Hildegard of Bingen (1098 to 1179) was a German Benedictine abbess, Christian mystic, composer, theologian, natural philosopher, and one of the most remarkable intellectual figures of the Middle Ages. From an early age, she reported experiencing vivid visions that she understood as revelations from God.

Every generation faces its own defining challenge. The great challenge of 1776 was political independence. The great challenge of the 21st century is realizing interdependence.

You are risen. Yes, you! Resurrection is not only an event sealed in the past, nor a miracle waiting somewhere in the distant future. It is not confined to a single body, a single moment, or a single story handed down through centuries. Resurrection is the living movement of Reality itself, unfolding endlessly.

We waited for the sky to break, for heaven to tear like fabric, for light to pour through a wound in the clouds and name us worthy or not.

There was a timewhen I wore myself like a border,tight against the skin,a fragile perimeter of breath and bone.I called it “me”and trembled for it.

For many people, to be a witness of Jesus Christ means testifying to a single historical individual, a Jewish teacher who lived in first century Palestine and was executed under the Roman Empire. That figure is central to Christianity, and his life and teachings matter. But when the meaning of Christ is confined only to that one male body in one slice of history, something vast becomes narrow.

What appears as a veil obscuring God from itself is, at a deeper level, God’s own act of concealment.

We speak of God as King, on high, A sceptered hand, a watchful eye. The Master Plan, the sovereign Will, Each motion bound, each moment still Beneath a gaze that sees and guides, Where destiny in preset tides Flows onward, sure, from source to sea, Bound fast by the divine decree. Ultimate Autocrat, we deem, The Architect of every dream And waking hour, the chain, the key, Controlling all eternally.

He breathes in quiet, unseen air, A life unfolds, though none aware. No trumpet sounds, no banners fly, He simply is, beneath the sky.

The stone was not just rolled for one, But for all things beneath the sun. Not merely once, in ancient land, But each time Soul lets go of sand.

They saw the empty space I left, The pew unfilled, the rites bereft. Heard silence where the hymns once soared, And whispered low, "He's lost the Lord." Their faces etched with kind concern, For lessons they believed I'd spurn. They saw the structure fall away, And feared my Soul had gone astray.

Declaration of Interdependence

They forge a Christ where lines of hate divide, Wrapped in the flag, where borders coincide With holy ground, demanding fealty sworn To earthly power, since the day He’s born Again, they claim, in halls where eagles scream, And scripture twists to fit a patriot dream.

A whisper in the silent night, a flame that flickers, soft yet bright. Beyond the words, beyond the mind, a path where Truth is undefined.

The seeker set out, a map in his hand, Tracing the footprints in well-traveled sand. He spoke of the journey, the hunger to know, Yet feared the great River’s unyielding flow.

Christ is not a distant name, not bound to time, not locked in fame. Not one alone, but all, the whole, the pulsing breath, the cosmic soul.

They told me Love was bound by law,by covenant, by whispered awe.That only keys in hallowed handscould thread the ties of shifting sands.

The bad news is, no throne above,No bearded king, no distant love.No voice of thunder, no hands of clay,No god out there to hear you pray.

Love is known when we are bare, Stripped of all the masks we wear, Shedding pretense, cast aside, No more need for veils to hide.

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