Advent, Day 23 (12/20)

A reflection from Don Manghelli:

Have the sweet gums and all the other trees in my neighborhood notched up their beauty this year? Or have they pulled me a notch higher into their beauty? Either way, the splendor of the divine has especially surrounded me this year. 

“Look at me,” the fall leaves seem to shout. “I’m putting on my prettiest colors. I’m going to a big celebration.” They seem to try to outdo each other for my attention. 

They know that by winter’s solstice, their colors will be gone – fallen onto Mother Earth. And they also know that, at that darkest hour of winter, the Christ Child will sneak into our world, hidden among the farm animals. Autumn chides me, “Can you wake up, watch with me for an hour? I don’t want you to miss the big event – Emmanuel, ‘God with us.’” 

I’m reminded of a folk song I sang years ago at baptisms: 

The wailing of a newborn babe: It’s a blessing every way. 

Each time a baby’s born, it’s a bit of Christmas Day. 

A baby’s crying is a hint, of the way the Christ did sound. 

Another baby’s born, humankind, now take it one more round. 

Inspired by the autumn leaves, can we notch up our welcome to the Christ Child, God with us? The song asks us… 

One more chance, humankind, will you take it? 

Take the chance the way a child takes love? 

Advent, Day 22 (12/19)

You’re invited to gather with our community for worship and communion at 10 am this morning, whether on the sanctuary floor or in the Zoom balcony. This is the Fourth Sunday of Advent; remember to start lighting all four of your Advent candles each day. 

Activities for This Fourth Week of Advent 

(1) Worship with Eucharist – Join us on Zoom this morning from 10-11 am. Email office@spiritofgracepdx.org if you need the Zoom link.

(2) Daily Devotions – You’re invited to read, reflect, and participate in activities, guided by these shared devotions. Perhaps combine this with lighting four Advent candles. 

(3) Christmas Eve Service – Friday, December 24 in the sanctuary and on Zoom.

Advent, Day 21 (12/18)

It’s a full month this evening.  Are the skies clear enough to step outside or look out the window to see it?  To appreciate the dance between light and dark?

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In his book My Grandmother’s Hands, Resmaa Menakem writes about the vagus nerve – what he calls the soul nerve – and practices for helping settle your body, stay present, and remain connected. He describes the soul nerve as “a highly complex and extraordinarily sensitive organ that communicates through vibes and sensations. This communication occurs not only between different parts of the body, but also from one person to another…The largest part of your soul nerve goes through your gut, which has about 100 million neurons, more than your spinal cord. This is why we sense so many things in our belly – and why some biologists call the gut our ‘second brain.’ This second brain is where our body senses flow, coherence, and the rightness or wrongness of things” (p. 138). 

Among the practices Menakem offers for settling your body, staying present, and remaining connected are humming, belly breathing, slow rocking, joint rotations, and chanting (pp. 141-147). He writes, “Most of these practices are ancient; some are thousands of years old. While our ancestors were largely unaware of the biomechanics of the soul nerve, they understood their own bodies. They learned – and taught their families and neighbors – what worked to help their bodies settle. They often did many of these practices together, and these communal practices helped to heal not just individual bodies, but families and other groups, as well. You’ll recognize some of these practices as things I’ve described my grandmother doing; as things many small children do intuitively; as things parents often do with their babies; as things enslaved people did as they worked together on plantations; and as practices from many religions. Almost all of them have also been proven to work in controlled lab experiments.” (pp. 140-141). 

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Practice: 

You’re invited to engage the intentional practice of humming. Find a quiet, comfortable space and position. Focus your attention on the center of your belly, behind your navel. Breathe in and out a few times. Feel your belly help push the air all the way out and then relax as your lungs automatically refill. Pick a song with a simple melody that feels comforting to your body. Hum it all the way through from beginning to end from your belly. 

Then pause and notice what your body experiences afterward. What has changed, if anything, from before you started humming? What has stayed the same? What sensations, thoughts, and images are arising? What does your body want to do now? Just notice whatever you’re experiencing. 

Advent, Day 20 (12/17)

A reflection from Christie Bernklau Halvor: 

This past summer, I practiced paying attention in a very small way. Most days I paused somewhere in the garden. Paused and watched. Paused and listened. Paused and felt. No weed pulling. No list making. Sometimes it was only for five minutes. It was humbling to realize how hard it could be to follow through on that small commitment.

Yet those daily moments of pausing and paying attention shifted things inside of me as I came to know more intimately this little ecosystem of which I am a part. I learned that of all the nectar options in the garden, nothing tempts the bees like oregano. I’d never noticed before just how many tiny flowers bloom on a single oregano plant.

I learned that if I sit still and keep my hands tucked close to my body, the youngest chickens will jump up and take a nap on my lap. I’d never tried that with their older sisters. I learned that the praying mantis can turn its head 180 degrees and stare you down like nobody’s business. 

I met the praying mantis one morning as I overzealously watered a bed of purple salvia and was startled to realize I’d been looking right past it impressively camouflaged on one of the stems. As I leaned in closer, I realized it was turning its head and looking over its shoulder at me. (Turns out the praying mantis is the only insect known to be able to do this.) Those eyes! I don’t know how long we both held still, staring at one another. It was a simple, profound, timeless moment. 

This may have been the first time I’d seen a praying mantis in the garden, but it felt like the praying mantis already knew me – after all, I had apparently been drowning its habitat without awareness most mornings. We watched one another for a long time. My breathing slowed. My back relaxed as I became aware of the sun’s gentle morning heat. A smile grew across my face.

Eventually, I grew restless. My mind started to remember the tasks before me, and I decided to move on. I’m confident the praying mantis would have held still with me much longer. 

I got up and began watering more gently, closer to the roots, as I did each morning after – hoping the praying mantis would emerge again. And most mornings, it did. It emerged in a way I couldn’t track. A blessing for the day. An expansion of my understanding of neighbor and community. 

Advent, Day 19 (12/16)

A reflection from Jill James: 

It was 1984 and that unique time of liminality between the long darkness of Winter Solstice and the traditional candlelight of Christmas. I had been married for 20 years to a pastor, mothered two birth daughters and numerous foster infants/children, was a registered nurse for infants at the local hospital, and had meaningful friendships within the community – all considered to be an “ideal” life for a woman of that time. And something felt profoundly wrong in the depth of my being. 

I had not had the emotional strength to do what I thought of as “soul work” because I was afraid. Something changed in those few days of disorientation from darkness-to-light. What I feared the most rose to my full consciousness: I needed to leave my marriage. It wasn’t a horrible marriage, yet, for too many years, it was increasingly life draining and not life giving. I felt God was calling me to life, but God wasn’t in the business of breaking up marriages! 

Shortly after the Summer Solstice, I moved back to Chicago, my hometown. Alone. One daughter was off to college; the other stayed in Michigan for a year. Every relationship that seemingly defined me was ended or changed. I had minimal belongings and money. I worked nights in the local neonatal intensive care unit. I grieved and I was alive.

One day, in my little two-room studio, I suddenly felt naked and bathed in a soft golden glow. My being knew it was God’s presence – the essence of what is left when all else is stripped away. My simple response was, “Well God, I guess it’s you and me.” I wasn’t afraid. 

Advent, Day 18 (12/15)

You’re invited to join the community for a Holden Evening Prayer service this evening from 7-8 pm, either in the sanctuary or on Zoom. Email the office at office@spiritofgracepdx.org for the Zoom link.

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A reflection from Susan-Rae Bell: 

I’ve been spending a lot of time with my 6-year-old granddaughter exploring holidays and celebrations around the world and across cultures. And of course, we’ve come to see that most of them this time of year focus on light. Lanterns, fireworks, candles, strings of colored and white lights, and fireplaces. It’s almost a no brainer that as the days around the world get shorter, we human beings crave more light and will find many ways to provide as much of it as possible. 

For many of us, me and many in my family included, there is a condition we must also contend with: Seasonal Affective Disorder (SAD). It is a type of depression that's related to changes in seasons. SAD begins and ends at about the same times every year. If you're like most people with SAD, your symptoms start in the fall and continue into the winter months, sapping your energy and making you feel moody. In any case, most everyone misses the decreased light, and we crave added light as a way to “lift our spirits.” 

However, we can also learn to embrace the darkness, despite our dualistic good vs. evil culture that calls us to often see light and dark in such terms. Paul Bogard, editor of the anthology Let There Be Night: Testimony on Behalf of the Dark, reminds us that the dark is good for our sleep, our biology, and the health of our ecosystems. It’s good for our creativity and our spirits. In his book, The End of Night, he stresses why we need darkness. In darkness we find our rest and often our ability to search our souls. It gives us the opportunity to grope and to dig and to focus in ways that we could never do in the light. 

In my own life, even in my darkest times, in some sort of perverse way, I’ve always welcomed the darkness. Thankful that darkness did not question or rebuke me, but instead soothed and embraced me, granting validity to even my rawest emotions and probing questions.

I have found that greater minds than mine have most eloquently expressed the beauty of the dark. Helen Keller said, “There is beauty in everything, even in silence and darkness.”

Even in scripture which so ordinarily focuses on light, Psalms says: “Even darkness will not be dark to you, the night will shine like the day, for darkness is as light to you” (Psalm 139:12).

And Wendell Berry perhaps gives us the best advice of all: “To go in the dark with a light is to know the light. To know the dark, go dark. Go without sight, and find that the dark, too, blooms and sings, and is traveled by dark feet and dark wings.” 

So in this time of Advent, let’s “go dark.” Let us all see what we may find in embracing the darkness that feeds our spirits and soothes our souls. 

Advent, Day 17 (12/14)

A reflection from Kathleen $: 

My pager went off: ”Urgent consult OBC.” The first in two years, since the advent of the In-patient Palliative Care Consultation Service. As I drove across the Fremont Bridge toward the Oregon Burn Center, I found myself feeling anxious and overwhelmed. This was a huge opportunity to break down a solid barrier by providing (proving to be) a valuable service to this patient and her family, as well as the burn center staff providing their care. 

The situation: A 23-year-old mother of 2 (aged 3 and 1-1/2) and 6 months pregnant. Fiancée, 1.5-year-old son, and unborn child died due to trailer fire. Reason for consult: Assist parents with how to talk to their severely burned daughter regarding the death of her son. 

I had severed ties with the Catholic Church several decades earlier, yet maintained a devoted relationship with Our Lady of Guadeloupe. Now I found myself praying to her in earnest. 

My hand was moist against the doorknob as I entered the small conference room, expecting to meet parents, not a room packed with 30 family members. In that precise moment, the strong odor of too many anxious grieving people confined in too small a space hit me like a hot smelly blast. In the same moment, the cacophony of voices muted to a sudden hush of silence as I entered their space. 

I went from feeling utterly inadequate to feeling a deep sense of calm. And Spirit entered the room. 

What ensued over the next hour and a half was nothing short of grace at its purest, its brightest. Everyone was heard. This beloved family engaged fully in finding the guidance and path forward that dwelled within each of them – and their family. The burn center staff found the support they needed from the Palliative Care team, and breath was breathed into a partnership between the two. 

I knew I had been in the presence of Spirit, that I had been enlisted into service that was beyond my humble scope. I felt my faith stir deep within my soul. I believed in the mystery that had unfolded in my presence. From that day forward I referred to my work as “good and holy work.” 

Advent, Day 16 (12/13)

Next week, we anticipate the Winter Solstice, the gradual emergence of longer days, and, of course, Christmas. But Richard Rohr reminds us, “The Divine Presence occupies the here and now.”

And so, we’re invited to slow down enough to pay attention to this day. To this night. To the “possibilities for intimacy, for rest, for healing” in this moment. Doing so may be the preparation we need to receive the spirit of the Christ child when Christmas arrives. 

Practice and Reflection: 

Pause and pay attention to this moment, this particular and holy moment in creation’s story. What do you hear? What do you see? What do you smell? What do you taste? What is your body touching? What do you feel within and around you? 

Have you ever experienced a moment of profound presence, awareness, or flow? A moment that transcended time and space as you typically know it? What did that look, smell, taste, sound, feel like? 

Advent, Day 15 (12/12)

You’re invited to gather with our community for worship and communion at 10 am this morning, whether on the sanctuary floor or in the Zoom balcony. This is the Third Sunday of Advent; remember to start lighting three of your Advent candles each day. 

Activities for This Third Week of Advent 

(1) Worship with Eucharist this morning from 10-11am.  Contact the office at info@spiritofgracepdx.org for the Zoom link if you don’t have it.

(2) Daily Devotions – You’re invited to read, reflect, and participate in activities, guided by these shared devotions. Perhaps combine this with lighting three Advent candles. 

(3) Holden Evening Prayer – Join us on Wednesday at 7 pm, in the sanctuary or on Zoom, for an Advent vespers service. 

Advent, Day 14 (12/11)

A reflection from E.C.:

In my teens, a dear atheist friend helped me make a quantum leap in my relationship with God. He and I were among the top students in our class, and he couldn’t understand how a brainy person like me could believe in God. 

Our talks ranged over many days, as we walked among the trees on campus, or sat in the library to study, or found a spot at the wooden tables in the dining hall. “Why do you believe? There’s no logic in…” and he’d insert his images of religion one by one. 

As I pondered his questions, non-essentials peeled away. I saw that I didn’t believe because I was supposed to. Nor because I thought it would get me to Heaven. Nor because I thought Jesus was still alive somehow. In fact, it wasn’t “belief” at all. 

I knew there was God, just as I knew the warmth of the sun or my mother’s love. 

I told my friend, “I believe in God because when I pray, something happens, something opens in my heart.” 

Something vast, beyond words, is there when I get quiet. Settling into that loving Presence, as fluttering thoughts calm, I understand why God is described in so many ways. I experience comfort, counsel, wisdom, peace. Even humor! Sometimes what arises is guidance; sometimes it is peace in not-knowing. 

The words of some Biblical writers evoke that Presence. And some Biblical writers (sometimes the same ones) wrote words that are not life-giving, at least not in that moment for me, so I let those words go. I pick and choose as I read. I do the same with scriptures from other faiths, too – after all, even the caring questions of an atheist can lead us towards the Divine. 

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Practice and Reflection: 

Were you able to set aside a quiet moment this week to notice your breathing? To pay gentle attention to your muscles and joints, nerves and blood flow? If not, maybe you can do this today. Where is there tension? Where is there freedom? Where is there pain or tenderness or tiredness? Where is there energy? 

And have you found yourself “wrestling with the Divine”? Do you bring a particular question, lament, demand, or commitment to the struggle? Can you feel it in your body? In the wholeness of your being? Can you relate with McCaulley’s posture of refusing to let go until there is a blessing? Or do you wonder whether there is even a blessing to be had? 

Advent, Day 13 (12/10)

A reflection from Mike Gettel-Gilmartin:

PRAYER OF ST. BRENDAN
"Help me to journey beyond the familiar and into the unknown.
Give me the faith to leave old ways and break fresh ground with You.

Christ of the mysteries, I trust You
to be stronger than each storm within me.
I will trust in the darkness and know
that my times, even now, are in Your hand.
Tune my spirit to the music of heaven,
and somehow, make my obedience count for You." AMEN.

The other day I came across this prayer on a Facebook page called The Celtic Christian Tradition. It epitomizes what is going on in my own life right now, as I “journey into the unknown.”

The past few years have been tough, as society deals with the merciless Covid-19 pandemic, authoritarian impulses in government, and the ever-threatening consequences of the climate crisis. I’m sure I’m not the only one who fears for the future of my children and grandchildren.

Like Jacob, I wrestle with where God is in all of this. As Christians, we are told that God is with the poor – but, as Christians, do we really act that way when we see scores of our fellow humans living in tents on our streets? We are told that, when we visit those in prison and do acts of mercy, we are doing this to God – but I would wager most of us turn a blind eye to the conditions in our prison system and want nothing to do with prisoners.

This is why St. Brendan’s prayer was so meaningful. It asks me to have faith to leave old ways (of thinking, of behaving, of believing), and to break fresh ground with the Christ of the mysteries. This Advent, I pray that Christ will be stronger than each storm within me, and that I will know, even now, that my times are in God’shands.

Please take a moment to reread the prayer at the beginning of this devotion. Sit with it and see what insights it brings.

Advent, Day 12 (12/9)

A reflection from Val Cannard:

Why would, or rather, how could anyone fight with God? That's the question that was in my mind the first time I heard the story of Jacob's wrestling match. Yet, over the years there have been many times that I have argued/wrestled with the divine.

It would start with a simple prayer: “Please God, help me obtain this particular item or goal,” or “Please God, help me with this relationship,” or “Please God, help me solve this problem,” or “God, what is it you want me to do?”

I wait and wait and there is no reply, or rather the reply is“No” or “Not yet” and I just don't want to hear it. The prayers continue more fervently with perhaps a bit of bargaining or questioning. I recall one time asking a friend, “Why would God put such a strong desire in myheart and then make it impossible to accomplish?” As I cried, my friend just held me close and quietly said, “God's time is not our time.”

As we walked the 500 miles of the Camino de Santiago, I prayed and listened, wanting clarification on what direction my life was supposed to go. At the end of that trip, I was still uncertain and I felt like Elijah who also wrestled with God. I hadn't found or heard the answer I was waiting for in the storms, in the many churches, on the mountaintops, in the miles of silence, or the many conversations with people we met on the way.

In the past few years, I have had many opportunities to participate in a spiritual practice called “lectio divina,” in which you listen quietly to a Bible passage and after the second reading of it you share or reflect on a word or phrase from that passage. For me, the word from the story of Jacob wrestling with God in Genesis 32 is “daybreak” and I am wondering if it refers to more than just the rising of the sun.

Jacob and Elijah both struggled with God in the darkness, but when they finally let go of the struggle they were no longer in the dark. They could see the light. There was clarity, strength for the journey that lay ahead, and the blessings.

Advent, Day 11 (12/8)

You’re invited to join the community for live piano music this evening from 7-8pm, either in the sanctuary or on Zoom. Email office@spiritofgracepdx.org if you need a link. This is a gift to the community from one of our talented pianists, Jasnam Daya Singh.

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A Prayer of Shelter and Shadow

by Pádraig Ó Tuama

We know that sometimes we are alone, and sometimes we are in community.

Sometimes we are in shadow,
and sometimes we are surrounded by shelter.

Sometimes we feel like exiles –
in our land, in our languages and in our bodies. And sometimes we feel surrounded by welcome.

As we seek to be human together,
may we share the things that do not fade: generosity, truth-telling, silence, respect and love.

And may the power we share be for the good of all.

We honour God, the source of this rich life.
And we honour each other, story-full and lovely.

Whether in our shadow or in our shelter, may we live well
and fully
with each other.

Amen.

Advent, Day 10 (12/7)

A reflection from April B.L.:

God.
I’m busy, very busy.
I’m winning at checking items off my to-do list. I’m fishing for something new to watch.
I’m perseverating on the latest outrage.

Is your angel trying to catch my attention?
Is she hoping I will notice when she knocks me down? Is she waiting for me to wake up?
(Can you wrestle if you’re asleep?)

Perhaps.
Or perhaps I’m terrified to wrestle.
Perhaps I’m avoiding riverbanks in the dark.
What if she knocks down the two pillars of my comfort? “We’re good, and they’re bad.”
And:
“If I work hard enough, I’ll be safe.”

God.
Please take me to the riverbank.
Please open my eyes to see your angel. Please give me courage to wrestle.

Advent, Day 9 (12/6)

Darkness can offer the gift of physical and metaphorical rest. But scripture reminds us that we are not alone if, instead, we experience a disorienting dream or find ourselves wrestling intensely with the divine. In Genesis 32, Jacob wrestled with God through the night. “Then Jacob’s contender said, ‘Let me go, for day is breaking.’ Jacob answered, ‘I will not let you go until you bless me.’” Jacob rose the next day blessed and limping.

In Reading While Black: African American Biblical Interpretation as an Exercise in Hope, Esau McCaulley writes about wrestling with the Bible and its place in the life of the church, particularly for Black Christians. He struggles directly with the ways in which the Bible has been literally and interpretatively manipulated in service of white supremacy. McCaulley writes, “Learning about the Bible changes our faith. ... If ourexperiences pose particular and unique questions to the Scriptures, then the Scriptures also pose uniquequestions to us. ... For those of us who want to continue to affirm the ongoing normative role of the Bible in the life of the church, it will not do to dismiss the concerns raised about the Bible from many quarters. The path forward is not a return to the naiveté of a previous generation, but a journeying through the hard questions while being informed by the roots of the tradition bequeathed to us. I propose instead that we adopt the posture of Jacob and refuse to let go of the text until it blesses us” (pp. 7, 20-21).

Practice and Reflection:

Wrestling is an embodied experience. You’re invited to set aside a quiet moment each day this week to notice your breathing. To pay gentle attention to your muscles and joints, nerves and blood flow. Where is there tension? Where is there freedom? Where is there pain or tenderness or tiredness? Where is there energy?

Do you find yourself “wrestling with the divine”? Do you bring a particular question, lament, demand, or commitment to the struggle? Can you feel it in your body? In the wholeness of your being? Can you relatewith McCaulley’s posture of refusing to let go until there is a blessing? Or do you wonder whether there is even a blessing to be had?

Advent, Day 8 (12/5)

You’re invited to gather with our community for worship and communion at 10am this morning, whether on the sanctuary floor or in the Zoom balcony. This is the Second Sunday of Advent; remember to start lighting two of your Advent candles each day.

Activities for This Second Week of Advent
(1) Worship with Eucharist this morning from 10-11am.

(2) Daily Devotions – You’re invited to read, reflect, and participate in activities, guided by these devotions. Perhaps combine this with lighting two Advent candles.

(3) Live Piano Music – Join us on Wednesday at 7 pm, in the sanctuary or on Zoom. A gift to the community from our highly acclaimed pianist and composer Jasnam Daya Singh.

Advent, Day 7 (12/4)

Praying

by Mary Oliver

It doesn’t have to be
the blue iris, it could be
weeds in a vacant lot, or a few small stones; just
pay attention, then patch

a few words together and don’t try to make them elaborate, this isn’t a contest but the doorway

into thanks, and a silence in which another voice may speak.

Practice and Reflection:

Were you able to pay attention this week to a particular plant or animal or ecosystem near you? If not, maybe you can do this today. What have you noticed about its response to the lengthening darkness and colder days? What story do you sense it telling us? Is there a question or lesson in there for you? Perhaps it simply is.

Advent, Day 6 (12/3)

The moon is between earth and sun today. Its shadow side faces us: the new moon. Are the skies clear enough to step outside or look out the window to witness the beauty and mystery of a darker sky?

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A reflection from Brad Newman:

Listening to the 6 am dark. It's quiet, except for the coffee maker and the heater. In a couple of hours, the construction work will resume and so will the banging and grinding. But for now, it is quiet and dark. The silhouettes of the plants we've brought inside are beginning to emerge from the dimness, tangles and spines and lines and blobs.

It's surprising to see which ones are struggling in here. They get ignored this time of year in their usual home out on our deck, getting whipped and dripped and frozen. Now their presence is unavoidable as the sun glows up the clouds, and I have to wonder if I am too anxious about them or if they are dying. The rosemary is desiccated and crisp. Are there more yellow leaves on the jasmine today than yesterday? They've been inside too long.

My thoughts turn to a colleague. He was inside too long. He was ebullient, kind, musical, had an easy laugh that he would come off of mute during videoconferences to share. I will always think of him as a kind of Labrador puppy. Eager to please, excited by new things. He was 34 and lived alone and struggled when we all retreated to our homes to work remotely.

We all struggle to some extent in different ways, so when he mentioned he was struggling it joined the general chorus of this moment's discontent. I don't know the circumstances of his death, only the fact of it. And it hurts. Hurts that he won't be around to celebrate when we finally launch this product he helped build. Hurts that there will be no more chances to eavesdrop on his enthusiasm.

Here, in the dis-place-ment of this soon un-dark, I can hear his chuckle among the grays and greens and gurgles of the morning. And that helps a little. Waiting and being with the sadness also helps, which is as surprising as seeing which plants are going to make it through. It's hard to know what this day will bring, let alone a season like this. But I feel charged with seeing the possibilities and remembering.

Advent, Day 5 (12/2)

A reflection from Sophie Caesar (who is serving with Lutheran Volunteer Corps this year):

As I write this reflection, I’m leaning back into a simple wooden chair looking down on a bustling Wilmington intersection. A candle is burning, slippers hug my feet, and leaves are alive in color above Cadillacs rolling down the street. The seasons are changing, if they haven’t already, as is apparent by frost growing on therosemary on my front porch or the sunlight entering my bedroom at a slightly sharper, lower angle. While I’ve only been in Delaware for a few months, I’ve already felt myself begin to retreat into the hibernation associated with cooler weather. Soups have become a staple of my house’s weeknight meals. Heavy blankets have been dragged out of the closet. Darkness has started to creep upon the edges of my commute home.

Consistency is a standard expectation in our society; it indicates both stability and reliability. Academically, in fact, it can be referenced as a point of legal legitimism. At work, we are to always generate a high- quality product, no matter the external factors in our lives. Our relationships are to last lifetimes at an even level of intimacy. Such a mechanistic expectation of humanity, however, denies many of our natural, intuitive behaviors. As Ecclesiastes tells us, there is a time to plant, a time to reap, a time to laugh, a time to weep. Consistency may be beneficial for social structures at large but is an unrealistic and inappropriate personal goal.

Winter is gnawing at our corners this time of year.

Advent, Day 4 (12/1)

We have a group regularly practicing centering prayer, currently on Zoom. Please email our office at office@spiritofgracepdx.org to get the Zoom link.

Contemplative prayer is an ancient Christian practice that was revived in the 1980s mainly by Fr. Thomas Keating, a Trappist monk. Centering prayer is a way of preparing for the gift of contemplation. Fr. Thomas says:

“We surrender to the attraction of interior silence, tranquility, and peace. We do not try to feel anything, reflect about anything. Without effort, without trying, we sink into this Presence, letting everything else go. Let love alone speak; the simple desire to be one with the Presence, to forget self, and to rest in the Ultimate Mystery ... We surrender to the attraction to be still, to be loved, just to be.”

Remember that God is ever present within and around us. We pray that you feel connected to the community, to creation, to the Divine.