Lent Day 39. Would I?

In this last week of Lent, here is a favorite poem of mine by Zoanna Pearson from Selah Center’s book: “Reflections: A Journey through Lent into Easter.” Lent Day 39.

Lent Day 36. Thank You for Being a Friend.

Today Sammi McCubbins shares her reflections on the importance of friends and what Jesus says about friendship. This is Lent Day 36.

Lent Day 35. Longing to Be Connected.

Today marks the final week of Lent leading up to Advent. Mary Pandiani provides an overview of the events of the “Passion” week and what it means in God’s story and yours. This is day 35 of Lent.

Lent Day 31. A Load of Water.

Lent Day 31. Today John Kiemele shares a memory from the beach and what it means to him during Lent. Read on…

Lent Day 16. In the Stillness of the Quiet.

Today, Lent Day 16, I share an excerpt from a book published by Selah Center, “Reflections: A Journey through Lent into Easter.” The book is available on Amazon.com. Enjoy. –D.B. Editor

Third Week of Advent

THIRD SUNDAY OF ADVENT

Day 15

Scripture
Isaiah 35:1-10
Psalm 146:5-10 or
Luke 1:46b-55
James 5:7-10
Matthew 11:2-11

The Revised Common Lectionary

On this third Sunday of Advent, we light the Rose Candle representing joy. This Sunday is also known as Gaudete Sunday (Latin).

The Advent Wreath

By Debora Buerk,
Editor, Here & Now,
Selah Companion

The Advent wreath originated among German Lutherans in the sixteenth century. However, it was not until three centuries later that the modern Advent wreath took shape, thanks to German protestant pastor Johann Hinrich Wichern (1808-1881). Along with Wichern’s wreath came the tradition of lighting candles during Advent worship services. 

Pastor Wichern’s wreath consisted of a large wooden ring (made from an old cartwheel) with twenty small red candles and four large white candles. The small red candles were lit during the week, the white candles on Sundays.

While the form of the Advent wreath changed over time, the tradition of lighting candles during Advent spread throughout Germany and beyond Lutheranism. The Advent wreath expanded into the western Church and took hold in the United States during the 1930s. 

Symbolism. Advent wreaths are circular, representing God’s infinite love, and are usually made of evergreen leaves, expressing the hope of eternal life Jesus brings. 

Hope


Peace


Joy


Love

Within the wreath, four prominent candles represent the four weeks of the Advent season. Collectively, the candles symbolize the light of God coming into the world through the birth of Jesus. 

The colors of the candles have their significance. In the Western Christian church, violet is the liturgical color for three of the four Sundays of Advent. Rose is the liturgical color for the third Sunday of Advent. White is traditionally chosen for the Christ candle to represent the liturgical color for Christmas. 

The centerpiece of the wreath is a white candle, the Christ candle, to represent the arrival of Christmastide. Lit on Christmas Eve or Christmas Day, the Christ candle is the fitting completion of Advent.

Traditionally, the candles stand for the Christian truths of hope (week one), peace (week two), joy (week three), and love (week four). 

The rose candle, lit on the third Sunday of Advent is also known as Gaudete Sunday—from the Latin meaning “rejoice, ye”—represents joy

May this third week of Advent be joy-filled for you.

Advent Day 9

O Holy night! The stars are brightly shining

It is the night of our dear Savior’s birth


Long lay the world in sin and error pining


‘Til He appeared and the soul felt its worth


A thrill of hope the weary world rejoices


For yonder breaks a new and glorious morn


Fall on your knees; O hear the Angel voices!


O night divine, O night when Christ was born


O night, O Holy night, O night divine!

Soul Felt Its Worth

By Sandy Shipman,
Selah Companion

She struggles with perfection, wants every detail just so. It sounds like criticism.
The counselor says to love.

Then He appeared, and the soul felt its worth.

Anxiety fills his mind. Overwhelms. He lashes out.
The counselor says to love.

Then He appeared, and the soul felt its worth.

She wants answers. Clarity. Solutions. Fix it!
The counselor says to love.

Then He appeared, and the soul felt its worth.

He wants peace and retreat. Life interrupts. He withdraws.
The counselor says to love.

Then He appeared, and the soul felt its worth.

She wants obedience. Conformity. Goodness.
The counselor says to love.

Then He appeared, and the soul felt its worth.

He wants respect, honor, legacy.
The counselor says to love.

Then He appeared, and the soul felt its worth.

She wants, he wants, they want, yearn, ache, grasp, fight, flail.
The counselor says to love.

Then He appeared, and the soul felt its worth.

Advent Day 4

Advent is the Season of Hope

By Lynne Benson
a Selah Companion

Ad = towards

Venture = about to happen

I love playing with language, words, derivatives, and meanings and considering what is intended.  So, my little brain put together “advent” – looking forward to what is about to happen.  This advent season stirs the beginnings of what I can offer to my friends when I send out Christmas greetings.  I want to give something of meaning, and value, something of myself that took effort, thought, and the work of my person.  So, the last few years have been devoted to painting pictures for greeting cards.  While it might not have the intended meaning extended to the receiver in quite the way I began the work; I am drawn to what comes to mind as I look at life.

My first attempt was of Christmas ornaments hanging from the limb of a fir tree.  It is something that most people recognize, no matter what tradition, culture, or country of experience.  So many things come to mind.  If I want to decorate my world with my attitudes, actions, and presence, I realize I cannot hang in midair but need support and dangle in midair, hopefully showing off the reflected light of the other brilliance around and show that I get to be part of a great whole that graces that tree.  Not alone, hanging, dangling with others to make a more beautiful whole.

The candle painting from a different year displays light in a dark place.  Truthfully, my favorite part of the picture is the rounded glass holder that catches the drippings.  Something about how it catches the light and roundness warms me, a reminder that it doesn’t shine on its own.  It holds something of substance that supports a wick that runs through the waxy pillar that, by its composition, warms the hardened to a softened texture and lightens the dark.  Nothing of that pictured object works by itself.

My tree was intended to have a whimsical feel to it.  While in the cold, it holds up the softness of the snow, a tree that is a remembrance of nature, a symbol of the season we often bring into our homes to remind us of a holy-day (holiday), yet in some ways, seems a disconnect with the true meaning as it was kind of a non-biblical, non-Christian way of commemorating the birth of Christ which likely happened in a different season anyway.  

The picture beckoned something else – warmth; I wanted life to speak into what seemed cold.  While bunnies are not often out and about during this time, it just seemed fitting to have the little guy depicted.  Not only does it symbolize warmth to me, but they emerge in little bundles of fur into adolescent fluffs during the spring on our property.  I watch for them as they give me such delight.  Life.  Warmth is expected after the cold and dark of winter.  I look forward to the winter solstice as a reminder that the daylight hours will begin to lengthen.  The tree by itself seemed lonely.  The presence of the rabbit is a bit of hope; in turn, the tree is a bit of shelter: Christmas is the season of hope for our Shelter.

All considered, the conclusion is Emmanuel – God with us.  As I have compiled my thoughts in writing this, all these pictures bring the realization that we are not alone.  And isn’t that what God meant when it was said, “Come,” “I am with you,” “You will be with Me,” and “I will be with you”?  We are not alone.

My painting teachers often point out the need for light.  It is critical when painting realism that you consider “where your source of light is.”  It determines shading, the hues used, where the light hits the objects painted, and whether your finished illustration “makes sense.”  One of the most stirring things in pondering creative handiwork is the eye.  Imagine:  If the pupil of the eyes is too close together in a portrait, you can imagine what that person looks like.  More like a toon, I’d say.  If they are raised, the point, or the “apple of the eye,” as some name it, must be in the correct position for the viewer to know where the person is looking, and you tend to look in that direction and wonder what is being looked at.  Have you ever heard of someone being the “apple of one’s eye”?  That speaks to preciousness.  I find it funny that we also call it the pupil – a place of learning.  It is also a place that uses light and adjusts to it, and the cones of the eye allow for color to be perceived.  The eye’s structure, function, and workings are nothing short of miraculous.  By the way, our pupils widen in darkness to catch whatever bit of light possible.  My cat’s eyes become more beautiful when those huge, dark pupils enlarge.  His face looks more dear to me.  Do I strain to see the Light who calls me precious, and will the learning of my gaze widen with amazement at Beauty? Do I see the Light more clearly?

There are techniques such as the rule of thirds and the “s” curve to provide movement, so your “eye” will travel across the picture, clearer and more distinct in the foreground, less so for distance.  So many things that I have learned to help me to “see” my world differently, including the tremendous variations of green there are when I look at a wall of trees through the “eyes of my heart,” and meaning grows more profound.  Until someone pointed this out, I never would have recognized that, and now my awareness has been piqued for all kinds of details.  This creates profound wonder in the beauty I don’t want to miss and helps me see there is so much more to the world than I realize.  My Light is growing brighter, showing more details, and shining greater wonder into the beauty surrounding me.  And thus, begins my lessons on creativity.  They continue.

Thanksgiving

You will make known to me the path of life;
In Your presence is fullness of joy;
In Your right hand there are pleasures forever.

Psalm 16:11

The Fullness of Joy

By Sandy Shipman
a Selah Companion &
part of the Selah community

Many of us fortunate Americans know the stuffed feeling after Thanksgiving. We ate more than our fill of turkey and stuffing, potatoes and gravy, yams with marshmallows, green bean casserole, and Brussels sprouts. (Every family has that dish that must be made, but few eat.) We garnished with some hotly debated form of cranberry puree and probably olives, one for each finger. We looked around the beautifully decorated table at the mounds of food left over and wanted more, but we were stuffed. Not another bite can be eaten. And we know more is waiting in the kitchen. One or more variations of pie: pumpkin, mincemeat, pecan, apple. This moment of plenty requires us to rest, to digest.

So it is when I practice gratitude. Giving thanks for my simple breakfast invites me to notice all the preparation that brought me my granola and yogurt and blueberries. I consider all the unknown hands that worked together, farmers, pickers, truckers, stockers, each with lives and dreams and aches and their own gratitudes. I marvel at the natural process that made a delicious berry come from a woody branch, that started as a tiny seed. And I have dozens of these tiny miracles right in my bowl! And how do I even fathom that creamy yogurt started in the earth as grass seed, and divinely became milk, and through fermentation of all things, becomes yogurt. I am stuffed already. I haven’t even considered yet the granola with all its different grains and seeds or the ceramic bowl itself, or the wooden table or the warm house or the loved ones within it. And I know more is waiting outside! How will I get anything done today with such a feast of blessings to notice, with so much thanks to give? This moment of plenty requires me to rest, to digest.

In your presence is fullness of joy.

Happy Thanksgiving from all of us at Here & Now. We’re thankful for you.

Listening into Advent

Join us for a Quiet Day to Prepare Our Hearts for the Season

Rather than falling prey to the frenzied expectations of gift-giving and holiday gatherings that lose the meaning of Christmas, take this day to sit before the Holy One in quietness and rest. Whether in centering prayer or journaling, or any combination of spiritual practices, the time spent with God opens you up to enter into the season with a centered heart.

Learn more about this event and register

Join us beginning November 25 as Here & Now celebrates Advent and Christmas with a special series of reflections curated with you in mind. Like the Advent Calendar you enjoyed as a child, you’ll find a sweet contemplation to savor each day you open the Here & Now blog. I can smell the Christmas tree already. Debora Buerk, Editor, Here & Now

Good Morning

On the Pulse of the Morning

(Excerpt)

…Lift up your eyes upon
This day breaking for you.
Give birth again
To the dream….
Here, on the pulse of this new day
You may have the grace to look up and out
And into your sister’s eyes, and into
Your brother’s face, your country
And say simply
Very simply
With hope—
Good morning.

Maya Angelou

Thoughts from Mary

I am grateful for sabbath, even when it doesn’t turn out as you had hoped. My aspirations for the month included down time along with organizing my office, playing with friends and family, and spontaneously saying yes to whatever showed up for the day. Instead, I spent over a week in bed with Covid (and a couple more weeks of tiredness) along with grieving the loss of a dear and close friend who while struggling through her cancer seemed to be living a full life. The sabbath that I hoped would restore some strength and perspective became a time of recognizing my weakness and need for God and others.

Sabbath is not something we accomplish or acquire or strive towards. It’s a resting in what God has for us.

Mary Pandiani

And so it is that I return to the call of Selah and my other responsibilities with a bit of heavy heart and weariness. Yet, I still remain grateful, not only for sabbath in whatever form it takes but also for this day. I want to claim, as Maya Angelou does, that I can say “good morning” to today, trusting that God will provide me with what I need for this day.

Sabbath is not something we accomplish or acquire or strive towards. It’s a resting in what God has for us. And for today, all I have is today. So may you, along with me, find the voice to say “help” where help is needed, trust that God shows up even when grief feels oppressive, and lean into “good morning” as a reflection of the hope that rests in God’s abundance, not my capability or circumstance.

Pax Bonum,
Mary Pandiani
Executive Director
Selah Center

Mary Pandiani, D.Min, serves as Selah’s Executive Director, leading the community and organization through its current transition period into future possibilities. Mary has served in various capacities for Selah, including as a founding board member, seminar/group leader, and co-facilitator for Selah’s extended programs, Living From The Heart and Way of the Heart. Mary is a spiritual director and coach, co-facilitator for a spiritual direction training program, and advisor for doctoral students. Mary received her Doctorate of Ministry at Portland Seminary, and her work focuses on a posture of contemplative living across the seasons of life. Her foundation starts with a love for the God who wants to be known and a desire to help others to pause-notice-listen-respond in ways that lead to a deeper understanding of God’s divine invitation. With the support of her husband Bill, Mary serves Selah while also enjoying her family of four adult daughters and their families. Mary lives in Gig Harbor WA where she knows the value of beauty in creation and the gift of community.

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Join Mary every Friday at 10:00 AM for Kairos. It’s a time for conversation the “selah way.” Welcome friends, old and new. Kairos is open to everyone interested in learning more about Selah. Kairos meets on Zoom for an hour at 10 AM. Click Here & Now for more info.

Am I Really a Contemplative?

Someday I Will Visit Hawk Mountain

By M. Soledad Caballero

I will be a real birder and know raptors
by the shape of their wings, the span of them
against wide skies, the browns and grays
of their feathers, the reds and whites like specks
of paint. I will look directly into the sun, point and say,
those are black vultures, those are red-shouldered
hawks. They fly with the thermals, updrafts, barely
moving, glide their bodies along the currents, borrowing
speed from the wind. I will know other raptors,
sharp-shinned hawk, the Cooper’s hawk, the ones
that flap their wings and move their bodies during the day.
The merlins, the peregrine falcons, soaring like bullets
through blue steel, cutting the winds looking for rabbits,
groundhogs that will not live past talons and claws.
I will know the size of their bones, the weight
of their beaks. I will remember the curves, the colors
of their oval, yellow eyes. I will have the measurements,
the data that live inside their bodies like a secret
taunting me to find its guts. Or this is what I tell myself.


But, I am a bad birder. I care little about the exact rate
of a northern goshawk’s flight speed. I do not need
to know how many pounds of food an American kestrel
eats in winter. I have no interest in the feather types
on a turkey vulture. I have looked up and forgotten
these facts again and again and again. They float
out of my mind immediately. What I remember:
my breathless body as I look into the wildness above,

raptors flying, diving, stooping, bodies of light, talismans,
incantations, dust of the gods. Creatures of myth,
they hang in the sky like questions. They promise
nothing, indifferent to everything but death.
Still, still, I catch myself gasping, neck craned up,
follow the circles they build out of sky, reach
for their brutal mystery, the alien spark of more.

(Helpful to read out loud if you don’t listen to the audio)

A poem touches each of us a bit differently, yet the same – a moment of encounter in the imagination that reaches deep within us. The bold italics indicate what captures me from what the Allegheny College professor and poet, M. Soledad Caballero offers. To hear these words read by the Irish poet Pádraig Ó Tuama further enhances the resonance I experience in the listening.

Walking along a slough bordering Camano Island, I witness a flock of herons, or the proper group name siege, hurling into the sky when Caballero’s words speak to me “what I remember: my breathless body as I look into the wildness above.…” In that moment, I hear my own thoughts that there is a wildness that runs through my own remembering and breathless body. It’s contemplation. That’s how the contemplative life engages my heart and soul and mind.

Analogous to the poet, I forget all the knowledge of what makes a birder a birder. For me, it’s the contemplative life. I want to live contemplatively, but I forget. I’m a “bad” contemplative in the sense that I fall and rise again, fall and rise again. I try harder, only to fall down again. The knowledge of what it means to be contemplative is helpful. But it quickly flies out of my head, especially in my greatest need.

My longing suggests that I want to know more, but seeking knowledge in the way of information lacks the power to transform my engagement with the world, others, God, even my own life. There is an “alien spark of more” when it comes to the contemplative life. I want to encounter more, go deeper more where wonder and curiosity generates movement and engages mystery.

As the poet seeks to know more about the birds, she recognizes they capture her heart not by the important details that she can learn, but how they live in the world. Witnessing their flight brings about questions, hopes and fears, stories of mythological gravitas. Interestingly, she does know quite a bit about the birds. Yet she longs for something more.

For me, I too learn about God, and want to know more about Divine Holy Mystery. But how quickly the energy in engaging God dissipates if I only stay in the grasping of intellectual attainment for what I think I need. My encounter with the Divine requires, demands, invites me into something that goes beyond my thinking. In the wonder and colorful mystery of who God is, I find a depth crystalizing the beauty of encounter. The crystalizing depth becomes a way of remembering. It is there that I see God move in and through my being so that when I do fall, or am a “bad” contemplative, I am not alone.

Perhaps the remembering is the spark for knowing birds, for knowing what is unknowable.

By Mary Pandiani
Executive Director
Selah Center

Mary Pandiani, D.Min, serves as Selah’s Executive Director, leading the community and organization through its current transition period into future possibilities. Mary has served in various capacities for Selah, including as a founding board member, seminar/group leader, and co-facilitator for Selah’s extended programs, Living From The Heart and Way of the Heart. Mary is a spiritual director and coach, co-facilitator for a spiritual direction training program, and advisor for doctoral students. Mary received her Doctorate of Ministry at Portland Seminary, and her work focuses on a posture of contemplative living across the seasons of life. Her foundation starts with a love for the God who wants to be known and a desire to help others to pause-notice-listen-respond in ways that lead to a deeper understanding of God’s divine invitation. With the support of her husband Bill, Mary serves Selah while also enjoying her family of four adult daughters and their families. Mary lives in Gig Harbor WA where she knows the value of beauty in creation and the gift of community.

Mystery of Suffering

May all the love you lavish come back to you in a glittery filled
bright ball of sunshine

As you have loved and cried and screamed and ached and nursed wounds in your children and  friends

May all of this come flooding back to you in your time of need.
May it speak directly and clearly to your soul.

You dear one are safe
You are loved
You are known
You are not alone
You are held
You matter
All of you — All your story matters
All of you
is safe —and held here

 

Jeffrey
part of the Selah Community