As I read the beginning pages of Katherine May’s book Enchantment: Awakening Wonder in an Anxious Age, I found myself traveling in a liminal space, on the threshold of something new and revelatory and still carrying grief, anxiety, confusion, joy, love, kindness of not just recent, but also distant past. Written as we emerged from a time of pandemics when there was already divide between returning to “normal” and celebrating new potential ways of living and being, the author immediately locates a yearning and points to a consolation in the desolation. The yearning is for transcendence and meaning making; the consolation is the reception of enchantment. Similar to Rabbi Heschel’s I Asked for Wonder and the contemplative desire for deeper connection with that which astonishes, that which mystifies, that which causes wonder love and praise, there is an acknowledgment, even gratitude for, beauty and its healing properties in the mystery of creation. The issue, it would seem, is whether w

  Two days ago I found myself mesmerized by videos of whales breaching the surface of the sea. I was drawn into a space of wonder and awe which I didn’t want to leave and could not replicate. And then…this poem by Mary Oliver (below) dropped into my mailbox. I began to pay a renewed attention! Putting aside my envy at the way she puts words to wonder, I chose to just receive her gift. And there I was for another brief while, contemplating the beautiful beast rising despite itself and our assumptions in this world of “original fire”. I found hope. It is such an oxymoronic image! like a dinosaur along side a civilized society reminding us of what we do not control, reminding us to ‘sing’ nevertheless. Whoever we are, wherever we are…all creatures great and small can make a joyful noise… There is such joy in this revelation. There is such joy in simply paying attention to the unexpected and ordinary wonders. They seem to be beckoning toward the impossibly amazing. “The sky, after all, sto

  The poem below,   Rosa Parks  by Nicki Giovanni, is new to me and exquisite. It is also particularly timely, not only for Martin Luther King day but for everyday as we struggle to use our memories to feed our social justice and kindness efforts. As the commentator in SALT notes: “Rosa Parks, [is one] whose actions are a luminous example,…of ‘shouldering a cross,’ of living for ‘a higher law’, of honoring what must be honored, of doing what love demands be done.” (SALT January 9, 2024) Rarely do we couple the word ‘love’ with the word ‘demand’ and yet perhaps we should. After all, have we not covenanted to love, been commanded to do so by some higher power?  If so, then on this day and everyday the question might be asked as to what is love demanding of us? Some days it is to have the courage to take one more step, just one more, toward freedom for all. Some days it is to have the courage to climb aboard. Some days it is to have the courage to lend a hand. Some days it is to have the

  “Go like a river” is both the title and the recurring theme which runs through a magnificent novel I recently read. “Go like a river” was both puzzling and consoling for me. I was intrigued not only because I have been drawn to many quotes and metaphors of water and flow and grace but also because in the context of the story it spoke of acceptance, grace and freedom. To go like a river seemed to speak of an eternity which carries all of us, an eternity with which we might participate, but more importantly an eternity which we might become. Today in the church we celebrate and remember the baptism of Christ in the river Jordan. It has always been one of my favorites. The words which accompany my memories are belonging, believing, beloving and becoming. All “be” words. So for me baptism (and water) present or connote images of being rather than doing. The act of baptizing is less important than the transformation of spirit and soul.   And so in Go Like A River I found myself reverberat