Morning Prayer - Finding the Way

Church happened at St. Stephen's today because the rector can walk from his house.  He told me not to come, though, and I was fine with that.  I'm from south of Atlanta.  I am a southerner.  I do not know how to drive in the snow.  Three years in Chicago didn't teach me because the roads are plowed there, so I still didn't learn how.  When they tell me to stay off the roads, I obey.  I don't want to be a hazard.  So many people online reported reading Morning Prayer in place of going to church this morning, so I joined in.  Sitting snug in my house with the welcome sunlight streaming in. I prayed through the office, read a bit of Diana Butler Bass' Grounded, and then headed out for outdoor worship in the Creation. 

It was almost too bright to see, but I didn't want to head back in for sunglasses.  I walked around my house and then headed out into the neighborhood.  There is a pond in the back of the Mews, and I wanted to see if it was frozen.  Half way.  I was making new tracks on the path that goes around the pond - though I felt a little guilty at disturbing the smooth blanket of white.  I was surprised at how few people were out and how few birds I saw.  It looked like someone had been out walking a dog on parts of the path, but other than that, I was the pioneer.  The surface of the snow glittered in the sun, and ice cracked under my feet as I went.  Sometimes I was light enough not to break through the layer of ice, but in other places I crashed through, and my boots sunk inches deeper into slush.  Snow, sleet, freezing rain, rain, sleet, snow.  That's what had happened in the past 48 hours, and I could feel each of the layers as I walked.

When I got to the front of my neighborhood, I decided to head for the labyrinth.  Again I was surprised that no one had been out on the sidewalk I take to Eastern State Hospital.  With the sun reflecting off the snow and the wind at my back, it wasn't long before I pulled my hood down, unzipped my coat, and removed my gloves.  Though it was only 27 degrees, I was hot!  The road was reasonably clear, though slushy at intersections.  On the hospital grounds the road was wet with no slush at all.  Someone had plowed well.

The labyrinth looked very different than it had when I was there at the beginning of the storm.  I could barely see the path at all. Animal tracks cris-crossed diagonally over sections of the labyrinth.  I thought maybe they were from deer, but closer inspection looked more like paw than hoof tracks.  Dog?  Raccoon?  Fox?  I have no idea.  Whoever it was didn't feel a need to stay on the path but scampered across to the other side.  I wasn't sure if I wanted to step out onto the smooth surface, but once I was there, I couldn't resist. 

With the first step I heard the ice under my feet.  I was surprised that my boots didn't sink any further into the snow but there seemed to be a thick layer of ice that cracked with almost every step on my way to the center.  Felt kind of like walking across a frozen lake, only fortunately I didn't fall in.  After the first turn, I froze.  I couldn't see the path, and I didn't know where to go.  I took a guess, but I found myself stopping regularly on the way.  When I looked at the labyrinth facing north, I could just distinguish the path, but when I looked into the sun, I couldn't see any markings in the snow.  If I hadn't walked that labyrinth so many times, I wouldn't have stood a chance.  I guess that's why they call it a spiritual practice.  By doing it over and over, we learn the way.

Still, there were many times when I had to stop and observe for awhile.  At one point I felt like I could hear Obi Wan saying, "Use the force, Luke!"  It was very different to be forging a new path and having trouble finding the way when usually a labyrinth is so clear.  It would have been very easy to get lost.  At one point the snow was so smooth that I went a little too far and walked up on top of one of the bricks, but I realized my mistake and turned back to the path.  When I got to the center I breathed a sigh of relief.  I had made it all the way in without having to backtrack.  I turned slowly in the center, feeling a pull to the west.  "I am going to the west..."  The haunting notes of one of the songs from my Faire Celts CD ran through my head.  It was hard to look south because the sun was so bright. When I turned east, I said a prayer of blessing over the Eastern State buildings, as I often do. 
 
Heading back out, I walked in my own footsteps.  Much easier to find the way.  No cracking of the ice this direction, though.  Instead, stepping in my boot tracks, I went much deeper into the snow, often down into wet slushiness.  I guess the sun was melting the places where I had walked. It was a much faster trip out since I no longer had to pause at each turn and discern the way forward.  I smiled at the end.  I did it!  If anyone else wants to walk it in the snow, they will know the way now.  These footsteps will not disappear as quickly as the last, though in time the snow will melt and the concrete and paving bricks will emerge once more.

Friday's walk was about letting go.  Today's walk was about new beginnings.  Forging a path.  Finding a way.  We don't always know which direction to turn, but we wait and watch and listen, asking God to point us forward.  Sometimes we just stand for a bit, being faithful, until the way gets clear or until we take that step and see - is this the way?  We may need to double back or retrace steps, but we will eventually find the way.  It can be slow going, and it's hard not to panic when you cannot see the way, even harder to step out in faith when you're not certain, but each step leads you closer to the center until you find yourself resting in the presence of God.

Footsteps in the Snow

 I knew yesterday would be a snow day.  They've been predicting it for a week.  I allowed myself to sleep in, and then puttered around the house.  When I saw the first snowflakes, I threw on some clothes and headed to the grocery store to pick up a few items.  I was happy to see plenty of milk and bread, although I didn't need them.  By the time I started home, the snow was really coming down and starting to stick on the roads.  My neighborhood streets still had snow on them from last Sunday, so they were rapidly disappearing under a white blanket.  With the prediction of sleet and rain to follow the snowfall, I knew that getting out later on would probably be unpleasant, so I decided to walk over to the labyrinth before the snow got too bad.  I like walking in the snow, if it's not too windy.  The snow muffles everything and brings a sense of peace.  Bundled up in my down jacket with purple scarf wrapped around my neck and mouth, a fleece headband covering my ears. and my hood pulled up to protect my head, I felt cocooned in warmth, at least until the snow started melting on my scarf dampening it with cold moisture.  The tiny, light snowflakes easily brushed off my coat and gloves, though they were accumulating quickly on grass and sidewalk alike. 

When I got to the labyrinth, I saw a light coating of snow on the path and paving stones.  I hesitated to mar the pristine surface with my footsteps.  Pausing at the entrance I said a prayer for CNU, for discernment, for guidance.  And then I began walking.  It was hard to tell which direction the snow was coming from, but at times I turned right into it and got a face full of cold wetness.  I was glad I wore my hiking boots because my steps were sure, and I did not slip at all.  Plus, my feet were warm in a way that they wouldn't have been in my running shoes that are intentionally designed to allow my feet to breathe.  Good in summer but the feature that allows the heat out also allows the cold and damp in. 

Once in the center I could see that my footsteps closer to the entrance were already fading under the falling snow.  I didn't spend as much time as usual in the center though I did turn to face each of the four directions as is my custom.  On my journey back out, I walked in my own footsteps so as not to disturb any of the rest of the snow.  By the time I reached the opening, my earlier footsteps had completely disappeared both from the path and from the sidewalk leading to the labyrinth.  We leave our mark, and then it fades away.  How ephemeral our lives are. 
Psalm 103 says,
   "Our days are like the grass; we flourish like a flower of the field;
   When the wind goes over it, it is gone, and its place shall know it no more."  (15-16)
So too with our footsteps in the snow.  On my way back home, the snow was already much deeper.  More people had been out walking and even bicycling in the snow, but my tracks had been obliterated.

I know, though, that I was there.   And now, others do, too.  My footsteps may be buried beneath the snow, but they are there, marking my path to the center and back.  I wonder if part of my yearning to write is about leaving footsteps that will remain.  All this snow makes me reflective. Perhaps watching my footsteps disappear in the snow is a good lesson in letting go.  One that has always been hard for me.  I could have sung Elsa's theme song from Frozen when I was in the center.  "Let it go, let it go."  Please help me in the letting go, God.

Free Stuff on a Cold Day

Brrr!  It's a high of 36 in Newport News today, and I knew it was too cold to sit outside.  But I have to say, at least there was sun outside.  I went to my usual indoor spot in the Student Union and tables were set up for other groups, so I sat inside the rotunda doors.  Each time the doors opened, frigid air blasted in, numbing my ears and feet and hands.  Fortunately a steady stream of students visited the prayer station, so the cold was much more easy to endure.  Though my location was unfortunate in terms of personal physical warmth, it was the perfect place for encountering students.  About 12:15 students get out of class and head for lunch.  I didn't realize that the line for lunch reaches to the doors of the rotunda, but there I sat with the lunch line filing right past me.  "Bless the lunch line.  Bless the lunch line."  I prayed blessings over the students as they waited for lunch.  Some spoke.  Many smiled.  Others were clearly focused on lunch.  If you feed them, they will come!  It was great to see so many young people walking by.

One of the ECM students brought his roommate and a new hallmate by the station.  Turns out the hallmate was raised Episcopalian and wants to start coming to church.  I love when the students evangelize.  She was wearing a light sweatshirt and no coat, shivering as we chatted, and we all commented that it might be good to wear a coat. She said that the sweatshirt was a gift from a boyfriend and a friend and that it smells like them.  I suggested she was receiving emotional warmth if not physical warmth from the shirt.  She said yes, that it was emotional comfort for her.  We all agreed maybe she could wear a heavier coat over the sweatshirt as a way to provide both for both physical and emotional needs.

The roommate is an ROTC student, and so I learned all about the officer training program and what is involved.  It was a really cool conversation.  I also learned that Cards Against Humanity ("adult Apples to Apples") can keep college students up until the wee hours of the morning and that as a priest I would not be invited to play what they described as an "irreverent, offensive" game.  I doubt it could be more irreverent or offensive than some games played when I was in college, but I wouldn't have wanted my priest around for those either.  ;)  They chatted for about half an hour before heading off to Spanish, English, and Economics classes.

Today was like old home day at the station.  I saw so many of the students who have come to talk or pray with me.  The Humans of CNU guy greeted me and said he was going to come back to chat when he has more time on another Thursday.  Another person invited me to come to CNU Tonight in a couple of weeks.  One girl in a sorority jersey stopped by to tell me she was glad I had moved inside, that she knew it was Thursday and had been worried I would be sitting out in the cold.  Another student stopped by and said he wasn't religious but that he's a religious studies major and he wanted to thank me for being there, that it was meaningful to him to see me sitting there even though he didn't have a prayer request.  Interested in the Abrahamic religions that he described as "beautiful," he wants to be a religious studies professor.  Two other students I know are graduating this semester and are planning to start their own clothing company together.  I learned today that they want to design men's blazers and coats and trousers.  They're so excited!  I told one of them that I would pray for the start of their business.

I shared the rotunda area with members from the student assembly.  They were passing out free cups and frisbees with information about student assembly.  I went up and asked what the free cups were for.  The student said, "You have to give them free stuff, and then they get interested."

You have to give them free stuff.  I reflected on whether I should be handing out something at the prayer station.  But in truth, they do get free stuff.  It might not be a cup or frisbee, but I hope what they receive gets them interested.  A listening ear, a prayer or blessing, a smile, eye contact, a wave.  I hope that, at least for a moment. they feel the warmth of being loved and that it comforts them on a cold day. 

New Semester

New year.  New semester.  Today was the first day of the Plaza Prayer Station for 2016.  I was delighted to be able to sit outside since it was 50 degrees and sunny.  A little chilly, so I needed my coat and scarf and a blanket for my lap, but I managed not to wear gloves.  Each new semester the students' schedules change, so a whole new batch of them are walking by me at my appointed time.  Clearly there were some who had never seen the station before.  My favorite was a young man who stopped and read the sign, said, "Hmm.." while scratching his chin, and then went on his way without looking at me.  I didn't get the feeling that he approved.  I chuckled to myself and said a prayer for him anyway.  Several students waved as they went by, and a few regulars checked in on their way to lunch.  For the first time, one of the students who came by for a prayer asked when ECM meets and then actually came to our meeting!  He's part of a different campus ministry but wanted to get to know his brothers and sisters and Christ from other traditions.  What a blessing to us, and I hope to him!

One of the Canterbury students, Sam, is studying abroad in Scotland this semester.  She usually stops by the prayer station, so I missed her presence today, but she is keeping a blog about her travels, so I am able to follow where she is and what she's doing.  A very cool thing to be able to view Scotland through her eyes. 

After the prayer station, I went over to a local elementary school to help St. Stephen's with a new
food pantry project.  Local churches are working together with the food bank to offer food, including fresh produce, to families of students at the school.  Each family received a grocery cart full of food, including fresh pineapple, pears, potatoes, onions, greens, and sweet potatoes.  There was also meat, canned goods, juice, and cereal.  My job was to walk with a family around the room "shopping" for food and then to go with them to help load up their car and then return the grocery cart so the next family could shop.  The first lady I helped asked me if I would take a tip.  I told her no I wouldn't, that my gift was that I got to meet her.  She gave me a big hug.  She works at the school and said she had never needed to do this before.  We had so much extra food at the end that we were able to offer it to teachers at the school as well, and several of them took food to their rooms to be able to give out to their students.  We're going to be doing this once a month so I'm hoping some of the CNU students will join me.

Helping with the food pantry project and sitting at the prayer station today made me think about feeding people.  How many stories do we read about food in the Bible?  Jesus was all the time feeding people, both with food for their bellies and spiritual food.  What a blessing it is to be able to participate with him in that work.  There are a lot of hungry people in the world.  I know we need to address the issue of how they have come to be hungry in the first place, both physically and spiritually, but in the meantime, it feels good to be helping to provide the sustenance.  May God continue to bless these ministries and to bring the people to us who need them.

The God I Know

I am deeply troubled by what I have been hearing from those who call themselves Christians. 

I am a cradle Christian, a follower of Jesus, and an Episcopal priest.

When I worked in professional theatre, I encountered a number of people whom I call "refugees from religion."  Many had once been religious and most were spiritual.  But they had been hurt in the name of Christ, taught about an angry God who would condemn them for any of a number of sins, including, for some of them, being who they were.  The Gospel was not good news for them but had been used to scold, to criticize, and to shame.  In some cases - to destroy fragile spirits.  How deeply sad I was to learn that my beloved religion had treated such good and dear people in ways that drove them out rather than inviting them in.

I will never forget one friend telling me how much he had loved the church as a boy. He then turned to me with anguish in his eyes and asked me how he could continue to be part of something that told him that he would go to hell because of who he loved.  It didn't make sense to him.  It doesn't make sense to me. 

The God I know is very different from the ones my friends had been taught to know.  I did my best to show them the God I knew, not by preaching to them or trying to convert them but by demonstrating that not all Christians worship the Angry Hall Monitor in the Sky.  I talked about going to church and what I had heard in the sermon that week, not for their benefit but because I was excited about it.  Sometimes my friends and I engaged in conversations late at night about what we thought and believed about God.  A few asked if they could come to church with me.  One said he felt connected to church because on Sundays I always came to rehearsal dressed in my church clothes and it reminded him of his childhood.

Some of my friends were quite angry.  They would talk about how hateful Christianity is.  I would always defend my religion.  One friend and I got into a mild argument one day when he said something derogatory and I responded that not all Christians were like that.  He mentioned a Christian leader in our area, and I said, "He doesn't speak for me."  My friend demanded to know why the Christians who did not agree with Pat Robertson or Jerry Falwell or other Christian leaders of their ilk were not more visible.  He told me that we needed to speak up.  I have never forgotten that conversation. 

When I went to Israel in 2000, the trip that led me to pursue ordination to the priesthood, our tour visited Yad Vashem, the Holocaust museum in Jerusalem.  I had a powerful experience at the children's museum there.  At one point we entered a room so dark that we had to hold onto a handrail to keep from stumbling.  Overhead a voice read out the names of children, their countries, and their ages - children who had been lost in the Holocaust.  Inside the dark room were candles reflected in mirrors.  When you looked at them straight on, you could see columns of individual candles stacked from floor to ceiling, about a foot from each other on all sides.  If you shifted your gaze a little to the side, however, the candles reflected into infinity, merging with the reflections of the candles in the next column, giving the illusion of millions of tiny flickering lights.  All those voices silenced.  All that potential lost forever.

I later wrote about that experience, "I could not take a picture of the tiny flames surrounded by all that darkness, but instead I had to memorize it, to etch it into the backs of my eyelids and into my heart so that I might never forget.  So that if I ever live in a time like that of the Holocaust, I will see those tiny flames, and I will stand up and say NO.  I will raise my voice against those who would snuff out the flames."

I don't own a TV station, and I am not the President of a university.  I do not have the power and influence of some of the more visible Christian leaders in this country.  But I do have a voice, and I can say that they do not speak for me.  Any Christian who is preaching violence against other children of God does not speak for me.  And let me be clear that all human beings are children of God.  

The God I know is the God of love.  

The Jesus I know came "to bring good news to the poor, to proclaim release to the captives and recovery of sight to the blind, to let the oppressed go free, to proclaim the year of the Lord’s favor." 

The Jesus I know said, "Blessed are the peacemakers" and told Peter to put down his sword.

The God I know gave up power to dwell among us and to die as one of us, loving us and forgiving us.

The Jesus I know endured death by crucifixion rather than lift a hand in violence.

The men who are proclaiming violence in the name of God do not speak for me, and they do not speak of the God that I know.  I pray that they will come to know the God I know.  I pray that Christians everywhere will be known for how well they love, not how well they defend themselves.  

I pray for peace for all of God's children.

Rainbows and Labyrinths - Advent Hope

God is so good.  I find this time of year hard, when the days are so short.  I thrive in the warm sun.  Ever since Advent last year I have also been struggling with some anxiety/depression that is made worse every time I turn on the news and every time I scroll through Facebook.  I despair of there being any wisdom or love in the world when I see over and over how badly we human beings treat each other.  And I find that even my to-do list can be overwhelming some days.  It has been recommended to me that when I feel one of these anxious "episodes" coming on that I get outside and walk.  When I complained to my therapist one day last January that I couldn't take a walk because it might rain, he said, "The worst thing that will happen is that you get wet."  I didn't appreciate the comment at the time, but I've come to see his point.

Today was one of those days when I was too whiny to walk.  It was chilly and so overcast that it felt like twilight inside my house all day.  I had run errands and done some house chores and was starting to move around the house aimlessly while craving sugar.  I kept telling myself that I needed to go out and walk.  When I went out for the mail, it had started to rain, and I just couldn't bring myself to be out in it.  At about 4:20 I looked outside and saw a glimmer of sunlight.  Just go, I told myself.

Out I went, bundled up, Ipod in pocket, hood up, scarf wrapped warmly around my neck.  As I walked out of my neighborhood, I could hear the sound of raindrops hitting my hood.  The air smelled of wet leaves and smoke from a wood fire.  As I turned the corner out of my neighborhood, I looked over the trees to the east and saw a rainbow.  I started laughing with delight.  "Thanks God!" I said out loud.  I took out my phone to take a few pictures.  The further I went, the brighter the rainbow got.  It lasted all the way until I got to the labyrinth.  I kept turning to look at it.  For awhile there was a double rainbow.  The bow went from horizon to horizon, arcing across the sky as the sun sank down. 

When I got to the labyrinth, I could see the sun setting in the west and the rainbow in the east.  Raindrops continued to fall on my head.  I've never walked the labyrinth when there was a rainbow before.  I walked on behalf of Presiding Bishop Michael Curry who is in the hospital with a subdural hematoma today.  I also walked for a young friend who is having a challenging experience today and for Randy, my old theatre colleague, who lost someone dear to him.  I walked for those killed in San Bernadino and for those struggling in Chicago.  I prayed for all who are in the darkness.  In the center, I offered a blessing to Eastern State Hospital as I often do.  Peace.  Healing.  Wholeness.  Compassion and patience for the caregivers.  Bless this place as a place of healing.

I know I'm an idealist and probably naive.  But the good news of the Gospel tells me that God's going to win in the end.  The rainbow is the symbol of God's promise to us.  Whenever I see one I'm filled with hope.  I don't believe I've seen one in Advent before.  It was such a wonderful reminder to me not to give in to despair.  It may suck right now in many ways.  But that is not the end.  There is always hope.  Thanks, God.

How Do You See God?

On my way to Newport News this morning I saw a sign saying there were wind restrictions on the Chesapeake Bay Bridge Tunnel.  Not a problem for me since I wasn't going that far, but it was an indication of weather conditions in the area.  50 degrees with 15-20 mile an hour winds makes for very chilly outdoor sitting.  Brrr...  When I first arrived at CNU I considered sitting inside, but I ran into one of the staff who booed me when I said I thought it was too cold to be outside.  So I decided to give it a try.  I was bundled up in a base layer, clergy shirt and CNU sweatshirt with my down coat, scarf, gloves, and a prayer shawl for a lap blanket.  The blanket made all the difference in keeping my legs warm. 

Breathe in peace.  Breathe out love.  I started the new breathing exercise that my therapist has taught me.  Breathe in peace.  Breathe out love.  As I began praying for the campus, a young woman walked up to me with two beverages in her hand.  "Would you like a hot chocolate?" she said and held out one of the cups.  "Yes, I would," I told her.  "Thank you."  Gratefully I wrapped my gloved hands around the warm drink.  "I heard you say you were cold," she said as she headed off to class.  Wow.  These students are so thoughtful and generous.  I wonder if they are on all campuses, or if there's something special here at CNU.  I certainly wasn't that thoughtful when I was in college.

One of the Canterbury students brought her lunch out to eat with me, and we had a good conversation.  Tonight the group is having dinner together at Scott Baker's house.  When he's not busy priesting, he loves to cook.  I've heard rumors of tortellini soup and lasagna, and I made pumpkin and pecan pies.  It should be a fun evening, and 8 students are coming with me!  We're fortifying them for their exams next week.

One of the students from another campus ministry came over and brought me some more hot chocolate.  The CRU (Campus Crusade) students had a hot chocolate station in the Plaza today, while they were doing an evangelism experience.  My young friend invited me to go over so he could introduce me to the CRU team.  As people sipped hot chocolate, they were invited into conversation about some images that had been attached to a posterboard.  I understand that the images came from mysoularium.com.  The CRU students asked a series of questions about the images including:
Which three images would you choose to describe your life right now?
Which three images describe what you wish were in your life right now?
Which image would you choose to describe God?
and a few more. 
We had a fun time picking our images and saying why we had chosen them.  It was a great way to get conversation going, and I may use it with the Canterbury students or at SpiritWorks.  I talked for awhile with the student who asked me the questions and ended up saying a prayer with him, too.  He and his girlfriend want to be medical missionaries one day.  When I was in college I just wanted to get through exams!

Later on another student I know came up, clearly feeling the stress of the end of the semester.  He didn't have time to linger, so I offered him a hug.  Someone who I think is a professor rode by on a bicycle and asked for prayers for a person suffering with cancer.  For awhile I watched some men in a cherry-picker lift thingy putting up the big Christmas tree in the middle of the Great Lawn and fixing a giant star on the top - it will be lit Sunday night.  I had to keep shifting the station to stay in the sun but the shade rapidly overtook me, and finally I gave up and retreated to the campus coffee shop.  I had made it my full time, though, with a brief break inside for a pit stop and my usual visit to the OSA office.  The student aid there will be studying abroad in London next semester, so I was glad to get a chance to say good-bye to her and offer blessings for her next adventure. 

It may have been chilly and windy at the prayer station today, but the warmth of the students more than made up for it.  Whatever else it may be, Advent is the Season of Hope.  Spending time with the CNU students fills me with hope.