The Rose in Blessing

 

Flowering, immaculate

grows the winter rose

inside of you

Your soul, in wonderment,

expresses its form

But hush..

wait just awhile

for the soft breath of the merciful divine

is flowing within you

And a light will be lit that never dims

by day it illuminates your acts

by night, your dreams

Feel how the divine love enfolds you

Rest now secure in her arms

while your angel spreads her wings

above the Rose in Blessing

Speaking in Tongues

Today is Pentecost. For Christians it commemorates the occasion when after the ascension the Spirit descended to the apostles in the form of twin flames of fire, allowing them to ‘speak in tongues’. Amazed, they realised that they could speak all the languages of the lands to which they would journey to bring the message of their new faith.

The miracle lies in the fact that the varied languages which the apostles could suddenly speak were all recognisable to the native speakers of those lands – the text mentions Parthians, Cretans, Arabians and others. This episode is related in the Acts of the Apostles, towards the end of scripture. It is near the beginning, in the eleventh chapter of the Book of Genesis, that we read of another episode about many tongues: the story of the tower of Babel, familiar even to those who have not read the story in scripture. 

In the story of Babel, all of humankind can speak one language. There is no difficulty with communication, and even strangers from far lands can readily understand one another. With a co-operative will they construct a tower so tall that it begins to reach beyond the clouds into heaven itself. This human presumption is thwarted by divine will, which at a stroke causes the many languages of the world. Communication breaks down, the tower is left unfinished, and the builders scatter to their different lands.

One story seems to mirror the other. In the Babel story, communication breaks down. In the story of Pentecost, the barrier to communication is miraculously overcome. Both stories are concerned specifically with the language barrier: one story causes it, and the other story overcomes it. My own Netherlands native tongue is spoken by a comparative minority in Europe, and at school it was standard practice for us to learn three other major European languages – French, German and English. Being multi-lingual in this region of the world can at times be a necessity, but the language barrier can be overcome, not with miracles, but with simple work and study.

In the end, it’s all about being able to communicate effectively with each other, wherever we come from. And communication does not always rely upon language. A sense of communication can come from sharing a piece of music, for surely music is a universal language beyond any limitations of speech. And sharing emotions which bring joy or simple pleasure make any language barrier meaningless. Such sharing of emotion needs no Pentecostal fire, no speaking in tongues, no miracle. It relies only upon what we feel in our hearts, and the language of the heart is universal.

Art by Iris Sullivan

The Silent Joy of Advent

Today is Advent, the day in the Christian calendar which is the first of four Sundays which look forward to the coming of the Christ child. But need we view this day as exclusively Christian? The word advent simply means an arrival – any arrival which we might view as significant. In this broader sense the word advent also contains the idea of anticipation, and that anticipation in turn contains a sense of joy and wonder. We wait in joyful anticipation, which could mean the coming birth of any child. 

Those of us who have children, who have borne children, will know that once that expected child has arrived into the world then it is impossible to imagine our world without the presence of that little soul in it. The universal period of advent is not four weeks, but nine months – although the sense of anticipation quickens, becomes more keenly felt, as the expected time of the birth approaches. During this time of advent we make preparations. We decorate the new nursery, we acquire the necessary furnishings – the cot, baby bath, and suitable decorations in the form of mobiles, cuddly toys and other items. We, as it were, prepare the nest. And this becomes another aspect of our advent: it is also a time of preparation. We lay the way for the expected new arrival.

But while advent implies all of these things, and whether we have children or not, it still is a term, a state of being, which can apply to us all. In our hectic world we constantly face a barrage of distractions, from the chattering voices of social media with which we constantly keep in touch via our ubiquitous smartphones, from the pressures of commercialism which urge us to buy, buy, buy, at the very time of the year when we should be retreating into ourselves in silent contemplation and reflection. For this also is an aspect of advent: it is – or should be – a time of quiet reflection.

If only we can manage to be silent in ourselves, to still all those chattering voices which distract us, then we allow the true spirit of advent to reveal itself. That sense of expectant wonder is always present. Advent is in every moment. And that moment is universal. “Peace, be still.” were the words we are told Jesus spoke to calm the storm on that far Sea of Galilee. If we allow those words to echo in our hearts, whether we are Christian or not, and whether we celebrate the Christian day of Advent or not, we allow the true spirit of a universal advent to emerge, and we find ourselves filled with a renewing spirit of anticipation, wonder and silent joy.

Detail of Joseph the Carpenter by Georges de la Tour