Alleluia-verse for the Virgin

Alleluia! lightburst from your untouched

womb like a flower

on the farther side

of death. The world-tree

is blossoming. Two

realms become one.

- Hildegard of Bingen, translated by Barbara Newman

Overshadowed by the Spirit

This is a meditation I read at the reflective service for Advent we had in St Mary’s on Tuesday. It was a good night. Darkness and candles. Prayers and Singing. And the lovely bellringers pealing out good news into the night at just the right moment. Complete serendipity.

Advent is a time of waiting. Of darkness and light.

Historically, Advent has been understood as a time to contemplate the last things – eschatology and our own mortality. But tonight I want to attend to another movement. Rather than mortality, let us consider our natality. Our birth.

The philosopher Hannah Arendt asks us to consider our role in creation. Our role is natality – we are all born. We are all someone’s child. And this attention to birth brings us to our creativity – our ability to begin anew. To begin again.

A Blessing

Just off the Highway to Rochester, Minnesota
Twilight bounds softly forth on the grass.
And the eyes of those two Indian ponies
Darken with kindness.
They have come gladly out of the willows
To welcome my friend and me.
We step over the barbed wire into the pasture
Where they have been grazing all day, alone.
They ripple tensely, they can hardly contain their happiness
That we have come.
They bow shyly as wet swans. They love each other.
There is no loneliness like theirs.
At home once more,
They begin munching the young tufts of spring in the darkness.
I would like to hold the slenderer one in my arms,
For she has walked over to me
And nuzzled my left hand.
She is black and white,
Her mane falls wild on her forehead,
And the light breeze moves me to caress her long ear
That is delicate as the skin over a girl’s wrist.
Suddenly I realize
That if I stepped out of my body I would break
Into blossom.

- James Wright

This poem may not be standard Advent fare, but I believe it holds much for us to ponder in this season of preparation. It speaks to me of vulnerability to love, the particularity of love, of transcience and eternity, of transformation.