Both sides of the wall (Sunday, February 5, 2012)

Of course, this world is but illusion,
a thin veneer, really:
in all its beauty, majesty, and glory,
in all its pain and sorrow, toil and strife.
It is still but an outer shell, occasionally translucent,
over the deeper realm where the Spirit dwells
and all is Being, all is one.

But these little beings which we each are,
though we bear the breath of God within us,
need bodily lives to lead. We need to feel the living
that we do; see the colors that amaze us.
We need to know the tiny miracles of this world,
before we move deeper in our journey toward the Spirit.

Though it may seem a divided domain--
God on one side of the Wall and we on the other--
in fact, of course, all creation is one; we  know that:
the angels inside of us are but God writ small;
writ in a language these feeble eyes can read;
spoken in a language these failing ears can hear;
reflected in our smaller glory, our little games,
that gives us something to hold onto
when the chill of winter has gone on too long,
and we wait impatiently for the springtime of our souls.

jbs
1/8/01           2/3/02          2/6/12

Transforming Our Times (Sunday, January 22, 2012)

Transforming Our Times

Is it best of times, or worst?
Is it a blessing or a curse,
these lives we lead,
this time and place
in which we dwell?
Are our eyes hidden
from the face of God,
or do we stand closer than we know
to the light of divine grace?

We can transform and glorify
these times in which we live
only by listening for the inner voice
and following its ways.
We can be testaments to the energy
and spirit of these days
only by living them fully
in the light of our deepest power.

That means following the seasons of these times
and living where we are,
but always casting that deeper eye
which sees the abundance and growth
of the summertide within.
It means honoring our age
and knowing the road we’ve walked,
but it also means knowing
that new roads always await us,
and new seasons beckon.

When we cast these lives of ours
both in the light of history’s long page
and God’s great grace, we’ll know
how eternally young we truly are--
And how ancient, how wise,
to be able to share in this great drama,
this golden hour
in which we have been called to transform the earth.

jbs
7/1/02     9/17/02     11/03/02     1/22/12

Waiting for the change (Sunday, January 15, 2012)

Waiting for the change

Will the change come (when it comes),
inevitably, flowing like a river,
cascading over the face of the earth,
a raging torrent, battering down
the citadels of reaction?

Or will it be (if it is to be)
a gradual unfolding,  opening like a stream,
slowly, steadily, maybe imperceptibly
making its way homeward
until one morning we awake and we are there?

We live history every day,
but never know its course until it’s run.
But the remaking that our world needs
will at least require all hands to be on deck.

The gentle and the strong, defiant and resilient,
must all find a place to stand and act and hold the line
if this world is to be made new.

There can be no turning back,
unless we would trade our civic soul
for easy baubles and trappings
of an age that is dying;
or unless we would luxuriate
in the dank and brackish waters
of an age already dead.

Our eyes face forward for a reason:
to greet the coming season, and to try
to glimpse some flicker of the future
before it’s here; then we’ll know
if not the total truth of what’s to come,
at least where to stand,
when the glorious winds of change begin to howl.

jbs
11/9/02          1/19/03          1/15/12

A Christmas Eve Prayer (December 24, 2011)

There shines from that child’s face
the greatest miracle of all:
Life in all its glory,
all its story, all its history,
its mystery; divine grace
made human and come to dwell among us;
perfect splendor of dust and stars.

In every child’s face there lies an epic
of tragedy and joy, laughter and tears
flowing freely through all the years
the Hand of Life will bring.
In every child’s face there still abides
the sign and signal, emblem and symbol
of every betrayal, every sacrifice,
every friendship, every love,
every season a life has seen,
each song a life will sing.

In that Holy Child’s face we know
the pain that can never let us go.
In every human face we trace
the evidence of God.
In that face the light
of life shines through darkest night;
in that face the holy dark
descends, blessed mystery eternal,
with no beginning, with no end:
endless alleluia the universe will sing.

jbs
1/16/02     12/24/02     12/24/07     12/24/11

Christmas Greetings 2011

The Universalist Parsonage

Stoughton, Massachusetts

                                                                               

Christmastide 2011

Dear Friends,

At Christmas, we are called upon to believe that the most glorious things are possible.

With every child that is born, our hope is born anew.

With every Christmas Eve, we remember the true and deepest meaning of why we are here. 

Perhaps something is happening, at last, in the Bethlehem of our hearts that will finally change us, and change our world. Perhaps the sound waves (the age waves) of that first gloriously impossible Christmas are stirring our souls at last, and the glorious music of a heavenly host sings forth, at last, the wonder of our own new birth—our own nativity—upon this Earth.

The real song of Christmas is all about the divine gifts inherent in our human living—those gifts of the Spirit, waiting for us, buried beneath the hard and crusted-over snow of human experience.

Christmas shows us that when night is darkest, we see the shining of the stars most gloriously. When we are most empty, the abundance of God can fill our souls. When we are poorest in spirit, a divine inheritance will be ours.

And when, at last, we are still—and silent—and all the noise of life has been hushed, and if we really listen, we may yet hear that angel chorus; and hear the Blessed Mother’s lullaby of peace; and hear that Holy Infant’s cry-- persistently, patiently, lovingly—calling us, at last, to follow him down the blessed pathway of compassion.

May your Christmas be touched with the truest gifts of the Spirit. And, at Christmas and always, may you sing boldly, yet gently,  your own blessed song of Life. 

                                                                                    Peace be with you all,

Rev. Jeffrey B. Symynkywicz

A world within each moment (Sunday, November 27, 2011)

A world within each moment

Every moment is a yes or no to life,
we utter from deep inside ourselves
that somehow makes
all the difference in the world.

Every time we meet another soul
we choose to love, or not;
to join hands or build a wall;
see a brother or sister, or a robber in disguise.

This little bit of energy we each are
created no vast galaxies or whirling constellations;
but each day we create so many smaller worlds--
worlds of each moment, each love;
worlds of possibility or limitation, 

worlds in their own ways empires
of our immortal, eternal souls.

jbs
2/15/00        11/12/00       11/27/11

Thanksgiving 2010

The Universalist Parsonage

November, 2010

Dear Friends—

When we think of all we have been given,
simple men and women that we are--
the laughter of friends;
good work to do; and more than our
small share of nature’s bounty--
we ought to bow our heads in glad thanksgiving,
fall on our knees in deep appreciation,
or, at the very least, utter a simple, soft
word of gratitude
to the Hand of Life that has blest us
so sustainingly all these years.

How truly blest we all have been
to drink from this holy chalice, this Cup of Life.
The bread we eat was once a living spirit,

sacrificed to nourish us;
our communion, then, is a sharing of life with life.

So may we pause in gratitude this season
to speak clearly our word of thanksgiving
for these simple gifts of life which are all ours,
not to hoard, but to share;
till all the world is fed,

both on bread,
and on love and hope and justice.

 Elizabeth joins me in wishing each of you a happy Thanksgiving, and a blessed holiday season.  

Faithfully,

Rev. Jeffrey Symynkywicz