There is something important in the domestic rhythms of life. It is in our homes and in our neighbourhoods where we are formed, made, and perhaps even where we are truly loved and known by others. There is something good that happens around kitchen tables and between us and those we care about. In a time when dramatic politics, anxious headlines, media influencers, and the latest technology all vie to unseat anything else of importance, the domestic life is made to seem almost inconsequential.
In many ways, this is what my weekly column seeks to do – remind us that there is much beauty in the ordinary, essential in the every-day, and that something sublime is growing between us and those around us. How we live in our place matters, and the direction we go today will shape the way our city will go, too.
One of my favourite things to do is to officiate at weddings. I’ve officiated for couples in my neighbourhood and often I’ll make mention of the domestic life this couple will create together. A wedding sets up much more than the celebration of the moment. Marriage, I like to remind them, offers a chance to make a home that is a safe harbour for others, a welcoming beacon for the lonely, and a place of peace in a time of violence or fear. Our homes are not incidental, but can act like a roaring fire of warmth and light in a cold and lonely season. When a couple decides that together they can create more than a shared living arrangement, but a home that is a shelter and outpost of hospitality, it changes the way they see each other, and those around them.
One of my favourite prayers by Douglas Kaine McKelvey was written to mark the first lighting of the hearthfire as the days get colder. A portion of his prayer reads, “…May this hearth be to us a port in the storm, a cheering beacon, and a place of fellowship marked by the consolation of your Spirit. May it be a place of celebration, of conversation, and of caring, of the sharing and bearing of burdens, of the multiplication of joys, of light in the darkness and warmth in the cold. May it be a place of prayers and hopes, of plans and quiet considerations. A place of shared memories and good dreams. O God of counsel and comfort, may this hearth be a holy place where our souls are deepened by fellowship and reflection, even as harbours are dredged to create deeper, fairer havens.” It’s a beautiful picture, really.
Lighting a fireplace (or turning on a furnace, perhaps), may not seem like a particularly spiritual thing worthy of a prayer, but it reveals a heart of gratitude and purpose for creating a warm home that welcomes others. Our day-to-day domestic work is important. As each season turns over into the next we have a chance to stop and consider how we can turn our home into a place of rest for our own families, and for others.
Lighting the hearthfire, however that looks, can mean a lot of things. It can mean that we find new ways to gather, we reach out to those we have lost touch with, we spend time listening to those we care about, we express love and use our words to build others up, and we give in generous ways that may even be out of character. But in the end we are really making a statement against the cold that sets in, and in small ways reminding ourselves of the good, the true, and the beautiful we have to share. Lighting the hearthfire is a domestic ritual as old as time, and it may be just the right thing we can do for each other again today.
