When alone – disgusting, damaging and unhealthy. A dish without it – with no taste. Salt. It doesn’t give its own taste – it extracts the taste.
What does it mean?
Maybe you’re a part of a spiritual community where you develop yourself and your faith grows. But this community shouldn’t be your haven. It should be… your trampoline.
I don’t want to sound very sophisticated. It’s very easy to talk in this manner and repeat thousand times “how much this time is important” and “how much it’s important so that it leaves a trace in our hearts”. I know. But sometimes it doesn’t leave any trace. Sometimes even in Christmas we don’t manage to destroy all the blockages and start to talk to some of our relatives. It can be beautiful but it’s also painful so too difficult. Yes, it’s often like that.
I want to share a story of Christmas which were completely out of frame.
To be honest, I don’t know how to start, because I have bunches of thoughts in my head and it’s hard to catch them. I would love it not to be chaotic – but maybe it’s impossible – and in the same time I chose the simplicity for the topic of my post. This is already complicated, isn’t it?
I haven’t visited all the countries in the world but I’m sure of one thing. The Holy Land is one of the most diverse regions which you can imagine. Full stop.
The most bizarre thing, though, is that this diversity is comically disproportionate to the little area of the country. Sometimes it makes you go to sleep with a headache or just ask yourself “how am I supposed not to get crazy here?” – whatever you see, you can see the opposite also.
It was one of those days when the Messenger arrived to Heaven with his bag filled with prayers of believers from Earth. The bag was full of sincere prayers, sometimes hasty, sometimes just litanies of requests without a moment of reflexion – some of them, though, very urgent. Panting Messenger stopped a bit in front of the Heaven’s gate just to catch a breath. But the gate was opened while inside there was a big discussion between God and His angels. The Messanger – willy-nilly – heard it and then he told me everything.
In winter it’s icy. In summer pleasantly fresh. In some countries there is plenty of it. In others they are few. Sometimes simple and with white walls (this is how I like it the most), and sometimes stuffed with columns, altars, paintings and severe faces of stagnant statues. The church. They are also some where you won’t find pews and everyone sits on the ground. It can be a symbol of calmness or art or boredom.
Today in Bethlehem 