A place sung for centuries as the common source from which we might drink words fully commensurate with the awe we need to comprehend our world Castalian Spring by David Whyte (one verse) And so the mystic and poet David Whyte writes of the Castalian Spring at the foot of Mt. Parnassus, a spring which carries mythical promises of Apollo and Dionysius and other Greek stories of beauty and power and prophecy. For the poet upon his encounter with a seemingly simple spring near Delphi it was a release of bound classic expectations and an opening to the possibility of finding a quenching for the thirst for spiritual truth. I am struck by the phrase “words fully commensurate with/the awe we need to comprehend our world”.  Not only do I appreciate the tension between awe and comprehension, not to mention the absurdity of it, but I also am drawn to the notion of a source, fresh living water no less, which quenches in the form of understanding. Do we not all thirst for such nurturance? Th

  Oh, earth, you’re too wonderful for anybody to realize you. Do any human beings ever realize life while they live it? – every, every minute? From Emily’s soliloquy in Our Town by Thornton Wilder The quote above occurs after Emily has died and been afforded an opportunity to “see” life, in its beauty and wonder. I was reminded of this soliloquy recently while following a thread of real presence. Real presence is ironically that showing up, as practically nothing physical or egotistic in moments of life; real presence is the ability to simply be in our fullness of love and grace, no encumbrances of expectation or reward.  And so it is with death… Emily’s ability to “show up” in ghost-like lightness of being affords the view of reality in realization of magnificence of creation.  Is this earth too wonderful to realize? Must we die before we appreciate?  I retain a hope that in contemplation, in that stillness at the center of all life, there is an absence of obstructed vision and a “pre

  Blessed be God who animates our lives and marks us as Christ’s own forever, God’s beloveds and     Kingdom bearers. AMEN You may have recognized the prelude which Jon played this morning; you may have noticed a tear falling. Hardly a sermon goes by when I don’t think about the words to the Hymn: I love to tell the story of Jesus and His love. We all have such stories, some biblical retellings and some contemporary adaptations. Whatever the story of Jesus and His love, they seem to illuminate the grace even in darkness and despair. One of mine goes as follows:  Almost exactly 23 years ago to the day, on a dark and stormy winter afternoon at St Christopher’s in Gladwyn PA, I received most difficult news. After a year of interviews and psychoanalysis and being told my ordination made so much sense, suddenly the rug was pulled out and with no explanation I was told no ordination, no second chances.  That evening was a baptism of sorts for me…there was water everywhere. Teeming rain outsi

  Just as I was preparing to write this liturgeemail I noticed Mary Chapin Carpenter’s New Year’s post. I was struck by the resonance and the building harmonies, as in one of her songs. I was also struck by the use of the word “more” when some of us associate “more” with selfishness and greed. Instead these “mores” feel like prayers of pastoral care and ironically cause me to think: this must be when more is enough! I have prayed for a while now to realize what is “enough”. And especially at this juncture in my life to feel I have done “enough”.  The Spirit has helped me begin to understand that the question ought to be converted to “have I BEEN enough”. Letting go of accomplishment accumulation and walking into the becoming of discipleship has brought me to this point. All of the “mores” are about being, not doing, and that to me is so very sacred and so very consoling. This will be my second to last Liturgeemail (the last being this coming Sunday’s sermon) as I celebrate my last serv