New Birth

In this time of darkness and the onset of winter, we celebrate once again the story of birth: the Christ child and all the magic and mystery of that, and we celebrate the birth of light – new light, not the same light of last year, or even of yesterday, but a whole new light, a new season, a new self.  As we reflect on the year that’s passed, and the place we find ourselves in now, are you where you thought you would be? How has the year changed you?  Challenged you? Surprised you? Does the story ever turn out completely the way we imagine?

As parents know, birthing a child into the world--and the many ways it transforms us--is a lot more than what we expect. The daily challenge can’t be known prior to its coming into being, nor can the wealth of profound love and joy. I remember an evening when John River was about 7 or 8 months old, pre-verbal.We were up in the night together after a feeding and I sat with him cradling him and we sat gazing at each other and smiling.

I thought I had never seen such an exquisitely pure and beautiful being in all my life. I asked him, “Where did you come from?” And right at that moment, he pointed his tiny starfish hand at the tip of my nose and said with perfect pronunciation, “You.” I would have to say it was the first word he spoke, but I cannot explain it. I laughed out loud and tears welled in my eyes. It was a miraculous moment, a moment that felt to me like God’s hand had reached out and touched me.

In reflecting on it, I realized, as mystical as his response was, there is more to it than that. Yes he comes from me, but more as a stopping-over place. Where he comes from is much, much greater than this individual. Kalil Gibrain states it poetically, “your children are not your children, they are the sons and daughters of life’s longing for itself…they come through you but not from you, and though they are with you, they belong not to you.”

As we give birth to the new in our lives, whether it be a child or a creative project, a new job, a relationship, a garden, our faith reminds us that it is God being born in the world, God coming through us, beauty being expressed in and through the human form. As the song, “This Night” goes that my beloved wrote, “We tell the old story that brings us together, the light of the child that is born anew, deep in our heart, the memory: Love is in the world this night, a chance to recall, once more a chance to begin.”

Once more, a chance to understand that we are not the sole creators, we are the co-creators. We are not the proprietors, we are the borrowers, the stewards. We are not residents, we are visitors, here for a short while to be the mystical-physical channel through which goodness and generosity come to transform this world.

In this way, we can stand aside and stand in awe and deference as we bear witness to this miraculous and precious life. And we can release our burdens to our creator and rest in the knowing that we are not and cannot be alone on the path. May the peace of God’s light that surpasses our understanding give each of you comfort and a joy in the season ahead.              

Rev. Katherine Silvan

A Christmas Finding

During our recent move from one home to another, as we began the long process of unpacking our boxes, my husband came to me, holding sailing gloves in his hands, and said: "Where did you find these? I have been looking for these for years. I couldn't find them anywhere. For six years!"

A few minutes later, he came in holding a certain kind of power cord. "Where did you find this to pack it? I didn't know we still had it. I searched the house for it last year."

A song came instantly to mind, one I love, that I am almost certain was written by Starhawk. The lyrics: "Everything lost is found again, in a new form, in a new way. Everything hurt is healed again, in a new time, in a new day."

I love this simple, profound, honest song for the very miracle it eloquently, succinctly reminds us of. To me, it is the same miracle that is found in Christmas.

In the past few years, I have had two friends, young women, one with two daughters--an infant and a toddler--lose their spouses. I have had two other friends lose newborn children. I am sure you know of many, maybe even too many, who have lost things or people they treasure. What is the assurance of this season? As we lose the "sun," moving through the longest night of the year, what is the promise?

What is lost, will be found--in a new form. What is broken, will be restored--in a new way. It is the promise of the rose, as in the song Betty Midler sings, "Just remember, in the winter, far beneath the bitter snow, lies the seed, that with the sun's love, in the spring, becomes the rose."

One of my friends who lost her daughter at three days old has miraculously found the courage to conceive again. She will welcome a son in the early spring. One of my friends who lost her partner of nine years, has found love again; she did not think she could.

The "sun" rises. At Christmas, we think of it as the "son." They are the same. The power of restoration, finding what we have lost, is not an optimist's irrational pinning. It is a reality I see every day. Don't you?

If you are broken this season, lost or missing something lost--hold on! Your spring will come. Look for the new form, the new way, the new time, the new day. And for those who have already been given the blessing of that realization, for whom this idea is not a stranger but a comforting, true, reliable friend--rejoice!

Merry Christmas, Happy Hanukkah, Happy Solstice, Blessed New Year, much love and peace,
Rev. Sam Wilde

The You-Can't-Get-What-You-Want Blessing

About a week ago I had a conversation with God about the new house my husband and I are buying. It went something like this: "God, thank you for everything. Thank you for this new house. But how come you couldn't get me the house I really wanted? Didn't you get the memo about my dream house? Why can't I have my dream house?"

I've had more gracious prayer moments, of course, but I'm being honest here. It was a whiny-prayer and a truthful one. I simply couldn't understand why God hadn't supplied the house I longed for. Hadn't I been clear in my prayers? Hadn't I made my desires known? Was I not praying in the right way to manifest my perfect dream?

I felt frustrated, because while I liked the house we chose, it wasn't my style. While there are things I love, it didn't feel like me. In a very immature, but very real way, I knew God wanted me to be happy (this is, in fact, based on the scriptures of every great religious tradition)--so why not a house a little closer to my heart?

I got an answer. It came like this: "I'm not interested in getting you what you want. I'm interested in who you become." In a flash, I understood. The struggle with the house was a gift. Not getting what I want was a blessing, because in that happening, I could become more of who I needed to be, a better person, somehow--even if I didn't know how exactly at that moment.

I thought of taking care of my own children. Many times I make sure they do not get the thing they want--if it's not good for them, not safe, not the right time, not possible, or not in their best interest. Their frustration when I frustrate their desires is abundantly clear, but I don't care as much about their immediate gratification as I do about their hearts, their characters, their health.

The Divine Mother/Father, our true Parent, gives with intelligence and Love. For a moment I got it, and I could feel God's goodness in the decision my husband and I had made. It was a wonderful reminder that God's love is continuous, constant and always seeks our ultimate good--helping us to become who God knows we are, a reflection of the Divine.

--Rev. Sam Wilde