Advent begins with words to a grieving people, people suffering the loss of loved ones who have died, who are exiled, who are displaced, who are shattered with hurting. When we are driven out of ourselves, when we have no place to rest, when we cannot catch our breath because of the next crisis, when we have daily struggles to survive, we are frequently driven away from our heart’s home and also from our sense of the Holy. Feeling at home means we know where we are, who we are, whose we are, and how we may use our gifts for goodness’ sake. Displaced, distracted, dislocated, exiled, grieving, we struggle to carry with us enough sense of home to stay loving, generous, compassionate, and connected with this planet and with one another.
How may we be ready, attentive, able to lean into and live faithfully when our sense of home and who we are is assaulted and eroded moment by moment? One response some have is to pass that hurt along, to lash out, to add to suffering. Misery loves company: when I’m feeling terrible and angry and snapping and unable to be at home with myself wherever I am then I can easily lose track of how others are also in that moment, other than wanting all of us to be miserable.
But there is another response we can cultivate, one that doesn’t increase grief and oppression. This other response invites into returning to, holding onto, and deepening our sense of Abiding Love, the heart of who we are and the best of how we can be, the place of renewal and rest in the Ground of Being, the home even when we do not know where physical home is or that refuge has been shattered.
First, though, we must be aware of how we ourselves are feeling. The first act of finding my lost self is to be aware that I’m flighty with a heart like a trapped bird, that I’m tired, that I’m feeling dislocated or deeply sad and angry. Once we have the tiny space of that awareness, we may breathe into it with the kind of prayer or meditation that we discover through practice and trial and error calls us back in Abiding Love to home wherever we are. That may be silent meditation or prayer, poetry or sacred words, dancing or movement meditation, breathing in the air outside and touching the earth, organizing and acting for justice, or some other prayerful action. For me, the fastest route to returning to a sense of Abiding Love is song. Even when I had no vocal control (for several silent years) the songs were alive in my heart and on my breath. The song I sing most frequently? The Lone Wild Bird, written by H.R. MacFayden
The lone, wild bird in lofty flight is still with thee, nor leaves thy sight.
And I am thine! I rest in thee.
Great Spirit come and rest in me.
Once we can find ourselves in Abiding Love, a sense of home no matter what else is happening no matter how horrible, we have enough heart to find one another. We can tend each other’s hurts, start organizing to resist and overturn oppression, and cultivate lives of love, generosity, and compassion wherever we are. Resting when we need in Abiding Love opens us once again to being ready for what love needs us to do today: to tend the vulnerable, to welcome strangers even when others refuse to welcome us, to act for justice, mercy and love nurturing and drawing forth the very liberation we yearn for and need in the world, beginning with our own hearts.
Beloved, may we welcome Abiding Love wherever we are and wherever we go, open heartedly bringing the gifts we have to work for goodness’ sake, to stop, reduce, and ease the suffering that is in our world. Amen.
