The Nativity of our Lord
"But when the time had fully come, God sent his Son, born of a woman...." (Galatians 4:4)
This is the first time since Christmas of 1992 that we will not be travelling to Louisiana. I went to pick Heather's dad up at the airport last night. Matt and Margo are here in PA with Matt's family for a few days then they will come over and join us. Ryan and Suzanne are in Kansas and will be unable to join us in PA (Ryan has just started a new job in Boulder).
Christmas and New Year (for different reasons) are always a contemplative time for me, a time of reflection, of being drawn into the great mystery of the Incarnation, of life, of looking inward, looking outward, looking forward. What we celebrate today and every year is a miracle beyond comprehension. Emmanuel, God with us!
Here is a poem by Denise Levertov entitled, The Mystery of the Incarnation.
It's when we face for a moment
the worst our kind can do, and shudder to know
the taint in our own selves, that awe
cracks the mind's shell and enters the heart:
not to a flower, not to a dolphin,
to no innocent form
but to this creature vainly sure
it and no other is god-like, God
(out of compassion for our ugly
failure to evolve) entrusts,
as guest, as brother,
the Word.
Merry Christmas
This is the first time since Christmas of 1992 that we will not be travelling to Louisiana. I went to pick Heather's dad up at the airport last night. Matt and Margo are here in PA with Matt's family for a few days then they will come over and join us. Ryan and Suzanne are in Kansas and will be unable to join us in PA (Ryan has just started a new job in Boulder).
Christmas and New Year (for different reasons) are always a contemplative time for me, a time of reflection, of being drawn into the great mystery of the Incarnation, of life, of looking inward, looking outward, looking forward. What we celebrate today and every year is a miracle beyond comprehension. Emmanuel, God with us!
Here is a poem by Denise Levertov entitled, The Mystery of the Incarnation.
It's when we face for a moment
the worst our kind can do, and shudder to know
the taint in our own selves, that awe
cracks the mind's shell and enters the heart:
not to a flower, not to a dolphin,
to no innocent form
but to this creature vainly sure
it and no other is god-like, God
(out of compassion for our ugly
failure to evolve) entrusts,
as guest, as brother,
the Word.
Merry Christmas
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