I have a Christmas cactus that doesn’t seem concerned about the rules. It never blooms anywhere near Christmas. I woke up one day recently and noticed that there was an incipient bloom leaning against and propped up by one of the longer branches of the plant. There was no place for it to go as it was connected to a three-sectioned stem close to the dirt that fills the pot. (I’m hoping a picture will clarify this unhelpful description.) I had no expectation that this flower would be able to bloom as it was not free to bow and unfold in space. I pictured it as a stillborn child that would die as it lived – tightly closed in upon itself. (Those of you who are familiar with Christmas cactus know that their flowers usually bounce at the ends of each branch in increasing beauty during their lifespan.)
This morning as I was seeking help from Meg Wheatley in her book, Perseverance, I looked up and saw the first unfolding of my sweet flower! I was reading about success at the time and had just stopped to consider the following thought: “Can you accept as a measure of success that you kept showing up, day after day, even when you weren’t feeling helpful or effective?”
I don’t know what tomorrow will be like for me or the flower but I do know that, for today, her measure of success has motivated me to show up and do my best in whatever comes my way.
Home again this morning in my own space, I first did what is my usual Sunday morning task: checking my calendar for the week to make sure nothing creeps up on me for which I’m not prepared. I was reminded that there is some creative work to be done and that is a good thing for my spirit. That task done but still in waking mode, I turned to Alan Cohen to find the perfect message for this morning. Perhaps you will find it to be so as well.
Psalm 49 speaks loudly of the reality that “you can’t take it with you.” No matter our success or wealth, wise people die, the psalm says, “and likewise the senseless and the stupid pass away leaving to others their wealth.”
It seems that the theme of light is meant to continue here for at least one more day. In Alan Cohen’s book, A Deep Breath of Life, just the title for this morning’s daily reflection got me curious. “Rocks or Light?” it asked. He was talking about the Hawaiian spiritual tradition that every child born into this world is like a “bowl of light” containing the radiance of heaven. The theory is that if rocks – like fear, guilt and unworthiness – are placed into the bowl, the original brilliance is obscured. The more rocks in the bowl, the less light we shine. Cohen’s comments are very similar to yesterday’s Scripture readings. (I love it when serendipity like this happens to support my conclusions!) Here’s a little of what Cohen offers.
The beginning of the Letter of James says this today:
I just read my post from yesterday to refresh my memory of what I said or didn’t say about Epiphany. As it happens, I think that post turned out to be a bit of an example of the meaning of the word. As celebrated in Christianity, the Epiphany is the manifestation of Christ to the Gentiles represented by the Magi: a moment of great revelation. In a modern dictionary definition it is seen as “a sudden, intuitive perception of or insight into the reality or essential meaning of something, usually initiated by some simple, homely, or commonplace occurrence or experience.”
The verse before the gospel today was encouraging. From Paul’s letter to the Philippians, it urges us to shine like lights in the world as you hold on to the word of life. (2:15D, 16A) Thinking about my day yesterday with a group of parish faith formation leaders, some of whom who are wrapping up a challenging year in their churches, I was happy to reflect on their willingness to live in the reality of their experiences while still fanning the flame of hope in their hearts. The day was not an intensive, content-heavy experience but rather offered them some simple practices for everyday life that also included a brief nature walk and some poetry. The important element, as I saw it, was simply their presence together in community with no expectations except the support of one another. It was clear to me that they are, indeed, “lights in the world.”
I was in a conversation last evening about the difficulty of being honest if one is dependent on others for self-esteem. There are other reasons why people lie, of course – perhaps especially in business these days – but even in our everyday lives the challenge is to avoid linking our worth to success or failure in the eyes of others or even ourselves. As I write this, my thoughts come round to the conclusion that our image of God needs to be taken into consideration here. If the God I believe in is the God of unconditional love, I ought to be able to be honest about both my successes and failures before God and, in that assurance, not be so timid about speaking the truth in all situations.
As I read today’s lectionary texts, I am struck once again with the necessity of living every moment to the fullest without grasping at the past or the future – which I no longer have or do not yet have (and maybe never will, who knows?). This is not a new theme but as I write I am hearing in my head some lines of a song by Greg Greenway, a wonderful musician and poet. The refrain goes like this: This is the light I carry. Tonight is a celebration. Have no complaints, sinners and saints, under the bright constellations…The hymnal’s wide open at the Church of What Is; let’s sing!