Primitive religion is not believed, it is danced!

Arthur Darby Nock

Earth's crammed with heaven,
And every common bush afire with God;
And only he who sees takes off his shoes;
The rest sit round it and pluck blackberries.

Elizabeth Browning

Friday, June 1, 2018


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“Children show scars like medals. Lovers use them as a secrets to reveal. A scar is what happens when the word is made flesh.”
                                                             Leonard Cohen, The Favorite Game

We all have scars
A quick glance in the mirror reveals 10 surgeries
From an Achilles tendon, to a neck fusion
(and plenty of things in between)

Each scar tells a story
If not of a moment gone bad
Of wear and tear
Of genes gone wild

But there are scars that can’t be seen
The scars of rejection and failure
The scars of wounds that run deep into the depths of my soul

Scars I carry because I was foolish
Or because I fell in love (and it wasn’t returned)
Scars that came because I was lonely, angry
Scared, greedy, needy

Mostly the wounds are healed, but not all

And then there are the scars that have come when the word became flesh
When the sacred became real
So real I could no longer avoid its reality
No longer avoid the intrusive presence
Of the Spirit

Scars that came when Sacred sliced through my defenses
And left nothing untouched
Radical surgery
Rearranging the very stuff of which I am made

When the “word made flesh”
Involved my flesh

Incarnation now

I walk with these scars
Feel these scars
Sometimes suffer from these scars

They remind me
They inform me
They humble me

They make me sad
And they give me joy

And this scarred visage
Cannot help but look at your scarred visage

And reach out

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