Thin Places

In her book "Home By Another Way" (Cowley, 1999), Barbara Brown Taylor writes of what it is we seek to encounter along our journeys of faith. The following excerpt provides me with a reminder of this as I live to fulfill my own call to ministry.

"All in all, things do not seem to work that way anymore. Most bushes do not give off the slightest bit of heat, most ladders do not have anyone’s footprints on them but our own, and most whirlwinds, when they speak, do not say anything but “whoosh.” You have to ask someone else where God has gone. I don’t know, but I do know plenty of people who are in hot pursuit.

"They try all kinds of things in hopes of encountering God. They fast, they pray, they go on pilgrimage, they beat drums. Some of them follow ancient spiritual traditions and others make things up as they go along. Some go to seminary and some go to India, but one way or another what they are all after is an experience of the living God. They have had enough explanations – the careful process of mounting dead butterflies on pins. They want to come face to face with the real thing, and they know better than to pack a net."

May we continue to seek.

Blessings,
Rob.

A Passion Re-Kindled

Although it has been well over a year since I have offered any reflections on this site it has never been far from my thoughts. It has waited - patiently - for me to return, and today I realized that with excitment.

My passion for the issues of Palestine and Israel were quieted while I completed my studies and began serving in full time ministry. In the past few months my passions have been stirred awake so that the issues of this tormented land are, once again, never far from my thoughts.

In response to these stirrings I have composed prayers for each of the last two meetings of Twin Valleys Presbytery, in an effort to help raise awareness of the issues of Palestine and Israel. These prayers created the incentive to return to blogging.

Please pray with me:

Merciful and gracious God my heart aches for peace in the Middle East. I pray that the hearts and minds of Israeli and Palestinian people might be opened to recognizing the value of a peaceful resolution to the conflict between their countries. I pray that all those who engage in conflict might catch one fleeting glimpse of how their world could look under a realm that honours justice, dignity, diversity and love. Merciful and gracious God my heart yearns to witness the coming of your kindom throughout the world, but especially in the Holy Land. God, I pray for peace. Hear my prayer... (September 16, 2010).

Creator God, I pray for peace in my heart and understanding in my mind. I confess that my freedom and my power give me a particular perspective on the world. In that awareness I acknowledge that my truth - my reality - is not universal. And so I pray for all who live under the burden of oppression. Especially, I pray for Palestinian farmers, who struggle to earn their livelihood under the domination of an intimidating government and military. I pray that those who tend fields and flocks, orchards and vineyards, may be recognized as human beings; people merely seeking security and comfort in their lives. Creator God, I pray for peace and understanding, hear my prayer and in your mercy answer... (November 19, 2010)

May it be so!

Blessings,
Rob.

One Step Closer to the Light

Hello,

Songs and stories continue to reveal themselves as the memories and processing of my CPT experience stir and move and live. This song was one that I was introduced to almost twenty years ago, though it doesn't seem that long ago... "One Step Closer to the Light" was written by Shari Ulrich during her time spent in the trio of UHF with Bill Henderson (Chilliwack) and Roy Forbes (Bim).

"Sun was (rising) over sea, burning crimson and gold
Light of changing lights the sea, (filling) every heart is whole
Voices ring from every shore, for the legacy to end
Ancient enemies open doors, seeking justice not revenge

"One step closer to the light
A freedom burning through the night
One less soldier in battle
One less enemy in sight
One more border will fall
The people tearing down the walls
Bring us all one step closer to the light

"Hear the people of every land, offer liberty and choice
Heart by heart and hand to hand, raising up in common voice

"One step closer to the light
A freedom burning through the night
One less soldier in battle
One less enemy in sight
One more border will fall
The people tearing down the walls
Bring us all one step closer to the light"

Blessings,
Rob.

Living in the Aftermath

Hello,

Though I have not posted for many months it is not as if I have forgotten about this ethereal space:) I suppose it is just one of the realities of living in the aftermath of such an intense experience; time and space intervene, edges are smoothed and refined, distances increase, yet memories stir beneath it all.

Since I last posted I have continued to reflect on the experience of being in the Holy Land last year, while all the while making room in my life for new experiences, new learnings, and the tension of welcoming the new and holding on to the past. As much as this might sound like an excuse to avoid blogging, it is more a sad reflection of the reality of life.

Still, many images of Israel and Palestine remain poignantly fresh in my memory. Pictures and words, voices and smells, sights... It was amazing!

Now, as I prepare for a few more formal presentations, I am experiencing a call back to this blogspot; a call to continue sharing stories and insights. I hope that you will welcome the chance to return to this journey. Stay tuned for more songs, a collection of poems and some specific responses to some of the books I've had the chance to explore...

Blessings,

Rob.

The Process of Processing

Hi Folks,

First, my apologies: Life has intervened and posting to the site has taken the proverbial backseat.

Since I last posted, I have been busy working with photographs from the trip, to be used in presentations that I am making, around the area. This work has taken considerable time, but it has been the quintessential labor of love, refreshing and enlivening the stories.

Also, many people have been asking me about Gaza. I have to preface my response with the fact that the delegation I was on did not journey to Gaza. It was not part of our plans. Still, the news coming out of Gaza over the past month has been hard to carry...

I remember writing and speaking about truth, early on in this exercise - well before actually going on the delegation. Since that time I have found amongst my books (actually, in an Eco-Theology book) a phrase that has been the starting point of my presentations and a point I tend to return again and again too, throughout my conversations: "I cannot tell you the truth, I can only say what I know." I wonder if this is the place where peace might actually begin; where we stop trying to make things something that they are or stop trying to be the authority on solutions for problems that we really only have a superficial understanding of... I wonder...

If you have time, I've posted some new youtube links in the past few weeks... Dido's video reminded me about the stories of house demolitions... Jann Arden's song connects with the Jonah passage in this week's lectionary readings and resonates with the comment our delegation heard when we visited with Breaking the Silence: When the cost of not having peace exceeds the cost of having peace, then peace might become a possibility... The Guess Who's song Share the Land is obvious, I think... The John Denver video of him singing at a protest was the one I chose after hearing Serena Ryder's version and having all sorts of fun with Pete Seeger and the Weavers on youtube... So, go ahead, have a look and listen; enjoy!

Blessings,
Rob.

The photo was taken by my friend Jen, at the abandoned village of Lifta which today, is situated within the boundaries of Jerusalem.

Joy in the Desert: Part Two

Greetings,

As I promised a couple of weeks ago, I have now received a photo of Nuri Elokbi. It's taken at the site of his protest tent in the Negev Desert (Late November 2008). The photo was taken by one of my CCS friends.

Blessings,

Rob.

What Brings You to the Manger?

One late afternoon, around about the 26th of November, after arriving in Bethlehem our CPT delegation met up at the Church of the Nativity.

The Church of the Nativity is built over and surrounding the place where it is recorded that Mary gave birth to her firstborn - as son: Jesus. Essentially, the Church of the Nativity marks the place where Christianity began, with the humble - and at the time, seemingly inconsequential - birth of a Jewish baby to devout Jewish parents.

Throughout the ages, the Church of the Nativity has never lost its significance in the eyes and hearts of Christians. Today, it stands as a testament, not only to Jesus, Mary and Joseph, and the Magi, but also to all of the church and political leaders, the monastic orders and monks, the crusaders and pilgrims who have revered it and idolized it and adorned it in as many ways as possible, so that each visitor might find something personally moving in its story.

I would suggest that, at its most religious and spiritually captivating, the Church of the Nativity is a sacred pilgimage site. And, I would suggest that, at its least flattering, the Church of the Nativity - with its columns and mosaics and lamps, and the Grotto and its gift shops and tours - the Church of the Nativity is little more than a photo-op and a check mark on a vacation To-Do list.

To say that I was somewhat cynical during my brief visit to the Church of the Nativity might be an understatement.Now granted, I totally trust the cliche that says we only get out of an experience as much as we're willing to put into it, but my visit to the Church of the Nativity was not very inspiring. And, I'm kind of disappointed that I didn't get more out of it, as it is impossible to know whether or not I will ever have the opportunity to return.

But then, I think about the night of December 24th and the reasons that draws us into churhes and places of worship. In some ways, it seems to me that in our coming from our homes on Christmas Eve, to worship in a church sanctuary - to celebrate the Nativity - is liken to a pilgrimage. In some ways, it seems to me that the metaphor our church sanctuaries embrace on Christmas Eve is that of the Grotto - the place where it all began.

But what is it that brings you to the manger, really?

Do you come out of reverence? If so, reverence for whom or for what?

Do you come out of obedience or a sense of responsibility to some kind of long-standing, unexplained family tradition - because it's something we always do?

Do you come because you want to party? It's Christmas; do we always need a reason to party?

Do you come on some sort of quest? Are you looking or searching for something? Are you in need of answers to some difficult questions? Are you trying to understand what all the hype is about? Are you hoping for some kind of spiritual revelation?

Do you come to pray? Do you come, just to be? Perhaps there's a hope, though not an expectation, that you will encounter the Holy? Perhaps you'll meet an angel? Perhaps you'll see the star?

What is it that brings you to the manger?

We might have one or two, or many reasons for being drawn to the manger on Christmas Eve. Truth be known, the only person we have to justify why we come too, is our self.

All that I would suggest is that our participation in the celebration of Christmas began with a promise. It began with a promise from God - a promise revealed in the birth of a child. A child that would be called Wonderful Counselor, Prince of Peace. A child that would have such hope placed upon him, that throughout the world people would experience an almost primal need to remember him. People would experience such a powerful sense of needing to remember that they would be drawn back to the promise, back to where it all began, back to the manger. And there, amidst the straw and the bands of cloth, they would discover again the news of great joy that offers peace and love, to all.

Blessings,

Rob.

(This post was the body of my reflection at the Christmas Eve services in Gainsborough and Carievale.)