March turns toward April. The temperature still swings below freezing at night.
On sunny days, I catch a hint of imminent Spring. The salamanders in the woods
have not yet crawled from their earthen homes in search of vernal pools. The
winter birds, buffleheads, mergansers, and eiders still swim the unfrozen pools in
the harbor. And the sun, somewhat a stranger these past few months moves
across the morning sky at a sharp angle, never quite reaching overhead. Last night
it snowed. It lilted down in the darkness and left the yard clothed in gold and lace.

In some ways, the passage of seasons corresponds to the ebb and flow of our
inner life as followers of Christ. We head into Lent this week. We are tired of
winter. It echoes the struggle with darkness in our lives, and hearts that forget
and grow cold. Again and again, we return and make a conscious effort to seek
His Light in our lives; to have our hearts rekindled by prayer, reading, silence.
The flame will glow again just as surely as our place on earth will lean into the sun
with the arrival of Spring.

I walk the path through the snow today. It’s soft under my shoes. Somewhat mysterious how it drifts down to cover the earth. I’m reminded of the verse:

Though your sins are as scarlet, they shall be as white as snow.

There are many times when God catches my attention through nature. The other day I was dashing around cooking dinner in the late afternoon. I was planning on steak tips, and I thought I would grill them since the weather seemed to be cooperating. I left the grilling to the last minute since it usually doesn’t take very long. I went outside, removed the grill’s cloth cover and started to turn on the propane tank. To my great surprise, I discovered a large round nest of leaves sitting on the grill rack. The leaves had been trimmed down to size and the nest carefully constructed into a thick, cozy mound. I leaned down and quickly shut off the propane. A little mouse suddenly poked out of the nest, looked me over, then promptly fled to the edge of the rack. There it hung upside down by its back feet as it scrambled to exit.

I had a decision to make. Do I sweep away the leaves, clean the grill surface and cook my steak? Or do I accept that the little mouse, perhaps a mother raising young, needed protection for a few weeks.

Frankly, I was amazed at her considerable ingenuity. This tiny creature had created a warm dwelling as a home for her young, and a place of safety against predators and the bitter cold. Needless to say, I did not have the heart to sweep her away. I closed the lid, and put the cover over the grill, but not without taking a quick picture of those little beady eyes saying thank you.

The contrasts in the Christmas season are painful to contemplate. On the one hand, we see Jesus laying down His relationship with His Father, taking off his mantle of authority and power, and being born into our humanity as a helpless, vulnerable infant. Jesus, who was with His Father at the creation of the world enters into that creation and finds that He has no home. Joseph, anxious to find a place where Mary can give birth, must settle for a stable filled with hay and the warming breath of sheep and cow.

A few days after celebrating this birth, we hear the story of Herod. Herod was also vulnerable in that he had power but was susceptible to every threat to that power. And so the news of a special boy being born spawned a plot to kill all the newborn male children in the region. The abhorrent image of soldiers ripping children from their mother’s arms, and piercing them with swords lingers in our hearts and minds.

In reflecting on the slaughter of the innocents, I realize that I’m not so different from the repulsive Herod, and his lust for power. Power over others, enough power to change circumstances that frighten or displease me. And we all yearn for things that make us seem better than we are: an expensive car, a dream vacation, designer clothing. Or perhaps we choose a more subtle form of power. How do we feel about other people’s ideas, suggestions, and opinions? Do we value them, or do we prefer our own?

On this day of remembrance of the truly innocent, let us honor them with an honest evaluation of who we are without Jesus. Let us welcome others into the inner core of our lives and lay aside our differences. Let us be grateful for their gifts and presence in our lives.

Hold fast to this one thing: the simple and profound mystery of Jesus coming to us as a helpless child without wealth, power or position.

I thought it would be helpful to do a little historical research before writing about the Feast of Christ the King. I was surprised to see that it was Pope Piux X who established the feast in the 1920’s. It was first set as the day before All Saints Day, and later on moved to the last Sunday in Advent. Pope Pius was moved to establish the feast because of the tremendous turmoil in the world between nations. Setting Christ the King certainly establishes God the Father as the One we need to look to, if we are ever to settle the strife between men.

And so we still look at the larger world and see the desperate condition we are in; wars, famines, natural disasters, terrorists, drug epidemics. In one sense there is no person who is not vulnerable to the disaster and evil that surrounds us. And so we gather to celebrate, and to clear again that Christ is King; despite all cries and screams of the hurting world around us and in us. And the term “in us” I do not take lightly. Yes, the struggle, and conflict against evil does not just happen in the world around us. It is going on inside us. In the part of our nature that is lured into sin, and haunted by fears and cemented in harboring unforgiveness. And thus we need to declare for ourselves that this Christ is King over all that territory of our inner life that is not fully surrendered.

Christ is King in the big sense of Time. What he accomplished in his life among us, and through his death on the cross decided our outcome for all time. But somehow we are working it all out still in our time. We have the short view and cannot see beyond our immediate horizon. We also carry around a lot of warped ideas that take time for the Holy Spirit to straighten out and within us.

So for me, when I look at our apse and the Church of the Transfiguration, I see Jesus coming from a place of all time, Time Eternal, into our time. He is breaking into our world. And he comes with penetrating, welcoming eyes, and with outstretched arms. His intention is love. This is what I can look to as promise.

For now I am caught inbetween. This does not diminish the reality of the Truth. It just says I am very much still on the way.

They caught my eye as I walked through the room. I paused to look at the bright red contrasted with the soft cushions on the couch. Flowers fresh cut that morning, already leaning in toward the sun.

How is it that flowers cut off from their roots continue to move in a vase? As if swaying to the music, they all danced as one toward their source of light.

There are times when I feel cut off, roots amputated, turned away from my source of life and refreshment. Today is a reminder that I need to lean toward the light. I am leaning toward you, Lord, listening for your direction, longing to feel your warmth again.