“We must empty the heart
so God can write in it...”
How are you doing, dear fellow traveler, on this 11th day of our journey?
Did we tell you that you have not signed up for a wellness Christmas, with candles and a guitar to accompany “Silent Night” at the end? Instead we went on a pilgrimage, arriving with blisters on our feet and a hollow ache in our hearts.
And while our kind neighbors have already disposed of their Christmas trees at the curbside, we have not yet arrived at the crib. We did find a solution to the trees, though: We have schlepped them into our front yard and planted them in the snow — some new-found hope dragged in from the curb. Perhaps we will find some lights, too, when we have time…
Now, almost at the end of the journey, we can confess: we are actually not very Christmas-y people. In fact, most of the years of our marriage we have not even had a Christmas tree (if we did not recycle one from the curb side). We always arrive late at Christmas and we wonder, every year again, what to do with it.
But walking Christmas as a spiritual journey has helped. We walk from the first appearance of the crib, together with companions, to its final scene where we join the wise (wo)men there. Tomorrow we will learn more from them, through the eyes of Hildegard von Bingen. Of course, on a pilgrimage one can expect the unexpected detour, the delightful rest stop, the kind companions, and even getting lost on the way. Where are you in your pilgrimage today?
For me, as on every pilgrimage, I have a meltdown at some point and just want to go home. I arrived at this 11th Day of Christmas tired and hollowed out. Empty. How much further to the crib? Are we there yet? So what would I have to share? What can I say, empty vessel that I am, I lamented.
My husband looked at me kindly for a while. “Isn’t arriving empty a good thing?” he asked with a smile.
Emptying oneself is the pilgrimage…
Well… Isn’t it the whole idea of a pilgrimage, friends? We start our pilgrimage clutching all our essential baggage at first and then leave more and more behind while walking.
One has to empty ones heart, says Meister Eckhart, so God can write in it. (Here I have written more on this…)
So is feeling empty after a long journey not the worst after all? I do not know how the wise (wo)men arrived at the crib, but like me they probably were in need of a shower and a bowl of chicken soup. Still, they did not give up on their journey until they arrived, tired and exhausted, at that humble stable. Always. Walking. Always emptying. Always in need of grace.
How are you arriving at this point of the journey, dear traveler? What hope are you cradling?
Birthing the holy is not an easy task. No Spa treatment has it on the menu. But it is the heart of Christmas after all. A humble stable. Birth pangs and exhaustion. A little tender cry of hope. A child. A newborn. Immanuel. God with us.
We empty the heart so it can become the womb for the Divine. There is probably no stronger example than birthing for the holy unity of deepest pain and greatest hope when new life comes into the world. The pain is thrust upon us, we cannot turn back now. And the result is such a fragile, small, endearing hope. Divine in origin, human in frailty.
If you, like me, feel exhausted or empty or you despair of progress, remember that it is birthing. There are no spiritual shortcuts and emptying is the journey. Nor are you alone. Many others have walked this same path of emptying and can tell you of both the pain and the hope that helps us patiently endure.
So we encourage you to gather up the lessons of your past, and continue forward on your journey. Hold in your heart to the hope to which you are giving birth, and which you will cradle and nurture.
Practice: Cradling Hope
If you can take some time this day, you might want to use these questions for reflection on your own journey. Or perhaps other questions or practice will occur to you as you wait.
Write a summary of your journey, with its beginning and middle and the hopeful end.
Cradle your hope by placing it in a poem, a psalm, or a picture.
Or Cradle your hope as you would the Divine child as an embodied practice walking into the scene (Here is a humble example).
A Blessing for your Journey
Of course you are empty, dear one.
It is what happens when you open yourself to the infinite
Or perhaps you can see your emptiness as that door
Open it a little, and let hope fall through the crack…
This post is part of our 12 Days of Christmas Series 2020/21: Cradling Hope, a Contemplative Journey towards the heart of Christmas. To enter our virtual gathering space click here. To share your thoughts with us, write us here or comment below. To offer your gift for this journey, click here.
Thank you for sharing this post with some one who might enjoy it.
Peace and Blessings, Almut & Chuck