All by Chuck Huff

The “inner monastic” is a nice metaphor for the goal of spiritual formation. This image will always be shaped by our prejudices of the true goal, our limited experience, and our own psychological needs and fears. So our progress toward the goal will require constant revision. We can unpack it as the cultivation of attitude (e.g. of longing, of proper detachment), of knowledge, (e.g. of particular practices, but also knowledge of oneself), and of skills (e.g. listening, self-critique).  Over this coming Fall, I will begin a series of posts on these aspects of waking your inner monastic.  Please join us.

Three hundred years after the death of Jesus on the outskirts of Jerusalem and 1,000 kilometers away, the habitable margins of the deserts of Egypt were filling up with strange people devoted to becoming more like him.  The eldest and most revered of these are called the Desert Elders.  Most were native Egyptian villagers and peasants who left their villages and farms to enter the desert and follow more seriously the way of Christ.  They were mostly poor, not well educated, and of lower social class.   Their language was Coptic, with its roots in the ancient agriculture of the Nile. 

A Time for Cursing Psalms

I gave a talk on the cursing psalms the day after Al Qaeda-inspired terrorists attacked multiple targets in the USA. In these days of renewed war in Europe, what shall we do with our sorrow, our despair, and our anger at such naked aggression, mass slaughter, and soulless calculation for war? Poetry gives us words for our unspoken, and unspeakable, feelings.

The 8th Day of Christmas: Falling in Love

Why is it that we fall in love? How do we lose our balance to do this? And isn’t this a good thing, this falling? At the beginning of this New Year, listen to Rumi’s poetry calling you into the wide expanse of this new year. Try something different – slip to one side of yourself and fall in love with this new day.

Hannah is adamant that the figures in the manger scene in our Christmas Angel are Mama, Papa and Hannah. No Joseph, Mary, and Jesus baby. Almut thinks she has a point. “It is deeper, than play,” she says, “We really are Joseph and Mary and Jesus.” Then I saw her vision of the holy in all the ordinary, even in our own ordinary stories. We, today, are the manger, we are Bethlehem.