The Christmas Seed

It is dark and getting darker. Under the snow is bitter ice, and under that, brown earth. I remember standing by a grave 45 years ago—my baby boy’s grave. I had been in the hospital about a week, too sick to be there when they buried him. It was February in Wisconsin.

What came to me as I stood in the cemetery was that brown earth does well against the ice. Years later I know without a doubt that it’s true.

Yes, things end. Relationships end, jobs end, lives end. What I thought would work failed, and my mistakes could fill a warehouse.

But mother earth holds her own against the ice. A fallow field can overwhelm every dream of disaster.

Tonight the woods are growing darker, and I rest in the utter silence. I surrender. I give up what I thought I knew. The silence grows.

There is a magic deeper than time, stronger than any word or thought. None of my thoughts work in this quiet—none of my regrets, none of my plans. All I can do is surrender.  The earth’s safety deep under the ice holds me.

It turns out that I am a seed. I never knew it. The woods around me knew, but I didn’t. The leaves fell, the lakes froze. All the flower stalks bent and dropped their seed pods. The bears went to sleep.

I thought I was separate, but I was wrong again. I thought I knew what was happening, but I did not.

The Mystery that sings the darkness is a holy thing. I cannot understand, but I can trust it. There’s no point in planning or analyzing. If I try to grab it, it melts.

My shell softens as I wait. In the darkness, there’s a sense of Advent—not bright lights or trumpets, but the possibility of hope. There’s nothing to be seen yet. This is the longest night, after all.

Just as bulbs lie in the brown earth, I rest. There’s a sigh. Conception. Maybe. It comes out of nowhere, just a tickling touch. Grace. Just a breath.

A leaf falls from a tree into Oneness. A flower drops its seeds, trusting the brown earth.

Water turns to ice, proving Oneness. It knows that even as ice, it is water. It is always part of the whole. The only thing needed is a bit of warm light.

Years ago, as I looked at the grave’s fresh brown dirt, I was still whole—but my brain didn’t know it. I thought I was broken.

Even though the ice covers everything, the seed knows. Conception needs darkness and secrecy. Later there will be a stirring on the surface, but for now, the deep magic requires mystery. Oneness—love—holds me and you and my baby boy forever.

Tonight’s snow falls gently. I light my candle and wait. It’s just a few days now until the longest night. The seed knows that the light will come again.

—by Jean Gendreau


We will have a “Longest Night” service for people who feel quiet, thoughtful or sad at Christmas. The service will be in Ely, Minnesota, on December 21st, at the First Presbyterian Church at 6 pm. This will be a gentle, quiet, heart-energy service of love and remembrance. Everyone is welcome, whether or not you are Christian.
Starting on January 2nd at 5:30 pm, there will also be a free meditation class,  “Meditation: A Six-Week Journey” offered in Ely MN. All are welcome. To sign up click here.

 

A Healing Video for Advent

Here is a wonderful short teaching on Christmas in today’s bitter and difficult world. The teacher is James Finley, a psychotherapist who studied under Thomas Merton. What I love in this is that Finley himself had a truly horrific childhood and adolescence–and yet he has grown into peace. He can still tell the story in this video of trust and blessing. No matter what has happened, no matter how hopeless we feel, we can heal. To me, that is the healing and magic we all need today.

Finley says, “God is unexplainably born in our hearts moment by moment, breath by breath. In order to discover that, we must leave the noise and business of the inn, finding our way in the dark back to the stable. We have to enter into the humility, simplicity, patience, and delicate nature of what’s unfolding in our hearts to discover how God is being born in our lives. We are asked to bring this delicate simplicity out into the world.”

Click here to watch the video.

Choosing Light

Guest Blogger: Rev. Frank Davis

The days are certainly growing shorter as we make our way down into the dark and cold of another winter.  For some folks this is a dreaded time as the Vitamin D of sunlight begins to ebb away away for awhile. For many of us, one way of dealing with the darkness is to find the light indoors. From late November through December we enter into a time of rich fellowship with friends and family. Candles are lit, seasonal foods are prepared, holiday lights adorn private and public spaces and despite the chill and darkness there is a buzz in the air that can lift our spirits if we pay attention to what is going on around us.  This is to say that we can find the light if we are looking for it.  And we can certainly find the darkness if that becomes our focus.   Walking toward what brings light , contentment and connection is not something that just comes naturally to us like walking and eating.

We actually have to create a discipline to turn toward what brings light into our lives.

 

For example, we all have experiences that bring ugly, painful thoughts and emotions into our lives. We may find ourselves ruminating on this darkness. We may go over and over some painful set of family circumstances until our days and nights are filled with self-preoccupied misery. It is easy to fall into this trap because the darkness tricks us into believing that all the energy we’re putting into these matters will somehow lead us to a solution. Nothing could actually be farther from the truth. This kind of wallowing in the problem just leads to a deepening gloom that shuts out the light of possible ways to get through any particular impasse we face. And so we feel stuck.

 

Christianity and most  of the world’s great religions remind us that if we want to live in the light we have to make choices that take us in that direction. This is where spiritual practices enter the picture. Spiritual practices are the steps we can take to stay focused on the light. They are called practices because they require discipline, commitment and focus.  In order to resist the seduction of negative, life draining thoughts and behaviors we need to find ways to regularly experience  the light of each new day.  Some folks find that reading scripture each morning gets them headed toward the light. Others find  that some easy stretching or yoga followed by quiet meditation helps them begin the day with a lighter spirit. Others find that sitting alone at the kitchen table with a cup of coffee watching the birds at the feeder sets the day up in a hopeful and positive manner. In any case, the point is this . If you want to live in the light and not the darkness, don’t expect this to be just a matter of receiving the light. Living in the light also requires us to make the choice of continuing to seek it. Living in the light requires the act of lighting candles in the dark.  Just one candle can transfigure the darkness.  

 

Frank S. Davis is an ordained minister in the Presbyterian Church ( U.S.A.).  In addition to his theological training at Yale Divinity School, he holds Master’s and Ph.D. degrees in Psychology from Duquesne University in Pittsburgh, PA. Rev. Davis is a Preaching Team Member and Moderator at Woodland Presbyterian Church in Babbitt, MN.  This post is reprinted from a post in the Babbitt Weekly.