Praying through the Winter Solstice

A prayer by Harry Martin, which I offer in celebration of the southern winter solstice,

Jesus, Love, we seek your coming.

As your servants we join with all creation

in proclaiming your glory.

The winter barren trees look heavenward,

Anticipating the newness of life,

coming in the springs of your resurrection.

The soaring eagle lifts our hearts,

that with your holy angels,

we can climb the heights of your holy hills.

The whiteness of the fresh snow

refracts the light and beauty

that the call of your holiness brings to us.

Jesus, Love, our Creator King,

we rejoice at your coming,

and yet we sorrow.

Your Holy Word shines upon our path.

And we see…

Lives imprisoned and impoverished

by greed.

Country sides crushed and ravaged by wars

where hate, pride and arrogance reign.

We see waters poisoned by neglect,

Birdsongs of praise stilled

by the corruption of need and want.

Creator King, we weep with the doe

seeking her fawn

crushed by the rush of human traffic.

We sorrow with the unborn child

who will never know,

the beauty of the daybreak.

We weep, coming King,

Because we fail to see and cherish,

the holy beauty and joy

of all life and creation you have made.

The Journey Of The Magi

The Journey Of The Magi
By T S Elliott
A cold coming we had of it,
Just the worst time of the year
For a journey, and such a long journey:
The ways deep and the weather sharp,
The very dead of winter.’
And the camels galled, sorefooted, refractory,
Lying down in the melting snow.
There were times we regretted
The summer palaces on slopes, the terraces,
And the silken girls bringing sherbet.
Then the camel men cursing and grumbling
and running away, and wanting their liquor and women,
And the night-fires going out, and the lack of shelters,
And the cities hostile and the towns unfriendly
And the villages dirty and charging high prices:
A hard time we had of it.
At the end we preferred to travel all night,
Sleeping in snatches,
With the voices singing in our ears, saying
That this was all folly.
Then at dawn we came down to a temperate valley,
Wet, below the snow line, smelling of vegetation;
With a running stream and a water-mill beating the darkness,
And three trees on the low sky,
And an old white horse galloped away in the meadow.
Then we came to a tavern with vine-leaves over the lintel,
Six hands at an open door dicing for pieces of silver,
And feet kicking the empty wine-skins.
But there was no information, and so we continued
And arriving at evening, not a moment too soon
Finding the place; it was (you might say) satisfactory.
All this was a long time ago, I remember,
And I would do it again, but set down
This set down
This: were we led all that way for
Birth or Death? There was a Birth, certainly
We had evidence and no doubt. I had seen birth and death,
But had thought they were different; this Birth was
Hard and bitter agony for us, like Death, our death.
We returned to our places, these Kingdoms,
But no longer at ease here, in the old dispensation,
With an alien people clutching their gods.
I should be glad of another death.

Winter Magic Festival

Are there any Sydney people out there interested in meeting up with us?

If so, you may be interested in joining us Thin Places mavericks for a corroboree of sorts at the Winter Magic Festival on June 24. It has been a while since we’ve seen each other face to face so I thought it would be an opportune time to gather once more, share our stories and dreams, plan subversions and worship our God in a relaxed setting. You’re invited too.

For those unfamiliar with Thin Places, the rationale behind the name is an understanding that sacred space can be found anywhere, not only in Christian temples and places of natural beauty, but also in marketplaces and alternate spirituality festivals. Think Paul at Mars Hill, Daniel in Babylon, etc, etc.

ICON – Images of the Sacred

As we start to gear up for the Winter Magic Festival at the next solstice in June, I thought it was appropriate that I finally got around to saying something about ICON – Images of the sacred.

ICON was an art exhibition held in the Katoomba, Australia in 2001. It was co-organised by one of our friends, Warrick Saxby, for the purpose of opening a spiritual dialogue between people of diverse spiritual backgrounds using art as the medium and common ground of expression. Participants included Buddhists, Wiccans, Christians, Pagans who joined for conversation and creative discussion. As the site states, “barriers of prejudice and past hurts came under the scrutiny of our common search and common humanity.”