I spent a lot of time on boats when I was younger. I remember that scary sinking feeling when we were far from shore and there were no visual landmarks left to get our bearings.

After a full days fishing out in the deep, we would start heading into port and soon begin to argue over the direction. What seemed intuitively to be the way home could be all wrong. I always tried to get back without compass, to feel my way, to show my knowledge of the sea. To have to totally depend on that little compass was unnerving, and humbling, but it was the only safe way home. We would huddle around the center console gripping its rails, riding up and down the swells, staring only at the Compass and adjusting wheel to its line. To look up and beyond was disorienting until the shore was in sight.

Many folks today
say they are spiritual but not religious. They look upon any creed, scripture, or church authority as self limiting, judgmental, and even toxic. The preeminent virtues of the post-modern age are openness, tolerance and inclusion. perhaps these are in vogue for good reason, to counter past abuses, but has this pendulum swung to far ? Are we setting ourselves adrift in a sea of acceptance with no north star?

We can’t stay close to shore if we are going to experience the fullness of life. We have to go out into the deep and we need the humility to bring a compass along. There is a natural sense in us for what is right, but even the conscience needs a reference point, a community, a map and some instruments to rely upon in the fog and the deep.

I used to keep my eyes closed in church in an effort to concentrate more on the liturgy. To think more intently on the word and to ponder more deeply it’s meaning.

Now I find it more helpful to keep my eyes open and to look around at faces. If the Word has become flesh and dwelt among us, and if we are all temples of the Holy Spirit, then why not open my eyes to encounter this mysterious embodied word, and these temple faces?

There is so much to see in a face. Lines of compassion, blemishes of hope, colors of joy, and eyes as deep as the heavens.

The color in our life fades when things don’t seem to matter. We loose our way in clouds of grey, in the attenuated light of self doubt.

But everything does matter. Each moment has a beautiful shape, each act a vibrant color, no matter how small or ordinary. If we can just empty ourselves fully into it, we will see it.

When the sun pours itself upon the hillside, the dull brown earth flashes and flames into gold. So is our love when emptied into simple act, turns into treasure.

We are the immortal diamond, the spark we are searching for, but we can’t hold in the colors. Its our nature to be free and clear, allowing the light to move in and out of us, and casting its  color around us. Each act, each moment, every struggle and detail, another facet of the Love we are becoming.

On this first Sunday of Advent Fr. Thomas described three types of waiting.

The first is an unknown waiting, a kind of searching without end. It’s really just an experience of emptiness like “waiting for Gadot”

The second is a fearful waiting, such as the fear of death and judgement. It is really an experience of anxiety, or dread. It’s believing the illusion that we are alone and separated from God.

The third waiting is that of hope. It is an experiential knowing and tasting in the present moment that which we are longing for. There is a real presence hidden within this type of waiting, a fulfillment wrapped within the longing.

The best image for this virtue of hope is the pregnant mother who waits for her child to be born. The expectant hope she has is not wishful thinking but a real presence alive and growing within her.

Advent is a time to feel that divine kick within us.  The Christ who is dying to be born in us.  Yes we are incomplete, and find our selves longing for something more, but this ache is also a kind of tabernacle, a present space where God dwells in us

Become pregnant with hope, and you will carry heaven within you along the journey.

In culinary circles it’s important to cleanse the palate between dishes. Too many flavors spoil enjoyment and we can’t distinguish the one thing before us.

Modern life with its hyper-means of communication can leave the palate of our lives over stimulated. Our experience of life can sour and cheapen unless we have good boundaries and restful space. So how do we adapt and learn ways to cleanse our mental and spiritual palate, and become truly present to the people we love, the work we love, and the places we love?

For me, nature is a great soul cleanser. It’s the garden our maker designed for us. There is a freshness and beauty that acts like a deep scrubber. It’s the enzyme that that breaks down the grease for me.

A rolling field full of grains and grasses can be like soul brushes knocking off accumulated guilt and anxiety.

The smell of lavender or honeysuckle along hedgerow can untangle neural networks in a few breaths.

A cool breeze in the shade of a grand oak can be like a shower of wisdom and insight.

A train of thunderheads in the wide open sky can lift me out of self-absorption and compulsive mind patterns.

A soft rain moving upon the surface of a lake can lead us to sacred space within that is clear and true.

Get out in nature and cleanse your palate.