Oh Holy Night
So, people have been wondering where I’ve been at lately, blog-wise. It’s been a rollercoaster folks, I tell ya. The end of the school year. Two rounds of chicken pox. Wonderful visits from out of town friends. Very sick grandparents knocking on the portal to a new life. A five year old’s birthday. And of course, Solstice.
The Summer Solstice is about as big as it gets around here. We have three siginifcant holy seasons at Monkfish Abbey: Advent, Lent, and Solstice and all three of them are all about light. The light arrives, the light goes out, the light returns. I write about light a lot, and I think about it even more. It’s one of my most universally friendly terms for “God,” and one of the most inspirational metaphors for living. So this Season of Light – which for us includes Easter and Eastertide, Pentecost, May Day, and the Summer Solstice – is both significant and celebratory. I adore it.
Unfortunately all that celebrating makes for busy days, and as much as I wish I was able to document and flesh out all the fleeting blogworthy thoughts that have come to me (or been said to me) in the past few weeks, I cannot. However, I can share with you what we did last week at Monkfish, as it was very solstice-y and very full of light.
For this year’s solstice celebration we decided to throw a party. The week before we prepared by making beaded candle holders out of old jars. (Ah the sermon topics there! My inner evangelical salivates!) Then we invited all our neighbors.
The night of the party we set out all the food and all the candles and I said this (in lieu of our regular communion-and-prayer kick off.)
In our house, it’s our tradition to gather around the table each week to remember. You probably have this habit too…remembering what happened at work, at school…remembering what you are looking forward to this weekend…remembering some of the hard things that have passed by you and through you in your day-to-day. We remember our highs and lows, places of light and darkeness, love and love’s absence. The table is a really good place for that.
For us, in our house, we always have bread and wine at our remembering table. For some of us it reminds us of Jesus – it helps us remember that he spent much of his time around the table, sharing bread and wine and conversation. He seemed to think this was important, and we think it is important too.
For others this bread and wine reminds us to be grateful, to live, in the wise words of that great sage Oprah…with an “attitude of gratitude.” We see these staples and we think, “Ah, thank goodness. We have what we need.” We see the bread and wine and we know that for tonight, everyone can join in, everyone can have enough.
For some of us all the bits of grain in this loaf and all the grapes crushed into this cup remind us that we are all part of one great family–birthed of one mother, co-exisiting in a common community. We look at these simple earthy foods and we remember that we belong together.
But regardless of who or what is a part of your story, we all have good reason to come together tonight. Tonight we have something special to remember. (Wendy’s story.) Tonight we remember the Sun, and for all of us who live in Seattle, we know that seeing the sun is definitely a reason to celebrate! So tonight we celebrate the Summer Solstice–the longest days and the shortest nights.
An increase in light, and weakening of darkness.
It is my hope for each of you that light will dominate your world in these coming weeks and months.
That the moments of darkness will be far outnumbered by the presence of light.
That when you gather around the table in your homes, you will be able to remember light, and love, and the sun.
And I hope that next year, we’ll see each other here again and remember that the world spins, and the tide turns, and the nights grow shorter, and regardless of our will or our work, this gift of light returning happens over and over and over again.
Then I went around the circle and gave each person one of those long fireplace matches and a piece of bread from the loaf. I paused at each person and read one line from this prayer and blessing (see below) until I made it all the way around the table. Then folks were welcome to dish up dinner and those who wanted to practice communion could dip their piece of bread in the chalice at the center of the table.
I was nervous to do this distinct of a ceremony with such mixed group-o-folks. But it felt really right at the time and I was glad that I went for it. Later, one of my neighbors said that she really liked the ceremony. “I haven’t done anything like that in a long time…I used to…and it was nice to do it again.” Ahhhhhh!
Special thanks to Jennifer R. who emailed me this very perfect prayer from staions of the light.
Namaste!
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Go Now My Friend
My friend
You are sent to be
Light-bearer
Bread-giver
To bear in your eyes the light that has broken
Through the darkness and pain of your journey
So that others may find their way to their destiny:
To carry in your hands the warm bread
You have kneaded in love
So that others may be fed to fullness
Go now, my friend
Light the candle
Consume the the bread
And become…
Bread
Candle.
(Brother Thomas More Page)
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May the blessing of light be on you
light without and light within.
May the blessed sunlight shine on you like a great peat fire,
so that stranger and friend may come and warm himself at it.
And may light shine out of the two eyes of you, like a candle set in the window of a house, bidding the wanderer come in out of the storm.
And may the blessing of the rain be on you, may it beat upon your Spirit and wash it fair and clean, and leave there a shining pool where the blue of Heaven shines, and sometimes a star.
So may the light greet you, so may it dwell within you, so may it shine out of you.So may it ever be.
Amen.
God birthed us. God loves us. God feeds us. Amen.
rachelle
thank you
thanks for taking the time to record and share
i am encouraged and ‘lightened’
kelly
this is one of the things you should put in that secret book.
what a lovely gathering…thanks for sharing it!
again, your innovation, creativity and willing to risk new ways of incarnating Christ challenge and bless me. I love the emphasis on light, which is such a precious commodity in Seattle, and so rich and full this time of year. soak it in…
thanks for sharing this beautiful remembering…
Oh, my, this is beautiful.
I just copied your invocation and emailed it to a friend who I think would get a lot out of it. I love what you do with the various symbolisms of bread and wine.