We are all called to be mothers of God, for God is always waiting to be born. — Meister Eckart, 1260 – 1327 She enters our Decembers with an angel, gloriously winged, who honors her. The moment is spellbinding: we are entranced by the arrival of this woman, Mary, on the stage of Christmas and in the story of God. And the angel honors her: Hail Mary, full of grace . . . . Is the angel bowing – kneeling – looking... Read more
What is the alchemy for making flesh from stone? In mid rant, John insists God can do this, and will, if we do not transform our stony selves into living children of God. God will not go childless into oblivion, John shouts. So, how do you turn a stone into a child? John says, tears and generosity can do it. Then, for good measure, he threatens axes and winnowing forks if we fail, if we grow wooden, or choke with... Read more
Advent 2 Ignorant of whatever angel may choose to flare suddenly at my elbow, I only know that a rook, ordering its black feathers, can so shine as to seize my senses and grant a brief respite from fear. –Sylvia Plath Wildman John leaps into Advent’s second Sunday, taking my breath away with his matted black dreadlocks, that camel skin he wraps around his bony body, gnarled bare feet sticking out below. His eyes seize me the way his rough... Read more
The Bite in the Apple
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