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As solstice approaches, the Rev. Catharine Clarenbach asks, “What does darkness bring?”
Darkness is the cave, the (literal) foxhole, the place of hibernation. And how many of us want to hibernate at this time of year? . . . Darkness is the closed eye. The sleeping eye. The eye of the kiss, of wanting to feel only the beloved’s lips and skin, and so dropping your eyelids to rest on your cheek. . . .
But it’s also soil microbes and worms and bugs in the deep Earth that keeps us alive. And it’s the deep, dark places of the sea, some of which we have never plumbed, places no human has been. . . .
Darkness at solstice . . . is about the close and holy Darkness of the turning Wheel. It is about being together. (The Way of the River, December 13)
A month after the election, Claire Curole reports on the state of her heart.
My heart—small wild thing that it is, with flashing eyes—has gone to ground, disappeared into a tangled thicket of branches and old roots, wary and invisible, silently observing a world that has once again demonstrated its pervasive untrustworthiness and inherent danger. (Sand Hill Diary, December 10)
Andrew Hidas weaves together quotes from Donald Trump and lyrics from Bob Dylan’s song, “A Hard Rain’s A-Gonna Fall.” (Traversing, December 15)
Hidas also explores the conflict between how he thinks and how he feels about Dylann Roof’s fate.
Should we forgive a person like him and turn that forgiveness into sparing his life?
And does that sparing in some fundamental sense spare our own lives from the depravity that inherently accompanies the taking of human life, whatever the circumstance?
An “eye for an eye,” or “seventy times seven?”
Even the Bible is confused and contradictory on the matter. Little wonder that we stay as deeply troubled as we are.
Or at least as I am.
Dylann Roof should die.
Or should he? (Traversing, December 10)
With so many competing claims on our attention and effor t, Christine Slocum remembers being spared by a massive snowstorm, while her neighbors struggled to dig themselves out from the snow.
There is utility in being aware and calm in being able to surrender to your limits.
Most of the time we’ll be staring at the metaphoric Lake Effect Cloud dumping snow somewhere else.
Sometimes it’ll be in our own yard.
Know where the snow is.
Know when you’re the person to pull out the shovel.
Know when you’re the person to pay the taxes. (A few words here and there, December 14)
The Rev. Phillip Lund encourages congregations to consider using the first 100 days of the new administration to develop a counter-agenda, one that helps us create the world we hope to see. (Phillip Lund, December 15)
The Rev. Dawn Cooley posts acts of #DailyResistance on her personal Facebook Page, including one where she thanks the Department of Energy for refusing to participate in a Climate Scientist Registry. (Speaking of, December 14)
The Rev. Tony Lorenzen attempts to teach Donald Trump how to tweet more responsibly.
Twitter, like any tool, can be used for good or ill. So far, Trump knows only how to use it to hurt, intimidate and harass. I am providing Trump some examples of how 140 characters can be used to teach, heal, build up, and inspire. I was Inspired by James Martin, SJ who told Krista Tippett on On Being that he responded to someone who thought his social media work demeaned the Gospel by tweeting the Beatitudes, all of which come in under 140 characters. (Sunflower Chalice, December 9)
The Rev. Krista Taves points out the relevance of this season’s holy days of Solstice, Hannukah and Christmas.
[At] this time, when the menacing forces of empire threaten to gather their strength to steal the dignity and worth of the last bastions of the people’s power, let’s turn to the rich teachings of these faith traditions. We need them more than ever. (Facebook, December 14)