Where is the Light?

the horror
the outrage
trying to make sense of it all

blaming the media hype or
psychotropic drugs or
broken homes or
religious extremists or
violent toys and games or
easy access to guns

from Columbine
to New York City
to Oklahoma City
to Newtown

we are shocked by sudden and random acts of violence
we want to do something, so we

read more about it
talk about it
watch the news about it
call for gun control
pray for peace
sign petitions
recall prophecies about “end times”

and still we feel hollow.  These actions, well intended though they may be, will never be enough.  They are too shallow, too reactionary. I do not criticize these attempts to respond and to fix the problem.  Nor do I condone the violence  Nor do I advocate do nothing passivity. I suggest that we must go deeper. 

Many spiritual traditions in essence teach that every event, all behavior is either
                    --- an act of love or a call for love ---

Wise spiritual guides direct us to ask,  Where is God in the midst of this?

We may be tempted to think that question is too obscure or irrelevant to this situation, whatever the situation may be, or even impertinent and flippant.  But the centrality of religious teaching reminds us that out of the heart proceeds all manner of thought. This is where we must go for answers.

We cannot know what is in the heart of another nor can we fix the brokenness that lives there.  There is only one heart that each of us can know intimately.  It is our own.  We can only inhabit the interior of our own heart and there uncover the broken places, the wounds.  And there be willing to be healed.  Here is where we may reduce the violence.  Here we may discover authentic lasting solutions.  Here we may find the capacity to respond to calls for love with acts of love.  Here is where we find God in the midst.  And here, to this sanctuary, we must return and from here, alone, must we act. 
               
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         I wrote this yesterday morning and set it aside.  Last night I attended our annual Solstice Spiral Walk.  Thirty five children are enrolled in our small rural alternative school in grades kindergarten through eight.  My daughter and son-in-law created the Solstice ceremony as their gift to the community.  It is based upon ancient practices found all over the world on every continent. Every culture honors going within and finding the light at the darkest time of the year.  Our Solstice Spiral Walk ceremony is held at our local community hall. The room is dark save for the evergreen branches sparkling with tiny white lights that form the spiral on the floor.  My son-in-law tells all the children that we, the entire community of children, parents, neighbors, grandparents, will sing to them as a way of telling them how much we love them and how we will take care of them. Each child, from the oldest to the youngest, comes forward to receive an apple that holds a small white candle. My daughter lights each child’s candle and one by one, each child walks alone to the center of the spiral.  Last night former students aged 17 and 15 and 14, down to younger brothers and sisters, toddlers, even tiny babies just a few weeks old, made the journey. We sing to each child as he or she receives their candle and walks to the center, places the candle beside the evergreen boughs, and walks back out again.  These are the beautiful words that my daughter wrote, that we sing every year (sing your name in place of mine, to know how this feels).  I receive my lit candle and begin the journey within and we sing a slow and lovely chant:

                        Phyllis holds the light now
                       Walking through the night now
                       Stars are shining bright
                       To guide her way tonight

I place my lit candle on the floor next to the one the child before me set down, and turn to walk back out and we sing:

                       Phyllis is the Light now
                       Phyllis is the Light now
                       Phyllis is the Light now . . . .

slowly, over and over again, as long as it takes to return.  And then the next child begins.  At the end we all join hands around the outside of the spiral to chant another lovely song:

                       In our hearts no fear
                       In our hearts deep peace
                       In our hearts great happiness
                       In our hearts safety

The verses that follow replace “our hearts” with “our homes,”  “our town,”  “our schools.”

This profound, moving ceremony tells me what I can do when nothing makes sense, when I search for the Light. I extend to you the peace and love shared in our tiny community gathering last night.                                             You are the Light now.

Have you heard those words “Jesus Christ!” with additional expletives or words of frustration or anger or surprise attached?  We all may be taken by surprise or may reach levels of frustration with people and situations beyond our control.  Even Benedictine monks and nuns, whom we often consider models of tolerance, lose it from time to time. 

For many years I was fortunate to visit a monastery near my home in western South Dakota.  I attended retreats and workshops and contemplative prayer, Christmas concerts, daily liturgical practices.. Often I stayed a night or two for my own private retreats. I was the beneficiary of the hospitality for which Benedictines are famous.  Saint Benedict, in the sixth century wrote his Rule of Benedict admonishing monks to “receive all guests as Christ.”  It is such a gift to be received in this way. I can feel it the moment I drive on to the monastery grounds.  There is a quiet; it feels as if all is in order. Sharing meals with several dozen nuns who are observing silence during Holy Week is humbling. Worshiping together reminds me that I'm taking part in rhythms that are centuries old.  As a guest, I've been given help in following the order of service, invitations to visit the library, coffee and snacks in my room, time with an ageing nun who listens to the heaviness in my heart, encouragement to make the place my home – all  generous, sincere and deeply meaningful ways of being received. 

And being observer and participant in the ordinary of monastery life is delightful, too. I chuckle recalling one visit when I was sitting at dinner with the prioress and two other congenial nuns. Suddenly an outraged nun came over and bombarded the prioress with a detailed accounting of an argument running on and escalating between her and one of the other sisters.  The outraged nun wanted the prioress on her side.  Later walking together after dinner, the prioress confided to me in exasperation, “It’s like any other family. Sometimes I just want to send them all to their rooms for a time out!”  In the midst of the holy is the secular.

Whether in a monastery, in our families, in our workplaces, in our community we have ample opportunity to observe the sacred and the secular.  We are given many chances to receive each guest in our lives as Christ.  We often miss these chances as we try instead to justify our own positions of “rightness.”   In a Benedictine monastery, the Rule of Benedict is spoken daily; a constant reminder to have an attitude of grace and compassion.  Welcoming each guest as Christ has nothing at all to do with the personality and the behavior of the guest.  It has everything to do with the presence of Christ in our own hearts.  It truly is a daily practice, a moment by moment discipline.

Right now in our calendar time, people the world over are celebrating Christmas, the birth of Christ.  Some call it by other names – hannukkah, kwanzaa, winter solstice  – and imbue the celebration with their own practices, some tied to other origins.  Yet all of the celebrations set aside a time of generosity, of exchanging gifts, of being more kind to strangers, of forgiving debts, of enjoying the wonder as children waiting for Santa Claus.  For each of us, this is our season, in our own individual way.  The birth of Christ is the birth of Love in our hearts, the return of Love to a humble manger within.  It all happens in a world of conflict, of war across the globe and in our families, of sorrow and lack and fear – in all our human places.  And once again we are gifted with the sacred in the midst of the secular.  We have ample opportunity to greet each other as Christ.  May you grab hold of those chances and find the gifts waiting for you in return.

Namaste. . . . . Baraka Bashad. . . . . . May the blessings be. . . . .

winter folding inward upon herself
Spirit into spirit
Soul into soul
uncovers the Light

flings it outward in wildness
to soar upon broken wings
of hope
beyond knowing

in this holy season may you find  
Light ~ Truth ~ Hope
within and without



                                                   © 2012 phyllis boernke


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