It’s been an unseasonably mild winter here in the Midwest, which most likely means some sort of polar vortex will descend upon us in the new year, bringing arctic temperatures and frozen pipes to this old house.

Nevertheless, winter is a wonderful time to be outside, particularly in the evening, which comes swift and inky around 5 p.m. The stars seem to shine better in the cold, as if the frozen void of space stretches a bit closer to us these dark winter months.

The constellation Orion is a graceful companion, hunting across the southern sky. I love seeing him in the western sky on cold January evenings out my back door, and then again in the morning on the way to work, as the southern morning sky just barely begins to glow with the sun’s promise of light, if not warmth, for another new day. A loyal winter huntsman.

My medieval peasant roots also take hold these dark months. I long for hearth and home, for a warm fire and a slower pace of life. This fall was frantic, with the busy schedules of two working parents and three small children to juggle, as well as the legion of viruses that found their way into our homes and habitats. Since October, we’ve had COVID, RSV, Hand foot and mouth, the stomach flu, and now are currently coughing our way into the new year with some respiratory virus. I know many others are struggling with this seeming explosion of strong contagions and weakened immured systems. I pray all of you are well. We’ve been lucky to avoid anything serious, thanks be to God.

Winter is also a good time to let the creative fields lay fallow. My plan is to read and write in equal measure. There is another book to write on the horizon, that much I know. But there is also a good deal of reading to be done in order to complete it. For Advent, I finished Revelations of Divine Love by Dame Julian of Norwich, a tour de force of mystical experiences and reflection upon them by a 12th Century Anchoress (and saint, most likely), of the “epistemology of realized eschatology,” or the utter certainty that in the (ultimate) end, as Julian says, “All shall be well, and all shall be well, and all manner of thing shall be well.” Her words, spoken as a divine dialogue with Christ, are both comforting and challenging. They pierce and warm the heart in equal measure.

Additionally, I’ve found The Reed of God by English mystic and writer Caryll Houselander to be a wonderful slow burning meditation upon Mary, and the call for all of us to become like Mary, a little theotokos or “God-bearer” in the ordinary circumstances of our own lives. Houselander writes with the subtle, elegant conviction of one who has, for a brief glimmering moment, seen “that God may be all in all.” Again, a realized eschatology and anthropology wrapped in Marian spirituality. Perfect for the season.

Finally, I’ve begun the formidable tome The Enchantments of Mammon: How Capitalism Became the Religion of Modernity by Eugene McCarraher. It is absolutely captivating from the first sentence of the prologue: “Once upon a time, the world was enchanted.” In the next seven hundred pages, I assume McCarraher will trace the story of how this enchanted world became not disenchanted but “misenchanted” by modernity’s essential religion of the market: “The world can never be disenchanted, not because our emotional or political or cultural needs compel us to find enchantments – that they do – but because the world itself, as [Gerard Manley] Hopkins realized, is charged with the grandeur of God…the earth is a sacramental place, mediating the presence and power of God, revelatory of the superabundant love of divinity… In Christian theology, another way to say that the world is “enchanted” is to say that it is sacramental” (pg. 11). Incarnation is everywhere, indeed.

Whatever springs this spring from these readings will no doubt creatively reflect these sacramental, mystical seeds I am sowing. I look forward to adventure of writing and how it will no doubt unfold in unexpected and interesting ways.

Just know that if my writings here begin to trickle out even more slowly than usual it is because I am either reading or writing in an effort to create something a bit more substantial. Or perhaps I am just trying to keep my head above the rising tide of work in ministry as well as laundry, dishes, cleaning, and homelife with small children.

Regardless, I wish for you a merry rest of your Christmas season and a happy new year which will soon be upon us.

Peace and all good to you and yours.

Michael