The sacrament of joy

The young couple stands in the long ticket queue at Knott’s Berry Farm. Between the ticket kiosk and the main gate their two young boys—maybe ages five and six—are passing the time, playing, waiting for their parents. Their focus of attention: a family of Mallard ducks. A mom, dad and several new ducklings.
Because the ducks lived at the theme park, they were untroubled by the presence of people. And the boys are captivated by and enamored with the ducklings. So, take a guess. Where were the boys?
Yes, in the pond.
Did they take their shoes off? Not a chance.
The pond is shallow, and the boys are doing their best to be eye to eye with the ducklings; giggling and talking with the ducklings, their faces filled with unmitigated joy.
After a long wait and with tickets finally in hand, the parents walk up to find their boys in the pond. Let’s just say, that didn’t sit well.
They were overheard saying, rather loudly, “Boys, get up. Get out of there. We’ve got to get into the park and start having fun. Now!”
Okay. Some days I’m with the parents. But now, on most days, I want to learn how to be with the boys.
The woman who told me the story said she was reluctant to get in the pond, but tried to get as close as possible, in order to vicariously absorb the boy’s joy.
Amen. The magnetic power of the sacrament of joy. And how it allows us to be here now.

People say that walking a pilgrimage changed their life.
I am now one of those people. From my Camino, I know it to be true.
And let us remember; a pilgrimage is not about a life-correction. “Okay, now I’m going the right way.”
It is more like a reintroduction, to those gifts that remind us, about what matters most. And after reading the story, I see those boys teaching us about the power of pilgrimage.
So, let us begin with the good news: You don’t have to leave home to live like a pilgrim.

In my creedal mentality, which is very cerebral, I am required to affirm certain elements of the creed, which often feels like passing a test. Gratefully, a pilgrimage opens us up to what we know at our core to be true and affirming and grounding and sustaining. In other words; we live (and choose and commit) now from the heart, not the head.
Over the years, I’ve often preached that the ordinary is the hiding place for the holy. On my pilgrimage I saw it. And I lived it. That’s it; we make the space. To see. And to embrace.
Yes, like the pond at Knott’s Berry Farm became that space for the boys.

Every morning here in Port Ludlow, WA, I spend some time on my walk watching (and talking to) the families of geese and ducks (and soon, goslings and ducklings) in the ponds near me. And I remember the boys in the pond. (No, I don’t get in the water here, but some days—in the summertime—I’m very tempted.) And the gift? There is nothing ordinary about the gift of the ordinary.
Every day, we are bombarded with the same insistent injunction—the implication that life begins someplace other than where we are, right now. And we too easily, miss the “duckling moments”.
Rediscovering wonder (or duckling moments) takes root in the soil of the simple sentence, “I never noticed that before.” I am welcoming, inviting life in, not allowing internal censors and judges to scrutinize, making certain that this moment passes muster. In moments of amazement, we render our internal scorekeeper mute. There is a good deal of conjecture about who merits this streak of luck and why. Some people get all the moments of astonishment. Or perhaps, like these young boys, they’ve allowed themselves to see. And say, “Wow.”
Either way—and this is important to remember, and take with us—these moments sustain us.
These moments create a fabric in our soul which absorbs daily miracles.
I confess to a knee-jerk urge or need to assign value (and therefore well-being) to events (yes, even a pilgrimage). Meaning that when I try to orchestrate the event (“get into the park”, “have fun”, “get out of there”, etc.), I miss what the moment offers me.
Although if we’re honest, the moment may bring both laughter and tears. And both are welcome.

This week, let us unpack the four ingredients to being a daily pilgrim.
One, we see the journey, not the destination. Meaning open to changes, knowing that changes will happen, now learning to be open to it. (Even to those changes that may feel beyond what we find comfortable.)
Two, the permission to be at home in my own skin. I give up the need for labels, or shame, or the burden to impress or perform.
I love this from Thomas Merton, “If I find (God) I will find myself and if I find my true self I will find (God).”
Three, the ordinary is the hiding place for the holy.
And four, freedom to let go of what restrains, holds us back, or keeps us down. The invitation to embrace healing and liberation.

And on this third Sunday of Advent, we light the “Joy” candle, also known as the “Shepherd’s Candle”.
And my friends, in the pace of holiday preparations, for both Christmas and Hanukkah, let us not forget to pause. And enjoy the ducklings.

Quote for our week…
Art is not simply works of art; it is the spirit that knows beauty, that has music in its soul and the color of sunsets in its handkerchief, that can dance on a flaming world and make the world dance too. W.E.B. DuBois

BULLETIN BOARD

Today’s Photo Credit: I couldn’t resist. One more Camino photo. With the recognizable yellow arrow. And, of course, I forget where I took this on the journey. So, onward we go… And thank you to all, I love your photos… please, keep sending them… send to terryhershey.com 

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Audio, oldie but goodie– Hiding place for the holy
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Letters that do my heart good…
–Dear Terry, First of all, welcome “Home” from “your Camino” to the Pacific Northwest, Mount Rainer, and Puget Sound. Secondly, but more importantly, Happy Birthday on this gift of you “being in your own skin” anew, and for 70 years. I love your beautiful reflection on all that you carry in your heart, and all that surely surfaced as you carried yourself (both new and sage) on the pilgrimage of your Camino. I love your Advent reflection. Thank you so very much! May your journey back home be a sabbath rest for you and all that your now savor in goodness and grace. Father Larry
–Dear Terry, Another year and another year you have shared with us. Thank you so much for sharing your Camino journey with us. I have shared your books with friends. Christmas peace and blessings. Pat
–Welcome home. Your writing lately is reaching new heights of inspiration, at a time when the Nation (and beyond) needs a soulful grip as we turn off the noise of all these putrid political distractions. Keep up the great work. Stuart
–70 is a good place to pause and appreciate, to be grateful for these accumulation of years. It may be a speed limit on some highways, but also a time to slow down, to be present, to savor the red wine of a life well lived. You have surely brought grace and wholeheartedness to my life, lifted me up to a fuller view of my life. Sending you an abundance of peace and hope as you continue your pilgrimage into a new decade.
Peace, my friend, Mick
–Thank you Terry, for sharing your Camino with us. My prayer is together we can make our own personal Pilgrimage of Hope during 2025 in response to Pope Francis’ call to be Pilgrims of Hope. Pat
–Happy “just finished the Camino” birthday!  I’ll be finishing the decade you are just beginning and found my 70’s to be a new beginning with retirement and the many opportunities for spiritual awakening this time has provided. May you have a great decade as well! Thanks for you! Alana
–A belated very happy birthday! Here’s to good health and good times and love, joy and happiness. Thank you so very much for your beautiful inspirational moments. You bring calm in a storm. Loved your pilgrimage. Carol
–Happy birthday, Terry. Thank you for blessing us with your posts, your insights, and your encouragement. May this year hold peace, light, lots of walks and talks with your goose friends, and all that brings you joy. Marie