Pax

For over a decade I’ve been signing a good deal of my personal correspondence with the word Pax, which is Latin for peace. I had seen it embossed in gold on thick, creme note cards when I was in Florence and it took hold of me somehow. I never made the connection until just this morning with the poem of the same name that I discovered when I was working on The Renaissance Service, a one-of-a-kind vespers that looked to the arts as a window to the divine. This short verse by D. H. Lawrence seems like the perfect anthem for these slow, nesting days that lead us deeper into winter and ever closer to Him.

PAX

All that matters is to be at one with the living God
To be a creature in the house of the God of Life.

Like a cat asleep on a chair
at peace, in peace
and at one with the master of the house, with the
mistress
at home, at home in the house of the living,
sleeping on the hearth, and yawning before the fire.

Sleeping on the hearth of the living world,
yawning at home before the fire of life
feeling the presence of the living God
like a great reassurance
a deep calm in the heart
a presence
as of a master sitting at the board
in his own and greater being,
in the house of life.

May your heart know pax this day
Heather

Thank you, John Patrick Shanley

I find inspiration in many unlikely places. This morning on Facebook there was a quote by the playwright John Patrick Shanley. It was posted by an actress who is deeply committed to teaching theater in New York. I met her this year at a reading: she brought a wonderful short, short story and I read some passages from my new book, Elijah & the SAT. I smiled when I saw that the quote was from Shanley because my daughter has been assigned one of his scenes for her acting class. I’ve been trying to track down an old copy of Moonstruck all week so she can see how his gift of language plays out in a larger work.

I don’t know if it was his intention but Shanley has, in this short verse, captured the essence of Advent. In theological lingo, we would say it is a conversational way of delineating the blessing of repentance. Repentance or, turning your back on old ways, is part of the gift of Advent. We will ourselves to let go of the dark things that cling to prepare out hearts for a new joy to come, the joy of Emmanuel, which means “God with us.” This is an idea that has deep roots in the Judeo-Christian tradition. For many, the beauty of repentance has been ruined by too many extremists using all the wrong words, in the wrong tone and spirit, to communicate about the love of God that comes to us in Jesus. But just as the wrong words can close the door, the right ones, fresh ones, inspired ones, can open it again.

Thank you, JP Shanley, for these wise words:

“Run the old stuff down, run it out, toss the weight of trash in your heart into the fire. December is the ruthless month. Pick up all your heartbreak and fling it out the window. Call everybody. Make peace and move on. Let those who wish to linger, let them linger and grieve. They will run and catch up to you if you move on. You are the leader when it comes to joy. Move forward towards joy.”

Preparing for joy,
Heather

Which one are you?

We are not so distant from the Christmas story, you and I. Today I offer up this work as an icon, a meditation on love, peace, and the power of God newly born in our lives. May it bring you joy this day.

“The Adoration of the Shepherds” by Georges de La Tour, c. 1640

Entrance Requirements

This time of year so many long to find a way to enter the Christmas story but cannot. This poem by Mary Oliver, from her book Dream Work, may open a door. I hope so….

Wild Geese

You do not have to be good.
You do not have to walk on your knees
for a hundred miles through the desert repenting.
You only have to let the soft animal of your body
love what it loves.
Tell me about despair, yours, and I will tell you mine.
Meanwhile the world goes on.
Meanwhile the sun and the clear pebbles of the rain
are moving across the landscapes,
over the prairies and the deep trees,
the mountains and the rivers.
Meanwhile the wild geese, high in the clean blue air,
are heading home again.
Whoever you are, no matter how lonely,
the world offers itself to your imagination,
calls to you like the wild geese, harsh and exciting
over and over announcing your place
in the family of things.

Blessings on this December day
Heather

O Simplicitas

Today, as we near the end of the third week in Advent, we pair the art of Donald Grant, in his 1992 work, “Vessel,” with the poetry of Madeleine L’Engle. May it help us remember that, although the words——Bethlehem, manger, cattle lowing——may seem outdated, the Word of God is timeless. Radical. And personal.

O Simplicitas

An angel came to me
and I was unprepared
to be what God was using.
Mother I was to be.
A moment I despaired,
thought briefly of refusing.
The angel knew I heard.
According to God’s Word
I bowed to this strange choosing.

A palace should have been
the birthplace of a king
(I had know way of knowing)
We went to Bethlehem;
it was so strange a thing.
The wind was cold, and blowing,
my cloak was old, and thin.
They turned us from the inn;
the town was overflowing.

God’s Word, a child so small
who still must learn to speak
lay in humiliation.
Joseph stood, strong and tall.
The beast were warm and meek
and moved with hesitation.
The Child born in a stall?
I understood it: all.
Kings came in adoration.

Perhaps it was absurd;
a stable set apart,
the sleepy cattle lowing;
and the incarnate Word
resting against my heart.
My joy was overflowing.
The shepherds came, adored
the folly of the Lord,
wiser than all men’s knowing.

Pax
Heather