Readings
Oh source of all beauty
May we see the beauty in the humble and unexpected:
the patient spider and the wayside flower,
the daisy and the buttercup;
the wheeling of silver birds against a leaden sky.
May we manifest the sacred art of love
in all our words and deeds,
and to forgive ourselves and begin again when we fail.
We come together this morning
We come together this morning, seeking a reality beyond our narrow selves; that binds us in compassion, love, and understanding to other human beings, and to the interdependent web of all living things.
May our hearts and minds be opened this hour, to the power and the insight that weaves together the scattered threads of our
Christmas eternal
There will always be Herods in this world: Petty men in large palaces, Murderers of dreams. And there will always be a little Herod in us, scribbling decrees on our map of the Heavens.
There will always be Magi in this world: Followers of the tiny spark, those who will go to the ends of the
This Christmas, may we…
This Christmas, may we…
Glimpse the promise of the future, as did Mary
Know our duty, and resist judgement, as did Joseph
Honour new life and praise new creation, as did the shepherds and angels
May we seek wisdom beyond our tradition as did the Magi
Offer hospitality as did the Innkeeper
And in so doing, may
A man of peace
This originally appeared in The Inquirer, Issue 8028
https://www.inquirer.org.uk/pages/
On a freezing-cold day some 20 years ago I stood well wrapped in winter gear amongst followers at Plum Village gathered for the morning walking meditation. Thich Nhat Hanh (Thay) suddenly appeared beside me, clad in brown robes, so small in height I thought for a moment
What does church mean to me?
This originally appeared in The Inquirer, Issue 8024
https://www.inquirer.org.uk/pages/
I was brought up going to church. I was taken every Sunday,
week by week, sometimes once, sometimes twice a day.
I never liked it. For some reason it was just the Sunday
services. I don’t know why I was never sent to Sunday School,
maybe the
A solstice ritual, as darkness falls on 21 December
This originally appeared in The Inquirer, Issue 8001
https://www.inquirer.org.uk/pages/
We gather at the winter solstice
We extinguish the old candle
There is darkness – the days of light are shorter, the night
is longer, the trees are bare, and the cold bites into us.
We have reached the low point, the midwinter point, the
longest night
When God was pregnant
when god was pregnant
her belly swelled up like song
’til she was rounder than the seasons of the world.
her legs grew larger than the questions
raised by wondering boys,
her breasts filled the emptiness
of one moment’s yearning for another.
when god was pregnant the angels
fetched cold towels and practiced breathing,
learning anticipation: