I lift my eyes up to the hills
from where will my help come?
My help comes from Love abundant….
Late August in New England. Maine’s ocean feels warmer (or maybe we’re just getting used to it). Teachers and students are already counting down to Back-To-School Day. The Annual Pleiades Meteor shower is taking center stage as I write this, giving us a stunning reminder of our small, small place in the universe - and our infinite capacity for awe.
‘Awe,’ of course, depends a lot on context. Spiritual awe, for those who have encountered it, may be an experience of the vastness of creation, the depth of one’s capacity to love, the affirmation of one’s own whole beloved being. A quiet swim at Herring Cove, buoyed by the gentle strength of the ocean, marveling at the endless expanse of horizon. Standing atop Mt. Mansfield, the breathtaking scale of the Green Mountains stretched beneath your feet. Gazing into your child’s face for the first time. Awe, abundant.
But there is another use of the word, coined in the early days of this century by the description, ‘Shock and Awe.’ Awe, as in, tremble at the threat of deadly violence. As in, fear the wrath of an angry god, and not the unknowable fullness of G-d’s love. . .
