The first day of May is also the ancient Celtic celebration of Lá Bealtaine,
meaning “bright fire” in Irish. I’ve heard some folks refer to it as the “Spring
Halloween”. It is exactly six months from All Saints Day and another time in
Ancient Celtic tradition when the veil between heaven
and earth was
thought to be lifted just a little.
There are several mentions of fire in Scripture, but the one that comes to
mind this morning is when Moses encounters the burning bush. That
moment when the voice of God told Moses that the ordinary ground on
which he was standing was holy. Maybe take a moment to read the
passage this morning in Exodus 3. And then take in this poem by Jan
Richardson...
Blessing at the Burning Bush
You will have to decide
if you want this—
want the blessing
that comes to you
on an ordinary day
when you are minding
your own path,
bent on the task before you
that you have done
a hundred times,
a thousand.
You will have to choose
for yourself
whether you will attend
to the signs,
whether you will open your eyes
to the searing light, the heat,
whether you will open
your ears, your heart
to the voice
that knows your name,
that tells you this place
where you stand—
this ground so familiar
and therefore unregarded—
is, in fact,
holy.
You will have to discern
whether you have
defenses enough
to rebuff the call,
excuses sufficient
to withstand the pull
of what blazes before you;
whether you will
hide your face,
will turn away
back toward—
what, exactly?
No path from here
could ever be
ordinary again,
could ever become
unstrange to you
whose seeing
has been scorched
beyond all salving.
You will know your path
not by how it shines
before you
but by how it burns
within you,
leaving you whole
as you go from here
blazing with
your inarticulate,
your inescapable
yes.
—Jan Richardson
Peace, friends.