his learning and his care of people. He was a peaceful man – though he was not always allowed to enjoy the peaceful life. Legend tells us that war-like people poured into Wales. They over-ran much of the country – killing and stealing and destroying. The Welsh tried to resist them but they were no match for the invaders. Then they remembered David and how he had been trained as a man of war. They went to him and begged his help. He loved his country and so agreed. He rallied all the knights of the country around him. In the battle that followed the Welsh were a small army and at the beginning did not fare very well. During a lull in the battle, when each side was taking a rest, David was concerned that they were so few, and that they could easily lose sight of each other and even kill each other by mistake. Then he had an idea. The field where they were resting was full of leeks. David pulled one out, stuck it in his helmet, and called on his knights to do the same. This way they would be able to recognise each other. So with renewed enthusiasm they returned to the battle, won a victory, and pushed the invaders out of Wales. That is why the Welsh still wear a leek – or nowadays a daffodil – on the 1st of March in honour of St. David." From a story by Derek Smith

"The Passover of the Jews was near, and Jesus went up to Jerusalem. In the temple he found people selling cattle, sheep, and doves, and the money changers seated at their tables. Making a whip of cords, he drove all of them out of the temple, with the sheep and the cattle. He also poured out the coins of the money changers and overturned their tables. He told those who were selling the doves, “Take these things out of here! Stop making my Father’s house a marketplace!”" John 2: 13 - 16

I  was struck by the similarities between today's gospel reading from the Revised Common Lectionary about Jesus turning over the tables in the temple and the story of St David and the leeks. David was a man of peace, known for his kindness and compassion, but was prepared to help with battle to defend his community from attack. Jesus was a man of peace, known for his kindness and compassion, but was prepared to throw the corrupt money changers out of the temple to defend his community from enemies within and the holy temple from desecration. “There are no unsacred places. Only sacred places and desecrated places,” said the poet Wendell Berry.

When I was younger I used to think that this display of anger from Jesus was somewhat out of character, but over the years I have come to see that anger borne of being passionate about justice is entirely in character for the compassionate Jesus. Alastair McIntosh expresses this beautifully in his book with Matt Carmichael, Spiritual Activism, in which he recalls a workshop he ran at Iona Abbey, writing, “There was a mismatch between theme and participants. Many were in groups that had come for a spiritual holiday and activism did not speak to their needs. Initially we had an uncomfortable time together. As one woman put it, “Your Jesus is not like mine. Mine is always gentle, kind, and a healer.” “So is mine!” said Alastair, “which is why he turned over the money-changers' tables in the temple, told the rich young man to give it all away and challenged hypocritical family values.”

On a similar note, the poet Khalil Gibran wrote, “Long ago, there lived a man who was crucified for being too loving and too lovable. And strange to relate, I met him thrice yesterday. The first time he was asking a policeman not to take a prostitute to prison. The second time he was drinking wine with an outcast. And the third time he was having a fist fight with a promoter inside a church.”

The late great Dr. Martin Luther King Jr. famously said, “There can be no justice without peace and there can be no peace without justice.” We see the painful truth of this statement in the conflict in Israel and Gaza, with its long and complicated history of injustices. 

It may be helpful here to explore what we mean by justice and peace. When Dr. Martin Luther King spoke of justice, like Jesus and the Hebrew prophets before him, he was speaking of social justice, of a fair and just world for all its inhabitants. Anglican priest June Boyce-Tillman, describing how the medieval mystic, Hildegard von Bingen, used the word justice, said, “Justice is right relationship between human beings and the natural world and the divine.”

The English word 'peace' is derived from the Latin 'pax' – related to pact, truce, and treaty – meaning the temporary cessation of armed conflict. The Hebrew word 'shalom' is usually translated into English as peace, but has a deeper meaning, encompassing wholeness, well-being, prosperity, safety, and soundness. In India, the word for peace is 'shanti'. Satish Kumar, the Indian-British peace activist and former Jain monk, wrote, “In India we pronounce peace three times – shanti, shanti, shanti – because peace has at least three dimensions: inner peace, social peace and ecological peace – making peace with yourself, making peace with the world and making peace with nature.”

What does shalom look like when applied to inner peace? Since inner peace is individual, this will be different for each of us. For me, inner peace can mean feelings of tranquillity and harmony, such as those I find in meditation and when walking in the woods and hills. “Contemplation of nature revives my soul,” as Christine Robinson said in her version of Psalm 19. And then there is 'peace of mind' – being comfortable in my own skin – this is an ongoing process of self-compassion and forgiveness.

I think that inner peace, social peace, and ecological peace all require compassion and forgiveness to bring healing and wholeness. To find inner peace we must practice self-acceptance and self-compassion, and forgive ourselves our mistakes. Social peace requires us to heal the wounds of society with compassion and forgiveness of each other. Ecological peace requires us to heal the wounds of the earth with compassion for all living beings. 

Justice is key to social and ecological peace. Most conflict in the world is about control and possession of resources – land, water, fossil fuels. We only have to remember the Gulf Wars, fought to secure the oil supply of the West, and the continuing involvement of Saudi Arabia in the war in Yemen is being fuelled by UK arms deals with Saudi Arabia, who provide us with oil. 

Competition for resources will become more intense as climate change progresses. In recent years Extinction Rebellion has become a world-wide movement demanding justice for our planet. Last year a group of Unitarians formed Unitarians for Climate Justice. 

The climate justice movement challenges our global economy that prioritises money over the welfare of future generations. It draws attention to the injustice of a situation which sees the worst effects of climate change experienced by the poorest peoples in the world, with the smallest carbon footprints, while in rich countries with the largest carbon emissions, we remain relatively unscathed so far. Members of Extinction Rebellion and other environmental protest movements use our righteous anger about injustices to try to change the world through peaceful means. This is the work of the warrior-sage archetype, which is present in religious traditions from East and West, from Taoism to Christianity. 

The warrior-sage tradition is particularly strong in Sikhism, the youngest of the major world religions, founded by Guru Nanak, who was born in India in 1469. Sikh-American activist Valarie Kaur, in her recent book, See No Stranger, writes that Guru Gobind Singh, the tenth Sikh Guru, “led Sikhs into battle against an oppressive empire and called us to become sant-sipahi, warrior-sages. When you love someone, you fight to protect them when they are in harm's way. If you “see no stranger” and choose to love all people, then you must fight for anyone who is suffering from the harm of injustice. This was the path of the warrior-sage: the warrior fights, the sage loves. Revolutionary love.”

How can we follow Jesus and St. David in being people of peace who use our righteous anger about injustice to help change the world through peaceful means? How can we embody the warrior-sage wisdom in the fight for justice in our own time? Valarie Kaur suggests we ask ourselves four questions:

First, what is your sword? What are the weapons you can use to fight on behalf of others – your pen, your voice, your art, your wallet, your presence? 

Second, what is your shield? What can you use to protect yourself and others when fighting is dangerous – your camera, your legal counsel, your allies, public witness?

Third, what is your instrument? Kaur explains, “In Sikh legend, our ancestors designed the dilruba, a string instrument small enough for soldiers to carry on their backs into the battlefield, so that they could lift their spirits in music, song, and poetry in the mornings before they faced the fire... Your dilruba can be what centers you – singing, dancing, drumming, walking, yoga, prayer, meditation.”

Finally, who is your sacred community? You just need three kinds of people. Someone who sees the best in you; someone who is willing to fight by your side; someone who can fight for you when you need help. “Bring them together,” says Kaur, “and you've created a pocket of revolutionary love.”

I am grateful for my sacred community of Unitarians and grateful that many of them are on the front lines of protest, but I confess that I am not among them. I can't deal with crowds, so I support from the sidelines non-violent civil disobedience, which has been key to achieving social change from Gandhi's campaign for Indian independence from Britain, through the civil rights movement in America to the anti-apartheid movement in South Africa.  As I understand it, the core of my Unitarian faith is the path of peace – learning to make peace with ourselves, peace with each other, peace with our God. It is not just a journey towards peace, but the road we travel.  

As I don't tend to join marches, I try to contribute to creating a just and compassionate world in other ways – my weapon of choice is more often than not my keyboard and broadband connection – I try to educate myself about social justices issues, and then I email my MP, and sign online petitions and share them on social media. I participate in interfaith dialogue as part of the Faith Network for Manchester. I support charities involved in the work of peace and justice on local, national, and international scales. This Lent, I am making a commitment to move my bank accounts so that my money is invested in more ethical financial institutions. 

I see the season of Lent as an invitation to simplicity. It inspires me to being grateful for and content with all I have, and to be attentive to and appreciative of the small changes happening in nature all around me every day. Saint David was a paragon of simplicity. The monks in the dozen monasteries he founded followed a simple Rule of Life, consisting of prayer, silence, studying scripture, farming the land by their own hands (not even using oxen to pull their ploughs), and eating a plain vegetarian diet of bread, leeks, and herbs. They were not permitted to own possessions, holding everything in common. David was known as Aquaticus, the water drinker, because he and his monks drank only water, rather than ale. Now I'm not suggesting that I adopt such as spartan lifestyle, but it has inspired me to consider my purchases and consumption habits carefully, and to try to make small changes where I can.

David said, “do the little things.” I believe that the smallest actions make a difference. Peaceful communication in our daily interactions and personal relationships is the most important way we embody justice and peace. Every time we see something from another’s point of view, we cultivate empathy, every time we treat someone else with respect, kindness and compassion, when accept one another and ourselves without judgement and condemnation, we contribute to building a just and peaceful world.  

“When I say go in peace, I mean “go in peace, seeking justice.” I mean, “go in peace, committed to equal rights and opportunities for all.” When I say, go in peace, I mean “Go in the peace that is created when, together, we build communities of true solidarity, deep compassion, and fierce, unrelenting love.” Go in peace.” Jim Magaw

Prayer, Care, Share: Three Invitations for Lent

"We remember the wilderness days of Jesus: his lonely struggle with the inner tempter, with wild beasts for company and angels attending to his needs. We struggle too, in a cluttered wilderness of busy-ness, possessed by our possessions. We leave no room for wild beasts or angels. We cannot see the starlit glory of the desert sky. Holy One, help us to be still... The wilderness is not a place to stay, we are not born for solitude. Jesus wrestled there alone and won his holy struggle with himself. Then he left it, knowing his purpose. May we too leave the wilderness with new resolve." 

From A Lenten Meditation by Cliff Reed

"'Repent' means 'Turn to God.' .. During Lent.. we are invited to a conversion: not to turn towards ourselves in introspection or individual perfectionism, but to seek communion with God and also communion with others.. Lent is a season that invites us to share.. During this time of Lent let us dare to review our lifestyle, not to make those who do less feel guilty, but for the sake of solidarity with the deprived. The gospel encourages us to share freely while setting everything in the simple beauty of creation.” 

Brother Alois, Prior of the Taize Community.

In the Catholic tradition, the three pillars of Lent are prayer, fasting, and almsgiving. I like to translate these as: prayer, care, and share or giving to God/ Spirit/Love/however you like to name the sacred, giving to ourselves, and giving to others. For me, these are invitations to deepening into spiritual practice, to simplicity, and to focus on helping others – time to let go of the things I don't need and focus on the essentials, to love silence, nourish my soul, and pay attention to what I can do for the benefit of others. 

In the gospel stories, we are told that the Spirit that descends upon Jesus at his baptism, drives him into the wilderness, where he spends forty days praying and fasting, accompanied by wild beasts, angels, and satanic visions:

“"In those days Jesus came from Nazareth of Galilee and was baptized by John in the Jordan. And just as he was coming up out of the water, he saw the heavens torn apart and the Spirit descending like a dove on him. And a voice came from heaven, “You are my Son, the Beloved; with you I am well pleased.” And the Spirit immediately drove him out into the wilderness. He was in the wilderness forty days, tempted by Satan; and he was with the wild beasts; and the angels waited on him. Now after John was arrested, Jesus came to Galilee, proclaiming the good news of God, and saying, “The time is fulfilled, and the kingdom of God has come near; repent, and believe in the good news.”" Mark 1:9-15

If you are familiar with indigenous American spirituality, you might recognize this as a vision quest, an initiation, when the individual spends time alone in nature without food, communing with the spirits in order to receive guidance on the way forward. In other words, this is a time of discernment, from which Jesus emerges to begin his ministry. 

I like to use Lent as a period of discernment – to focus on spending time in silence to listen for the still, small voice within – to discern where I will put my focus during the coming months of summer when I have more energy to be more active – to “leave the wilderness with new resolve” as Cliff Reed put it.

The Gospels of Luke and Matthew go into more detail than Mark about the temptations of Jesus. In Luke we are told,

“The devil said to him, “If you are the Son of God, command this stone to become a loaf of bread.” Jesus answered him, “It is written, ‘One does not live by bread alone.’” Then the devil led him up and showed him in an instant all the kingdoms of the world. And the devil said to him, “To you I will give their glory and all this authority; for it has been given over to me, and I give it to anyone I please. If you, then, will worship me, it will all be yours.” Jesus answered him, “It is written, ‘Worship the Lord your God, and serve only him.’” Then the devil took him to Jerusalem, and placed him on the pinnacle of the temple, saying to him, “If you are the Son of God, throw yourself down from here, for it is written, ‘He will command his angels concerning you, to protect you,’ and ‘On their hands they will bear you up, so that you will not dash your foot against a stone.’” Jesus answered him, “It is said, ‘Do not put the Lord your God to the test.’” When the devil had finished every test, he departed from him until an opportune time.” Luke 4:3-13

Commenting on this passage, Prof. Becky Horst writes, “In the desert, Jesus experiences three temptations, each more intense than the last.. He is able to reject comfort, security and control as motivators for his life. Instead he will embrace risk, vulnerability and suffering for a cause much larger than himself.”

I appreciate this invitation to discern or notice where I am motivated by comfort, security, and control, and to embrace risk, vulnerability, and (in place of the word suffering I'm going to use the word) discomfort, instead. 

"Fast from hurting words … and say kind words. Fast from sadness … and be filled with gratitude. Fast from anger … and be filled with patience. Fast from pessimism … and be filled with hope. Fast from worries … and have trust in God. Fast from complaints … contemplate simplicity. Fast from pressures … and be prayerful. Fast from bitterness … fill your hearts with joy. Fast from selfishness … and be compassionate to others. Fast from grudges … and be reconciled. Fast from words … be silent and listen." Pope Francis

Pope Francis' wonderful words on fasting invite us to notice where we are behaving from anger or bitterness or selfishness, not to beat ourselves up, but to be inspired to cultivate positive alternatives - kindness, gratitude, patience, hope, trust, joy, compassion, forgiveness..

Perhaps this noticing is for me the main invitation of Lent – to notice and pay attention to both my inner and outer life – to notice and pay attention to the sacred in the ordinary – to be redeemed via “the radio, the hokey-cokey, and tins of cold custard” as Rabbi Lionel Blue once noted – in my case, those things may be podcasts, singing in the rain, and apple crumble.

Lent is also a time for me to accept Brother Alois' invitation that I began with to “dare to review our lifestyle.. for the sake of solidarity with the deprived” - to notice and pay attention to the resources I can share with others, whether that be money or time or kind words or a listening ear. 

"Is such the fast I desire, a day for men to starve their bodies? Is it bowing the head like a bulrush and lying in sackcloth and ashes? Do you call that a fast, a day when the Lord is favourable? No, this is the fast I desire: To unlock fetters of wickedness and untie the cords of the yoke, to let the oppressed go free; to break off every yoke. It is to share your bread with the hungry, and to take the wretched poor into your home; when you see the naked, to clothe him, and not to ignore your own kin." Isaiah 58:5-7

The prophet Isaiah, never one to mince his words, makes it very clear here that fasting should not be about self-denial, but about bringing justice to those less fortunate than ourselves – freeing the oppressed, sharing our bread with the hungry and housing the poor. 

Time and again the Hebrew prophets warned their people away from public displays of piety which tried to hide their hypocrisy, and reminded them that it is our motivations and actions that are important. Unitarians are inheritors of that wisdom, with our emphasis on 'deeds, not creeds.'

Blessing adapted from a prayer of St Ambrose,

“This Lent, let your door stand open to receive Love, unlock your soul, offer a welcome to all, and you will see the riches of simplicity, the treasures of peace, and the joy of grace.” Amen.

Three Loves, One Love: A Reflection for St Valentine's Day

"I heard a voice speaking to me: ‘The young woman whom you see is Love.  She has her tent in eternity…It was love which was the source of this creation in the beginning when God said: ‘Let it be! And it was. As though in the blinking of an eye, the whole creation was formed through love. The young woman is radiant in such a clear, lightning-like brilliance of countenance that you can’t fully look at her… She holds the sun and moon in her right hand and embraces them tenderly… The whole of creation calls this maiden ‘Lady.’ For it was from her that all of creation proceeded, since Love was the first. She made everything… Love was in eternity and brought forth, in the beginning of all holiness, all creatures without any admixture of evil. Adam and Eve, as well were produced by love from the pure nature of the Earth." 

A Vision of Creation, from the letters of St. Hildegard of Bingen (1098 - 1179) 

“One of them, a lawyer, asked him [Jesus] a question, to test him. “Teacher, which is the great commandment in the law?” And he said to them, “You shall love the Lord your God with all your heart, and with all your soul, and with all your mind. This is the great and first commandment. And a second is like it, You shall love your neighbour as yourself. On these two commandments depend all the law and the prophets.”” Matthew 22: 35 – 40

Jesus links the two commandments given in Deuteronomy 6:5 (You shall love the Lord your God with all your heart and with all your soul and with all your might) and Leviticus 19:18 (Do not seek revenge or bear a grudge against anyone among your people, but love your neighbour as yourself), and says that they are alike – loving God, loving yourself and loving your neighbour. 

This is the great Truth that the mystics awaken to – there is no separation. There is no separation between God and ourselves. There is no separation between the self and others. The three loves are one love. “The day of my spiritual awakening was the day I saw God in all things and all things in God,” said Mechthild of Magdeburg. 

"These three loves are engendered by one another, nourished by one another, and fanned into flame by one another. Then they are all brought to perfection together." From The Mirror of Charity by Aelred of Rievaulx (1110 – 1167) 

Aelred of Rievaulx expands on Jesus' words in the Gospel of Matthew, and describes how the three loves are intertwined, flowing from and to each other, ultimately becoming one love, which is love of God in everyone. 

There are many different types of love. While there is an element of eros, of passionate, romantic love, in the divine devotion of many mystics, in New Testament Greek, the love between God and humanity is usually rendered as “agape,” sometimes translated as “charity” in early English translations. Today we might perhaps translate it as “loving kindness” or “compassion” or “unconditional love.”

Martin Luther King Jr. describes agape as, “understanding, creative, redemptive good will toward all men. Agape is an overflowing love which seeks nothing in return. Theologians would say that it is the love of God operating in the human heart.” Agape is thus love both between God and humanity and between humans. This is the type of love that manifests in service. 

The mystics tell us we are created in love and for love. Love that manifests in service to God, to others, and to ourselves. Hildegard von Bingen, whose vision of Creation from Love we heard earlier, wrote that God said, “With my mouth I kiss my own chosen creation. I uniquely, lovingly, embrace every image I have made out of the earth's clay. With a fiery spirit I transform it into a body to serve the world.”

In the churches I grew up in, Jesus' words were often shortened to “love your neighbour”. But Jesus, and Moses before him, didn't just say, “love your neighbour”, they said, “love your neighbour as yourself.” Loving ourselves wasn't spoken about much in church and certainly not in positive terms. Loving others was seen as self-less, while loving oneself was equated with being self-ish, self-important, and self-indulgent. But we cannot truly love others, we cannot truly love God, unless we first love ourselves.

Contemporary contemplative Christian teacher Justin Coutts writes, “To truly love God is to love what God loves and it is us which God loves most. Therefore, in the pursuit of the love of God we must begin with ourselves. When we truly love ourselves then we see ourselves as God does. Because we are the image of God we can only love God as much as we first love ourselves. If we do not love ourselves we are seeing a false image that is not of God. If we saw, with eyes truly opened, who we really are, then we would have no choice but to love ourselves. If we do not love ourselves then we do not have the truth.”

Now I acknowledge that my understanding of God is likely to be very different from that of the biblical writers. I have long since left the white-bearded old man in the clouds of my Sunday School days behind. The God of my understanding is what the theologian Paul Tillich called the “ground of being.” In other words, my God is Life itself. In loving God I love Life itself, and I am called to serve God, to serve Life, by acting in life-affirming and life-enriching ways.

In loving my neighbour, I am called to serve them, in ways that affirm and enrich their life. Who is my neighbour? In the passages from Deuteronomy and Leviticus, we are asked to love our kin, our fellow country-folk, and strangers. In other words, everyone – everyone, from my cousins to the politicians I disagree with to the people blowing each other up in Israel and Gaza. 

In loving my neighbour, I am called to manifest that love in service, in good will to all, in seeking what is good for my neighbour's welfare, in acting kindly and compassionately towards them, treating them with respect and understanding. Every act of love in action, however small, from hugging a friend to donating to charity to smiling at a stranger, is an act of service that makes a difference.

In loving myself, I am called to manifest that love in service, seeking what is good for my own welfare, treating myself with kindness, compassion, respect and understanding.

May we answer the call to love God, love our neighbour, love ourselves, knowing that these three loves are indeed one and we are indeed one family, created in Love and for Love, and held in a Love larger than ourselves. Amen.

The Transformational Energy of Brigid: A Reflection for Imbolc

"I will rest now at the bottom of Bridget’s well

I will follow the crow’s way

Footprint by footprint

In the mud down here

I won’t come up

Until I am calmed down

And the earth dries beneath me

And I have paced the caked ground

Until smooth all over

It can echo a deeper voice

Mirror a longer shadow

Then the fire may come again

Beneath me, this time

Rising beyond me

No narcissus-flinted spark

Behind closed eyes

But a burning bush

A fire that always burns away

But never is burnt out"

Bridget’s Well by Richard Kearney

Brigid, Goddess and Saint, whose feast day is celebrated on 1st February, is close to my heart. She is known of the Bringer of Light, the Herald of Spring, embodying the transformation of the earth from the darkness and dormancy of winter to the first signs of the new life and growth of spring.  She clears away the debris of winter, cleansing the energy to allow us to move forward with clear vision and positive intention.  But her message of transformation is deeper than a little spring cleaning.

Brigid is a Goddess and Saint of both fire and water.  In Kildare in Ireland, the site of St Brigid’s convent, St Brigid’s flame is kept constantly burning in her shrine by the sisters, and there are now many other Brigid’s flames across the world.  In Ireland there are many sacred wells dedicated to Brigid and pilgrimages are made to them to ask for her blessing at this time of year.  Brigid is patron goddess of poetry, healing and smith-craft.  The elements of fire and water combine in the forge, where raw materials are transformed into objects that are both beautiful and useful.

A Celtic seasonal story tells that the Cailleach, the crone of winter, can transform herself from a terrifying hag in the dark half of the year to the beautiful young maiden Brigid in the light half by drinking from the well of youth, and thus Brigid and the Cailleach are the same entity.  I believe that this archetypal feminine energy has much to teach us today about balance, healing and wholeness.

The heroic quest in world mythologies often includes gaining wisdom through an initiation involving embracing surrender, darkness and death, as symbolised by the Cailleach, hag or crone.  For example, a common Celtic tale tells of how the hero becomes king only when he kisses the hag, who transforms into a beautiful woman and reveals herself as sovereignty.

In the Irish story ‘Niall of the Nine Hostages’, the old women or hag is guarding a well.  When Niall’s four brothers ask for a drink of water, she tells them they must give her a kiss.  They all refuse, but Niall kisses and embraces the hag, whereupon she changes into the most beautiful woman in the world.  “What are you?” asks Niall and she replies, “King of Tara, I am Sovereignty . . . your seed shall be over every clan.” In order to access the life-giving waters of the well, the young man must embrace the dark face of the feminine.  He emerges from his initiation with the wisdom and compassion of maturity to a path of life-sustaining leadership.

In her article, 'Brigid: Cailleach and Midwife to a New World', Dolores Whelan says, “The cailleach is the embodiment of the tough mother-love that challenges its children to stop acting in destructive ways.. It is an energy that insists that we stand still, open our hearts, and feel our own pain and the pain of the earth. This is the energy that teaches us how to stay with the process when things are difficult.”

I found this a really powerful message.  In Western society we are all under pressure to be constantly doing things, to react quickly, to keep moving from one thing to the next.  There is little room for considered responses or for just being.  But if we are to live in right relationship with the earth I think it is important for us to value reflection and attentiveness, to consider consequences, and to allow life to unfold.

At Imbolc the maiden Brigid embodies the new life energy of the tiny spark of light that has been growing in the Cailleach’s dark womb since the winter solstice and now begins to emerge and transform winter into spring. The awakening of spring can only emerge from the deep sleep stillness of Winter.  Spring shows us that the possibility of transformation is always there, no matter how devitalised something appears.  Renewal can happen when we submit to the slow transformational energy of Bridget’s well.

As Philosopher Richard Kearney suggests in the poem “Bridget’s Well” the inward and downward journey into the deep well is the way to access Brigid’s life-giving and inspiring fire of passion that lies at the bottom. The journey deep into the darkness of the winter of our souls may be uncomfortable and painful at times, but eventually we find that inner spark that lives within us all.  Emerging from a clear deep space of stillness, this fire is full of potency, the inner light of truth guiding us into a new life of wholeness.

I have had my own experience of Brigid’s well.  Many years ago I was bullied by a superior at work over the course of several months. I began internalising all the negativity towards me, thinking it must be me in the wrong.  I dreaded going into work so much that I began to have panic attacks on the bus in the mornings.  One day I snapped and broke down.  My doctor signed me off work for six weeks.  By this time I was in such poor mental health that I couldn’t sleep or eat.  I was terrified of not finding a new job and applied frantically for everything I saw that seemed even vaguely suitable.  Luckily I was offered a new job within the first few weeks, which meant I was then able to concentrate on recovering.  

Not having work to fill my days was very strange at first.  I had to slow down.  I began to take long walks along with river and through the woods every day.  Walking in nature has always been restorative for me. I was also lucky to have supportive friends and family who helped me on the road to recovery. It took a long time to heal, but by the end of the six weeks I was ready to return to work.  I had begun to stop flailing around in the mud in the bottom of the well.  I had found find that divine inner spark that allowed me to see that the layers of self-loathing I had accumulated weren’t the true heart of me and I began to rediscover my self-worth.

Elizabeth Kubler Ross once said, “People are like stained-glass windows.  They sparkle and shine when the sun is out, but when the darkness sets in, their inner beauty is revealed only if there is a light within.”

We live in dark and troubled times.  Such times bring out both the worst and the best in people.  Sometimes we may feel overwhelmed, but just as we cannot transform our shadow selves by ignoring them and hoping they will go away, we cannot transform the dark forces of the world by shutting them out.  It is only by bringing the dark things out of the shadows into the light that we can see them for what they truly are and slowly but surely begin to transform them.

I believe that Brigid’s fire has the power to inspire us to forge new relationships between each other, and between people and the land, to transform the winter wasteland of the world into a life-sustaining spring.

Let us be keepers of the flame of truth, meaning, love and deep connection.  

Let us be bringers of light to the world. Amen and Blessed Be.

The Coming of Bride by John Duncan, 1917

Blessing Trees in Winter: a Reflection on Wassailing and Tu B'Shvat

“The apple in your hand is the body of the Cosmos.” 

Thich Nhat Hanh

Both the Jewish festival of Tu B'Shvat and the English custom of Wassailing involve blessing fruit trees in winter, with singing and feasting. In Hebrew, tu means fifteen and Shevat is a month that falls in late winter, as the season shifts toward spring and the tree sap begins to rise, in the land of Israel. 15 Shevat marked the New Year of the Trees, which has its origins in the injunction in Leviticus to give a tithe of the fourth year fruit crop. In Israel today, Tu B'Shvat is a national holiday, celebrated as the joyful birthday of trees. Everyone, including young children, help plant seeds and saplings, sing songs, and eat birthday cake.

Wassailing, or blessing of the fruit trees, is a Twelfth Night custom that dates back to at least pagan Anglo-Saxon times, and involves singing and drinking to the health of the trees in the hope that they will provide a bountiful harvest in the autumn. 

“When you enter the land and plant any tree for food, you shall regard its fruit as forbidden. Three years it shall be forbidden for you, not to be eaten. In the fourth year all its fruit shall be set aside for jubilation before the Lord, and only in the fifth year may you use its fruit – that its yield to you may be increased: I the Lord am your God.” Leviticus 19:23 – 25 

This law raised the question of how farmers were to mark the “birthday” of a tree. The Rabbis therefore established the 15th of the month of Shevat as a general “birthday” for all trees, regardless of when they were actually planted. 

The Kabbalists created a Tu B'Shvat seder (communal meal), including glasses of wine and specific fruits eaten while meditating on biblical verses. Consuming fruits on this day with the right kavanah (intention) was believed to release the divine sparks in the fruit, and bring the world into greater harmony. 

Many Jewish communities hold a Tu B'Shvat seder today, eating olives, dates, grapes, figs and pomegranates – all the fruits which are mentioned in Deuteronomy as being the fruits of the Promised Land, 

“For Adonai your God is bringing you into a good land. A land of brooks of water, of fountains and depths springing forth in valleys and hills, a land of wheat and barley and vines and fig trees and pomegranates, a land of olive trees and honey, a land wherein you shall eat without scarceness, you shall not lack anything in it... And you shall eat and be satisfied, and bless God for the good land, which is being given unto you.” Deuteronomy 8: 7 – 10 

All of these fruits have a symbolic significance. Fruits with protective shells, such as pomegranates, are associated with Olam Ha'Asiyah – the world of action – winter, the earth, and the invitation to meditate on our own layers of protection. Fruits with stones, such as olives, are associated with Olam HaYetzirah – the world of formation – spring, water, and the invitation to meditate on our own hardness of heart and need to protect what makes us vulnerable. Soft fruits, such as figs, are associated with Olam HaBriyah – the world of creation, and the invitation to meditate on relinquishing our own shell and stone in our deepest relationships. Bread and wine are associated with Olam Ha'atzilut – the world of essence or spirit – autumn, fire and the invitation to meditate on our awareness of God's love, mercy and wisdom, perceived with our hearts rather than our senses.

Rabbi Rachel Barenblat writes, “The Four Worlds (Action, Emotion, Thought and Spirit) are nested inside each of the others. We live in all four realms at once. Sometimes we have hard shells, like the nuts of assiyah. Sometimes we have a rock inside us, like the stone fruits of yetziraah. Sometimes we are soft all the way through, like the fruits of briyah. And sometimes we are so connected with the Holy One of Blessing that we melt beyond our bodies altogether, living in atzilut. May we find blessing in each of these four ways of being, each of these four seasons, each of these four worlds.”

The seder meal concludes with a blessing of the trees, such as this one by Kohenet Carly Lesser, 

“Blessings to the renewal of all living things. Blessings to the trees that provide us with clean air, shelter, food, and resources to live. Here's to the dawning of spring and resurgence of life. Blessed be the earth.”

As well as the seder meal, it is customary in Israel to plant trees on this festival, for the benefit of future generations, as illustrated in this story from Siddur Lev Chadash, the Liberal Jewish prayerbook, 

“Once, when the Roman emperor Hadrian was walking alone one of the paths that lead to Tiberius, he saw an old man digging trenches to plant saplings of fig-trees. 

'How old are you?' the emperor asked him, and he answered, 'A hundred years.' 

'You are a hundred years old,' said Hadrian, 'yet you are digging trenches to plant saplings of fig-trees! Do you ever hope to eat of them?'

Then the old man replied:

'If I am worthy I shall eat; but even if not – as my ancestors worked for my benefit, so I will work for the benefit of my children.'”

Wassailing or wishing the trees good health has been practised by many generations in rural communities in England, especially in cider-making counties, such as Kent, Somerset and Herefordshire. There were two types of wassail – the house-visiting wassail and the orchard-visiting wassail. The house-wassailing tradition has evolved into carolling, where groups of people go from door-to-door singing Christmas carols. The wassailers would toast the good health of the householders, in exchange for food and drink. In the words of We Wish You a Merry Christmas, there are traces of this custom, “now give us some figgy pudding”, “we won’t go until we’ve got some”. 

The Anglo-Saxon world was populated by many spirits, some benevolent and some malevolent. The idea of the orchard-visiting wassail was to appease the malevolent spirits and encourage the benevolent spirits to ensure a good harvest the following season. It was also, of course, a good excuse for a party, involving singing, dancing, and drinking.

In recent years, wassailing has grown in popularity and there are now wassailing events in many parts of the country. Wassailing usually involves a procession through an orchard, banging pots and pans to ward off the bad spirits and wake up the spirits of the fruit trees, thus encouraging them to produce a bountiful crop in the year ahead. Wassailing songs or chants are offered to the trees, such as this one,

“Here's to thee, old apple tree, that blooms well, bears well.

Hats full, caps full, three bushel bags full, an' all under one tree. Hurrah!”

The celebrations may include planting trees and other plants, eating baked apples, and drinking mulled cider, after offering a libation of cider to the trees, for their blessing on the party, of course! As well as being an opportunity for people to gather in community and get outdoors in the winter, wassailing is also an opportunity to reflect on our own place in the natural world, our dependence on the land for our sustenance, and our part in the cycles of nature. As we seek to awaken the spirits of the trees, perhaps we may reflect on what is stirring in our own hearts, as we look forward in hope and trust to the flowering of springtime. 

As we bless the trees and seek their blessings for the forthcoming harvest, perhaps we can remember to give thanks for all our blessings, not least of which are the wonderful trees themselves. I recently came across this quote from the Bhagavata Purana, an Indian sacred text, on the altruism of trees, 

“Have a look at these great blessed trees, who live only for the welfare of others, themselves facing the severity of stormy winds, heavy showers, heat and snow, all the while protecting us from them. The birth of trees is the most blessed in the world, as they contribute unreservedly to the well-being of all creatures. Just as no needy person ever returns disappointed from the house of a benevolent individual, similarly do these trees do for those who approach them for shelter. All of their many parts – leaves, flowers, fruits, shadow, roots, bark, wood and fragrance, are useful to others.. A tree does not withdraw its cooling shade even from the one who has come to cut it.”

As part of my daily morning body prayer I pray to emulate the altruism of trees, “This day, may I be like a tree – a shelter for all who come, growing towards the light, dancing in the wind, bearing good fruit, rooted in the earth and grounded in love. Amen.”

Wassailing is a small symbolic part of the annual cycle of caring for the trees, showing them love, so that they will bear good fruit. How might we show love and care for ourselves, for others, and for the earth, so that we may all continue to bear good fruit? How might we emulate the trees by protecting the vulnerable and offering shelter to those in need in these troubled times?

I leave you with some words from the Gospel of Philip, 

“Farming in the world requires the cooperation of four essential elements. A harvest is gathered into the barn only as a result of the natural action of water, earth, wind and light. God's farming likewise has four elements - faith, hope, love, and wisdom. Faith is our earth, that in which we take root. And hope is the water through which we are nourished. Love is the wind through which we grow. Wisdom, then, is the light through which we ripen.”

Waes Hael!

Following the Star of Truth and Love: A Reflection for Epiphany

 “Wise One, drop the reins and let the camel guide you. Follow the rising falling animal in your chest. To be wise, after all, is to be led across the wordless desert of prayer to the birthplace in the valley between breaths where the unspeakable holds silence in a tiny hand...”

I love these words that begin the poem Magi by Alfred Lamotte. As we begin the journey of another year, it is a good reminder for me to drop the reins and allow myself to be led. I long ago gave up making new year's resolutions. Now I set intentions instead – not as hard-edged as resolutions, but still it is good to be reminded to hold my plans loosely and be open to them changing, as the wise men did in the story from Matthew (2:12) “And being warned in a dream not to return to Herod, they departed to their own country by another way.”

The wise men, being guided by a star and a dream, pay attention to signs, synchronicities, and the workings of the subconscious. On a rather mundane note, in recent years I often dreamed about waking up to find my hair had been cut off, being very upset and feeling, like Samson, that my power had gone with my hair. My Nan used to say, “dreams mean the opposite,” and eventually I realised that the dream was inviting me to reclaim my power. I cut my hair and, far from being upset, I felt liberated.

Some times in life we can all feel that we have lost our way and that can be frightening. In the Sufi story of the stream, the desert, and the wind, the desert told the stream that it would have to become absorbed in the wind in order to journey across the desert, and the stream was afraid of losing its identity, but, arriving safely on the other side, it discovered its true identity. 

When we let go of the illusion of control, we can risk being changed. Sometimes we may need to allow ourselves to become lost to find another way. Jesus says twice in the Gospel of Matthew (Matthew 10:39; 16:25), “You must lose your life to find your life.” 

What is the life we lose and the life we find in the spiritual journey? The novelist Paulo Coelho wrote, “Maybe the journey isn't so much about becoming anything. Maybe it's about un-becoming everything that isn't really you so you can be who you were meant to be in the first place.”

Richard Rohr describes it thus, “The false self is the disconnected and autonomous self. It is your identity privately concocted by means of culture, education, class, race, family, gender identity, clothes, and money... The True Self is characterized by communion and deep contentment... participating in a Universal Being that is beyond yours... Now, that doesn’t mean you stay in the True Self 24- hours a day. Life is three steps forward and two steps backward. But once you know the big picture, you will never be satisfied with the little picture again.”

As I child I was taught to see time as a straight line – we are born, we grow up, we grow old, we die. Now I see it as a spiral – time moves on, but also round in the circle of the seasons each year, as the earth circles the sun. In life, we move forward, and we also keep circling back to the same things, keep repeating the same patterns. And, at the same time, each moment is new, every day we can look in the mirror and, as R S Thomas wrote in his poem Arrival, “see yourself as you are, a traveller … arrived after long journeying where he began, catching this one truth by surprise - that there is everything to look forward to.” 

Every day is a journey of self-discovery, to find the treasure inside that we can share to bless those around us. Shams Tabrizi, Rumi's mentor and spiritual guide, wrote, “Wherever you go, east, west, north or south, think of it as a journey into yourself. The one who travels into themselves travels the world.”

The real treasure is not what we hold in our hands, but what we hold in our hearts, not the material things we have, but the non-material gold, frankincense and myrrh: the memories we hold dear, the people we treasure, the way we live our truth and give our love. The greatest gift we can give others is to make the time and effort to let them love know how much they are loved and valued, the boy did for his teacher in our story, long walk part of gift, and the wise men did for Jesus when “they fell down and worshipped him.” (Matthew 2:11)

The most important journey we will ever make is into our own heart, to discover the shining light of divine love that lives there – the only star we need to follow – if we always follow that star, then we will always be at home, wherever we travel.

The poet Wendell Berry wrote, “And the world cannot be discovered by a journey of miles, no matter how long, but only by a spiritual journey, a journey of one inch, very arduous and humbling and joyful, by which we arrive at the ground at our feet, and learn to be at home.” Amen