We gathered last on 8 December. As part of our usual practice, we enjoyed one of the Chalice Meditations by David Kent - “Do What Most Kindles Love in You”
And we sang a couple of hymns from the green hymn book, one of which is very traditional this time of year: “Joy to the World”
We shared flame, bread and water together as we made the gathered circle of those present. And as usual, we spent seven minutes in silent meditation.
When we gather, the practice together seems the most important bit to me, though other participants may not feel that as much as I do. But even to me, when reporting afterwards, the wordy bits assume a greater weight, because they are so much more easily transmitted. So for your interest, here is a report of the wordy bits of the gathering.
The theme brought together some thoughts about the period of waiting that many faiths are in, during this part of the year.
And the idea that God is come to earth, is in Earth, which is the absolute hallmark of Christianity, as well as being a known idea in Earth Spirit faiths.
How do people who are not traditional Christians tune in to the idea that materiality is a source of truth, when we have set aside the doctrines taught about Jesus being God the Son?
The first reading was from The Picts and the Martyrs by Arthur Ransome, and the second from Sailing the Worldly Winds by Vajragupta. From that book there was an anecdote about a Zen Buddhist master caught in the sort of travel delay we have all become accustomed to, and how she did not let that daily nuisance define her, or even affect her practice in any way, whereas her student who was also caught up in it, was - like most of us would be - quite bothered by it.
The Picts and the Martyrs were waiting. They were waiting for the adventures they had planned, and had wanted. But the whole book is about the unwanted adventures that they had to pass through: about some worrying times, before they got to do the things they wanted to. This is a book about waiting, and dealing with mess, and learning; all while you are waiting.
Similarly the Zen Buddhist student was waiting, and worrying. And he, too, was learning while he waited - he was learning by watching his master.
This time of year is a time of waiting. People are waiting for a variety of events and sensations.
Waiting for the longest night, the turning of the year, the returning of the sun.
Waiting for the commemoration of the unluxurious birth of perhaps the most important Jewish teacher of all time; and, by extension, the commemoration of the wonder of the births of all human babies.
Waiting to gather together with family and friends.
Waiting for the giving and receiving of gifts.
Waiting for a sense that we are accepted and wanted, within the web of the universe.
Waiting for a heartfelt recollection of a sense of purpose in our lives - what we should do, in order to feel worthwhile in ourselves.
Waiting for merriment and the jollity of - for once - acceptable excess.
It seems to be a time of waiting for something material, something in the flesh. Something that, like the Picts and Martyrs and the Buddhist student, we did really want, while in fact other stuff we don’t want is going on all around us.
It also seems to be about a different category of stuff: stuff that we don’t do all the time, throughout the year. These aren’t just lights on our houses - these are CHRISTMAS lights. These aren’t just parties - these are CHRISTMAS parties.
As such, these things that we do this time of year are set apart, considered special; or to use churchy jargon, they are sacred, hallowed.
Some people are uncomfortable with the word “sacred”, but it seems to me that it is humans, and not God, that decide whether things are sacred or not. Things that are sacred to humans can be called sacraments. That word, “sacrament”, has different meanings depending on the church, but sacraments are generally, in some way, visible symbols of the reality of God.
I find I’m in tune with Eastern Orthodox Christianity on this point. According to Orthodox thinking, God touches humankind through material means such as water, wine, bread, oil, incense, candles, altars, icons, etc. “Etcetera” means AND THE REST, in other words, everything.
How God does this is a mystery. On a broad level, the sacraments, aka mysteries, are an affirmation of the goodness of created matter, and are an emphatic declaration of what that matter was originally created to be. The unsullied God-given goodness of all new born children, and the hope of their continued innocence, and the slaughter of an entire generation of innocents by the corrupted fear and greed of the oh-so-human King Herod, is seen by some Unitarians as the most relevant element of the Christmas story.
The mysteries are an affirmation of the goodness of created matter.
But then, if God touches humankind through all material means, then it is not just the CHRISTMAS things and CHRISTMAS events that affirm the goodness of created matter. ALL things and ALL events carry the same message and the same weight. So the adventures that the Picts and Martyrs had before the start of the holidays that they really wanted, were actually just as important as the holidays they were waiting for. The simple sitting in the sunshine on a suitcase waiting for a bus was just as important as the bus arriving and getting to the airport (late).
So, while it is entirely right and appropriate to enjoy the traditional winter festivities, once they are over we could remember that actually they are no more important than the ordinary other things we do, and we could aim to keep the same inner enjoyment going all year long.
The purpose we seek is to live better within our own skins, by being connected with others in constructive ways. It’s not the winter festivities which we are waiting for that will do this for us. To live better within our own skins, we need to not be looking forward all the time. We need to see what we are learning in every situation, as we go along. Dorothea by necessity learned how to cook. The Buddhist student learned to worry less, and to not even wait.
We need to be content sitting in this and other dark times of the year. We need to look at it differently. We need to look at where we are, differently.
We might perhaps choose to look differently at the ordinary, daily activities we get involved with. Perhaps we could choose to see “flowers”, where once we saw “weeds”; we might see “another chance to express connectedness with someone”, where once we saw “yet another phone call to be made”; and we might be more like the Buddhist teacher sitting on her suitcase: remember - where her student was agitated, impatient, irritated and worried, the teacher was not even waiting. She was touching the truth of the universe in the materiality of the enjoyable sunshine.
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