moving towards all hallow's eve...

This morning at breakfast we spoke of our favorite seasons - in creation and the church - discovering that we love different times of the year for similar reasons. For both, Advent into Christmas wins hands down with its mystical liturgies, sounds and candles. (A close second would the Easter Vigil for similar reasons.) But I yearn for autumn while she moves towards spring. I ache to follow the light into the darkness whereas she travels through shadows in pursuit of the glow. Both respect the obscure as well as the luminous, both celebrate each in creation and ceremony. Yet one is lured onto the path of unknowing even as the other dances towards the mysteries of revelation. Jane Hirschfield evokes some of these nuances in her oblique but satisfying poem she calls, "The Heat of Autumn." 

The heat of autumn
is different from the heat of summer.
One ripens apples, the other turns them to cider.
One is a dock you walk out on,
the other the spine of a thin swimming horse
and the river each day a full measure colder.
A man with cancer leaves his wife for his lover.
Before he goes she straightens his belts in the closet,
rearranges the socks and sweaters inside the dresser
by color. That’s autumn heat:
her hand placing silver buckles with silver,
gold buckles with gold, setting each
on the hook it belongs on in a closet soon to be empty,
and calling it pleasure.

As October matures into the stark clarity of November, trees in these parts stand naked and green fields become brown. I find my heart leaning into the promise of All Saints Day and All Souls Day. At this time of year I feel the "thin" places between now and then that connect the living with the faithful departed. Writing in his Holiday and Holy Nights, Christopher Hill, notes that these feasts are our special recognition of life beyond our control.

These feasts remind us that the roots and branches of Christianity are in the unseen, and that the trunk passes for only the shortest while through this daylight world of time and the five sense. (These feasts) remedy our unease with the unseen, teach us to get along with mystery. They are the answer to our primitive assumption that what is out there in the dark is hostile or evil. They show that something very strange can mean us very well.

I am in the process of discerning what an All Saints/All Souls memory altar for our house might look like - and include. For reasons beyond my understanding, this year I am profoundly aware of those who have gone before me into life eternal. The cycle of life in nature is moving towards death and I feel a yearning to remember and honor those who have given my life meaning. There's more to write about this longing in the days to come, but for now this will suffice. This year I want to join Louie for trick or treating - our secular connection to the ancient rite - then say prayers of gratitude for my beloved dead. I am starting to gather picture now for my Day of the Dead altar.

Dear souls of the dead,

you are still remembered by my family; 

you are most worthy of our perpetual remembrance,

especially you, my grandparents, my parents,

also our relatives, children,

and everyone whom death 

took away from our home. 

I invite you to this annual feast.

We pray that this feast be agreeable to you,

just like the memory of you is to us. Amen.