Enter, "The Holidays"

It used to be much simpler, back when I was growing up.  You had Protestants (90% of the town), Catholics (9%), and the man who came in the spring to pick up my mother's fur coat and about whom my parents wouldn't talk.  He was, I now know, Jewish, but nobody gave me the word back then.  As far as I knew, Jews were characters from the Bible.  Although my Catholic family was part of a scorned minority, I somehow managed to be raised in total ignorance of diversity.  We listened to Christmas carols on the radio.  Went to church a lot (in another, more Catholic-friendly, town). And I grew up with full confidence that what we were doing in December was what everybody knew was "the way it was supposed to be done."

Then I grew up, and my eyes became wider.  Found Unitarian Universalism, and learned (slowly) about Hanukkah, and later about other aspects of the Jewish year.  Worshiped side by side, this onceuponatime Catholic with friends who had been Bar or Bat Mitzvahed, and sometimes we even talked about what we remembered, and how the other person's traditions still seemed a little strange.

From there came awareness of the Wheel of the Year, Earth-based religions, pagan traditions of the goddesses and gods . . . and Solstice, with all its rituals new and old for the turning of the year.  Build that in to what was becoming a busy season.

But wait!  There's more!  A Christmas in Mexico opened me to Los Posadas. . . a Muslim friend shared some of her experiences in honoring the Islamic New Year . . . Kwanzaa calls my African American friends to reflection and celebration.

Enter, The Holidays!  And me?  well, I still sing Christmas carols and songs.  I still shed tears during the candlelight services on Christmas Eve.  I exchange gifts with people I care about, and take pleasure in extending myself to help others a little farther every year.


My "holidays" are enriched by the glorious mosaic of a culture re-forming itself, becoming deeper and richer every year.  And so I say (because it warms my heart to do so), "Merry Christmas."  And now I add, "Holiday blessings to one and all." 

Maureen

In the Midst of Chaos

No, I have not found an "invincible summer," and that wasn't chaos anyway, it was winter (thank you, Albert Camus).  But I am -- we are -- living in the midst of chaos, times so fast paced it seems difficult at times even to catch our breath.  What was it the Red Queen said?  That behind the Looking Glass you have to run as fast as you can just to stay in one place, and you have to run twice as fast if you want to get anywhere else. (To be fair, I'd better stop here and say thank you to Lewis Carroll.)

Are you still reading?  Chaotic, isn't it.  The medium is the message.  Chaos rules!

Except when it doesn't. 
When I choose --   when you choose --   to s t o p.  To breathe. 
To be still.

Find the stillness, even in the midst of all the bustle of the world.
Find the stillness, even among the noisy monkeys of your mind.
Find the stillness, even when it seems your heart will break.
Find the stillness.
Stillness.

It's not, perhaps, an invincible summer.  But most definitely something other than chaos.  Who knows, maybe (thank you, Hebrew scriptures) you will find the still, small voice of God.

Blessed be.  

Making Someone's Week

She is one of our enthusiastic young church members, and I love her to bits.  We were working together on a project the other day, and I could tell she was excited.  "I take yoga," she told me, "and at the end of every class, the teacher puts up a quotation."  "Uh-huh."  (I was preoccupied, but what she said next Got My Attention, big time.)  "And this morning, the quote was from . . . you!" 

I can't tell if this just means I'm getting really old (yep) or on the verge of getting famous (not), but this woman's enthusiasm lifted my heart and made my day.  Make that my week.

And so I wonder:  how often do I take the time to make someone else's week by telling them about the something-that-happened that brought them to my mind in a positive way?   Not often enough, that I know.  In fact, honesty requires me to acknowledge that I've been a little grumpier than usual these past few days.

News Flash:  Get over it!  Not only did that woman take time to give me a gift, but she was both enthusiastic and pleased.  I'd write more, but I need to get busy and do the same. 

Beyond Paralysis?

"I can't get anything done.  I'm just so anxious about what's happening throughout the world."  She's one of my dearest friends, and I know that anxiety is something that dogs her from time to time.  "Stop watching the news," I suggest. "But I need to know what's going on!" she replies.

I need to know what's going on.  Of course, this begs the question as to whether watching the network news actually tells her -- or anyone -- what is really going on int he world.  But I know what she means.  I have lately become moderately addicted to Twitter, following on-the-ground reports from Occupiers across the land, and from breaking (and broken) events in Tahrir. 

It's easy to feel drawn in, engaged in reality, when really one is sitting home viewing and reading through a variety of filters.  For my friend, her focus is whether her dwindling investments will be enough to last through her life.  She is ill, physically extremely limited, yet she is publishing a book and continues to seek out manageable justice activities in which to engage.

For me, it's more a matter of helplessness, the paralyzing conviction that I ought to be doing more than I am, coupled with the awareness that, given personal, physical, and professional demands, I am already running faster than I can.

How do we do this, balance the need to be involved, the need to be aware, with the very real limitations of our physical and spiritual being?  Give Thanks, say the pundits. Indeed, "give thanks" said this minister from the pulpit last Sunday. "If the only prayer you ever make in your entire life is 'thank you,' it will be sufficient," said Meister Eckhart.

And so perhaps that is as good a place as any to begin.  I am grateful, so grateful, for the tens of thousands of people who are putting their bodies on the line for social and cultural change.  I am grateful for the people who have the strength to post what they see, even in the midst of chaos.  I am grateful for all who have the courage to speak truth to power, and for those who dare to bear witness silently.  I am grateful for the democratic creativity of mic check, even as it unnerves the sense of order that continues to cling to me.  I am above all grateful for those who dare to proclaim that the Emperor, indeed, is naked.

What I can do, I will.  Money can be given.  Letters written.  Stand and bear witness where I am able.  Find courage to increase my tolerance for risks, yes, but where I cannot, take at least one step forward.  One step.  And another.  And another.

Blessed be.

I have been silent too long

I have been silent while thousands of people sit and stand, talk and debate, demanding social and economic justice.
I have been silent while others are being beaten for bearing witness to what all but the greedy and calloused agree are basic needs and rights.
I have been silent, lurking on Twitter while octogenarians are abused by those assigned to preserve and protect.
I have been silent while thousands of young and not-so-young men and women are struggling to invent new ways of being, new ways of creating, new ways of moving toward social change.
I have been silent, for it is easy to phone and send a pizza, to make a donation, to do all this with my fingers on my keyboard and my body comfortable on my warm office chair.
And then the videos, a line of huddled students attacked by a swaggering officer armed with pepper spray.
My safely suburbanized outrage is less than useless.
My small contributions are lost in the buckets of need.
I am a bystander.
I have been silent too long. 
My fingers move, I begin to write. 
What words will I say, and to whom?
What am I willing to risk to be part of this moment of change?

A Prayer for Thanksgiving

We are moving towards our Nation’s “Thanksgiving Day.”
We are Americans by birth and by adoption . . . by capture and by citizenship and by gift of place . . .
And, at the same time, we are the people of the earth,
people whose lives are blessed with love and hope
as well as those whose days are shadowed by darkness and despair.

We are young and old, skin of black and brown and yellow and red and no color worth mentioning.
Our languages are English and Spanish and Arabic . . .
Russian and Urdu and Swahili and Farsi and Sign . . .

We are women and men . . . boys and girls . . . hearing and deaf . . . sighted and blind . . .
We are gay and straight and transsexual and those for whom sexual identity is a faint memory . . .
We are lovers of pets and children and ourselves, and we are humans whose store of love is hard to find.
We are celebrators and grievers, protesters and hikers, and complex weavers of life.

We are artists and poets and writers and dancers,
and we are those whose creativity is blocked or exhausted . . .
And, with people north and south, west and east,
we are all saying “thank you”
We are recalling reasons to be grateful
because to do otherwise would surrender to life’s pain.
We are gardeners and teachers and library keepers . . .
We are parents and children, brothers and sisters, cousins and aunts and uncles too . . .

We are widows and newlyweds . . . lovers and alone . . .
We are office workers and health care providers . . .
We are creators who love what we do and employees who long to set our mundane jobs aside . . . 

We are people who by no choice of our own are unemployed . . .
We are those for whom productive life is just beginning and those whose memories are mixed up inside . . .

And we, with people around the world,
we are saying “thank you”
because gratitude is what WE need most this day.
We are doves setting forth from the humanity’s fragile ark in search of peace.

We are bears longing to hibernate and make the world go away.
We are pacifists and soldiers, Democrats and Republicans . . .
Theists and pagans, Buddhists and Christians,
humanists and atheists and a whole bunch of us who are spiritually confused.

We are gathered here in the hope of Thanksgiving.
We are gathered in the gratitude of Grace.
May the Spirit of Life and Healing be with us all this day . . .
Comforting all for whom this season is one of loss and pain . . .

Honoring those who step forward to protect, or rescue, or serve in their country’s name . . .
Tickling those who need reminders that, even in the midst of tragedy and confusion,

There will be bubbles of joy – and those are okay.
May we believe always that Life does hold blessings for each one of us to take,
At all times, in all ways, may “thank you” be the language of our days. 

A Tug-of-War World?

In 1997, a group  called the "Chinese Poetry Society" organized a massive tug-of-war competition in Taipei.  Two teams of 800 competitors  took the field.  The largest man from each team came to the fore, the two standing face to face. 1600 people lined up behind their leaders and grabbed the 5 cm.  rope.

The marshal gave the signal—PULL!

Back and forth the teams edged, grunting and tugging with all their might. Suddenly—SNAP—the rope broke, rebounding with such force that it severed the left arms of the two leaders. In what may be the strangest part of this well-documented tale, both arms were successfully reattached to their owners.  But the point remains.

The rope was not strong enough—it was not intended to stand the strain.

And neither are we.  Human society is not intended to stand the strain of two polarized forces pulling with all their might. Either something foundational is going to give, or something fundamental has got to change.

So, am I supposed to LIKE snow?

I grew up in the snowbelt north just south of Georgian Bay in Ontario, Canada.  The town of Waubaushene is built on a series of hills, and back then the winter roads were plowed by the county.  Sometimes. 

The high school bus picked us up at the top of the hills, where Highway 12 glanced off the corner of the village.   At best it was a 20 minute walk for me, but when it snowed -- forget about it.  

This is where the "walked barefoot 20 miles through the snow" memories come in.  It wasn't 20 miles and I wasn't barefoot -- but there were many cold, uphill slogs through drifts that I recall as reaching perilously close to the top of my legs.  (It didn't help that I was then, as I am now, just about 5 feet tall.)  

Of course, there were also magical nights where moonlight touched the pristine snow drifts with diamonds.  There was the mystical silence of a fresh snowfall, when everything -- nature and human -- seemed hushed with the wonder of change.  There were snowballs, and the fort Guy Heels and I built and defended inside an overturned rose arbor.  I remember the time my friend Heather took us to a maple syrup farm, and we got to eat fresh syrup poured onto new-fallen snow.  I remember making snow angels, and playing "fox and the geese," and making yet another attempt to learn to skate.

I remember the year we'd been warned of a green holiday.   Kneeling with my family in the pew at midnight Mass, I prayed for snow, and the gift of a white Christmas.  When the mass ended and we walked to our snow-covered car, my heart was convinced of the power of at least that one prayer. 

So yes, I have good memories of winter, of snow.  As my colleague Rev. Greta Crosby said, "Let us not wish away winter.  It is a season unto itself, not merely the way to spring."

But still, I've been away from its seriousness for a long time.   I'm told that, when reality hits, the best (the only) thing to do is face it. 

So, Winter, here I am. 
I'll do my best to like you . . . and I'm crossing my fingers that somehow, you'll let me know you like me too.

Warmly,
Maureen

TEN TOP TIPS FOR MID-SEASON HOLIDAY CHANGE

1. Do some research and find a congenial spiritual service somewhere near you, whether it's a church or synagogue, or one of the many alternative spiritual communities that abound today. Write it on your calendar now. Go with your family, go with friends -- or go alone -- but open your heart, and GO.
2. Speaking of your Calendar, take it out now and review the commitments you have between now and the end of the year. Which ones can you change??? Pick at least two items that are "should's" and (take a deep breath) CANCEL THEM today.
3. Start a Holiday Gratitude Journal -- every evening write down three things you noticed that day -- things that connected you with the deeper meanings of The Holidays.
4. SMILE and take 30 seconds to make contact with harried holiday clerks. Go beyond the ubiquitous "Happy Holidays" and say something that acknowledges that you see them as human beings. YOU'LL feel better, and chances are, you'll make their day.
5. Take time -- I'm only asking for 5 minutes, so don't throw up your hands -- Take time each day, just to BE. Breathe. Breathe again. (Hey, you're doing it!) Don't make a list, don't beat yourself up for what's undone. For a whole five minutes today and every day -- JUST BE. You're in good company. Give a hug -- to YOU.
6. Do you make a huge holiday meal? Review your menu and find three ways to SIMPLIFY IT. Plain steamed veggies with almonds and melted butter look great and are better for you than creamed onions anyway!! Bakeries make excellent desserts, and you're supporting a local business (remember to order ahead).
7. And while we're talking about food -- If you're giving a party, SIMPLIFY those munchies, and make your beverage menu easier to take. We all overeat at the holidays. Trust me, your guests will thank you for light options -- and it's easier on YOU, too.
8. Even EASIER -- some of my favorite holiday memories involve Pot Luck Munchie Parties -- everyone brings a finger food appetizer. You provide chips'n'beverages only. This works no matter what your age or economic status . . . sharing food is one of THE best ice breakers you can have for a crowd.
9. Wrapping gifts? Remember that holiday gift wraps end up as recycling at best . . . SIMPLIFY. Use the paper that makes you feel good, and whatever level of wrapping elegance you usually achieve, CUT BACK ONE LEVEL. (Yes, I realize for some of us that leaves us giving gifts in a carefully folded paper bag!)
10. Do something for somebody you don't know. Give a gift certificate anonymously. Drop a bag of (nonperishable) groceries at somebody's door. Buy toys or clothes for the kids whose names show up on the holiday trees. You don't have to share their values. You don't have to get any credit. Just give something tangible to somebody you don't know. And know that the world is a little better today because of you.

 Blessings, Maureen

'Tis the Season

Tis the Season

. . . of advertisers run amok and ambitions amplified beyond belief

. . . of Martha Stewart moments mixed with desert island dreams

. . . when even the most dedicated holiday-hopper admits perfection

isn’t possible and “good enough” is how the season ought to be.

‘Tis the Season

. . . of post-inebriated Santas blocking with consumer guilt the way

to one-too-many holiday-mad stores.

. . . when glad tidings of busyness keep from us the news that

nostalgia ain’t what it was.

. . . the season when all the dreams you’ve ever dreamed but aren’t,

return, reminding you of what you once could be.

           

For all this and more, I say to you (and to me) ~

THIS IS THE SEASON

. . . for generosity of spirit

. . . for giving of the heart without counting cost

. . . for forgiving those who are not here or not as we would need

. . . for gentleness with self and others

. . . for hope that love in presence or in memory will pay a healing call

. . . for conviction that the way YOU greet each dayspring is what

matters after all.

Blessings, Maureen