St. Benedict on Stability

Tonight... was a challenge. Not the "I see you are out of shape, I challenge you to a game of basketball", nor the "I challenge you to keep silence for 40 days"... but more so the, "I can see into your heart and if you don't want to talk to me, than at least sit there and listen to what I have to say" challenge.

Perhaps it was because I was tired after a week in which two massive midterms were written and a term paper submitted, or perhaps it was because the antibiotics for a sinus infection have finally started to kick in, but I cannot help but feel... slightly overwhelmed. There was an additional cleric visiting the WR this evening, one of incredible wisdom and lived experience; the topic was stability and the effect was profound. She spoke about the meaning of spirituality and how Benedict gives one expression of it. She spoke about well-versed authors and finely written pieces of work. And although I dare not comment on the entirety of her message this evening, there is one subsection of that message that I shall continue to ponder into the wee hours of the morning.

"Get in your cell and stay there... stability is to stay put... stability is to prevent self deception. For only when we stay in one place long after our community can see what we choose to ignore about ourselves and confront us, can we truly experience the grace of God."

I understand very little of this and unfortunately, the more I try and think through it as it pertains to my life in the here and now, the more confused I get. I do not understand where I went wrong... was it when I first left the birth church? Was it leaving the seminary community? Leaving one parish to join another for health/personal/job reasons? What is my cell? Do I need to go back to one of these two church communities to work through this desert with God/belief/trust/fear or can I work these out and then seek peace and reconciliation?

My heart longs to be with my cassock sister, laying on the grass in a long, black robe on the lawns of the Diocesan supported seminary as we read and tried to grapple with the depth of such writings as Benedict and his rule and the always lovely Desert Fathers. For everything that we read made life seem simple and genuine while making faith seem personal and constant. I am learning that this is not the case and more often than not, one's heart is conflicted with one's intelligence.

I have a sinking feeling that the work I started this Ash Wednesday will work on preparing me for the following Easter - like Easter of 2011. In the meantime, I shall continue to read "Girl Meets God" as recommended by UC and maybe pull out the books from the Desert Fathers for a read through. And, as hard as it may be, trust that this darkness too, will end and the questions will resolve.

The Little Anglican Piggy

No, I did not over eat the Eucharist tonight and I certainly did not eat too many egg-less pancakes last night, but rather, I feel like the little Anglican piggy who cried all the way home. You know that childhood poem where your Grandma grabs each one of your toes in turn and says, "this little piggy went to market, this little piggy stayed home; this little piggy ate roast beef while this little piggy had none... and this little piggy, cried all the way home"? While I am not sure who the other four Anglican piggies are in this life-sized scenario, I am certain that I am that last little piggy.

I intentionally waited out in the car until 3 minutes before the service; figured that this would save me from talking to anyone, or worse, seeing someone I knew and bolting. It's not that I want to play hide and go seek with the familiar faces, but after having gone through everything that I have, I don't want my journey to be a public thing. Not yet, anyway. So, having chosen a church in which there is a "university students worship" and a rector that came to the Diocese after I left, I thought I was ready to embark upon a deliberate journey back into good standing with the church - whatever that looks like. No one would be watching me with thoughts of, "wasn't she in seminary" or "she worked at the Synod Office" or anything else... it would be a journey that at first, could be just about God and I.

While I will refrain from commenting on the one or two familiar faces that were present, let me simply say this: the Holy Spirit was wholly, incredibly, and most definitely present.

Although there were tears shed here and there prior to her sermon, they were negligible compared to those that were on the way. The metaphor that University-Chaplain used was that of a palm cross that hung in her front entryway of her house. She spoke of how that little palm cross witnessed her coming in from the world, carrying anger, hurt, resentment, ..... and that same palm cross had seen her enter the world each day with pride, jealousy, ..... and now, tonight, that palm cross was burnt. The last year of wrong doings was forgotten and forgiven, by a Father who wished to create a clean heart in each one of us there. She referenced the movie, "The Bucket List" (which I have yet to see) and how Jack Nickelson realized before it was too late that he had relationships to mend and forgiveness to seek.

And, silently, inside my head (and my heart), I began to shout, "please stop U-C, please stop U-C, please stop U-C" (although I did not say University Chaplain, but rather her name). It was a sermon that my intellect most certainly needed to hear, but my heart felt as though it was slowly being ripped into tiny. little. pieces. It's not necessarily a bad thing - just an incredibly challenging thing.

The sermon was followed by the commonly sung hymn, "Take my Life" - one that holds a lot of personal meaning and has an incredible story and place thus far in my journey - tonight, being no exception.

I think I anticipated going to this service as a mere "next step" - thinking that it would be as easy and jovial as the movie night a week ago. I seemed to have forgotten what this day and this night are really all about. I thought that attending this service would be like playing music at the church on the hill in which I could sit there, completely disengaged from what was being said, and being done.

I think I forgot how much my heart truly felt at home in that Eucharist, that place of worship, that place of holiness, in which the presence of God and the words of the Holy Spirit and the elements of the Son come together in the most perfect song of harmony that could ever fill one's soul.

And so, all throughout the Eucharist, and allllll the way home (about a 45 minute drive), I cried.

I cried a tear for the time I've stayed away because of anger, hurt, and guilt

I cried a tear for the people I have hurt and the way in which I have hurt them

I cried a tear for the life that I left more than a year ago

I cried a tear for the people who believed just as strongly as I did, that I had a call to serve the church

I cried a tear for the desert in which I stand, not sure where to go or how to get there

I cried a tear for the relationships I have broken, the trust I have stolen, and the pain I have

caused

I cried a tear for the one who saw my burdens the moment she met me, but was denied access to my truckwagon because I did not want it unloaded by a stranger

I cried a tear for the way in which I have closed my life off to those who want to see my light shine

I cried a tear for the many experiences that will be no more

I cried a tear in fear of those that still lay ahead

I cried a tear for the pain that was caused by another's words, and the impact it has on my life

I cried a tear in disbelief at the words of the sermon that my heart simply cannot believe in

I cried a tear at how much my palm cross has seen

I cried a tear in stillness and surrender - in awe of how very articulate the experience of returning home can be and how incredibly powerful it is when the spoken word resonates with the sung word to give the reassurance that this lost sheep *will* be found.

Muppets, Church and Belief

This will be a short post as I only woke up a short time ago and have to run through the shower before my dad gets back and we go to look at cars to replace the one that was totalled last week. (Stupid truck drivers!)

Yesterday I took one of the ladies that I support to mass. It's funny because although we are entirely two different people, her and I seem to understand one another on a level that is not quite where other team members see themselves.

Anyway, there she was - blessing everyone who would make eye contact with her, singing to hearts content (though completely out of key and incorrect words, it did not matter), and giving thumbs up to the guy behind us because he had a "lovely singing voice". She was smart enough to put two and two together because when Fr. A started talking all about "preparing the way", she tugged on my sleeve and not-so-quietly whispered, "we have to prepare for the Baby Saviour. He comes at Christmas, you know!"

It was a powerful moment on this advent journey for me because although we were sitting there for her that morning, I had a "Grinch moment"... you know, one of those moments where my heart grew three sizes.

There was Fr. A, preaching in a church that I left years ago to pursue a dream, speaking to a heart that has been self-inflicted with grief, hurt, and pity; nearing the end of his 10 minute homily, I could truly feel my heart getting warmer, praying for a sense of cultivation and watering.

"Fine. If you have crooked ways that need to be straightened, by all means, straighten them. If you have rough paths that need smoothing, then smooth them over. But do not do all these things in order to prepare to be touched by the Christ child at Christmas time... do these things because you are obsessive or compulsive or both, ok? God does not want you to come to the manger all high and mighty with all your affairs in order because then he cannot help you. He wants you to come, with all your crooked and imperfected ways, for it is only through the cracks that the light can shine..."

Left me a ponderin' late into the night last night and still sits heavy on my heart this morning. Maybe there is truth to what he was saying... I'll keep you posted.

Fool-proof Proof that God exists!

It is, by far, thee most childish and immature argument for why I believe God exists more than Santa, the Easter Bunny, or the Tooth Fairy... but it is a proof that has never let me down. For some reason, it is the proof that I've always clung to and am reminded of each fall. Each time I remember this proof, I make the mental note of filing it in the back of the cabinet under "potential sermon illustration". Here it is.

I know that God exists because unlike Santa, God can hear the prayers that I say in my head; God can read my mind, but if you want Santa to know something, you have to either write it down or say it out loud. I know that God exists because unlike the Easter Bunny, God is capable of gifting more than chocolate and God doesn't leave a mess anywhere; God gifts things like love, forgiveness, grace, and peace, but the Easter Bunny is only capable of gifting those things which come in moulds - most often, in the shape of a bunny and rarely does the Easter Bunny gift anything aside from milk chocolate (not exactly a utility kind of gift). Plus, you don't have to clean up after God, he cleans up after you. But the Easter Bunny requires a pooper-scooper and a large pail in it's wake. Finally, I know that God exists because the rewards of making a sacrifice come in copious showers, but the Tooth Fairy never rewards more than a two dollar coin; God isn't cheap, but the Tooth Fairy certainly is. God understands that having an important, rooted aspect of your life is a painful, tedious process and never puts a numerical value on what is being lost, but the Tooth Fairy seems to think that Novacane makes everything manageable and clearly thinks that being able to break life into bite-size pieces is only worth small coinage. Plus, God does not hold our past against us but that stupid Tooth Fairy holds all the teeth in an envelope in Dad's bathroom - probably just to give back to us when we are old and start to lose these teeth.

I have been up for a few hours already, pre-sunrise thinking about this "proof" and how absolutely certain I was 18 years ago that the proof was infallible. Growing up on the farm, this time of year was one of mixed feelings. We only got to see my dad on Sunday mornings for church, if we got to stay up really, really late, or if it was pouring rain. He would always be out of the house before we got up in the morning and would never get back until after we were in bed. Every night, my mom would hear the instructions that she was to pass onto my dad when he got home. "Tell dad that as SOON as he gets home, to come and kiss me goodnight, make sure that Kristin didn't steal all the blankets or kick me onto the floor. Then, after he showers and eats his supper, tell him to come back in for one more kiss before bed, k?" She would nod, assure us that he always came into our rooms when he got home, kissed us goodnight, and made sure we were all tucked in. Night after night, my sister and I would be scolded for having to "use the bathroom" every five minutes, taking turns to see if dad was home.

If we were lucky, we would get to take supper out to the field for him. We would put milk in a canning jar and essentially, pack a small, cold picnic for him. Annnnd, if we were really lucky (and if the baby was sleeping in the car), we would get to go for a round on the combine with him. On the nights that we didn't go out to the field (we typically only took supper out on the nights where they were going to be combining into the early hours of the morning), we would leave him pictures, mis-spelled notes, and crafts by his plate for him to look at/read/admire while he ate his supper.

And this was the time of year, where part one of the proof was first discovered. Prayers were often said together, post teeth-brushing and pre-tuck in. Together, we would pray for good weather, good crops, safety, for people we loved.... and then silently, I would add a prayer for a whole day of pouring rain. I didn't necessarily want to contradict the good weather prayers that mom prayed for, but I just wanted one day of pouring rain so that dad could stay home.

Sure enough, after what seemed like eternity to a six year old, it rained. Two days straight. I didn't need to say these prayers out loud at bedtime for God to hear them. God heard my prayers for rain and didn't let me down. Now Santa on the other hand, should maybe take a lesson in the non-verbal, silent requests. If he did, I bet there would be a lot more Christmas presents of peace wrapped with a bow under the tree Christmas morning. And probably, a Transformer toy instead of that Barbie.

The 1 Millionth Psalm

"I heard there was secret chord, that David played and it pleased the Lord..." (from Hallelujah, as seen in Shrek)

Relationships are a funny thing.  For when a relationship is blossoming well, all we want to do is sing the praises of the other person or how wonderful life is.  However, when relationships are hurting in some way, we exhaust ourselves trying to figure out how to "make things better" and return once again to that state of wonderful elation.  Yet, in our efforts to "make things better" or return things to the way they were, we so often get disorientated and get confused on which relationships we can affect and which ones are out of our control.  

On Monday, I literally will have spent 8 months agonizing over broken relationships with human loved ones.  I have tried to come up with various solutions and possible answers on how I can repair these relationships.  Everything from starting anew to pretending we had never met...all the while, ignoring the one, single relationship in my life that I actually had some influence upon. I don't think that the 8 months was necessarily "wasted" effort and time, I'm just kind of ashamed to admit that it took this long to realize which relationship I needed to put my energy into saving.  

And so... comes the creation of The 1 Millionth Psalm.  A song, a prayer, a heart - crying to God. 

I am well aware of the fact that the Bible contains 150 psalms and that a number of musical artists have written "151 Psalm"... but 1 million seems like a safer number.  It is a number that acknowledges the fact that after everything, I don't deserve to be 151st or 152nd or even 999 999th in line to bring my song before our God.  It also acknowledges that there will be time to ultimately prepare for that journey to the altar, for I believe it will take longer than 30 seconds for God to hear the psalms 151-999 999 and work with the psalmist. Which, in frank honesty, is what I need.  

However, all that blabbing aside it is written and ready for the day when it is my turn to approach in timid fear and sing it before the Lord, my God, the only true shepherd of lost and wandering souls.  And without any further adieu, I share with you... The 1 Millionth Psalm.

The One Millionth Psalm

2009

My faith was tried, my heart is cold

Running away from Your Fire of love. 

And now I sit,

On the edge of abyss,

Waiting for You to take me home. 

Oh my God,

Take me into your arms again

Oh my Lord,

Take me, and call me yours.

In this great mirror of life,

All I saw was me, O Lord.

But now I know,

I was wrong

Cause others...

Always shine of you. 

Please grant peace to those in life,

the loved ones I hurt

Heal their pain

with Your glowing love

Shower,

their paths with grace.

My eyes are healed,

the mud has cracked.

I can see Your Light, O Lord

But my soul,

it`s got a hole

Upon Your mighty altar, 

I lay it.

Lenten Reflections

It has just been one of those reflective kind of weeks where I momentarily ponder what I wanna be when I'm "all growed up" while filling out applications for summer employment everywhere imaginable.  

And... on this Friday afternoon, I've never been more convinced that if I ever have the opportunity, I will mass produce and distribute t-shirts with the upside down slogan

"IT'S NOT ALL ABOUT YOU!"

screened across the chest.  This would allow the wearer of the t-shirt to be reminded of this simple fact every time they tied their shoes, looked down at their feet, or fell flat on their face.  

Don't get me wrong - I love the liturgical season of Lent, a season of introspection, personal reflection, and personal growth in a way unlike any other season of the church year.  It is a time set aside where we can look inward, re-evaluate, and adjust.  

However, beyond the soft smell of springtime and new growth from within, I can't help but wonder if we should maybe distribute these t-shirts to people at the beginning of the season.  I would hope that in doing so - it would prevent the unnecessary naval gazing and over-excessive personal negativity that comes when people go ONE step too far.  (or two or three or four...)

*sigh*

Well, maybe it's just me - but honestly - there are two VERY different kinds of reflection, introspection, and evaluation that we (as Christians) can engage in.  There is the kind that, unfortunately, becomes all about us.  It's all about how we feel, how our world is changing, how we feel left out, left behind, or left field; this reflection focuses on how something is going wrong for us or how we can't seem to clear our heads.  Alternatively, it can also be the kind of reflection that leads us to believe that something is wrong with the world just because it's not how we used to experience it.  

The other type of introspection and evaluation is what I like to call "prescription eyes" reflection.  It's that kind of evaluation where we finally get our eyesight check out, realize how blurry things were for us and how clear they are now; this allows us to not only see and experience our present situation more clearly - but lets us look back upon those fuzzy moments that require a healthy dose of "corrective eyesight".  

The problem with the first kind is that we get too caught up with ourselves and actually begin to live in a pretty dark and negative world.  This is when we need a friend to slap us silly, as hard as they possibly can, teach us how to kindly apply this slap to ourselves, and scream, "IT'S NOT ALL ABOUT YOU!!"

Some people seem to get it after one conversation, but after this week, I'm left wondering why some people insist on saying that their way is the only way or who agree that they need to change their way, but actually do squat about doing it.  

In my humble opinion, perhaps this video is a suggestion of a better way of reflecting upon our Christian lives and journeys.  And for all those out there who need to hear this the most, but won't ever read this blog... may the Triune God apply the appropriate reminder that in the end, IT'S NOT ALL ABOUT THEM!!

Music of the Soul

It comes as a shock to most people who find this out about me, but I speak Spanish fluently.  I do not have any direct family relatives (or indirect for that matter) who are Spanish speaking or hail from Spanish countries... nope, we are German and French, and now, Canadian.  

However, a family who provided music for our Sunday worship when I was a young child always sang this particular hymn in Spanish.  Although I never learned what the words meant until I was old enough to search for an English translation.  When I got to highschool, where Spanish was offered as a second language, my heart leapt at the opportunity to study it.  I carried these studies through my undergraduate work and speak Spanish - every chance I get with friends from other countries.  Such a beautiful and expressive language.  

This afternoon, I got an instant message from a friend who was wrapped up in concerns about what to do next, worried about this or that, and worked up about whether something was "right" or how the timing would work out.  And so, in true sharing, shared this hymn with her.  Surprisingly, it seemed to bring her some sense of comfort and peace.  

And, knowing that there are more than one of us out there who are worried about what the next step in our journey is, where it might take us, feeling anxious about moving on or staying put, searching frantically for the answers, courage, and grace... I share this hymn here, with you.  

Tu has venido a la orilla, 

no has buscado ni a sabios ni a ricos; 

tan solo quieres que yo te siga.

Senor, me has mirado a los ojos,

sonriendo has dicho mi nombre,

en la a rena ha dejado mi barca,

junto a ti, buscare otro mar.

Tu sabes bien lo que tengo;

en me barca no hay oro ni espadas,

tan solo redes y mi trabajo.

Tu necesitas mis manos,

mi cansancio que a otros descanse

a more que quiera sejuir amando.

Tu pescador de otros lagos,

ansia eterna de almas que esperan,

aamigo bueno, que asi me llamas.

The (rough) English translation is:

Lord, you have come to the seashore, neither searching for the rich nor the wise,

desiring only, that I should follow. 

O Lord, with your eyes set upon me, gently smiling, you have spoken my name; 

all I long for, I have found by the water, at your side, I will seek other shores.

Lord, see my goods, my possessions; in my boat you find no power, no wealth,

will you accept then, my nets and labour?

Lord, take my hands and direct them.  Help me spend myself in seeking the lost, 

returning love for the love you gave me.

Lord, as I drift on the waters, be the resting place of my restless heart,

my life's companion, my friend and refuge. 

It's incredible in so many ways - and could, soooo easily, be a simple prayer before the work we engage in daily - whatever that might be.  At various points along the journey, various verses or phrases hold the most impact.  Personally, if I can  manage to utter the words: "as I drift on these rough waters Lord, be the resting place of my restless, unsettled heart; you are my life's companion - friend and refuge"... then I'm improving.  

And for those of us who are in some way, worked up about "what comes next" - may we take heart and courage in trusting that God is gently whispering words of love and vocation to us and that it is ONLY with God at our side - that the seeking of other shores will happen.  Not alone, not on rough waters, and not without direction.  

Honourable Mention!

I had a good laugh this morning when I opened my email to find an email from my prof asking if he could use my paper as an example for the class on Monday in his "how to write an effective paper" workshop.  Securing an 85% (A), he felt that the improvements/alterations to make for the paper have to do with formatting and the technical aspects, but that the paper itself was extremely well written. 

This, without a doubt, made me laugh.  

I do not doubt my paper writing abilities for a second, however, it was an extremely difficult paper to write, given the topic and life circumstances.  I have pasted the first (introduction) page here as well as a snippet of the conclusion.  If you're interested in the sources, just let me know.  

                The term “adolescent” is one that can cause even the strongest of men, to cringe; an age bracketed between 12 and 18 years old, where a youth has the drive and tools required to truly transform into an adult.  A time period in which trial and error seems to be applied in reckless abandon, causing bruises and sometimes more lasting injuries to the seeking adolescent as well as those around them.  Typically, infants and seniors are the people we label as “vulnerable” because they are too fragile to care for themselves.  However, in our current society, where gangs, violence, and peer pressure seem to dominate the scene, it might be more accurate to identify these seeking adolescents as vulnerable.  These youth are at the age where society expects them to really develop a sense of self knowledge based on a set of ideals, morals and worth, seemingly without a lot of support and direction.  As these youth seek a role and a sense of authenticity in a fast paced and consumer driven world, it remains a wonder that our society seems maintains a level of self aware, authentic, and loving individuals.  We have all too often turned on the television or radio just in time to hear about a group of miscreant teenagers, who have vandalized the church parking lot, hurt or violated a senior citizen, or broken into the gas station on the corner and stole chocolate bars and cash from the register; for a lack of knowing how else we can respond to these “seeking” youth, we turn and shake our heads, phone the local police department, or simply just walk away. 

What if the guiding support for these adolescents was less costly (financially, psychologically, and emotionally) and proved to be more effective than legal enforcements or walking away?  Having worked with this age group in a school setting that was consistent and religious in nature, an entire community witnessed just how self aware and genuine an influential group of adolescents can be, if only given the opportunity and space.  The task assigned to the group of 53 youth, ranging between the ages of 12 and 14 years old, was to come up with a project that would make a lasting difference to their community.  These youth attended a religious school, but had very little ongoing religious education about the faith; however, being raised in a religious school setting provided them an ongoing sense of overarching morality and sense of belonging they could have as a safety net and comfort zone as a base for the outreach they were about to dream up.  These youth truly exceeded any expectations.  Two young boys spend their lunch hour to play music on the sidewalk, raising over $1,100 in a two week time period to give to a local charity while other students went on a clothing drive for the homeless.   Another pair developed an after school program for younger children to learn how to cook healthy snacks at a nearby school, others established an after school soccer program for the neighbourhood children on Saturday mornings.  Not only did these remarkable students dream up these projects, but they carried them through beyond the end of the school year and into the summer months.  As they worked through the details of their projects, it was clear that each one of these young individuals was finding and developing an authentic sense of self in the wider society.  They did not require the use of illegal drugs or trouble making gangs to find themselves.  Instead, they seem to have only needed a small encouragement to venture out of a morally stable base and the reminder that they could come back at any time for a “refuelling”. 

The question that must be asked is, what role does religion play in the identity formation of adolescent youth, and the choices that need to be made in order to find an authentic and stable sense of self?

The conclusion that I came to, after 4 short pages of citing sources and pulling apart research was this:

The conclusions that can be drawn from reviewing these articles in an attempt to answer the question about the role that religion could play in the seeking adolescents are that clearly, because of the change of mentality in our society, the adolescent is in a vulnerable state.  Left without a strong, society base of norms and morality, a lack of direction and guidance, and problems with self-deception and “hiding” the self, as pointed out by Baumeister, the adolescent seems to be left out in the dark during a very critical stage in self identity formation.  Disagreeing with Baumeister that our society has created the illusion of a hopeless promise of tomorrow, there do remain avenues in which one may turn to in times of seeking, where a lasting, and truthful experience may shape the rest of not only their life, but the life of our society.  As witnessed and spoken to by James, this experience creating community, is likely to be religious in nature, where the unifying mentality of the medieval society is still prominent and encouraging one another to reach their potential is as natural as walking and the valuable characteristic of a transition marker ritual celebrates and commends those who choose to make that decision at that time.  There remains a few considerations to still be looked at, such as a home rearing environment and the effect that this might have on the self-seeking adolescent, but it remains clear that a religious community as first illustrated, provides the support, structure, and “self” finding encouragements that have called young people forward in a spirit of truthful service, where making a difference in their life is only the first step. 

Just imagine what would happen if all these youth, troubled and burdened, could find that community in which they felt comfortable and safe enough to allow themselves to experience the truth: their potential in this society is incredible and is simply waiting for them to embark upon that journey, self aware and identified as one among many, called to bring those around them to a level of self knowledge and a deeper truth. 

The question that is now starting to rumble in a deep - meaningful fashion, is in regards to whether "religion" and "faith" become something like a security blanket and are only called upon when (youth(?) are) scared of dark.  I had another professor mention this phenomenon once where youth attendance in church was minimal because once the youth found a comfortable place of "self" in their society, they no longer needed a structure like religion. Perhaps that shall be the next paper...