Rest Awhile

I have often heard people say that they feel nearest to God when they are in the woods, or on the water. There is a lot of truth in that experience. 

I try to keep the monthly practice of what some call a “desert day,” a day to be alone with God. In my most recent desert day, I had the privilege of access to a hermitage nestled away in a lonely place overlooking the ocean. The only sound was that of the sea, the wind and the sea birds. All I could see was the wide open and spacious expanse of the ocean and horizon. These simple and natural sights and sounds helped enable me to forget about me. A door opened from which I was simply aware of the hugeness of Life, a Life that I was a small part of.

Sitting with this vision and awareness, I was at rest. No agenda, figuring nothing out, making no plans, rehearsing no conversations, harbouring no grudges. Simply present to everything nature was offering in that moment. This is a form of contemplation, of being at one with God.

This kind of contemplative experience is something that I think came more naturally to past generations like my grand parents who lived in the tiny community of Daniel’s Cove. They and their parents before them lived off the land and the sea. Having to eke a living with their hands out of God’s creation, made them more naturally aware of a bigger Life. Today, with concrete cities and over stimulation through the various forms of media, we need to be more intentional with our alone time with God and our connecting with nature. It would be physically and spiritually good for us to unplug our devices, get outside, breath the fresh air, and be aware of God’s Presence in the creation all around us and within us. You don’t have to take a whole day for this practice. Ten minutes on the back deck would be a good start!

Learning a contemplative practice that will open up a pathway through the noise and clutter on the surface of our consciousness, is a practice that offers the gift of rest and peace from union with God within. It is what we all most desire.

For those of us living in Newfoundland and Labrador we have been given the gift of beautiful landscape and seashore. We don’t have to go far from our doors to have beautiful God-given sights and sounds around us. Lets get out in nature, forgetful of self, alone with God, and rest awhile.

The Same (a poem)

what generosity
outrageous generosity

all are treated
the same

all are seen
as equal

no matter
when
you come

early
or late

as long as
you
respond

as long as
you
come

you
will be welcomed
the same

given
the same

you
are
the same

[based on Matthew 20:1-16]

Perfection in Imperfection (a poem)

A perfect life is a painful illusion.

Perfect self.
Perfect partner.
Perfect children.
Perfect home.

time and experience can teach

that there is no such perfection.

Yet

Another kind of perfection can be realized
in embracing our imperfections.

God is in
our imperfections.

God is in
our life as it is.

That is perfection.

The Joy of Being a Priest (a poem)

In the morning
offering the first fruits of the day
to awareness
of God's life and love.

The study
still and quiet
a place of prayer
and preparation for worship.

The oratory
spacious and beautiful
inviting participation
in the dance of Life.

The commitment
of parishioners going about
shared
tasks and responsibilities.

The beauty and gifts
of the people of God
offered freely
enriching many.

Making plans
and preparing
to reach out
and meet the needs of others.

Being in the community
seeing God
in smiling and troubled faces
everywhere.

Breaking bread
at noon
receiving love
giving love.

With the broken and wounded
being God's compassionate presence
in the midst
of the storm's of life.

Sitting still in the evening
with our Truest Self
resting
in God's love.

At the end of the day
thanking God
for the joy
of being a priest.

Kiss me, I'm Irish!

On the island portion of Newfoundland and Labrador, we have deep roots from the Europeans who have come before us to fish the sea and settle in the land. The French and English coasts were granted by foreign kings for their own to harvest. The Irish Shore was settled by poor Irish immigrants who were fleeing the desperation of their own land in hope of a better life. 

I’ve recently had the joy of being able to tour Ireland. One of the people we met referred to Newfoundland as the “next county over.” Born on the Newfoundland “Irish Shore,” and with family roots continuing there to this day, it is with Irish culture that I most identify with. Yet that is only a small part of who I am. Being in Ireland reminded me of a much bigger picture.

From standing in a megalithic structure at New Grange where human beings stood and participated in sacred ritual 5000 years ago, to seeing Druid chieftain structures 2000 years old, to Cashel Mount where St.Patrick converted and crowned Irish Kings, to standing within Christian monastic ruins 1300 years old, to hearing the stories of the Vikings and their settling of the land, to the conquering English under Henry the VIII, to the flood gates of Irish immigration after the discovery of the New World, to the story of the surviver of Bloody Sunday in 1972 when the British army fired into a group of unarmed Irish civil rights protesters, to the lady from Poland working at Hertz Rent a Car, in the process of immigrating to Ireland. This story is part of all of our collective story. It is part of who we all are.

Over the summer I have been reading the Irish writer and poet John O’Donahue’s “Eternal Echoes.” In it, he reminds us that we are all just visitors, here for a while, and then returning to God. Our truest identity is much deeper than language, culture, geography. It is out of a deeper spiritual awareness that we experience true belonging, and a place where all human beings belong.

The Irish immigrated. My family immigrated, your family immigrated. Human beings have always immigrated and sought belonging in the process. The world we live in has always changed and continues to change. Let us be open and welcoming to today’s immigrants. Let us be open and welcoming to those who are different on the surface, yet who share in our deeper and truest identity in God. And as we gear up for a new year of ministry in our churches, let us make room for everyone, regardless of differences, who may want to join us in discovering the joy of Life in Christ.

Kiss me, I’m Irish!

The Slowing (a poem)

Life can be so fast paced.
Things to do.
People to see.
Prayers to say.

The calendar?
What's next?
With who?
When?

Mind racing.
No rest
            Even when sitting still.

And then

The slowing happens.

An awareness of God's Life
Gently moving me to forgetfulness

Of self
Of what needs to be done next
Of who needs to be seen.

A simple presence
                             To Presence

Open embrace of Life as it is in this very moment.

Eager to love Love itself.

(Inspired after reading Gerald May's account of what he termed "the Slowing")

At last I am free (a poem)

O holy room

O holy silence

The Spirit is near.

Yet there is a fear.

Fear of change.

Fear of surrender.

Fear of falling

                      Into God

Be still my fears

Be still my tongue

Be still my thoughts.

Silence.

And there you are

You were always here.

Your breath is my breath

Your love is my love.

At last

I am free