Happy Holy Days

The holiest time I can remember is when I knew about Baby Jesus, but knew nothing of his persecution and death. I was much more concerned about making poor Baby Jesus cry by my being bad than I have ever been about going to hell because my sins contribute to Jesus' need to die. Love for a vulnerable infant motivates many of us to do things that we never dreamed possible. Just ask any sleep-deprived parent.

I prefer the way religion is taught today to the shame that was the basis for all the old interpretations of the Bible. Who wouldn't want to be invited to a picnic with Jesus and his joyous bunch of Jews? Imagine how happy they must have all been to be told that they have a second chance, and a third, and a fourth to become permanent parts of the branches of this vibrant vine?

Jesus seemed to have a different slant on the ways of his creator. What happened to all the brilliant light of joy, love and breaking bread together that he left behind?

 I'd much prefer to daily have a birthday party for the innocent baby than to spend my life mourning over what he chose to do for us at the end of his short time on earth. I can't see Jesus smiling, except in the faces of those who feel loved by others. These should be the Christmas lights that we attempt to ignite with every communication we have with every human we encounter.

Happy Holy Days every day of the year, beginning with the birth of a baby born in poverty and shame, who still found it in his heart to love and laugh with all he met.

An American Creed is What We Need

America's greatness is it's a melting pot,
Not only figuratively, but literally.
Our colors, our creeds, and our cuisines
Mirror what humanity is meant to be.

In the true America, we're encouraged
To share our ideas and recipes.
Neighbor to neighbor, we become one,
Exchanging successes and sympathies.

We cannot listen to the many fear-mongers
Who pretend that separation is what we need.
These great big voices are paid for
By corporations with their immense greed.

Corporations and crowds have no consciences;
People become swept up in fearful passion.
We'll not succeed in creating heaven on earth
Until community compassion comes into fashion.

Perhaps we should all take lessons from the Girl Scouts of America

The Girl Scout Promise (Paraphrased)

On my honor, I will try:To serve God and my country,
To help people at all times,
And to live by the American Law.

The Girl Scout Law

I will do my best to behonest and fair,
friendly and helpful,
considerate and caring,
courageous and strong, and
responsible for what I say and do,
and torespect myself and others,
respect authority,
use resources wisely,
make the world a better place, and
be a neighbor to every American.

The Holy in Humanity

Remember those bracelets with "What Would Jesus Do?"
Is the absolute answer known by even a few?
Should we ask ourselves, instead, how I would respond
If I saw Jesus' Spirit in people of whom I'm not fond?

What if Jesus was the beggar standing on the street?
Would I take him to a restaurant for a bite to eat?
Or would I combine my resources with the homeless inn,
Where he may find a shower, meal, and perhaps a friend?

Jesus carried the same burdens as we, being human;
He, too, drew comfort from being with his friends.
His example is of community seeking common good,
Looking past outward appearances, as we all could.

One thing that set Jesus apart in his life on earth
Was his bravery in standing for the soul's rebirth.
He insisted in seeing past the sin into the sinner's heart,
And inviting all he met to make a new start.

He left his Sacred Spirit to a group of three thousand,
Asking that they share his mission with all humans.
If we have the Holy Spirit in us, we will see
The same Spirit is in all of this earth's humanity.

It is unfortunate that so many hide behind drugs
Because they have no faith in the healing of hugs.
We may find The Holy Spirit in the eyes of pain,
If we continue looking for it again and again.

When a soul opens up, if only for a minute,
We may connect with The Spirit that's within it.
It is important that we relate to others face-to-face
To share The Holy Spirit with the whole human race.

Saints don't work alone, but with communities of others,
Combining their gifts with those of sisters and brothers.
They help hold each other onto the committed path,
Rotating their leaders from first position to last.

Even the strongest and swiftest need time to rest,
And the slowest need to strive to be their very best.
Our communities must include the weak and the strong;
On the path of Holiness, all of our gifts belong.

We are all called to be shepherds, not merely sheep;
Our connections to The Spirit run long and deep.
Celebration, not suffering, is the way to draw others in;
Success in sharing The Spirit makes the best of friends.

"Poor Pagans" and Happy Holy Days

Whether we are Christians, Jews, or Atheists, we are all in awe of the power of light. This is the season for celebrating the miracle of light coming to us out of the darkness. In this holy season, Christians celebrate, not only the light of the sun, but the lightening of the burdens on our Spirits from our ancestral inheritance. We are told that we are no longer slaves to the mistakes of our fathers and mothers and all who came before them. We have been given a new beacon of The Spirit to guide us in creating our own chosen paths in The Eternal Light. Eternal, freely given, Divine Light is the reason for the season.

In taking all the focus of our holy days off of their original "pagan" (actual meaning is country dweller) meanings, we have lost sight of our Divine connection to our earth. The country dwellers I know and love, while most proudly proclaim their Christian religion, are very aware and in awe of the cycles of nature. It is a tragedy of immense proportions that so many modern humans have never anxiously awaited the sunlight after a long period of darkness. So many have never sought relief from the heat while sitting on the cool grass in the shade of a tree. So many have never dipped cool, sweet water pouring directly out of the earth from a mountain spring.

We have lost our connection to the earth. If we were to nurse a calf from gestation to adulthood, looking into his or her trusting eyes, would we not comfort him as we poured out the bull's life blood to give our families food? Would we not honor every drop of milk provided by the swollen udders of the crying cow? Would we not be in awe of the cycle that turns light, dirt, water and seed into grass, and finally into meat and milk? We've lost this with industrial agriculture. At least Kosher killing is purported to be humane.

I miss my my "pagan" friends when we're away from them. They have brought me back to the true meaning of life and Divinity. They have introduced me to the rich smell of a barn filled with garden-enriching manure, and the joy of a hand-hewn wood fire embracing me with warmth and light, as we break the depression of darkness of winter in each other's homes. They have allowed me to participate in the gathering of eggs from under their house-pet hens, and the fun of fertilizing a garden with what we scraped out of the hen's house.

We've watched them fell trees, mill their own lumber, and build houses with their own hands. We've walked the two hundred steps to the spring to bring back to the house a day's drinking water. Our "pagan" friends have shared secrets of waiting and preservation of today's good for tough times that are bound to come. They have regenerated my belief that life's greatest blessing is shared work in an environment that honors the natural cycles of nature, including each other. They have shared the immense faith it takes to keep working and patiently waiting.

I miss the sweet, cold water that comes out of our mountain ground and the eyes of the alpacas grazing at the bend in the road. I miss the dappled, weak winter light filtering through the immense hardwood trees. I miss the daily miracle of wood fires burning in our homes.Mostly, I miss the love and laughter than lightens all of our loads as we take life as it comes, good and bad, and make the most of it.

"Pagan" life isn't for sissies, and it is certainly not for those without The Holy Spirit to help them turn pain and pressure into production and light into life. Divinity is on this sweet, sad, sunny, stormy earth, in every morsel of creation. We simply need to learn to look for The Spirit and honor The Holy in all Their manifestations.

What is worship other than honor and awe in the Great Goodness that many call "God?" Perhaps the people we were taught to call "the poor pagans" weren't really worshiping many gods in all of nature; perhaps they were simply worshiping the Divine in each of the various manifestations in nature. Perhaps they aren't so "poor" as long as they can live off the land and The Light. What is wealth other than the ability to take a productive part in the miracles of life? City Christians have a lot to learn from the "poor pagans."

Jesus seems to have lived and died in honor of this life-style; this is why I consider him the Christ that I continue to attempt to emulate, usually with spotty success. I do celebrate his birth and life because I believe my soul would be dead without the love of others who walk in his example. Mostly, I celebrate the light of love than his Holy Spirit and those who follow his lead leave on earth to light the loads of others.

Happy Holy Days, whatever you may call your particular days of awe in the miracles of life-giving light that surround us on this earth.

Claims to Christianity

We are told that there are 2.1 billion Christians in the world, making Christianity the world's largest religion. But how many of these "Christians" were brought to The Annointed's way by The Spirit and how many of them by fear of the sword?

Gayle wrote in her blog OneBirdWatching.blogspot.com today about the 3,000 devout Jews who were gifted with assurance of the fire of The Holy Spirit on the Jewish holy day of Pentecost. They went forth and spread the joy that they had received with this graced group. 3,000 people on fire with joy and compassion for others would be a powerful force, but given the size of the world, it would take a long time for the new Fruits of Their Spirits to spread to all corners.

As seems to be the case with all groups since the dawn of humanity, competition set in. There became a contest to claim the conversion of the most souls. This competition was made greater by the conquering  of the Muslim world, at the point of a sword, for "Christ." I don't believe these were true conversions because they were not conversions by The Holy Spirit that moves from one to another, bringing joy. They were false conversions by fear.

We have continued to "claim" souls for "Christ," using methods that Jesus himself condemned during the hours before his own death. We must stop the race to bring others around to our ways in our own small lifetimes. We must strengthen our own resolve and faith to be able to continue to walk in The Spirit and hold ourselves and children fast to our beliefs, even if the world around us rejects us as "odd."

Only by reclaiming "Christianity" as a people of peaceful passion and compassion will we continue to "Be fruitful and multiply" the fire of The Holy Spirit for our generation and all that follow us. All who live in the light of The Holy Spirit are parts of the true Annointed One (The Christ), which I believe is actually all the people of The Spirit. "I am the vine, you are the branches" applies to all of these people from the beginning of time, no matter what "religion" they claim, or that has claimed them.

Civilized Society

The greatest tragedy in safety being breached in schools and churches is the destruction of the temples that we hold up as standards for protection of our society's innocent and vulnerable. Many children have nobody else to love them and make them feel that they are individually special.

When we look into the eyes of those who truly love us, we see a reflection of our own souls. Each one of us is "special" in the eyes of those who love us. This is not necessarily the look in the eyes of those who find us fascinating or fun, but in the eyes of those who really know us with all our weaknesses and wonders and fully love us from the inside out.

It was in third grade that I first felt special, not simply one of a pesky brood of nine. My teacher, Mrs. Bourgeois hand wrote on my report card that I was "sweet". I had never been called "sweet" before; I began to try very hard to live up to her belief in me. The teachers in my life were my emotional and spiritual salvation. All children are vulnerable, and so are their teachers and caregivers, by the act of putting the children in their care before themselves.

There are many in our society who have such injured or deadened souls that they are incapable of compassion. Some were born drug addicted or otherwise unloved before birth; some have had their souls destroyed by violence or neglect; some have deadened themselves with drugs. We cannot "cure" these people, as their capacity for loving and being loved is dead. We can only seek to contain them. We must protect the innocent from their wrath.

The mark of a civilized society, in my opinion, is how the strong band together to protect the vulnerable. It seems to me that we need less grandpas on the golf courses and more men in our school yards to keep our children and teachers from becoming prey.

This Little Light

Always remember that the light of a person's life, no matter how short that life, burns forever in the souls of all that were touched by that person. We should never seek "closure" on memories of our beloveds; our memories are their eternal light that we will pass on to others. Even children that die before birth, when joyfully anticipated, create an eternal spark in the parents that will never be extinguished.

I believe that the tragedy in our civilization is the rush to put aside pain because it makes those seeing it feel helpless in its face. How often do we tell people to simply "go on" with their grief instead of holding them in our arms while they weep?

When my mother-in-law was dying, nobody would admit we were losing her physical self. All the platitudes in the world about her being in a better place when she died did nothing to fill the empty spots where her large loving arms had enfolded me, where her great laughter had filled my ears, where my eyes had connected with her huge heart. I even missed the smell of her when she woke up to go to work.

How much greater the pain must be when we lose a person who was once actually a part of our own bodies.These are the physical wounds that nobody seems to see or feel. Our arms, eyes, noses, and ears are hurting. Only our memories can salve the pain.

When I'm walking in my garden of memories, I can feel, taste, touch, hear, and see my loved ones. The greatest thing a friend can do when I'm in grief is to walk through my memories with me, no matter how many times I revisit the same site. How lonely it is to forever walk in one's memories alone.