That there is a cosmic justice that starts things out, finds us in the middle and wins out in the end.
That, in the heart of the cosmos, there is a caring love that finds us in the middle of the road, meets us in the midst of the way, and is involved on the deepest, closest, dearest level: that, in every moment of creation, we are met, nourished and loved.
That this presence, this possibility of relationship, waits for us without power: without, for the most part, lights, cameras or action. That the reality of this relationship is without ordinary power so that we may come into it without compulsion or addiction: it is neither bought nor sold. It waits in silence and in patience for us to stop and listen, waits for the awareness to grow and ripen in us that we are in the presence of ultimate caring and loving reality, right here in the very middle of it.
That there are times and places, people and animals, who bring this ultimate reality of love into daily interaction in our lives. They move, sing, talk, love, like that deeper reality. Thus the infinite God enters the finite world of our interactions. Thus there are poets and prophets and messengers broadcasting on popular channels of our understanding.
That the man Jesus, as portrayed in the Gospels, the Christian Scripture, and 2000 years of Church tradition, is a picture – a kind of full-colour full-sound moving picture – of how that awareness and love moves in the world.
That in a world where there is much that is bent, out of shape, hidden is lies and in shadows, stretched to the point of breaking; in that world a whole man will be broken: but as he is true to that original unity and nurture and love (here it comes!), even if he dies, he will live.
That this world is, in many ways, a pre-limn, a doorway to other modes of life and living, where we may come to see a deeper and more integral understanding of how we are created, connected, related, than we might presently understand.
That we are unable to comprehend these modes of existence and connection, any more than a child can understand the emotional, mental, or physical states of an adult. And that most of the myths found in historical religions are true, poetic and prophetic pictures attempting to articulate where we are headed an what it might look like. That the are all les than accurate.
That all this is a collection of words that falls short of pointing to the ultimate hope that I look for and love, to the best of my ability, every day.
That it is fun to try anyway.
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