Tag Archives: Holy Land

Thin Places

A Sermon for 26 August 2018

A reading of Psalm 84.  Listen for God’s word to us in this beautiful Psalm believed to be inspired by pilgrims’ annual journeys to Jerusalem for Temple festivals.  Listen.

“How lovely is your dwelling place, O Lord of hosts!  My soul longs, indeed it faints for the courts of the Lord; my heart and my flesh sing for joy to the living God.  Even the sparrow finds a home, and the swallow a nest for herself, where she may lay her young, at your altars, O Lord of hosts, my King and my God.  Happy are those who live in your house, ever singing your praise.  Happy are those whose strength is in you, in whose heart are the highways to Zion.   6 As they go through the valley of Baca they make it a place of springs; the early rain also covers it with pools.  They go from strength to strength; the God of gods will be seen in Zion.  O Lord God of hosts, hear my prayer; give ear, O God of Jacob!  Behold our shield, O God; look on the face of your anointed.  10 For a day in your courts is better than a thousand elsewhere.  I would rather be a doorkeeper in the house of my God than live in the tents of wickedness.  11 For the Lord God is a sun and shield; God bestows favor and honor.  No good thing does the Lord withhold from those who walk uprightly.  12 O Lord of hosts, happy is everyone who trusts in you.”

This is the word of God for the people of God.  Thanks be to God!

I’ve been told that Ireland is beautiful!  Some of you likely have been there.  I never have.  . . .  Rolling hills along rugged coasts.  Green everywhere you look.  Wild weather often blows in off the Atlantic.  And ancient stones sit all over the land.  For those unwilling to appreciate the beauty of nature, it might just seem like a country filled with piles of old rocks.  Others find the land palpable with Presence.  Hallowed spaces where it feels as if heaven and earth meet.  The Ancient Celts called such spots thin places.  In fact, a Celtic saying proclaims that “heaven and earth are only three feet apart, but in thin places that distance is even shorter” (quoted on https://www.irishamericanmom.com/irelands-thin-places/).  From stone circles in places like County Cork to the massive Grianan Stone Ring Fort in County Donegal, thin places teach us that some locations on earth are closer to the spiritual.  Thin places are where God’s Presence is more accessible.

Listen to one passionate Irish American describe her experience of Ireland’s thin places:  “These places bring feelings and emotions, realizations and awareness to the fore.  It is as if the line between all that is sacred and human meet for just a moment.  There is something otherworldly in the atmosphere, transcendent, even divine.  Other dimensions seem closer than usual.  There is a tangible stillness to the silence” (Ibid.).  She continues:  “In a thin place something beyond words causes our spines to tingle, as if awakening our souls.  Even our thoughts seem to be swept away in the moment, and something deep within our beings touches a luminous seat of knowledge.  . . . Returning from a thin place is marked by a feeling of refreshment and renewal.  Our awareness of the world around us becomes heightened” (Ibid.).  She also writes about the lasting effects of being in a thin place.  “In days, weeks, and years to come;” she writes, “memories of sacred landscapes help us see glimpses of nature and the Divine in the chaotic world around our urban existences.  The prayerfulness of these little corners of earth urge us to return to them in our imagination when we cannot physically visit them again.  When overwhelmed by the monotony of daily life, the tedious details of work and living” she writes; “we can listen to our hearts and hear the silent music of thin places.  Our souls guide us back to the peaceful presence of those ancient stones and help us draw strength from the peace and serenity of our thin place experiences” (Ibid.).

“How lovely is your dwelling place, O LORD of hosts,” the Psalmist writes (Ps. 84:1).  “My soul longs, indeed it faints for the courts of the LORD!” (Ps. 84:2a).  Psalm 84 might be one of the most beautiful scriptural descriptions of a pilgrim’s experience of a thin place.  It’s unlikely that most of us consider the Temple in Jerusalem as a thin place.  But what else do we think the people of God had been describing?  Since the days of Moses and the wandering Israelites dwelling with the tabernacle of God among them, Scripture is filled with stories of the people of God experiencing the palpable Presence of Heaven coming ever so close to earth.  Of course, the Presence was on the move in the Ark of the Covenant until King Solomon finally had the go ahead to have massive stones moved together on Mount Zion.  The Temple was raised on the mount in Jerusalem for the Sacred to fill the atmosphere.  To bring the other dimension of the Divine closer to human beings.  To cause our spines to tingle.  To awaken our souls and be swept up beyond all rational thought for something deep within ourselves to be touched by the Luminous.  That we might know, truly know, that the One who is beyond us also is among us.  The thin place of the Temple had that kind of effect – not only because the of grandeur of the structure.  But also because it was there worshippers had experienced the wonder-filled meeting of heaven and earth.

A few years ago, when I arrived in the Holy Land with a group of fellow pilgrims; we were told to suspend suspicion over sites we would see being factually in the actual spot where the events might have taken place.  I think I’ve told you this before.  We were reminded that everywhere we were going in that land was where Jesus of Nazareth had walked.  For people of faith, it all was hallowed ground.  And it was hallowed not just by his previous physical presence.  Part of what makes the Holy Land holy is the power of the prayers pilgrims have brought to each spot for thousands of years – from our earliest Israelite ancestors in the faith right up to the worldwide Christian visitors of today.  The land pulses with a Presence – an energy – a Living Presence that feels like an intersection, a thinner veil between heaven and earth.  The Holy Land is full of such spots – though the hustle and bustle of busloads of other pilgrims can make it difficult to notice.  Tough to be quiet in order to hear the silent music of God.  Our hearts and our flesh able to join the Psalmist in singing for joy to the living God (Ps. 84:2b).  It’s just easier to experience God there – for emotions and realizations and awareness to bubble up to the surface so that we want to remain right there forever.

The destruction the of Temple a few decades after Jesus’ death and resurrection might have brought an end to the glory of that building.  But it did not bring an end to the mystical quality of that space.  The stones of the remaining Western Wall – also known as the Wailing Wall – still hold the power of the Divine Presence.  Millions flock there annually to make their wishes as they touch the ancient rock and shove their little prayer papers into whatever crevice they can find in the wall.  Scores of observant Jews (watched by curious spiritual seekers) gather late each Friday afternoon.  Men on one side, women on the other.  They begin the beautiful ritual of preparing for the Sabbath with prayers and songs and joyous dances.  I remember being there, watching one Friday.  And seeing that even the birds were gathered.  Right over the heads of worshippers sparrows and holy pigeons joined with their happy sounds.

I realize this spot (this sanctuary) isn’t anywhere as ancient as the holy spots of Jerusalem or the stone circles of Ireland, but I wonder if any of us notice the palpable Presence here?  So that we long to be here – in this sanctuary – ever singing God’s praise?  When we gather here together, we are saturated by the prayers of the generations.  Their hopes and fears and celebrations.  We are surrounded by the power of ancient ritual.  The sprinkling of water as a sign and seal.  The breaking of bread.  The cup poured out in reminder that our own life-force is to be as freely given for life in the world today.  Hearts attuned.  Voices lifted up.  Hands folded or outstretched.  For years.  The Presence awakening our souls in this thin place that we might go forth refreshed.  Renewed.  Dare I say:  for us to remember that the lovely place in which God dwells is here and is within every last one of us too.  Who long to be together in the Presence of the Living God – like batteries recharged – so that we spread out into homes and neighborhoods and places of daily work to be like walking thin places.  People in whom heaven and earth – Spirit and flesh – intersect.  Creating an atmosphere – not on our own accord but because we’ve gotten ourselves out of the way enough for the Spirit of God, the Light of Christ to shine right through us.  That palpable Presence going forth from us to renew the hearts of those who cross our paths.  Refreshing toilsome souls that long for a taste of the Light.  . . .  Thin places – walking all over the earth for God’s Presence to be a little more accessible to all.

May our lives proclaim how lovely is God’s dwelling place!  May our hearts sing for joy for the palpable Presence of the Living God!

In the name of the life-giving Father, the life-redeeming Son, and the life-sustaining Spirit, Amen.

© Copyright JMN – 2018  (All rights reserved.)


Boating with Jesus

A Sermon for 24 June 2018


A reading from the gospel of Mark 4:35-41.  Listen for God’s word to us.

“On that day, when evening had come, he said to them, “Let us go across to the other side.”  36 And leaving the crowd behind, they took him with them in the boat, just as he was.  Other boats were with him.  37 A great windstorm arose, and the waves beat into the boat, so that the boat was already being swamped.  38 But he was in the stern, asleep on the cushion; and they woke him up and said to him, “Teacher, do you not care that we are perishing?”  39 He woke up and rebuked the wind, and said to the sea, “Peace!  Be still!”  Then the wind ceased, and there was a dead calm.  40 He said to them, “Why are you afraid?  Have you still no faith?”  41 And they were filled with great awe and said to one another, ‘Who then is this, that even the wind and the sea obey him?’”

This is the word of God for the people of God.  Thanks be to God!


A few years ago, I was on a boat.  Growing up on Lake Michigan, I’d often been on our boat.  Fishing with dad.  Messing around summer afternoons with my sister as we rowed out beyond second sandbar.  Relaxing with friends in the quiet offshore.  Boats are nothing new to me – likely they’re not to some of you too.  Canoes.  House Boats.  Ocean liners.  I’ve pretty much experienced them all.  The boat I was on in 2014 was not only unexpected.  It ended up to be kinda ironic.  I was on a pilgrimage as the culmination of my work for a Certificate in Christian Spiritual Formation through Columbia Seminary.  We were in the Holy Land.  Staying in a wonderful inn in the city of Tiberias.  When we loaded the bus one morning, we drove north then east to the entrance of a boat launch.  We walked through a museum housing the remains of a First Century fishing boat which at last was recovered from the sea in 1986.  Finally, we got ourselves on board the much sturdier, modern tour boat.  The captain powered up the motor.  And away we went for a ride on the Sea of Galilee.

Never before had I been to the Holy Land.  On the other side of the world.  Reflecting with every step upon story after story I had known since I was young.  It was amazingly eye-opening to actually see the places the stories mentioned:  Capernaum, Nazareth, Bethlehem, the Jordan River, Jerusalem, and, of course, the Sea of Galilee around which Jesus spent so much of his ministry.  I’ll never forget that Galilee boat ride.  Because no sooner did we get out into the middle of what seemed to me to be a pretty small lake; after all, it’s nothing like Lake Michigan where all you see is sandy beaches and blue water the whole way to the horizon.  But there we were.  In the middle of that eight-mile-wide lake alongside Tiberias when the wind switched.  Dark clouds rolled in.  And a storm overtook the sea.  Moments before my fellow pilgrims had been standing at the boat’s edge, looking to Tiberias on one end of the sea, Capernaum on another, the southern side of the lake from which the Jordan River flows, the eastern cliffs believed to be the spot the demon-possessed pigs jumped off into the sea.  Then suddenly the wind whipped up.  The waves thrashed about.  The rain pounded down upon us and that little boat.  The captain was panicked.  Barking orders for us to sit down fast.  He did a 180 to promptly cut our sea cruise short – worried not so much about our safety, but of the fate of his livelihood; his precious touring boat.  Inching ever so slowly through the chopping water in hopes we’d make it safely back to shore, we were presented with a few moments to ponder just what it must have been like to be out there on a boat much smaller and more fragile than our captain’s sturdy vessel.  According to the story as record in the gospel of Mark:  in the middle of night.  After a long day of hearing story upon story about God’s kingdom.  Only to find Jesus – the charismatic teacher who had been inspiring his little ban of followers – snug in the stern.  Asleep in the back of the boat!

Boats offer intriguing experiences, wouldn’t you say?  What could be better than speeding across the water, skimming the wake, escaping the heat of summer – good friends and family all around?  Boats offer the tranquility of lazily floating down a river.  Or cruising a mighty ocean.  Boats can be as simple as a single-person kayak, as tough as an industrial barge, or as sleek as an elegant yacht.  It’s hard to escape others once you step foot upon a boat.  From the steadiness needed by all in a little row boat to the teamwork it requires to sail one from shore to shore.  Even the largest ship reminds we’re all in it together if suddenly something like an iceberg buckles the starboard side.

Almost from the beginning, boats have been a symbol of the church.  Perhaps you’ve seen sanctuaries built to the glory of God with rugged vaulted ceilings made of exposed wooden beams, intentionally fashioned to resemble the reversed look of a boat’s keel.  The architecture of many cathedrals contains what’s called transepts – the part of the building extending north to south like the horizontal beam of the cross.  The transepts run between the parts of the building called the chancel area and the part of the building called the nave, from the Latin word navis.  As in navy, naval.  Ship.  Some liturgies for baptism even include these words:  “’Received into the ark of Christ’s Church . . . may’” (the baptized) “’so pass the waves of this troublesome world’ as finally to ‘come to the land of everlasting life.’  . . .  It’s been written that “The nave, then, (represents) the Church into which God, in (God’s) love gathers us together in order to bring us in safety through the storms of life” (http://biblehub.com/library/regester/the_worship_of_the_church/symbolism_of_the_church_building.htm).  Like Noah and the two-by-two animals that made their way into the big boat right before the rains began.  The Church is the boat of God that holds us all.  And like Noah and all the animals in the big boat, it’s important to remember.  It might get a little stinky inside; but it sure beats drowning outside the ark alone in life’s flood waters.  One source writes of the boat of the Church as “tossed on the sea of disbelief, worldliness, and persecution but finally reaching safe harbor with its cargo of human souls” (Dr. Ralph F. Wilson, http://www.jesuswalk.com/christian-symbols/ship.htm).

It’s been an interesting week to be reflecting upon the story of the boat that holds the sleeping Christ.  How often do we feel like the battered little boat of disciples wishing Jesus would wake up to save us in the churning sea of today’s world?  It might be helpful to know one commentator’s take on why Jesus was able to sleep through the storm on the boat.  In Feasting on the Gospels, Thomas D. Stegman, writes:  “Jesus’ untroubled sleep shows forth his deep, abiding trust in God’s power and protection.  It also recalls the sleep of the farmer in the parable Jesus just told (4:26-29), the sleep that faithfully awaits God’s creative work of nurturing the growth of the field and bringing it to harvest” (Feasting on the Gospels:  Mark; Westminster John Know Press, 2014.  p. 143).  Might we too be a little boat of disciples, holding the sleeping Christ?  Untroubled, he is with us amid the storm.  Awaiting God’s creative work.

It certainly seemed like it when I read this week of the work of the part of God’s boat called the Presbyterian Church (U.S.A.).  Perhaps you followed along too.  As the biennial gathering of our national governing body, the General Assembly, met in St. Louis; I was in awe to see what the part of God’s boat called the PCUSA has been up to.  Of course, the week included vigorous debate like that over whether or not to charge the Board of Pensions to stop investing pastor’s pensions in companies who knowingly are doing further harm to the environment.  It also included money of the church being restricted to help repair Native American churches.  And passing an overture about possibly adopting as a confession to be added to our Book of Confessions Martin Luther King, Jr.’s “Letter from a Birmingham City Jail.”  At one point in the week, a young adult attender rose to tell the whole assembly how proud he is to be a part of a denomination that has been becoming more welcoming and affirming for all.  Then, in the very next breath; he came out to everyone there only to be immediately swarmed by a huge group hug (https://marciglass.com/2018/06/21/proud-to-be-presbyterian/).  The week also included something I’ve never before seen reported from GA.  On Tuesday about 400 Presbyterians left the convention hall in St. Louis to march over to the Justice Center with an offering of $47,000.  The money was raised to pay the bail of nearly 3 dozen non-violent offenders charged with things possession of marijuana and public disturbance.  Some have been held for up to a year because they have not been able to scrape together the cash-only required bail needed to release them from jail.  Presbyterians not only gathered to worship and study and debate.  We gathered to serve, as did high schoolers of the Hands and Feet initiative who tagged along from their Presbyterian Churches in Kentucky and Arkansas to do mission work in Ferguson.  The trip was planned in conjunction with the General Assembly gathering so Presbyterians intentionally would bring a positive impact to the St. Louis area (p. 5 of https://issuu.com/pcusa_oga/docs/ga223_news_day_6?e=33600028/62576572).  We gathered to serve the underserved in a racially torn town and ensure the release of captives.  We gathered to amend wrongs of the past and embrace a hopeful future for the least and lost among us.  Somewhere I read of a charge from the General Assembly for all Presbyterians to “live up to the qualities reflected in the PCUSA’s acronym:  Prayerful, Courageous, United, Serving, and Alive” (p. 3 of https://issuu.com/pcusa_oga/docs/ga223_news_day_6?e=33600028/62576572).  At work today!  Members of God’s boat with a trusting Christ asleep among us.  For he already sees in action God’s creative work!

In the name of the life-giving Father, the life-redeeming Son, and the life-sustaining Spirit, Amen.

© Copyright JMN – 2018  (All rights reserved.)


Pilgrimage Remembrances #1

It’s been a year — almost to the date.  And so, I’m revisiting the trip.  Quite a journey!  My pilgrimage to the Holy Land in Lent 2014.  One year later, my journal entries take me back.  I hope they give insight and meaning to your Lenten season this year.

Bread on our Journeys!


8 March 2014:  So a new day.  Yesterday was so amazing!  (I’m one day behind on my posts of the pilgrimage, so just enjoy what is shared here!)

A View of Magdala and the Valley Road (or Valley of Doves) from Mount Arbel.  (Jesus' route from home in Nazareth to the Sea of Galilee).

A View of Magdala and the Valley Road (or Valley of Doves) from Mount Arbel. (Jesus’ route from home in Nazareth to the Sea of Galilee).

Tabgha:  The Multiplication of the Loaves and Fish.

Tabgha: The Multiplication of the Loaves and Fish.


So many incredible moments here (in Galilee on 7 March 2014)!  Such a beautiful country.  And so moving to contemplate where Jesus grew up and played and rested and called and taught and healed and replenished himself with Peter and his friends and family.  The backdrop of his life — this geography — is amazing!  The meeting place of all the nations for rest is where he made his home during much of his ministry:  Capernaum in the home of Peter.  Capernaum, one of the wealthiest and largest towns in Galilee in his day, was at the northeast corner of Galilee.  The meeting place of all nations — Jordan and Syria and Israel!  It had to be a huge influence on his understanding of God being about peace — unity.  Harmony with one another no matter what.  The judgment that was in him was discernment based on that SHALOM.  That absolute, wide-expanse of love!

A View at Capernaum from the Sea of Galilee to the Synagogue -- Peter's home (not pictured) between the two.

A View at Capernaum from the Sea of Galilee to the Synagogue — Peter’s home (not pictured) between the two.

Sea of Galilee from the Mount of the Beatitudes.  "And Jesus said, 'Blessed are the peacemakers; for they will be called children of God'." (Matthew 5:9)

Sea of Galilee from the Mount of the Beatitudes. “And Jesus said, ‘Blessed are the peacemakers; for they will be called children of God’.” (Matthew 5:9)

And now . . .  onto the Sea of Galilee!

So here we are on a boat on the Sea of Galilee! And the waves are a’rocken. But they were fishermen – on this very water! Certainly they experienced rough waters on this little lake before. I guess they weren’t all fishermen. So I could see how they were afraid.

The Sea of Galilee.

The Sea of Galilee.

(Later): As it turned out, we had to cut our boat ride short because a storm from the south suddenly swept in. Rain started – great big pellet kind of drops. It seemed the boat captain was afraid. He didn’t want us stuck out there. Neither did he want us (or his boat) injured!

A sudden storm began.  8 March 2014.

A sudden storm began. 8 March 2014.

When the storm started, I immediately was taken back to the last cruise I had been on. As we set sail on the ocean, that huge ship started rocking. I was on a massage table at the time – a bon voyage discount. I remember fighting it at first. Then relaxing into the waves – rocking with the water instead of against it. Deepening myself in trust. In those moments, I grew certain that the God who created the universe — the God who created me — held us all. Held me. . . . No matter the storms that blow. No matter how much that boat today on the Sea of Galilee was rocking, we were held. No need to fear. I totally can imagine Jesus falling asleep in that trust. Secure. Because gently the waves remind us that God holds us through it all. In tender love, in strong bonds that never, ever, ever will let us go. Gently we can relax into the gift of those rocking waves — those sudden storms of life.

O you of little faith, why EVER do you fear?

God, hold me each step of the way.

First Century boat excavated from the Sea of Galilee.

First Century boat excavated from the Sea of Galilee.

And now: onto the Church of the Primacy of Peter.  “Then Peter said,

  ‘I am going fishing . . .’” (John 21)

Lord, after your resurrection, here it was you came – as a surprise – to greet your wayward disciples. To feed them. To love them. To get them ready to be sent. What did they feel in those moments after your horrible death and rumored resurrection? What did they think? Were they ready? Did they believe themselves equipped?

You Lord, you as the Risen Christ, came to them – as surprise. Unrecognized at first. And to them you said: “Come. Eat. Be nourished. Now go in our love for one another. It’s not just about me — or for me. It’s for the benefit of my sheep. Go: feed them. Tend them. Love them. Show them.”

The Church of the Primacy of Peter (where the Risen Christ fed his disciples on the beach on the Sea of Galilee).

The Church of the Primacy of Peter (where the Risen Christ fed his disciples on the beach on the Sea of Galilee).

So easily we can be distracted. Caught up in that which is around us. Nearly trampled by that which is other than your command to serve. Yet you show up.  . . .  After you feed us, you send us. And it’s not just a one-time taste meant to fill us up for good. Not a one-time meal and that’s enough. Instead: over and over again. It’s a cycle. “Rest with me as you eat. Feed. Now go. . . . Eat. Feed. Go. Eat. Feed. Go.”

From this beach you sent them on a journey in which they would never ever be the same. From here you send us all on a journey to be changed. To change. To falter and then to get back up again – like you after crucifixion: again (thanks be to God) you stood up!

8 March 2014 - at Primacy of Peter, Sea of Galilee.

8 March 2014 – at Primacy of Peter, Sea of Galilee.

This might as well be the beach called Genesis: the start of new beginnings. This might as well be my spot. A fresh start. A re-freshed beginning.

Thank you God for the food of this place. The nourishment of fellow pilgrims who also are sent to serve on your behalf in this world. Thank you for simple gifts: remembrance. Bread. Wine. Vision. Beautiful inspiration. A chance to hear and begin again.

Lord, you did not shame them in their distraction – their return to fishing after your death. In their fear. In their doubt:  you met them where they had wandered. Then you simply asked: “Is there love in that heart for me? . . .  That is enough!  Go: feed others who need the same kind of sustenance for their walk in this world. I will be with you. I will surprise. I will be revealed. I will provide. It shall be enough.”

The Lord's Table at the Primacy of Peter, Galilee; 8 March 2014.

The Lord’s Table at the Primacy of Peter, Galilee; 8 March 2014.

All shall be well . . . thanks be to God!


(Copyright JMN-2015. All rights reserved.)

Life from the Shepherds’ Field

In March of this year, I had the amazing opportunity to travel to the Holy Land for a two week pilgrimage.  Never could I imagine how incredible the experience would be — how deeply it would move my spirit and expand my understanding of Jesus, the Christ — and the faith he was about.  Included here are reflections I wrote during quiet moments at various holy sites along with what I tried to capture in photo.  May these thoughts increase your trust in the Holy One, who is Love to all forevermore!


O God, here I lie in the Shepherds’ Field.
On two big rocks – two of the very rocks they might have rested on as well.
It’s a great place to rest for the night. Overlooking the valley between here and Bethlehem. It’s a great place to ponder life. My hopes. My dreams. My limitations. I expect many a shepherd has rested here too underneath this great expanse of sky, pondering the same of their lives: their hopes. Their dreams. Their limitations.

15891040When suddenly! You amaze! You overwhelm! You SURPRISE!!!

Exceeding joy at such good news! That from this day forward NOTHING ever shall be the same! Of course, I’m terrified, as I’m sure they too were. But grateful. For this spot reminds that life doesn’t just have to be the hum drum of tending, day in and day out. Chilly frightful nights and long hot days. Parched. Longing perhaps for something more . . . The words form: Thank you! Thank you! Thank you! . . . This place asks: what gift shall I be because of it? . . . Great and exceeding joy! Hope embodied! Possibility! Hallelujah! Amen!

Writing Later that day:

The Shepherds’ Field was wonder-filled! I could totally imagine being there. Busy with my everyday life and everyday concerns. Perhaps wondering if this was how it’d always be – cold stones underneath. Stinky, needy sheep all around. Tending and watching and just passing time as I learned my family’s trade. . . . Until that fate-filled night. Suddenly my every other day was shattered. Surprised in an instant. I’m sure I’d be terrified! Because nothing again would be the same. I’d been summoned to see something miraculous and the wonder of it all certainly would work upon me. I’m not sure I’d be allowed to leave the same. I’m not sure I’d want to. I think I’d want to believe. Have hope. Trust that it all was true. Gloria en excelsis! Immanuel, the LORD our God is with us! . . .
If I never believed before, I think I’d start. I hope I would. Having been there with that baby, that mother and father in the cave, locked out of everywhere else for fear she’d make them all unclean. And yet with such courage they brought that child into the world. With such bravery they stood together for one another. I’d like to think that all would have had an impact upon me. That that gift: God’s gift to be present to us – to me – would ready me to be a gift in return!

On the eve of that birth, may you reflect upon the gift you will be in return!

Merry Christmas All!