I’m sure we’ve all come across the phrase, the idea, that we are spiritual beings having a human experience, enfleshed souls. I’ve always loved this in whatever iteration it takes. It seems many of the world’s faith traditions hold this idea in some form. Surely it is one way I have come to understand the humanity of Christ more deeply. Every winter, I meditate on the Incarnation of the Divine celebrated by Christians at this time of year, on God made Human in the baby Jesus. Usually, my focus turns towards the messages of that vulnerability itself and what it means that the salvation of all things comes to us utterly dependent.
But as I consider the Incarnation of the Divine this year, I’m struck not by that infant but by his parents, a couple on a journey -not one they’d planned nor would’ve chosen, the trip to Bethlehem for the Census, but also their broader journey. An unplanned child. Visions of justice proclaimed by Mary. The flight to a foreign land for their safety, perceived by the dreamer Joseph. The parents of Jesus of Nazareth were on their own journey of life, one full of danger and protection, vision and purpose.
For about a month now, I’ve been writing about the importance of this journey itself, and its subsequent need for slowness and space. I’ve been gathering what I think of as Tools for the Journey, and preparing trails with bread crumb concepts and lit lantern pathways. I’ve been considering why it is that we so often reject the journey we are actually on for the quest we think we should be on, or why we jump on the path we think we should be following when another direction is clearly before us.
It’s very easy for us to feel out of control, like we’re walking paths laid out for us without choice or intent, or when we feel our world careening over climate cliffs with no real plan for what happens next. We all are at the whim of each other at some level -true autonomy isn’t possible. Simply our inability to manage Covid as a public health crisis reveals this. We need each other, and this reality can just feed a sense of chaos rather than urging us towards the supports and resources only available in the collective, the common good.
How do we as individuals manage this? Because no matter our configurations of family and social communities or work relationships, we are each discreet and different.
For me, I can regain a sense of purpose in the turmoil and confusion when I recall that I am on a journey throughout the entirety of this life. Perhaps that sounds obvious.
But despair and panic slip in most often when I think whatever is before me is the end instead of a new beginning, a final pronouncement rather than an opportunity. The knowledge that the story isn’t over, it’s barely begun being told, is a balm when the road stretches far behind, and far ahead. Along the road of that journey, the one thing that is determined and sure is change. The landscape of your journey will change. The supplies you carry will shift. The changes that jar us are only part of the whole story.
Sometimes I find myself in places I don’t recognize, but that doesn’t mean I have strayed from my path. What is unknown can become known. What is hidden can be revealed. What is twisted can be redeemed. Certainly Mary and Joseph found themselves to be strangers in a strange land as well.
This journey of life will lead to unexpected places, and feeling out of control is normal. But the path is broad, and all movement towards love and justice builds the world we know is possible. This is movement we each propel by our own actions, contemplation, and relationships. The steps taken from this interior place resonate differently, and are heard.
You will encounter companions and guides on your journey. I certainly have. Mary and Jospeh did as well. For none of us is meant to do this alone. And none of us is required to complete all tasks or fulfill all things. We are simply required to respond, sometimes with quiet and thought and sometimes with action, and to be aware and awake to the unfolding journey.
Let us pray.
Holy God, you send your spirit to fill us with your power, with potential for new life and transformation. Continually, you send messengers and helpmates to invite us into the sacred dance of creation. Open our hearts, and open our ears that we may hear your voice. Strengthen and empower us that we might respond with yes to your call into the wilds and unknown. This we ask in all the names we call Holy. Amen.