Memorial Day 2017: Reiki and hope for peace

Memorial Day 2017: Reiki and hope for peace

On this Memorial Day, my heart longs for peace. Tears form in my eyes as I watch television images of wounded and fallen soldiers, victims of war. I cringe as I hear the planes from a memorial airshow flying over my apartment. I say a prayer for families trapped in war zones. They live day in and day out with those planes flying over, dropping bombs and death on their innocent lives. My hands are hot with Reiki and love as I meditate and write peace over the world.

Where does all this war come from? Why do we hate each other so? In the Bible, Jesus taught his disciples about the Father’s kingdom, a kingdom of Love. In the kingdom of Love, Jesus said we must learn to even love our enemies. At the end of Jesus’ life, Peter cut off the ear of the high priest’s servant to try and protect Jesus from violence. Jesus corrected Peter and responded in peace by laying his healing hands on the servant’s ear.

Jesus taught us to show love by healing the helpless, bandaging the bruised, washing the wounds of the world. As we recognize our oneness, we spread sacred Reiki healing around the world. We are all brothers and sisters, beloved children of the Creator.

The Creator is Love. God is the definition of love. God is an infinite ocean of love. Each of us is only a droplet in this ocean, reflecting the light of the Source. We become perfect when we embrace ourselves in that love, give voice to that love, embody that love on this physical earth.

War is the opposite of love. War is the opposite of God. Why do we divide ourselves in war? Why do we mourn our fallen soldiers, then go on and create more war? Why did my Christian community teach me to love war as I was growing up?

My heart cannot understand all the praise my family gave to war. My heart grieves the adoration my church gave the military and hi-tech weapons. There is big money, and greed, tied up in US weapons manufacturing. The masters or war sell this to the churches as “patriotism” and “pride”. My church taught me that the United States only fights “just wars”. They said that war is how we free the victims and the oppressed.

Yes, for sure, God’s heart is for the victim and the oppressed. But war creates oppression, not solves it.

Still, there is hope. I think of the American churches who welcome Syrian refugees with open hearts and homes. This New York Times Article is a great example. I think of the Quaker churches who have always preached peace and nonviolence. I think of the churches who have declared themselves sanctuaries. They are housing Latin American immigrants caught in political wars. Each of these churches flow as bright droplets of light in the ocean of Love. They understand the teachings of Jesus and the heart of God.

I am grateful to my childhood church for encouraging me to read the Bible. There is so much beauty and love in its pages. There is theological explanation of the human condition. There is grace for the many mistakes of imperfect humans. We are all learning to trade darkness for light, greed for charity, fear for hope.

The Bible teaches me that we must tame the war inside ourselves to stop all the war outside.

On this Memorial Day, I hold my Bible and I read the hope of Isaiah. I share the prophet’s hope that someday the whole world will beat their swords into plowshares. Someday we will practice war no more. Someday we will have no more fallen soldiers and refugee victims. I hold out my hands of peace and I pray for Reiki healing over this war-torn world.

Isaiah 2

3 Many peoples will come and say,

“Come, let us go up to the mountain of the Lord,
to the temple of the God of Jacob.
He will teach us his ways,
so that we may walk in his paths.”
The law will go out from Zion,
the word of the Lord from Jerusalem.
4 He will judge between the nations
and will settle disputes for many peoples.
They will beat their swords into plowshares
and their spears into pruning hooks.
Nation will not take up sword against nation,
nor will they train for war anymore. read more

Stories, Art, Imagination, Play

Stories, Art, Imagination, Play

What preschoolers teach us about Reiki

Amy, Amy, tell us a story!

I hear this plea many times a day from my preschool class. I love to sit with them at the lunch table, or in small group time, and tell stories together. Stories about rainbows and dragons, thunderstorms and trees, the fantastical and the everyday. Preschoolers do not yet have a firm line between the “real” and the “imaginary.” This is something we are taught as we grow older, by our parents, our culture, our school system, and our televisions and media.

Stories, along with music and art, are the heartbeat of human experience, a shared understanding composed with billions of words, notes, brush strokes. We all have something unique and beautiful to add, and children understand this innately. They create with joy and without fear.

Picasso once said,

All children are artists. The problem is how to remain one once he grows up


This is true of art, music, story telling, and, perhaps most importantly, it is true of spirituality. Small children are so close to heaven, some even remember being in heaven (even if that’s not what they call it). How else do they know about dragons, unicorns, mermaids? The most precious gift of children is creativity, and creativity comes from the Spirit.

Tragically, our American school system is moving further and further away from teaching and encouraging the arts, and with it imagination, creation, and the spiritual. I’m not talking about religious indoctrination, but about the spiritual part, the Holy Spirit Reiki energy, that lives in the soul of each human being and connects us to each other in a rainbow of diversity, and to the hidden secrets of the unseen. The arts open this world. Math and science, of the kind taught to the Test, close it off. There is a true beauty to math and science, a striving to understand the world, but this artistic math and science doesn’t score as well on tests.

This is the way we teach math and science in preschool. We don’t use worksheets and standardized tests. We use play. Play is imagination. Play is the work of children, but it should also be the work of adults. If adults played more, our world would be kinder, would advance spiritually and socially. Play is Reiki is healing.

Children also understand healing. They will tell you that scraped knees require “magical” band aids and bumped heads an ice pack, but they know that the secret is in the caring. When mommy kisses the owie, or I, the teacher, apply the band aid with concern, it is the love that heals. Kids know that we are all social creatures at our core. Kids embrace, adults separate.

Remember, embrace, coax out your inner preschooler, friends. Find healing through play and imagination (have you ever noticed the “magic” in “imagination”?). Take joy in this day and in your journey. Peace and light to you.

The Bus Stop

The Bus Stop

She sat on the corner of the bench, fidgeting nervously as she waited for the bus.

I was a graduate student, studying music. I had left my car at home that afternoon and taken the bus to school for the week’s masterclass.

I had performed from the bottom of my heart. But the masterclass teacher had ripped apart my performance, picking at the length of my eighth notes and the sloppy edges of my articulation. Tiny details, but enough to make or break someone in the cutthroat world of classical music. And he should know. He was renowned in the music world, he had performed big gigs with big orchestras. My dream. Or was it? Now I found myself at the bus stop, warm tears threatening to overflow my eyes onto my cold cheeks in the brisk Michigan autumn.

“Details, Amy, details. Practice more. Technique. Your musicality is great, we can feel the emotions in your music, but details. You’ll never make it without the technical details.” The words echoed through my head like a hammer smashing and splintering glass. The glass of my psyche, which I always willed to turn to steel. They always told me I was too sensitive. Words of the masterclass teacher, words of many of my other professors throughout my high school and college musical years. I wanted to quit. I wanted to run away. I wanted to leave my clarinet case right there at the bus stop and run home, or run somewhere else, run anywhere. Run until the pain would stop.

I noticed the woman sitting next to me. She looked sad, too, another soul lost in the sea of broken dreams. I breathed deeply and said a small prayer for her. Reiki. I did not know much about energy healing at that time, but I knew the power of prayer.

A minute later, a bus showed up. Not my bus, but the woman stood up to talk to the driver. “Where is bus 75 tonight?” she asked.

“Sorry, ma’am, that bus came by fifteen minutes ago.”

“Oh, no, is there another bus to Haslett tonight?”

“No, ma’am, sorry.”

“OK,” she said and limped back to the bench. I hadn’t noticed the limp at first. I had been too self-absorbed in my own thoughts. Compassion and regret flooded over me. What should I care about stupid master classes and eighth notes when a fellow human being was suffering right in front of me?

“Are you OK?” I asked, timidly. I am an introvert by nature, so I struggle to start conversations with strangers.

“Oh, yeah,” she shrugged. “I just gotta get to Haslett. I guess I’ll have to walk again.”

“It’s such a cold night. Can I give you a ride?”

“You have a car? What are you doing at the bus stop?”

I shrugged. “I like to take the bus sometimes, but I do have my car at home. Here comes bus 84. Let’s take the bus back to my place, and I’ll give you a ride.”

“You sure?” She looked at me incredulously. I could tell that she was a woman not used to favors. Maybe her dark skin, her heavy weight, her stooped shoulders which betrayed years of poverty and hardship, worked against her in this rich college town. But why? Didn’t we talk in college about systems of oppression? Weren’t college students known for caring tremendously, radically fighting the System? Did I care enough?

“Yeah,” I said. “I’m sure. Let’s get out of the cold. My name is Amy.”

“My name is J.” she said.

I gave her a ride home that night, and we eventually became great friends. I prayed over her aching knees and other joints, her body groaning under the mental anguish of unrelenting poverty and discrimination. She told me of her struggles to get a job, her struggles to raise her children, and her dark journey of depression when social services took her children away because she could not maintain housing. I cried as she told me of undergoing knee surgery and then being released from the hospital to the street. I could only imagine her pain, but, in sharing the burden, she looked a little happier, a little lighter.

This is true Reiki healing. This is Holy Spirit healing. Yeshua came to seek and to save the least of these, and J. is his best friend. Reiki is holy, and the holy is intricately tied with social justice. I couldn’t pull J out of poverty, give her a better place to live, but I could offer a listening ear, compassion, Reiki.

This is the story of the Good Samaritan. Help everyone you can in any way you can, one hurting individual at a time. Open your eyes to the pain around you, my friends. I know that it can be hard to see others when your own pain is so overwhelming. I certainly struggle with this. But Reiki is a journey as much as it is a healing modality. Let’s link arms on this journey and carry the light of the Holy Spirit into the darkest of places.

Photo used freely, courtesy of that guy A on

Stroller in the Snow

Photo used courtesy of Sharon Mollerus on
Photo used courtesy of Sharon Mollerus on

The wind howled furiously around her, like a pack of ravenous wolves ready to devour the first living thing who dared to venture out in the bitter cold. She struggled and limped through the piles of snow on the sidewalk. Her husband walked beside her, mightily pushing their three-year-old son in his stroller, wheels catching and bowing to the pressure of the flakes, hardened by wind and footprints into biting balls of ice.

The young family decided to try to walk on the street, where snow plows had helped clear a way. Almost immediately, cars veered dangerously close to the child, and drivers angrily honked their horns. “Why don’t you get a job?” one driver yelled out as he hastily rolled his window down and back up. The woman bowed her head deeper as she thought about the years of schooling, her carefully crafted thesis, her pride when she walked across the stage to receive her master’s diploma. All for what? A low-wage, low-respect job with little opportunity for advancement. But “get a job?” She did work 40 hours a week already!

Indeed, she felt lucky to have any job. On a brighter, warmer day, she had owned a car and a better job. She had just married the love of her life, and the future looked hopeful as the bright morning sun. Soon, too soon, threatening storm clouds crowded out her sun, and the rain of life circumstances stole away her job.

A year after the wedding, she and her husband joyfully welcomed their new son into the world, but the pregnancy had destroyed all of her job interviews, and the bad economy winked at the selective racism discriminating against her dark-skinned husband as he struggled to find work. The mounting bills forced the family out of their heat and then out of their home by the time the infant was only three months old. They found friends to live with for a while, and then their car become their home.

That car was good to them and took them on a journey across the country to finally find a job and pay for housing once again. Life was getting better. But then the car, creaky and cantankerous as any soul who has lived past the fullness of her days, finally breathed her last, sputtering and sighing gently into death on the side of the road.

So here they were now, battling a snowy sidewalk, empty refrigerator mocking the hollow pain in their hearts. They finally made it into the warm air of the grocery store, festively decorated with holiday trees surrounded by the sounds of Salvation Army bells and piped-in songs proclaiming Merry Christmas and peace to all. As she stomped the snow off her boots, she thought about another mother long ago. “No room in the inn or in the hearts of men,” she thought. “Maybe nothing has really changed.”

They walked the aisles of the grocery store, carefully selecting items that fit into the carefully-planned, bursting-at-the-seams budget. They were grateful for the food, though, thanking God that their stomachs would be full tonight. They brought their food to the checkout counter and pulled out their food stamp card. They felt the angry stares bore holes into their backs and burn yet another scar into their hearts. “You are not welcome here. You takers. You just take and take from those who truly work hard.” The unspoken words thickened the air. She was suffocating, drowning in their hatred.

They left the store and turned back home. The cold wind sucked the air out of their lungs, and their small child began to cough. She reached down to pull the blanket up around his face, and a tear escaped from her eye and dropped glistening on her child’s forehead. She bent down and kissed him. “I love you so much.”

A divine voice whispered in her heart, “I love you so much, too.” She stood up and looked at the sky as the sun suddenly appeared from behind a snowy cloud. A beam of warmth landed on her face.

“But, God, life was never supposed to be this way.” She sniffed back tears and struggled hard against the depression, the hopelessness that threatened to engulf her life and snuff out the sunbeams.

“I know, my child. I see the cold hearts of people, I see how they’ve forgotten their oneness and their Creator and have become evil and oppressive to each other. I see it, and I will remember. Have hope. I am coming soon to restore righteousness on the earth. One day all will be well.”

She took a step forward and the air felt a little less cold, the wind a little less strong. She smiled. She thought about how healing begins with the least of these, and, somehow, she had been chosen by the mighty Creator for this journey.

Photo used courtesy of sskies on stock.xchng
Photo used courtesy of sskies on stock.xchng

Who Am I?

Who Am I?

Who am I?

I am a lover
and a dreamer.
I am a writer and poet,
a musician,
a seer of the unseen,
a knower of the unknown.

I am free,
but I feel the bondage of
the unlearned souls
who try to shackle me
and make me follow their way.

I want to fly free as a bird,
but I am a worrier and a carer.
I feel the pain of others,
their griefs, their sorrows
and their stories
ground me to solid earth.

I am a learner,
learning to overcome fear,
fear of not having enough,
fear of no place to rest my head,
fear of no voice for my swirling thoughts.

But in the calm untouched sea
of my deepest being,
I do know.
I understand that the Creator will provide,
like a father giving good gifts,
and a mother nurturing her little ones,
not even a little bird wants
under the Creator’s watchful eye.

There are those
who live in greater fear than I.
They inhabit the passions of gluttony,
and the darkness of

They do not know who they are.
They have blinded themselves.
The do not understand
that in harming another
they perform the greatest violation
against themselves.

Photo used courtesy of milan6 on stock.xchng

Can Pain Be My Medicine?

pain as medicine
Photo by kaniths, used freely on stock.xchng

Is pain something to be avoided at all costs? Or can pain be my friend, my teacher, my companion on the spiritual journey?

Where does pain come from? This is a deep question that neither doctors nor philosophers can adequately answer. If I cut my finger or place my hand on a hot iron, my nerves fire lightning-speed, and my brain tells my muscles to withdraw. This is a natural protective response in our physical bodies to protect us from physical harm. Scientists call it the sympathetic nervous system.

But what about spiritual pain? How can we protect our spirit-bodies from injury? Intuition is key here. If you have a “gut feeling” about something, you should always follow that instinct. As a matter of fact, scientists say that the third nervous system of our physical bodies, called the enteric nervous system, is housed in our digestive system. Our guts can literally “think” for themselves, even if completely cut off from the brain. Our enteric nervous system holds most of our serotonin and dopamine receptors, our emotional center, and the enteric nervous system partners with the brain to process these emotions. We call this our “heart” feelings or “butterflies in our stomach.” And, again, butterflies are very spiritual. There are many connections here. Shamans and tribal people have often referred to the stomach as the origin of pain and the origin of healing, the seat of understanding.

Each person’s pain is unique, and I believe that all pain is a mixture of the physical, emotional, and spiritual. We cannot separate these parts of our being. If you fall down and break your ankle,your body has a marvelous power to mend the bones back together, but your spirit tends to hold the memory of that traumatic event in that joint. I struggle a lot with ankle pain, but I am learning to let go. I used to be a long-distance runner, something that I really enjoyed doing. When I developed severe tendonitis in my ankle, and could no longer run, I also suffered the emotional injury of losing an activity that I loved. In addition, I had wrapped part of my identity around being thin and “fit,” and my spirit body had experienced the pain of me rejecting my true self for a cultural ideal. There are many layers of pain, and unraveling all of this has taken me years of work, and is still a journey.

The pain is my teacher and guide to help me understand where I have strayed from my deepest self. For another example, when I was studying at the conservatory as a classical clarinetist, I developed severe, intractable pain in my arms and back. Some days I could hardly walk or lift anything or even get out of bed. It got so bad that I was forced to put down my instrument completely for a period of time.

But where did all this pain come from? Did I simply practice too much? Not really. The pain started out as an emotion. I beat myself up in the practice room over every little mistake, punishing myself for every imperfection in my last lesson or recital. My spirit shriveled under my self-abuse, and under the harsh words of my teachers, who themselves struggled with ego and emotional pain. The result eventually became physical pain in my body.

The pain was my wake-up call. The pain was my medicine. The pain forced me to look at my emotions and my beat-up spirit body. In the forced break from my instrument, I slowly learned the importance of refuge, rest, and nurturing of my spiritual self.

I am still a healer on a healing journey for myself. Sometimes when I do a Reiki session with another person, I feel their pain in my own body. My spirit connects with their spirit so deeply that I join them, if only briefly, on their spiritual journey. The pain is the guide to the healing. We are called to help bear one another’s burdens, and this pain is medicine, too.

If you are struggling with pain anywhere in your body or psyche today, listen to the pain. Welcome the pain as a guide and companion for your journey. Don’t just flush it away with another pill and ignore it (although there is certainly a time and a place for medicine). What is your spirit trying to communicate to your physical body? What memory do you need to process and release? What is causing tension and friction in your life, and how can you release that?

Breathe deeply, drink in the new day, and embrace your pain so that you can live in true healing.

Namaste, my friends.

A Natural Healer’s Thoughts on Obamacare

Photo used freely, courtesy of pear83 on stock.xchng
Photo used freely, courtesy of pear83 on stock.xchng

I am a healer. I use natural and Holy Spirit-led healing methods and ideas to bring balance in my own life, my family’s life, and the lives of my clients.My greatest hope as a healer and spiritual seeker is to bring balance, light, and love to my community and the world at large as I am led by YHWH, the Creator and great Healer. I believe that everyone has the right to seek an abundant life full of joy, and to follow a journey of healing from physical and emotional pain.

Sadly, my country is in turmoil right now, following a path of hatred and destruction, the opposite path of healing. I am disgusted by Congress and the constant bickering and posturing of those who supposedly “represent” us. They are willing to shut down the government at the risk of jobs, housing, even food and life itself for Americans everywhere, all in the name of denying universal medical care: The Affordable Care Act, AKA Obamacare.

Uh, last time I checked, every other developed nation, even many undeveloped nations, consider universal access to needed medical care a human right. Yet, some Republicans in the United States are willing to let little children starve just to defund the Affordable Care Act.

What is so bad about Obamacare? The Republicans say that mandating health insurance coverage for everyone is morally wrong, yet they do not blink an eye about mandating automobile insurance coverage. Now for those who say that cars are a luxury, and only people who can afford to get insurance should be allowed to drive, how do you reconcile your beliefs with the need of people to get to work to pay for all the bills of living? Public transportation is a sad thing in this country; outside of some big cities, cars are the only viable form of transportation. Yet, in some of these places, there are police officers who park at highway entrances next to low-wage factories when they know that the shifts change for the day. They write tickets to all of the poor people who have been forced to choose between their auto insurance and their rent. How is this freedom, or even morally permissible?

Yet, somehow, the Republicans forget these stories when they say mandated insurance is a moral wrong. At least with the Affordable Care Act, the poor will receive government subsidies, or even free care under Medicaid expansions, to obtain their insurance. This is not the case with already-mandated auto insurance!

Some people claim that the Affordable Care Act is harming workers by encouraging companies to drop full-time workers to part-time hours. Well, many companies have already been doing this for years due to the slow economy and the long, painful recovery. Blaming Obamacare just gives them a way to take the spotlight off their own immoral actions which they would have committed with or without the new medical law. At least all of these part-time workers will now have free or low-cost medical care through the state insurance exchanges.

Also, the Affordable Care Act is life-giving in so many ways. For example, it prevents abortion! This issue, more than any other, is the heart throb of the Republican party. Some Republicans have spread fear that abortions are covered under the Affordable Care Act, yet this is not true. There are provisions to cover birth control, but not to cover abortion. Conversely, Obamacare prevents abortion, not only by providing birth control to help prevent unintended pregnancies, but also by helping women cover the costs associated with pregnancy and delivery. Some women obtain abortions because they cannot afford these costs. Without insurance, an unexpected pregnancy can easily bankrupt a struggling family, with hospital birth alone costing $10,000 to $20,000. Even many private insurances do not cover maternity care, so many insured women have faced these same heart-breaking decisions. Yet, here too, the Affordable Care Act helps, because it mandates that starting in 2014, all private insurance must cover maternity care.

Beside politics, I also personally support the Affordable Care Act because I believe it is my spiritual responsibility to support and care for my struggling neighbor and my country. It is absolutely appalling to me that million of people lack basic medical care in a developed nation like the United States. This certainly shows that we do not truly care about human rights, which is the foremost teaching of every religion. “As you have done unto the least of these, you have done unto me,” Yeshua said. If only one person dies because we do not support health care as a society, then we have rejected Yeshua completely as a society. By a Harvard study, it is estimated that at least 45,000 people die every year in the United States simply becuase they lack insurance. Millions more do not die, but struggle with pain and ill health due to lack of insurance. All in a society that hypocritically proclaims itself as a “Godly nation” that “loves Jesus”.

As a natural healer, I use Reiki, sound healing, and other spiritual modalities that are not often practiced in mainstream Western medicine, although even this is changing. The Mayo Clinic has done some promising work with Reiki and accupuncture in cancer treatments. Still, it is rare that insurance will cover “alternative” medicine, and the Affordable Care Act does not change that, unfortunately.

Still, Western medicine has its place in bringing health, especially in cases of traumatic injury or acute disease. I believe that in this wealthy, developed nation where resources are abundant, the least we can do is offer our Western, mainstream medicine to all, including the “least of these.” Maybe someday we will wake up and learn to value spiritual medicine as well and offer universal access to that as well.

I am a healer, a dreamer, and a follower of Yeshua, therefore I support Obamacare!

Fish, Loaves, and the Miracle of Love

fish healing and love story
Photo used courtesy of guilima on stock.xchng.

The sea lapped at his ankles, spraying its waves toward the crowd like a playful puppy dances around its owner. The sea loved him. He smiled at the water, an expression of his appreciation and his understanding of the unknown depths.

His mind turned back to his boyhood days. He splashed and dived, the salty water burning his tongue and eyes. He walked in the shallows. He loved how the sand felt squishy and cool on his toes. His eyes pierced through the blue and gray, looking for flashes of color. Fish, seaweed, sea stars. He loved them all.

He waved hello to the fisherman in their boats. They waved and smiled back, leaving their course language and salty habits behind for a moment to revel in the joy of the young boy. He had a way of bringing them happiness and an uncanny knack of bringing the fish toward their vessels.

“Come in on now. It’s time for supper.”  The wind carried her voice over the hill.

“Oh, just one more moment, momma,” the young boy pleaded back.

Then he saw her come over the hill, his baby brother on her hip and his little sister trailing behind. “Yeshua, you need to get your head out of the clouds for once. Get in here and wash up. I don’t have time for your childishness.”

Her stern tone cut his heart. He knew that she loved him, but she had so many worries. Would his father come home tonight? Or would he abandon the family once again, running to the arms of his lover, or the bar. Would he start trouble with the Roman soldiers? Would he go to jail or would he come home?

Don’t be afraid. The Voice whispered in his heart. She loves, but she has forgotten how to be a child. The kingdom belongs to little children like you.

“Come on Yeshua.” His mother grabbed his hand and tore him from the sea. A tear fell from his eye to her hand, and she looked at his face. Her tone softened. “Come on, kiddo. It will be ok. I know you love it out here, but we must be ready for father to come home.” She looked out at the sea, memories filling her own eyes. He wondered often about those memories, but she never shared her story.

“Tell us a Sabbath story, Rabbi!” someone shouted from the crowd, jarring his thoughts back to the present. The Rabbi took a long look at the sea, and then he turned around. The lines on his face betrayed his weariness and lied about his young age. He sighed and sat down on a rock. The crowd jostled closer to him, impatient to hear him, touch him, take some of his magic.

“Father, help me have patience,” he breathed.

Yeshua looked at the pleading crowd, and his heart melted for the thousandth time. They are just children, full of foolishness, he thought. They do not mean to harm.

“Love is the greatest miracle, the only true magic,” he began.  The people quieted down, and even the lapping waves seemed to calm in the warmth of the teacher’s voice. A few birds called to each other, flying lazily in the late summer afternoon.

“Love is the kingdom. Love is the awakening. Whoever desires Truth must first seek Love.  You follow all manner of rules and religion, but you have not learned the deep magic of Love. Love YHWH, love your neighbor, love yourself. You oppress and hate each other, and the world is destroyed.

Follow me in the way of compassion and understanding. You have seen the leper healed and the lame walking, but I tell you that a far greater miracle is within your reach. The greatest miracle on earth is a human heart changed by Love.

You have learned Law and you have learned Philosophy. You argue all day about the best way to earn power and get money. You think you are so smart in all your endless arguing, but you do not love. You are but stubborn mules who do not understand anything. Leave the world behind and pursue the greater kingdom. Love invites you in.

Love is healing. Love is life.”

The message ran long and the people grew weary.  A few dozed in the long rays of the evening sun. The disciples surrounded the Master and said, “Rabbi, you must dismiss this crowd and send them away to buy food. They are tired, and this is a deserted place.”

Yeshua looked hard at them. “Have you not heard my words?” He shook his head. “You give them food.”

“But Rabbi, the crowd is huge. How can we possibly feed them?”

Yeshua stood up. “Who here has brought food for the day’s journey?” The crowd stirred and mumbled. Some people glanced at the satchels and baskets sitting in the grass next to them. Good, respectable, law-abiding Jews always brought a supply of food with them in these times of the Roman occupation. You could never know when you might have to dine with sinners, or eat an item sacrificed to an idol or prepared in an unclean way.

Yeshua  stood up and looked out over the sea. Father, I ask you for a miracle, his thoughts prayed. Change their hearts and let them see you.

“Rabbi.” The small voice weaved into the master’s thoughts.


Yeshua turned around to see a small boy tugging at his coat. “I have some food that I want to share.”

The disciples walked over. “How can this little kid help our situation?” they demanded.

“Well, open his basket and see,” Yeshua gently responded. He bent down and looked into the boy’s eyes. “My child, you are creating a miracle. Watch and see.” The twinkle in the master’s eyes danced back in the eyes of the boy.

Yeshua shouted out to the crowd. “Look here. We have five loaves and two fishes. We will have miraculous provision.” He opened his hands to heaven and prayed, “Heavenly Father bless this meal we will partake in together. We are one and we dwell in your oneness. We are learning the meaning of love.”

Yeshua lowered his hands into the basket and broke the bread.

A woman approached and laid her basket at his feet. “Rabbi, I would like to offer my meal in thanks to heaven. I will share my small portion with my brother.”

Another man approached and silently laid his basket down.

Bread, fish, fruits, vegetables. One by one, people from the crowd came and laid down their portions.

Some grumbled, “What if there are sinners or unclean people in the crowd. Are we not commanded to stay away from them and their food?”

Yeshua smiled. “Little children, you do well to follow the letter of the Law, but you do not understand the spirit of the Law. Love fulfills the whole law. Love makes the unclean clean again. Moshe preached the Law, and the people felt the fierce love of YHWH. But your teachers have elaborated on the Law for centuries, and turned it into endless rituals without feeling or compassion. I again preach the deeper Law of Love.

The Law of Love heals your bodies and heals your hearts. Share with each other and learn the deeper truth of love.”

Soon, the hill was filled with food and givers. The small portions grew into bountiful feast, filling the stomachs and hearts of all.

Yeshua smiled and turned back toward the sea, now calm and reflecting the twilight stars. He prayed silently. “Thank you, Father, for showing your children today that Love overcomes all fear. There is so much bounty you have provided us on the earth, we just need to share and love.”

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