January 15, 2025
Grace and peace to each of you on this chilly Wednesday in Epiphany! I hope everyone is emerging safely from the icy chrysalis of the past few days. I missed seeing you all at church on Sunday. I was able to get out on the trails a few times, and finally made my way to the counseling center to see after my patients on Monday. With a full moon riding high in the sky, I was entranced by the beauty of the ice on a cold January night, a moment to be treasured, and a luminous gift.
In the quiet stillness of the woods in winter, I am reminded of this lovely poem:
I have seen the sun break through
to illuminate a small field
for a while, and gone my way
and forgotten it. But that was the
pearl of great price, the one field that had
treasure in it. I realize now
that I must give all that I have
to possess it. Life is not hurrying
on to a receding future, nor hankering after
an imagined past. It is the turning
aside like Moses to the miracle
of the lit bush, to a brightness
that seemed as transitory as your youth
once, but is the eternity that awaits you.
This is a beautiful poem by Welsh poet, R. S. Thomas. Thomas was an Anglican priest, as well as a poet, but I think his words are full of profound wisdom for everyone, regardless of creed. The Bright Field speaks about those shining moments in life — moments of grace, beauty, inspiration, and yes…epiphany — I which we fleetingly encounter the divine or feel a deep connection to the universe. This image of the bright field evokes for me various ideas: the moment you first see your children, or grandchildren, or first fall in love, or adopt a new animal in need of rescue, or when you read and understand some complicated scientific theory about the universe and see God in a new way, or become transfixed by a Shakespeare sonnet, a work of fiction, or an incredible piece of music… or, of course, when you pray or meditate, and feel a connection to the divine.
These moments are almost like—I would say exactly like the moment when the water became wine at the wedding, as we will hear on Sunday. Or that moment when the bread and wine, broken and blessed, become our journey as the Body of Christ in the world. The poet confides that he has often seen the sun “illuminate a small field” for a moment and, continued on his way and “forgotten it”. But, says Thomas, he knows that that field was “the pearl of great price”; that moment was something rare and beautiful, to hold on to and spend your life searching for. He is admitting here that he has experienced moments of profound connection to God, but that he has proceeded to move on, without dwelling on it. However, he has now come to realize that he must “give all that I have/ To possess” that moment — that “bright field” — again.
Another quality of these “bright” moments becomes clear as we enter the second stanza; the poem says that life is not “hurrying on/ to a receding future” or “hankering after/ and imagined past”. These lines deliver to me the notion that these bright moments of grace are in fact moments where we are intensely present. These are the moments we are most alive, and when we feel most connected to life, the universe, and/or God. This is as relevant for prayer and meditation as it is for all the other instances where one might experience a moment of connection to the universe.
The poem ends with the beautiful image of the burning bush from the story of Moses. Thomas tells us that life — and these moments — is about “turning/ like Moses to the miracle/ of the lit bush”. Again, there is a real sense of intense presence in this image. I think the way the bright light — which is God, and grace — is described in the final lines is just exquisite: though it had once seemed “as transitory as your youth”, it is in fact “the eternity that awaits you.”
This coming Sunday will be our Ministry Fair, an opportunity to learn more about the wonderful ministries at Holy Family, and to allow your imagination, and the inspiration of the Holy Spirit in Her wisdom, to discover ways you might become more involved in our beloved Holy Family parish. This is a remarkable gift from Tammy Kirk and the Parish Life Committee in conjunction with all of those ministries represented. Please join us, won’t you, and take time to pause, learn more about these offerings, and as RS Thomas suggests, be present and aware that we are, each of us, standing on Holy Ground. Let’s give thanks for the past year, as lay ministries have flourished in so many ways, and as we are leading the way for a new “lay led, clergy supported” way of being the church in our Diocese, and beyond. I am so very grateful for each of you. As our collect for Sunday, a lovely invitation indeed, reminds us, let us endeavor to shine together:
Almighty God, whose Son our Savior Jesus Christ is the light of the world: Grant that your people, illumined by your Word and Sacraments, may shine with the radiance of Christ’s glory, that he may be known, worshipped, and obeyed to the ends of the earth; through Jesus Christ our Lord, who with you and the Holy Spirit lives and reigns, one God, now and forever. Amen.
I’ll catch you later on down the trail, and I hope to see you at the Ministry Fair…and in church, this coming Sunday!
Bill+
January 8, 2025
On a cold Epiphany winter night at Holy Family, we joined in the Episcopal tradition of the Burning of the Greens. The Christian holy day Epiphany, on Jan. 6, is also known as the “Feast of Lights,” and some Episcopal congregations celebrate this feast quite literally, by burning Christmas trees and greens in recognition of Jesus as a light to the world.
The light from a Christmas tree fire invokes symbolism rooted in the origins of Epiphany as an alternative to pagan festivals that were held on the winter solstice – the darkest day of the year. Also known as Three Kings Day, Epiphany traditionally commemorates the day the Magi were introduced to the infant Jesus. Light also is a familiar motif in contemporary lectionary readings for Epiphany, such as Isaiah 60:1-6: “Arise, shine; for your light has come.”
Another tradition, closely associated with the winter solstice, is the burning of a Yule log in a bonfire, symbolizing the return of the sun during the darkest time of year, particularly prevalent in ancient Scandinavian cultures; people would often save a small part of the log to light the next year’s fire, signifying continuity and the cycle of life. The Germanic, Scandinavian, Norse, and Celtic peoples celebrated Yule on the winter solstice. Anciently, Yule was a celebration that, in some cases, lasted for 2 months! Norse people would celebrate Yule with evergreens, holly, wreaths, a Yule log, and bells.
In ancient customs, burning the Yule log was believed to signal the return of the sun and usher in the beginning of spring.
January 1, 2025
I am a collector and connoisseur of light. I hold memories of these experiences of light deep within my soul, and they sustain and enliven and enrich my experience of being alive. On a remarkable day recently, I was running on the local trails, and I was rendered speechless by the slant of light and the beauty of the day. As Emily Dickinson said,
There’s a certain Slant of light,
Winter Afternoons –
And on Christmas morning I arrived early and sat in the chapel as the light streamed into that sacred space, soon to be filled with those gathered for the quiet Eucharist….
In one of his poems Gerard Manly Hopkins has written,
“The world is charged with the grandeur of God.
It will flame out, like shining from shook foil;”
In my mind’s eye, I have a collection of such days of remarkable light. They each involve a transformation of perspectives of some kind, perhaps even a transcendence of the ordinary, even if just for a moment. Each experience involves liminal, transitional space, where light seems to symbolize the passage to a new perspective, a surprising way of looking at the world. I recall the remarkable quality of light on a day in Maine, leaving Stonington Harbor in a kayak, looking back at the town as the sunlight, filtered through a dissipating fog, cast a beautiful glow on Penobscot Bay and reflected off the slick head of a harbor seal,
December 25, 2024
The Gospel: John 1:1-14
In the beginning was the Word, and the Word was with God, and the Word was God. He was in the beginning with God. All things came into being through him, and without him not one thing came into being. What has come into being in him was life, and the life was the light of all people. The light shines in the darkness, and the darkness did not overcome it.
There was a man sent from God, whose name was John. He came as a witness to testify to the light, so that all might believe through him. He himself was not the light, but he came to testify to the light. The true light, which enlightens everyone, was coming into the world.
He was in the world, and the world came into being through him; yet the world did not know him. He came to what was his own, and his own people did not accept him. But to all who received him, who believed in his name, he gave power to become children of God, who were born, not of blood or of the will of the flesh or of the will of man, but of God.And the Word became flesh and lived among us, and we have seen his glory, the glory as of a father’s only son, full of grace and truth.
Grace and peace to you all on this Christmas Day,