Coming Home...

Christmas.  It was Christmas in the cathedral that night.  It didn't matter that the date was Wednesday, September 12.  It was my first experience of Christmas since "the perfect storm" of my life struck in 2009. 

Our journey that night began in the crypt.  "Prepare to die!" our leader declared rather dramatically.  Yet, die I did to all that stood in the way of fully choosing life.  I left all the dead parts of myself behind that night as we journeyed through the undercroft, lit by hundreds of candles, to the burning bowl.  There I surrendered my attachments to life that were really death.  The great stained glass wall of baptism reminding me that life is to be found through death.  Then up the stairs into the cathedral, candles guiding my way.

An a capella quartet was singing and their voices filled the space, drawing me closer to the labyrinth which was encircled with candles.  Initially the exterior lights lit up, the windows illumining the wondrous stained glass that tells the story of Jesus life; the amazing blues and reds and greens bringing to life our Lord's journey from incarnation to death to resurrection.   After a time, the light of the windows shifted to a deep gray-blue, the muted winter-light so common to December, as the exterior lights were dimmed.  It was Christmas.

Before entering the labyrinth, a pause...  a moment of deep stillness... a moment to collect the tattered and frayed parts of myself that I might to be fully present to the journey.  I had intended to circumambulate the Labyrinth before entering, but I felt myself literally pulled in.  Come home to me, God said.  And come I did.

"Ubi caritas et amor, Deus ibi est" sang the voices in plainsong, soaring upwards.  "Where love and charity are present, God is there."  And Love entered me touching the deepest parts of my being, suffusing me with life.  "Gloria, in excellis, deo" sang my heart in response.

Sometimes the wounds can cut us off from feeling.  So deep the pain, we prefer death to life.  Or at least that is what we believe.  But when we cut off the pain, we also cut out the joy.  As Abba Poeman reminds us, "The greater the hollow carved out by grief, the more room for joy to dwell therein."  We cannot fully know joy without suffering, such is the paradox of our living and our faith.

The first steps of the Labyrinth draw the walker almost to the center, but then pull back out.  The rhythm of the inward-outward journey is established as the walker moves first in then back out, making 34 turns of which 28 are U-turns and six semi-turns, before reaching the center.   Let there be no doubt that the path calls us to surrender.  It is a kenotic path of emptying that we might be filled.

The message is clear: trust the path, even though it doesn't always make sense.  Trust the path, even when it takes us in a direction we didn't expect. To stand at the entrance and remember all God's blessings is to commit ourselves anew to the via positiva.  To enter is to commit to letting go, to emptying, to releasing; it is the via negativa.  It is the emptying that serves as prelude to filling that the time in the center might truly be the via creativa-the time of receiving, of filling, of life.  "How silently, how silently, the wondrous gift is given.  I would be silent now, Lord, and expectant... that I may receive the gift I need, so I may become the gift others need" (Ted Loder, Guerillas of Grace).

Yet we cannot stay in the center of the Labyrinth yearn though we might to remain in that safe womb-like place.  Nor can the journey be unidirectional; its inward-outward rhythm must be honored.  One informs the other.  When ready, the journey outward becomes the via transformativa, where we resolve to be the very transformation we desires to see; the gift that others need.

The questions of Chartres are questions for our day:

1. How can we, through connection with God, heal the soul?
2. How can we, working with the earth, heal the planet?
3. How can we, through communion, heal the body social?

"A good question, the poet reminds us, is not a bolt to be tightened into place.  But, a seed to be planted toward the greening of the landscape of faith" (John Cicardi).  These are good questions.  These are journey questions that invite us to journey with intention to touch the world.

The call to embody Christ cannot be done without embracing not only the joy, but also the suffering.   Come and die our Lord bids us.  But in our death will be his birth as the wondrous gift is given.  God's invitation to each one of us is to come home... come home for Christmas.  May the ancient words take root in all our hearts this Advent season: "Of the Father's love begotten, E're the world began to be. He is Alpha and Omega; He, the source, and, the ending, He." 

Advent blessings to you all!

Holy Habit: "Walking" the Labyrinth

Print out a copy of the Chartres Labyrinth.

The Labyrinth is sacred space, set aside for those who desire to look within, pray, negotiate new behavior. The rhythm of "walking", empties the mind, relaxes the body, and refreshes the spirit. For those who do not have access to an actual Labyrinth, it can be "walked" with either your finger or using a pen or pencil. Below are four stages that provide a process for many.

Remember: Before entering the Labyrinth, take time in gratitude to be thankful for your life. Bless the people in your life. If there is a specific event or situation troubling you, bring it to mind and form a healing question if possible.

Release: Walking into the Labyrinth is the time to quiet the mind, let go of the chatter and release your troubles. Open your heart to feel whatever it might feel. Become aware of your breathing. Take slow breaths. Relax and let your finger move along the path. Notice the inward-outward rhythm.

Receive: The center is a place of reflection. Pause and stay as long as you like. Open yourself to the Triune God. Listen to that still, small voice. In the safety of the center, receive what God has to give you and offer a word of thanks.

Return: When you are ready begin walking out of the Labyrinth taking the same path you followed in. Allow for integration. Experience the sense of well-being, healing, and call of God.

Source: Veriditas

Tom Neff, honorably retired minister of Muskingum Valley Presbytery, died December 13 at OSU Medical Center.  He served the presbytery as moderator and on various committees.  A memorial service is scheduled for 3 pm on Sunday, December 23 at the McConnelsville First Presbyterian Church, 183 E. Liberty Ave., McConnelsville, OH.   

Members of the presbytery are invited to join family, congregations, and community in thanking God for his life.  Until then and during the following days, his wife, Lela, and their daughters, Shirley & Kris, are grateful to receive condolences from us at 9371 Mautz Dr., McConnelsville, OH 43756, (740) 962-4735.   

Please share this message with other congregations and pastors.