The 10th Day of Christmas: Deepening Self
Today's gift is a brief reflection on Edith Stein and the quiet presence of the Divine which leads us to the stable of our heart.
Dear fellow traveler,
“Are we there yet,” is a question Hannah loves to sing from the back of the car where ever we go. And it sums up pretty well how I often feel on this pilgrimage to the heart of Christmas.
Are we there yet?
As I move through these 12 days, I find myself feeling the weight of the journey. The days blur together, each filled with familiar images and traditions. Yet, even though the images of Christmas remain the same—the star, the manger, the humble child—I find myself weary, as if the pilgrimage itself is taking more out of me than usual. There are moments when I wonder what this is all for. I began this journey feeling more numb, tired, and broken than usual, worn down by the sorrows of this world, unsure if I had the energy to keep going.
But then I remind myself: this is the purpose of the pilgrimage. It’s not about reaching a destination or achieving some perfect sense of peace. It’s about being on the journey itself, where the deeper self begins to emerge, often quietly, through the weariness and the struggle.
This is the journey to the stable, dear fellow traveler.
In the tiredness, the repetition, and the quiet moments of struggle, I realize that this pilgrimage is a gift. It is throwing me back into myself, reminding me of the divine presence that is always with me, even in my weariness. The journey itself is the way, and it is through this journey that the deeper self is revealed. Transformation happens not in some far-off place, but in the here and now, in the quiet, often unnoticed moments. Just as the birth of Christ came into the world quietly and humbly, so too does transformation happen in the small, hidden spaces, the stables of our hearts. This deeper self, which may feel elusive or distant at times, is slowly born anew in us as we open to the divine presence.
On Edith Stein and the Quiet Presence of the Divine
In these moments of quiet struggle, I find it helpful to turn to the wisdom of Edith Stein, who beautifully captured the paradox of the divine presence in the ordinary. She wrote:
“God comes to us through the small and hidden ways, and in our own hearts He is born anew.” — Edith Stein
These words invite me to recognize that the journey of transformation is not one of striving for some distant ideal, but one of opening ourselves to God’s quiet presence in the midst of our everyday lives.
The deeper self, the truest self, is born in this space of surrender and grace. It is through allowing God to be born anew in our hearts that we are slowly transformed, not by grand gestures or dramatic revelations, but by the humble and hidden work of the divine in the everyday moments of life. And not into some mirror image of the godhead, but into the peculiar and wonderful persons we are meant to be. The quiet presence of the divine allows us to reconnect with this deeper self, gently guiding us toward our truest, most particular and deeply grounded, nature.
As we move toward the final days of this Christmas pilgrimage, I feel a sense of anticipation growing. The weariness of the journey has softened into something deeper—something more profound. There is a quiet expectation within me, a sense that something new is waiting to be revealed.
Over the next two days, I invite you to pause, to take time for yourself and reflect on your own journey. This Saturday, we will lead you into your personal Epiphany retreat, to take time to slow down, allowing yourself the space to reflect, breathe, and revisit the journey. For those who may have started but gotten lost along the way, take this time to center yourself and return to the heart of the pilgrimage.
On Sunday, our 12th contemplation will bring us together to celebrate the culmination of this journey—the moment when divine joy breaks through in unexpected ways. As we approach Epiphany, I invite you to prepare for the distinctive revelation that is yet to come to you, and to trust that the journey, though wearying, has been shaping you for something beautiful.
Reflection Questions:
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