Holiness Abounds

Certainly there is a darkness in the world.  But just as certainly, there is a holiness that we can call upon from within ourselves and from others of like mind.  
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In her poem, Leaves and Blossoms Along the Way, Mary Oliver writes
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God, or the gods, are invisible, quite
understandable. But holiness is visible,
entirely.

I was struck by the image of an entirely visible holiness that is active amidst an invisible God.  The idea that holiness abounds and surrounds us is often difficult to embrace when it seems that so much is going backwards in the world today.  It feels like God is indeed invisible and holiness is often hidden beneath the crush of remarkably difficult issues such as an epidemic of mass shootings; of the mounting impact from climate change, of unbridled greed; of an ever growing economic divide; of caustic political discourse that threatens our very democracy.

Recently, I have felt paralyzed by the weight of these complex issues, each of which seem to have no ready resolve but all of which are integral to living a life of simplicity, peace, and grace. 

I was fearful when my youngest daughter and her husband were making plans to attend the State Fair, just days after the back to back mass shootings in Texas and Ohio.  I was afraid that there would be a copy-cat shooting here in Wisconsin and that the State Fair would be a rich target for a sick shooter.  And I knew, there was no way I could protect them if they went.

I also knew that praying to God to protect my loved ones was an empty gesture.  I don’t believe the Divine works that way.  I believe that God loves each of us and whispers in our hearts a call to bring forth his love in the world each day.  But some – and sometimes many – are not practiced at listening for that still small voice, let alone acting on it.  The shooters in Texas and Ohio most certainly have (or had) that of God within them.  The Divine was actively calling out to them, beckoning them to feel his love and to mirror that love in the world, and no amount of my prayers would change that. 

It is easy to see an abundance of holiness in the world when we look at the wonders of the environment.  My wife Jennie planted three butterfly bushes in our back yard years ago, and now we are graced with dozens of butterflies who come yearly to feed on the blossom’s nectar before undertaking their 1,000 mile flight to Mexico.  The marvel of these butterflies and how they pass on our yard location in their DNA so their offspring will know where to find sustenance year after year, is a grace almost beyond comprehension.

The holiness of the natural  world surrounds us if we are willing to slow down and contemplate its beauty.  However, one must strain to see the holiness in the individuals who refuse  - out of greed or a need for political power - to act on the many issues confronting our world.  But here too, our holiness must abound. 

I’m not talking about a kumbaya type of holiness that ignores the darkness in the world and keeps hoping for Divine intervention to spread peace over the earth.  I’m talking about that fierce mama bear love that will see immigrant children abused by our government and will make our elected officials take notice.  I’m talking about a kindness that will hear someone speak from their position of privilege and will gently, and lovingly remind them that their station in life was built on the backs of others who did not benefit from such an advantage.

Certainly there is a darkness in the world.  But just as certainly, there is a holiness that we can call upon from within ourselves and from others of like mind.  I am reminded of the quote by the Quaker George Fox in which he states “I saw, also, that there was an ocean of darkness and death; but an infinite ocean of light and love, which flowed over the ocean of darkness.”

I believe that we are called to be the light and love, the holiness that flows over the darkness of our days.  It is only through each of us that holiness will abound in these times.

There is a quote of uncertain origin that sums up our call quite well.
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Do not be daunted by the enormity of the world's grief.
Do justly, now. Love mercy, now. Walk humbly now.
You are not obligated to complete the work, but neither are you free to abandon it.