Ruah Bull - Spiritual Director

 Do not be daunted by the  enormity of the world's grief. Do justly, now. Love mercy, now. You are not obliged to complete the work, but neither are you free to abandon it.

 They tell that a man so loving & just that many take him  for benevolent god was killed because his teaching so loving & just threatened the very foundations of empire & that against all law of life three days later resurrected, not unheard of in myth but wondrous still. His teaching still threatens empires & many who dare follow it are persecuted & killed, & his resurrection is nothing less than revolution.

 Thanks and blessing be to the Sun & the Earth for this bread & this wine,          this fruit, this meat, this salt, this food; thanks be and blessing to them who prepare it, who serve it; thanks and blessing to them who share it (& also the absent & the dead). Thanks and blessing be to them who bring it (may they not want), to them who plant and tend it, harvest and gather it (may they not want), thanks and blessing to them who work & blessing to them who cannot; may they not want - for their hunger sours the wine & robs the salt of its taste. Thanks be for the sustenance & strength for our dance & the work of justice, of peace.

 I solemnly vow that I will faithfully execute my role in healing, inspiring and empowering the people of our nation and will, to the best of my ability, preserve, protect, and defend dignity, justice and equity for all people and the planet. I take this oath and servant calling faithfully as an act of Revolutionary Love. (Painting by Arthur Poulin)

 When the song of the angels is stilled, when the star in the sky is gone, when the kings and the princes are home, when the shepherds are back with their flocks, the work of Christmas begins: to find the lost, to heal the broken, to feed the hungry, to release the prisoner, to rebuild the nations, to bring peace among the people, to make music in the heart. 

I look at the world From awakened eyes in a black face- And this is what I see: This fenced-off narrow space Assigned to me. I look then at the silly walls Through dark eyes in a dark face- And this is what I know: That all these walls oppression builds Will have to go! I look at my own body With eyes no longer blind- And I see that my own hands can make The world that's in my mind. The let us hurry, comrades, The road to find.

From the place where we are right flowers will never grow in the spring. The place where we are right is hard and trampled like a yard. But doubts and loves dig up the world like a mole, a plow and a whisper will be heard in the place where the ruined house once stood.