Progress Report: Mepkin Abbey Journaling Group

It was about a year ago that Father Guerric at Mepkin Abbey announced an interesting plan:  to create contemplative groups organized by way of zip codes.  An e-mail went out to everyone who had ever visited the Abbey inviting them to be part.  These groups would support us in our efforts to use contemplative practices in our regular lives.

Some groups meet in person--I imagine a zip code nearer to the Abbey that has 20 or more members.  Because I'm 9 hours away, my zip code group includes people in Orlando as well as people in my county, not zip code.  We meet by way of a Zoom meeting.

We've been working our way through an audio resource by Jungian Don Bisson.  We listen to a chunk in advance and do some journaling on our own.  When we're together by way of a Zoom session, we begin with prayer.  Then we each take 3 minutes to talk about what jumped out at us, what spoke to us.  Throughout the whole process, we don't have cross talk.  We then journal silently for 10 minutes, and then again, we each take 1-3 minutes to talk about what we just journaled.  Then we pray again and leave the Zoom meeting silently.

We first met virtually back in May to strategize, and if I'm remembering correctly, we did our first official session in June of 2019.  Somewhere in the fall, we started scheduling the Zoom session to start 15-30 minutes early, so that we had a chance to catch up on each other's lives.

It's interesting to think about how we "know" each other.  I now have been part of several communities that have only met virtually, and with some of these groups, I've felt like I know more about the members than I have some of my in-person friend groups.  There are members of my 2018 Grunewald Guild journaling group that I feel like I know more deeply than some of my friends I've kept in touch with since college.

Do I really know them?  Do we ever know each other?  In some ways, I only know what people reveal to me.  It could all be a fake persona.  I could get to know a person in real life only to find out that they're nothing at all like their online persona.

So I approached our Saturday in-person meeting with a bit of trepidation.  One of our Mepkin zip code contemplative group members has a house in Vero Beach that's in our geographical middle, which is a 2 hour drive for those of us in Broward county and 2 hours from Orlando.  As I drove up, I thought of how this scenario would play out if I was a character in a police procedural--I'd be the poor dupe about to be raped and murdered or sold into modern slavery.  I left the driving directions with my spouse, so they'd have some place to begin the search if I never returned.

Happily, there were no nefarious schemes afoot.  We met at our member's lovely house, in her huge screened room that looked out on a peaceful pasture.  We did our journaling session, and then we talked for hours.  We had a beautiful lunch of potato soup, open face veggie melt sandwiches, and chocolate chip cookies hot out of the oven.

I am amazed by how alike we are and yet how different.  I am the only one who is still working; the others are some degrees of retired.  I am a Lutheran, and the others are varieties of Catholic.  We all seem to be left of center politically--we're concerned with social justice in a way that certain Christians have historically been.  We are all older--I think I'm the youngest at 54.

It was a wonderful experience to meet in person.  It made me wish we lived closer.  And yet, I know that even if we lived closer to each other, it might be difficult to find time to meet in person regularly.  I am grateful for technology that makes it easier to meet.  I'm grateful for this Mepkin group.

Inspired by Tarot Cards, the Poet Sketches

I know that believers have different feelings about Tarot cards.  I've used them in a variety of ways.  There's some part of me that longs to predict the future, sure, but I don't really believe that cards or stars or dreams can do that--the future isn't set, so how can we predict it?

I've had cards that I loved for the artwork, like the Motherpeace deck or the Poet Tarot.  But do I use them?  Rarely. When I do use them, I approach them the way I do any text that I'm reading with attention and intention:  I ask questions, and I try to be aware of how the work speaks to me.

When I assembled a creativity bag, I included the Poet Tarot deck and guidebook.  Yesterday, I decided it was time to use them.  First I pulled out the Five of Muses, which the guidebook tells me talks about rejection and disappointment.  Yes, I could see that.  Then, as I was about to put the cards away, I decided to pull out another:  Yeats.  The guidebook reminds us of how many times Yeats reinvented himself.  The guidebook encourages us to think about transformation, both in terms of what we want to create and in terms of what needs to be purged.

I decided to create a sketch.  In future years, I might want a record of what spoke to me.  And so, I made a sketch after I recorded the phrases that leapt out when I read the guidebook:

I love the peacock feather feel of the sketch, an effect that I wasn't trying to create at first.  As the sketching continued, I became more intentional.  I also tried to let the words sink into me.  I have been thinking about my various writing projects and how often I send them out.  I'd really like this year to be the year of a book with a spine--but for how many years have I been saying that?

But it's still a goal of mine, even if it might not change my life radically.  I'm doing many things these days without being sure of how my life might change, but trying to stay open to both possibilities and mystery.

Meditation on This Sunday's Gospel

The readings for Sunday, February 2, 2020:

First Reading: Isaiah 58:1-9a [9b-12]

Psalm: Psalm 112:1-9 [10]

Second Reading: 1 Corinthians 2:1-12 [13-16]

Gospel: Matthew 5:13-20


With the Gospel for this Sunday, we get our mission statement from Jesus. We are to be the salt of the earth, the light of the world. Maybe you read the Gospel for Sunday, and you despair. Maybe you've felt much more like a flickering candle lately. Maybe you yearn for verses about dimly burning wicks and the assurance that God will not extinguish you for your lackluster burning.

Jesus tells us that we are to let our light shine, but he doesn't tell us how hard it will be some days. As a child, I always thought that once the light was lit, the hard part was over. I would just shine and shine and not hide my light under a bushel and not let Satan pfff it out (as that old song goes).

I did not anticipate the days and months I would feel like I had no light at all, no wick to light, no oil left in the lamp. I did not anticipate the days that I would wish I had a flicker, a guttering flame.

How do we keep our light from going out? I suspect it's in the various disciplines that we adopt to strengthen our spiritual lives: praying, journaling, reading the Bible, reading other spiritual literature, being in nature, fasting, feasting, tithing, charitable giving, working for social justice, practicing gratitude, caring for those who need us, noticing the wonders of the world.

It's important to realize that we can't keep our lights lit if we see this activity as a once-a-week duty. I suspect that even a once-a-day duty isn't enough. We need to develop disciplines that reorient us throughout the day. We need to build in breaks throughout the day to attend to our wicks and lights.

Maybe we could tie these spiritual disciplines to other breaks we must take during our days. You've probably done this practice at one point in your life: we could say a prayer of gratitude before we eat. We could listen to spiritually uplifting books or music during our commutes or workouts.  As we wash our hands throughout the day, we could remember our baptismal promises.  Many charitable activities force us to keep to a schedule.

It’s important to remember that we are often the only light of Jesus that many people will see throughout the week. How would our attitude and behavior change if we saw our lives through this prism? We are the instruments and tools that God uses to deliver God’s light into the world. How can we make ourselves better at the task?

Some of us think that we need to lead people to Jesus by talking to them about our faith. But our lives and our actions have already done all the talking before we ever open our mouths. Keep that in mind as you interact with people. Let your life do the shining. Be the salt that adds savor to everyone’s surroundings. Glorify God in this way.

What God Do You Worship?

One of the more interesting intellectual nuggets that I picked up during the online intensive revolved around people's belief in God.  As spiritual directors, it will be fruitful to determine not whether or not people believe in God--most people do, and certainly people who seek out a spiritual director do.

No, the better question is "Which God do you believe in?"  Or "Which God do you worship?"  I was surprised at the possible answers and how much of the population believes in which God.

Readers of this blog will not be surprised to find out that I believe in a benevolent God.  I was surprised to find out that only 23% of the population believes in a benevolent God.

Before I go any further, let me talk about the source for these statistics.  There was a USA Today article some time ago, which I found but then can't find again.  I don't remember who was polled--were these church goers or the general population?  But the statistics do seem relevant, regardless.  The statistic of 23% is a rough statistic, not precise.

So, if one doesn't believe in a benevolent God, then what's left?  There's the authoritarian God, which 23% of the population believes in.  The other two types of God are critical and distant, and 23 % of the population believes in each.

If 75% of the population believes in a God that's on some sort of spectrum from distant to vengeful, it's no wonder that people aren't much interested in going to church or that they're attending out of fear.  How on earth do we minister to people with these beliefs?

I don't have any easy answers, of course.  But it's an interesting way of framing the question.  We tend to think that we need to convince people of the existence of God--but it may be much harder than that.

Progress Report: The Creativity Bag

A few weeks ago, I wrote this Facebook post:

"So, this week-end, I want to create a to-go bag, a creativity kit. I want a sketchbook and a collection of markers. I want my poet tarot deck of cards. I want an inspiring book that I can read in short snippets. I want a perfect pen. If I carried these things with me all the time, where would I be by this time next year?"

I did create this bag, and I have been trying to remember to carry it with me everywhere I go.  Far harder is remembering to use the tools that are in the bag.

Two days after I put the bag together, I made this sketch during a quiet time at school (some people take lunch breaks or smoking breaks, so I try to take creativity breaks):

The next day was our first day of Winter quarter, and I haven't had many quiet times at school since.  Last week I did sketch one day.

At the onground intensive, I did carry my creativity bag with me, but I didn't have a lot of downtime there either.  I did lead my small group in a lectio divina type exercise that included sketching:  I read a passage from the Bible and had people listen for what spoke to them.  I suggested they write down the part of the passage, a word or phrase, or even just to draw a line or a shape as they heard the passage.  Then I read the passage again.

One of the treasures of the onground intensive week was the feeling of time expanding.  I didn't feel frazzled or irritated.  There seemed to be plenty of time to get all the tasks of the day done.  Let me continue to look for ways to insert this spirit into my workday world.  One of those ways may be seizing time to sketch, a practice which grounds and centers me.

Let me also remember not to absorb the attitudes of those around me, to be the mirror not the sponge.  I am aware of how many people are not centered or grounded, how many people are acting from a place of panic or anger. I'm also aware of how easy it is to be infected with those moods.  Let me get back to some spiritual practices to avoid the infection.

Ungendered Bathrooms and Being an RIC Congregation

Today my church, Trinity Lutheran in Pembroke Pines, celebrates our 2 year (or is it 3 year?) anniversary of being a Reconciling in Christ congregation.  Here's a mediation I wrote for our newsletter:

This Sunday, we will celebrate the anniversary of becoming a Reconciling in Christ church, which means we have decided to be more welcoming, and in particular, we are more open to non-heterosexual people. They can worship with us, they can take communion with us, and they can eat meals with us. For some of us, this behavior seems basic, just good manners. But the larger world is not so welcoming, and a reader doesn't have to go very far to come across horrific stories of violence against people who have a different sexuality or gender.

We might say that we're fine with being welcoming, but why do we have to stress our hospitality so openly? Why focus on it? Can't we just go back to talking about something else?

We stress our hospitality statements in part so that people who are different than the people traditionally welcomed in churches will know that our church is a safe space. We also do it so that we as a church remember our commitments.

Most of us have some degree of protection in the larger world. I'm a white woman who lives in a safe neighborhood. I have a job that gives me both money and health insurance. I have a spouse who is the opposite of my gender. I have some money put aside, and I have family members who would help me if I needed it. I am not an outsider in society, and sometimes, I can forget how it feels to be an outsider.

Of course, it doesn't take more than a nighttime stroll through a downtown area to remind me that I'm not as safe in our society as I would be if I had a male body. I'm a tall, large woman in midlife, so I'm safer than I would be if I was younger and thinner. I'm a woman who has had self-defense training, so I move through the world differently than some.

But the world is full of people who are much more vulnerable, people who can't just stay out of dangerous neighborhoods, people who can't hide that they're not safe in the world. Transgender women are much more likely to be murdered than I am, just because they are transgender.

When I was away at Southern Seminary, I had a valuable reminder of how it feels to be vulnerable. Southern Seminary has changed all of their bathrooms to be open to all--in other words, there's not a men's room and a women's room. Trinity has done that too, but we've transformed our bathrooms to be single use. Southern's restrooms still have stalls, urinals if they were once men's rooms, and in one building, shower stalls.

It took me a day to realize that we could lock the door to the bathroom and be the only one in the bathroom. For a day, I thought we'd all be in the bathroom, taking care of our business, male and female together. For a day, I went back to my room when I needed to go to the bathroom, because the bathroom didn't feel safe to me, even though I wasn't really expecting to be attacked in a bathroom with people just outside the door. It was not lost on me that what I felt would not be unfamiliar to a transgender person.

I thought about all the people who spend their days not feeling safe enough to go to the bathroom, and once again, I felt grateful for our church community that has tried to transform itself in such key ways.

More important, we realize that transformation isn't a one time event. It's easy to backslide. It's easy to forget how dangerous the world is, especially when we're at less risk than others. And sadly, in the larger world, the church as an institution has often been one of the dangerous places for those who are different.

This Sunday, let us recommit to our idea of what it means to be a welcoming church. Let us stand in solidarity with the outcast--just as Jesus taught us to do.

The Message vs. Other Translations

It's been a week now since I began each morning reading a chapter of John.  The first morning, I read chapter 1 in the first translation that the Bible Gateway site gave me, something like the NIV.  Just out of curiosity, and because it's so easy, I then read the version found in The Message.  And then, I read a few others:  the NRSV and the Jubilee version (never heard of that one).

Each morning, I've read a chapter in a non-Message version and then turned to The Message.  I've been struck each morning by how much better I like the passage when I read it in Peterson's translation/paraphrase.  What an amazing resource!

I have yet to meet anyone who doesn't like The Message, but I know they're out there.  I've even heard of churches--mainline Protestant churches, that have banned that version.  I don't understand why.  Peterson isn't some wild-eyed kook, after all--he's a trained theologian with many years of pastoring experience.

I'm glad to have his translation because my experiment in reading the book of John over and over again will be richer for it.  John has never been my favorite Gospel--all the mystical language makes me want to turn to a different Gospel.  But the language that Peterson uses makes it so much better.

Here's an example, John 8:  23-24,  first in the NRSV:

23 He said to them, “You are from below, I am from above; you are of this world, I am not of this world. 24 I told you that you would die in your sins, for you will die in your sins unless you believe that I am he.”[f]
And now, The Message:

23-24 Jesus said, “You’re tied down to the mundane; I’m in touch with what is beyond your horizons. You live in terms of what you see and touch. I’m living on other terms. I told you that you were missing God in all this. You’re at a dead end. If you won’t believe I am who I say I am, you’re at the dead end of sins. You’re missing God in your lives.”

The NRSV makes my head hurt--and worse, I can see the language that's been used to oppress, or worse, to kill those that have a different belief system.  In The Message, I don't have the same struggle.  And I love the idea that the people are missing God--not just Jesus standing before them, but the work of God going on all around them.

And instead of Hell and sin language, we get the idea of a dead end.  It's easy to dismiss Hell and sin language as having nothing to do with us in our modern times.  But dead ends?  Who can't relate to that?

What a gift Peterson has given us with The Message.  I am in awe of his gifts.

Trees, Seedlings, and Tongues of Flames

Yesterday I did some sketching.  I first tried to sketch the sunroom where I spent so much time last week (I have even dreamed of that room).  But I couldn't get the perspective right.

I couldn't decide what to draw next, so I looked back through some of my sketches from the online journaling class that I took.  I felt drawn to the pine trees I had been sketching, but first I drew a vine-like line.  Later, I added trees.

I often try to create a haiku for my sketch.  But yesterday, I couldn't get the syllables right.  I thought about a longer poem, but I was running out of time during my lunch hour sketching, with the hard deadline of a 1:00 meeting.  I thought about how the leaves of the vine looked like the tongues of flame I had been sketching, the tongues of flames that we think about during Pentecost.

Later I thought about the larger world context, the fires that are scorching so much of Australia.  I didn't have those kinds of flames in mind when I wrote the poem.

This sketch makes me happy, and I'm not sure why.  I love the colors and the idea of the forest it inspires.  I love the colors in the vine and leaves.  But most of all, I love that I seized some time to sketch.

Thoughts on Solitude

Before last week gets too far away from me, let me records some thoughts on solitude, which was one of the spiritual focus elements of the onground intensive for the certificate in spiritual direction.  Before last week, I would have thought I had mastered the art of solitude to some degree, but last week showed me how wrong I am.

We had three hours on Thursday that we were supposed to spend in solitude--we entered into this time of solitude in an effort to spend time with God.  We decided that napping was fine, but reading was not--it's too similar to bingewatching movies or TV.  We won't hear God if we fill our brains with something else.

We were allowed to journal, and I decided that journaling was the only writing I would allow myself. If I wrote a short story or worked on my novel, it would be too easy to lose myself in that process.  If I had an idea for a poem, I'd have let myself write that too, but I didn't have anything percolating.

At first I decided to walk around campus taking pictures, which I did.  I did some journaling, but had trouble finding a place where I was comfortable--the library was stuffy, the outside was too breezy.  I walked some more.  I kept checking my watch impatiently wondering when it would be time for dinner.  I was reminded of my mental state at the end of yoga class when we hold the corpse pose and empty our minds.  It's not easy for me.

One of our leaders talked about how solitude could be a practice that we could adopt whenever we needed it--less a place or a state of being alone, but a true mental attitude.

This morning, though, I was thinking about how I need to practice solitude in the traditional sense:  to be alone, with electronics turned off, to be open to hearing something instead of the din of the world.  I am so tired of the yammering and the shouting and the low grade rumbles that are so hard to tune out.

I also want to remember the ultimate purpose.  It's great if I feel some relief from the anxiety that never seems to recede.  But the reason to adopt this practice is to be able to hear God and develop a relationship with God.

I began the week by reading part of this meditation written by Richard Rohr:   "It does concern me how often all kinds of inner work are called contemplation, but they do not lead us to a full contemplative stance. We shouldn’t confuse insight-gathering and introspection with contemplative spirituality. Contemplation is about letting go of what is false and incomplete much more than it is about collecting what is new, no matter how true, therapeutic, or helpful it is. In other words, if personal growth is still our focus, I do not think we are contemplative yet. True transformation demands that we shed ourselves as the central reference point. Jesus said, “Unless the single grain of wheat dies, it remains just a single grain,” and it will not bear much fruit (John 12:24). Self-help and personal growth are not of themselves the open field of grace where we move beyond self-preoccupation."

That paragraph struck me when I read it on Monday, January 13--and then I went off to my onground intensive where these words rang in my ears throughout the week.  How delightful!

I wish that I could say that I have a plan for inviting more solitude into my life.  I don't yet.  But I'm planning to look for ways to seize some solitude time.  I probably won't have 3 hours ever again--or at least not until the next onground intensive.  But if other practices have taught me anything, it's that some small amount of time is better than no time.  If we wait until we have a big chunk of time, we will get nothing done.

Meditation on This Sunday's Gospel

The readings for Sunday, January 26, 2020:

First Reading: Isaiah 9:1-4

Psalm: Psalm 27:1, 5-13 (Psalm 27:1, 4-9 NRSV)

Second Reading: 1 Corinthians 1:10-18

Gospel: Matthew 4:12-23

Here we are this week, still in the early days of Jesus' ministry. We see him call the disciples with that famous offer to make them fishers of people. He goes out to preach and teach.

But notice that early on, he's also ministering to the physical needs of people. He's not here to talk to them about their spiritual ailments. He tells them that the kingdom of heaven has come near, but he doesn't go around haranguing people about their selfish natures and the need to pray more.

Notice that his fame spreads, and it's probably not because of his brilliant teaching or a glimpse of heaven on earth. People will come from far and near if one of their physical ailments can be lessened.

Jesus also addresses, at least indirectly, their emotional ailments. As he heals and teaches, he's creating a community. It's exhausting work. But again, he knows that people aren't going to overthrow their established way of doing things unless they get something substantial in return.

Notice that Jesus doesn't talk in terms of eternal salvation, at least not in this part of the Gospel. He doesn't promise a place in Heaven if people will just endure their ailments during this life. He doesn't tell people that they'll be popular in Heaven to make up for being outcast on earth.

No. He creates a community and includes all of these people.

His ministry addressed the very real, the very physical, the very present needs of the people around him. It's an example we should keep in mind, as we order our own lives, and as we think about the future of our individual church and the larger Church.

As we think about outreach, we should keep the example of Jesus in our mind. We should ask ourselves what our lives show others about Christian life. As we think about our individual lives and about what God has called us to do, we should keep God's example in mind. What is our larger purpose? How can we effectively minister to a broken and hurting world?

Many of us aren't comfortable talking about our faith, and perhaps that's for the best. Nothing turns of an unbeliever more than someone who inserts faith into the conversation too early ("Hi, I'm Cindy, and I'm saved. If you died tonight, could you be sure you'd be going to Heaven?"). Instead, we can help out our coworkers who need it. We can invite lonely people over for dinner. We can be the person who always has a smile ready. We can be the person who's willing to listen. We can be the light of the world that God needs us to be.

The Value of Memorizing

Friday morning worship service gave us many rewards.  The first was worship itself, of course.  The second was the idea of reading one book of the Bible and reading a bit of it each morning, every morning, for a whole year (see this post for more on this idea).  We read the first verse of hymn 269 in the green hymnal, "Awake, my Soul, and with the Sun," and then we sang the first verse.  I wasn't familiar with the hymn, which is beautiful with or without music.

Our worship leader, also the director of the certificate program, suggested that we spend some time memorizing.  Sure, we can access anything on our phone, if we have those types of phones.  But memorizing makes a verse our own, in a way that's different.

We looked at Psalm 103, and read it several times.  The last time, we were asked to choose a verse that spoke to us and memorize it.  Verse 5 leapt out at me:

"who satisfies you with good as long as you live[a]
so that your youth is renewed like the eagle’s"

I read it a few times and thought I had memorized it.  Later, when I returned to it, it seemed unfamiliar to me.  Clearly I had work to do.

We returned to this Psalm throughout the day.  In our small group, we talked about the verse that appealed to us.  It was a vigorous discussion.

As I thought about the verse again, I was intrigued by how often the eagle imagery appears.  My mind goes immediately to Isaiah 40: 31: 

"but they who wait for the Lord shall renew their strength,
they shall mount up with wings like eagles,
they shall run and not be weary,
they shall walk and not faint."

Every time I hear these words, I also hear the U2 song from the album War.  The album was released back in 1982, but I can still hear Bono singing "40."

I should figure out a way to set Psalm 103:5 to music.  Then I might still remember it 40 years from now.

One Last Look Back at Onground Intensive before Re-Entry to Regular Life

I've had a long car trip and several conversations with old friends, so let me process the experience I've just had in the certificate program for spiritual direction.  I'm back from the first onground intensive and can't wait until the second one in June.

I don't know that I learned much that I hadn't already been exposed to before.  But as with many subjects, it's always good to be reminded.  And the subject matter was stuff I love, so I didn't mind when I was hearing familiar material.  And there were always new nuggets.

Each intensive will have a different instructional focus, and this time's focus kept circling back to mysticism, the through a Christian lens mysticism.  So we had a session on Thomas Merton and one on icons and one on Celtic Christianity.  We had worship services that incorporated Celtic elements, including a beautiful, candlelit Compline with elements straight from Iona. Ahhhh.

I enjoyed the chance to get to know lots of new people, most of whom were very interesting.  I had some great conversations with pastors and counselors.

I didn't expect to get insight on my seminary discernment process, but I did.  I've been thinking about online options and part-time options. It's becoming clearer to me that I can't really do a part-time seminary process.  It was hard enough getting away for these few days, and I was troubleshooting issues and assisting from a distance.  The online options I've seen have a 2 week intensive twice a year.  It's just not very realistic to hope I can get away for 2 weeks and not fair to those who will have to pick up the work in my absence.

I'm also realizing that my yearning for seminary may be a yearning for a kind of community that I don't have right now.  An online option won't give me that in the way that I want--at least, that's my thinking right now.

I'm very glad to be doing this certificate program.  In some ways, it makes me wonder about what I just wrote in the previous paragraph.  I do feel like we're forming a community, one that I'll feel sad about losing as people cycle in and out of the program.  It reminds me a bit of retreat communities.

I'm also a bit worried that the community that I assume would happen in seminary might not be there.  I was told that Southern has 70 students, 6 of whom are out on internship, but I didn't see many students.  A few days offered beautiful weather, but I didn't see people out and about.  There certainly weren't 70 students at the opening worship.  I only saw 3 students in the library.  Very puzzling.

Well, here we are, on a Monday when the rest of the nation may be observing an MLK day.  I don't have this day off, although many of our students do.  So I will go to pick up the day old bread and treats from Publix, go to spin class, and then go to work.  During my lunch hour, I'll help my spouse with returning the rental car and getting our replacement for the car that got totaled in the pre-Christmas flood.

Yes, it's time to return to regular life--may it be a gentle re-entry.  May I remember this piece of teaching about how to deal with people who may be feeling distress:  "Be the mirror, not the sponge."

One Year, One Book of the Bible

While I've been here at the onground intensive for the certificate in spiritual direction, I've come across many great ideas.  To be honest, most of them are not ideas that were completely new to me.  For example, I had a long conversation with a woman about not consuming news first thing in the morning.  I've thought of doing that before.  In fact, I came across an entry in my offline journal that talked about the possibility of doing sketching/journaling in the morning for 30 minutes before turning on the computer or the radio.

I do plan to go back to that plan.  But I've also decided to adopt a simpler approach to the morning.

Yesterday at the end of the morning worship service, the director of our program suggested that we take the next year and read one book of the Bible.  He talked about people who read the whole Bible in a year, but he says that we'll be much more enriched by focusing on just one book.  He suggested Psalms, John, or Philippians.  He suggested that we read straight through and when we get to the end, we start over.

Of all the ideas I've heard this week, this one jumped out at me, and I'm not sure why.  But time after time, our teachers this week have stressed that if something leaps out at us in this way, we should pay attention.

So this morning, I turned on the computer, the way I usually do.  But instead of going to the various NPR sites so that I could catch up on programming, I read the first chapter of the Gospel of John.  I've decided that I'll read one chapter each morning, that I'll read through the book chapter by chapter, one chapter each morning.  When I get to the end, I'll start the book again the next morning.

If I do nothing else, I'll do that.

I like this idea because of the time commitment.   It will take me a very short amount of time to read one chapter, so even on mornings when I'm pressed for time, I can do that.  If I want to read further, I can.  If I want to read the chapter in a variety of versions, I can, if I have a computer.  This morning, I began with The Message, then switched to NSRV and then New English--and just for fun, the Jubilee Bible, which I hadn't heard of before this morning.  As always, I am struck by what Eugene Peterson managed to do with his paraphrase/translation that he gave us in The Message.

I love the simplicity of this plan.  If the weather is bad, I can do it.  It won't require supplies, like a morning discipline of sketching would.  When I'm traveling, I can still read a chapter, and I won't have to bring an extra book along.

The cool thing about this practice is that it doesn't preclude other practices. I can still pray the liturgy of the hours, which I try to do each weekday morning.  If I have time, I can still sketch or write in a journal or blog.

I'm not sure what to expect, but I imagine it will be like keeping a gratitude journal:  at the end of a year, I'll be changed in ways I wouldn't have been without this practice.

Insight from the Second Day of the Onground Intensive

I have now sense a rhythm to the onground intensive for the certificate in spiritual direction.  It's an interesting mix of instructional time, worship time, small group time, and some alone time.  Each onground intensive has a focus on a particular praxis/practice; this time, it's solitude, and in June, it will be silence.

So far, I've been to 3 instructional sessions.  The first, for those of us here for the first time, focused on thinking about how spiritual direction is different from life coaching, therapy, pastoral care, or any of the other types of care.  One answer:  if the Holy Spirit isn't a 3rd partner, it may be valuable work, but it isn't spiritual direction.  One might wonder how this work would be different from pastoral care.  I would say that spiritual direction has both partners listening for God's direction during and between the sessions, while pastoral care could be something less than that, like helping a parishioner after a death in the family.  There's significant overlap between the types of care, significant borrowing of best practices (that last part is mine, to remind me that it's OK to borrow best practices if one discerns that path).

The 2 instructional sessions yesterday focused on mysticism (primarily the type that comes to us by way of the ancient desert fathers and mothers and medieval mysticism) and icons (the Orthodox type).  While much of the information wasn't new to me, I loved the sessions.

Yesterday we had almost 3 hours that we were to spend in solitude, which meant not only minimal human contact, but no books, no Internet, nothing that took our attention away from this time with God.  We agreed that journaling was O.K. 

So, I journaled, I walked around campus and took pictures, I journaled some more, I impatiently checked my watch to see if it was time for dinner . . .  .  Very interesting to realize that when I say I yearn for alone time, I'm likely to fill that time with reading or worse, with vapid Internet reading.  I finally sat down in the converted sunroom of the house where I'm staying and started to sketch:

I was intrigued by how much the sketching quieted my mind--not just focused, but quieted.

We bookended the day with worship.  In the morning, we walked the labyrinth, which is not an easy task in this labyrinth which is really not set up for a group to walk it--it's got very narrow paths:

In the evening, we had Compline, with a liturgy written by our director.  It was lovely, although a little too brightly lit.

I really like my small group, which is good, because I'll be spending a lot of time with them over the next 2 years.  I can't say much about them, because everything in small group is confidential.  But it's a relief to realize that this aspect will work for me--it isn't always the case.

As I've moved through my time here, I've thought about how this experience is like a retreat mixed with a conference mixed with some aspects of a college session.  If I had ever been part of a low residency MFA program, it might be a lot like that.

I've also been thinking about my yearning for seminary.  Being here makes me realize that I'm not sure the online type of approach to seminary is what I yearn for.  If I go to seminary, I think I want it to be the full, on campus experience.  I REALLY miss being on a campus.  I didn't realize how much I miss it.

Yes, in a way, I spend much of my waking hours on a campus.  But it's such a different kind of campus.

I think my seminary yearnings might be the same old yearnings to run away and start over, yearnings I've had since my teenage years.  That doesn't mean that those yearnings are frivolous or that those dreams are meaningless, but I want to recognize this insight.

One reason why I chose this certificate program is that I could do it without exploding all the other parts of my life.  And being here helps me realize how much of this material will be important as I move through the rest of my life.

Will it open new career doors?  I don't know.  But for me, that's not really the point.  I needed something that would help me feel better about the future.  This program does that, and thus, it's invaluable to me.

Onground Intensive: An Overview Based on the First Day

I am writing on a desk in a converted sunroom.  I'm in Columbia, South Carolina, on the campus of the Lutheran Theological Southern Seminary--Southern, for short.  I'm staying in an old house across from campus, the kind of house that's set up for short term visitors.  There are 4 bedrooms upstairs, each with 2 twin beds.  The downstairs rooms have an assortment of furniture:  2 dining areas, a kitchen, and a living room with furniture that has seen better days.  The floors are creaky wood, but charming.

I'm here for the first of 4 onground intensives as I work on a certificate in spiritual direction.  Yesterday was our first day together.

The group is larger than I expected--and more diverse.  We are mostly Lutheran, but we have a smattering of Methodists and Episcopalians, plus some non-affiliated and a Franciscan male in a brown habit.  We are mostly white, but there are some African-Americans.  I am surprised by how far away some of us live--more people from the middle of the country than I expected.  We are older, which makes sense.  Younger people likely can't get away for a Wed-Saturday intensive.  I had some trouble myself.  I used vacation time, but I've still had to log in to try to assist with issues.  There are more women than men.

We've had one instructional session, which was fascinating.  We've met several times in small group.  I like mine, which is fortunate, because they will be my small group for the next 18 months.

Yesterday, I went to two worship services.  I got to campus early, and as I walked around taking pictures, a man in the chapel told me they'd be having a service at 11:30 and invited me to come.  So I did.  The light streaming through the stained glass into the beaming white marble interior was stunning.  Here's a shot of the rear of the chapel, with the tall wall above the door to the vestibule:

Here's the front of the chapel:

Our evening service was more subdued in terms of color, but still moving.  It was created with a Celtic theme, so we sang "The Canticle of the Turning," (and others) and we had prayers based on the writings of St. Brigid, St. Patrick, and others.

I love being back on a traditional campus--LOVE it.  It reminds me of my undergraduate campus, Newberry College.  I could move into the library and never leave.  It has great spots to read, to write, and huge windows.  And what a great collection of books.  Of course, they're all categorized around religious themes, so if you wanted a research/university type library, you'd be disappointed.

It's very strange, too, to be on this campus.  I thought I had visited it back in the 80's, but maybe not--it doesn't feel familiar at all.  But many people I know have come to this school, as have some of my family members.  As I walked around campus yesterday in the hours before the intensive began, I felt almost breathless with the homecoming aspect of it all.

I am so glad I decided to do this, even though it's not easy to get away.  But it's never easy to get away--there would never be the perfect time.  I'm glad to have this opportunity and grateful for those holding down the fort (the fort at the office, the fort at home, so many forts which need holding down) in my absence.

Meditation on This Sunday's Gospel

The readings for Sunday, January 19, 2020:

First Reading: Isaiah 49:1-7

Psalm: Psalm 40:1-12 (Psalm 40:1-11 NRSV)

Second Reading: 1 Corinthians 1:1-9

Gospel: John 1:29-42

This Sunday's Gospel continues the story of Jesus' baptism, and it has lessons for each of us. Notice that Jesus doesn't get baptized and go home to sit on the sofa. He doesn't say, "Well, I'm glad I got that spiritual landmark over with. Now I don't have to do anything else until I die and get to go to Heaven."

No. Jesus goes out and tackles his mission. What is his mission? The same as ours: to proclaim that the Kingdom of God is revealing itself right here, right now, that God is breaking through our mundane daily life to transform us into better people in a better world.

But notice that Jesus doesn't go around yakking about this all the time. He's not the type of guy that drives most of us crazy, all talk and no follow through. When people ask about his mission, he says, "Come and see."

And what will people see? They will see a man healing the sick, comforting the poor in spirit, feeding the poor in wealth, eating with the outcast, and supporting the lowest people in society's social stratum: women, children, demon possessed, tax collectors, the diseased, and the like. They will see a man who sacrifices his social life and prospects for a long life so that other lives will have improvement. They will see a man of constant movement.

What do people see when they look at our lives? I've said it before, but it bears repeating: people pay attention to our actions. If our actions don't match our words, people don't accept our words. But it's worse: people see us as hypocrites, one of those Christian types they hate so much. But wait, it's even worse: if our actions habitually don't match our words, people begin to assume that ALL Christians are hypocrites.

It's tough, this mission of being God's hands in a world that needs so much. So, let's start with a simple approach. Each morning, ask God to help you be the light of the world today. Remember that the world watches you, waiting for your light. Remember that when your burn this way, other people will be drawn to you and will want to be part of this vision of a better life that you inspire. Forgive yourself for days when you're a dimly burning wick (to use the words of Isaiah's, in last week's readings) and remember that God does not extinguish a dimly burning wick. Even a dimly burning wick is better than no flame at all.

Martin Luther said that faith should move your feet. We are called to be Movement People. And even the smallest movements can lead to great changes down the road.

The Day Before Travel to the Spiritual Direction Certificate Program

Today is the day before I leave to go to my first onground intensive for the certificate program in spiritual direction.  Yesterday at end of the church service, my pastor invited me to the front, told the congregation of my plans, said a prayer of blessing, and then anointed me with water that he brought back from his Holy Land trip.  I felt surrounded by love and support from my congregation.

It was the Sunday that we celebrate the baptism of Jesus before his ministry began in earnest, so much of the service felt meaningful, from the music about listening for God's call and wading in the water, to the reading/sermon to the ways that the sanctuary has changed (last week we still had the Christmas trees up).

I am headed to Columbia, South Carolina, to the seminary where my grandfather went 90-ish years ago; he was significantly younger when he went there than I am.  I am headed to seminary, the way my mom did when she was my age; like me, she was going to seminary for a non-ordination track.  Unlike me, she got a chunk of time off from the church where she worked, and they continued to pay her.  It was a different time, and we have very different employers.

I feel a bit anxious about leaving my school for 4 days at the beginning of the term.  But to be honest, I always feel that anxiety, except for when I leave between Christmas and the New Year holidays, the one week when nothing is likely to happen.  Outside of that week, there's never a good time to leave; various situations can unravel very rapidly.  I remind myself that even if I was on site, situations could unravel. 

This morning I realized that I don't really know what kind of housing I'm headed to when I stay in seminary housing.  Will it be like a dorm where we have some communal spaces?  I'm sharing a room with a pastor friend that I met through the Create in Me retreat.  Future scholars take note:  the Create in Me retreat has done more to change my life than anything outside of my experiences in school.

I will take a towel and washcloths, just in case. I also wrote my pastor friend--maybe I don't need to bring linens with me.  But I am in a car, so I am happy to be able to travel with excess.

Yesterday I was wishing that I had time to create a mix tape of sending music--what do we call mix tapes these days?  In old days, I had the music in my collection, so it was easy to make a mix tape.  These days, I would have to buy some music.  I'd like "Maybe God Is Trying to Tell You Something," that wonderful song from The Color Purple.  I'd like "Children Go Where I Send You," from the Peter, Paul, and Mary Christmas album.

But I am running out of time, so I'll just sing those songs as I drive up I 95 tomorrow.  I'm looking forward to time away, to immersing myself in this new program, this new seminary setting, and hopefully a new approach to discernment.

Baptism of Our Lord: Sanctuary Elements Year 3

I have never thought of the Baptism of Our Lord as having the same sort of decorating possibilities as Christmas, Advent, Lent or Easter.  But for the past several years, our church has risen to the occasion.

Two years ago, our pastor was out of town, and he asked me to decorate.  I did a lot with the space under the altar:

I also used the ledge on the back wall as a focal point.

I loved the way the sanctuary looked at the end.  Perhaps that's what gave me courage to keep transforming the sanctuary throughout the liturgical year.

Last year, when I arrived at church, my pastor had already started decorating.  I asked if I could add the ribbons, and he said yes:

This year, because of scheduling issues, my pastor decorated without my help.  Here are the pictures he sent:

And a close up:

It's interesting to see how we have used similar elements throughout the years--similar effects, and yet different.  It's good to keep changing, so that people don't get bored with the same displays, year after year.

First World Problems: The Car Edition

Right before Christmas, South Florida had a freak rain event, although these flooding rain events outside of a tropical system are becoming more common and less of a freak event.  We were out of town, and we returned to a drowned car, which we had left parked on the street.

I was happy when the insurance adjuster declared the car totaled.  She said that she could tell that the water came up to the dashboard--to the dashboard!  From a non-hurricane event!  We got half of what we paid for our 2014 Toyota Prius.  It could have been much worse.  Our rental car is also covered.

My spouse and I have spent much time talking about cars:  what's necessary, how much gas mileage is acceptable, how floodproof can we make the car, how much do we want to spend.  It's a variety of the conversation we've been having since we met in college:  how do we live according to our values?  How do we live a satisfying life that doesn't sap the possibility of a satisfying life from others?  How do we share?

We have also spent a lot of time--A LOT--researching vehicles.  Have we always had this many choices?  We've been researching both new and used cars, which leads me to think about how many cars there are in the U.S.

I've also been thinking about the journey that our clothes make.  Many of our clothes come from factories in non-Western countries.  We wear them and then many of us donate them so that they get at least one more wearing in Western countries.  Eventually those clothes make their way back to non-Western countries for another wearing or two, and then our clothes have a whole other cycle of life as rags.

Do cars have a similar life cycle?

My spouse and I tend to drive our cars into obsolescence, so it's hard for me to imagine that they have much life left as cars when we're done with them.  I put over 250,000 miles on my 1987 Chevy Nova, and someone still wanted to buy it from me, even though it was leaking 4 quarts of oil a week and running on 3 of 4 cylinders.  But I can't imagine it had many more years as a car left; my trusted mechanic got to the point where he refused to work on it anymore, telling me that it was immoral for him to keep taking money from me.

I am aware, painfully aware, of all the ways that our cars are an apocalypse for the environment and for longterm sustainability of humans on this planet.  We did discuss mass transit options, but it was a brief discussion.  Unless one is going in specific north-south directions, South Florida doesn't do mass transit well.  And South Florida motorists make the area deeply unsafe for people on motorcycles or bicycles, so those options are out.

We will likely spend more than we want to on a car that isn't as fuel efficient as we'd like (but hopefully a hybrid) so that we have a chance of navigating flooded streets and so that my husband who puts many miles a week on a vehicle has a better commuting experience.  I want to believe that our charitable contributions will offset the impact of the vehicle, but I'm not going to delude myself that way.

Sermon for Dec. 29, 2019

On Sunday, Dec. 29, 2019, I preached a sermon on Herod and the killing of the infants and toddlers in Bethlehem.  One of my friends asked for a copy of my sermon, and I reconstructed it for her.  I'm also posting it here as a way of sharing and preserving it:



You may be wondering why we have to have such a depressing text for today and so soon after Christmas.  Today's reading comes from the Revised Common Lectionary, which means that Christians all over the world are reading about Herod's murder of all the children under the age of 2 in Bethlehem.

Or maybe churches have decided to have one more Sunday of lessons and carols.  After all, the Sunday after Christmas is one where churches are likely to be without their pastors, who have put in a lot of work between Thanksgiving and Christmas.  It's tough to find a supply pastor and even tougher to find one who wants to preach on this text.

In fact, Pastor Keith gave me a choice of texts:  this one, Jesus being presented in the temple, or Jesus at age 12 staying behind during a trip to the temple and scaring his parents half to death when they realized he had been left behind.  I preached on Anna in the temple last year, and the lesson about Jesus in the temple isn't nearly as interesting to me as the text about Herod.

We're getting the story out of order.  Next week, our church will celebrate Epiphany, which tells what happens when the three wisemen come to Herod.  Herod tells them that they should come back, that he wants to pay his respects.  But actually, he's hoping they'll give him information so he can wipe out a potential rival.

We might want to know whether or not the story of Herod is true.  There's no mention of this kind of mass killing in any of the recorded history, and there's a lot about Herod in recorded history.  Maybe he really killed the children, but Bethlehem would have been a small town, so it wouldn't warrant a mention.  We know he was capable of this kind of cruelty.  He killed his two sons because he felt so threatened by them.  Most of us, when we're working for something in our lives, we think about having something to pass on to our offspring, whether it's wealth or a business or a house.  Not Herod.

So even if the story isn't factual, it's still true.  It tells us an important point about the world that we're living in.  We see a ruler so threatened by a rival who has just been born that this ruler has all potential rivals in a town killed.

I've been seeing some posts on social media about putting Herod back in Christmas.  (surprised looks in the congregation)  Yes, I know that we're used to thinking about putting Christ back in Christmas, but Herod belongs there too.

In one of Pastor Keith's sermons from a Christmas Eve several years ago, he told us that if we left the baby Jesus in the manger, we're missing the point of the good news proclaimed by the angels.  The Gospel of Matthew wants to make sure we get the point.  The story of the life of Jesus is bookended by his collision course with the powers of the Empire.  He comes to the attention of Herod and his family needs to flee because of Herod's murderous wrath.  And then at the end of his life, Jesus is executed by the Roman authorities.

Matthew tries to warn us that the Christian path will put us, too, on a collision course with those in power.  We know that those in power rarely give up power.  We may criticize or offer a vision for a brighter future, but then as now, the powers of Empire in this world do not say, "Thank you for pointing that out.  We will make those changes right away."

And yet we are called to work for that brighter future.  Throughout our sacred texts, we see that God is on the side of the marginalized and the oppressed, and God calls us to work on behalf of those who have no power.  We have done that in our church through our work with the food pantry and with BOLD Justice.  We have worked to get more low income housing in our county, we have worked to get more unannounced inspections of nursing homes, we have worked to have more dental care for those who can't afford it.  We continue to do this work, even though the need is so great.

We may be feeling a bit of despair at the thought that we have this work to do, and we may not be feeling so powerful ourselves.  We, too, may be feeling the boot of the authorities on our neck.  We may not see progress.  We may feel like we're one of the outcast and dejected.

Here, too, the angels give good news.  Think about who the angels appear to:  Joseph, a carpenter, which would have been a position in the lower rungs of society--he doesn't even own land.  Mary, an unwed mother.  Elizabeth, old and barren.  Shepherds.  I look out at our congregation, and I don't see any shepherds.  But that profession, too, would have been lowly.

I hesitate to offer a modern counterpart.  Would it be the adjunct teacher, never sure of having enough classes.  The person who pumps gas at a gas station?  Workers in WalMart who don't work enough to be full-time and can't know what hours they will have week to week?  These are the types of people to whom the angels appear, not the rich and the powerful.

Matthew widens the scope even further by including those outside of Rome.  The wise men have been studying the stars, and they notice something new.  They go to investigate, and so, they, too, get to be part of the good news.  Outsiders, included here in this text.

Of course this good news can turn lives upside down.  The wise men go a different route to avoid Herod.  Jesus, Mary, and Joseph, too, have to flee--but in doing so, they are preserved.

We might feel despair about those who aren't preserved.  What about all those slaughtered children?  Why couldn't God save them too?

For those of you predisposed to despair, and our time gives us lots of reasons to despair, with rulers that seem as determined to be evil as King Herod, I recommend this book, Rebecca Solnit's Hope in the Dark:  Untold Histories, Wild Possibilities.  Just before the service, I was reading a passage where she quotes Cornel West and his idea of a "jazz freedom fighter" which he describes as "a mode of being in the world, an improvisational mode of protean, fluid, and flexible disposition toward reality suspicious of 'either/or' viewpoints" (page 91).

In Jesus' time and in our own, we see that those who can be jazz freedom fighters have a better chance of surviving the Herods of the world and helping to bring about the world that God envisions for us.  The wise men were jazz freedom fighters in their work to give Jesus, Mary, and Joseph a chance to get away.  This task is ours too.

The coming year will give us many opportunities to be jazz freedom fighters if we answer God's invitation in the Good News of the Christmas message.  God calls us to help create a much better world than the ones inhabited by Herod and the forces of Empire.  Let us have the courage and creativity to be jazz freedom fighters in this coming year and throughout our lives.

Amen.

Meditation on This Sunday's Gospel

The readings for Sunday, January 12, 2020:

First Reading: Isaiah 42:1-9

Psalm: Psalm 29

Second Reading: Acts 10:34-43

Gospel: Matthew 3:13-17

This week's Gospel finds Jesus at the beginning of his ministry, a ministry that shows what a difference to world history a year or two can make. Notice that Jesus begins with baptism. I love the fact that the Revised Common Lectionary returns us to the baptism of Jesus to start every year. What a difference from the secular ways we start the year. In today's Gospel, instead of harsh resolutions, we get the words of God: "This is my beloved Son, with whom I am well pleased."

We tend to see Jesus as special. We can't imagine God saying the same thing about us. But in fact, from everything we can tell, God does feel that way about us. God takes on human form in its most vulnerable, as a little baby. How much more of a demonstration of love do we need?

For those of us who are big believers in affirmations, we should print out those words and paste them on our bathroom mirrors. What does it mean, if we believe God is well pleased with us?

Many of us dwell in the land of self-loathing this time of year. Maybe we've spent too much money on our Christmas festivities. Maybe we've eaten too much in that time between Thanksgiving and New Year's. Maybe we've already broken our New Year's resolutions. We look in our mirrors and see multiple reasons to hate ourselves.

The world looks at us and feeds us criticism: too fat, too plain, too wrinkled, too odd, too tall, too short. A diet of that commentary quickly leaves us malnourished. The world looks at us and judges us in terms of all the things we haven't accomplished yet: no child or children who don't measure up, lack of business success, a house that's too small or in the wrong neighborhood, no publication credits, no worthy creative products, the wrong kind of degree or no degree at all. Seeing ourselves through the eyes of the world means we compare ourselves to others and hold ourselves to impossible standards.

No one wins this game.

Try a different practice for a week or two or 52. Look in the mirror and see yourself not as the world sees you. Look in the mirror and know that God loves you. God chose you. God delights in you.

God chose you. God delights in you. God loves you.

God loves you the way you are right now, not the future you that will be better adjusted, thinner, more accomplished, more worthy.  Some theologians would go further and say that God created you because the world needs the you that you are right now, in all the ways you are so original and the ways that you are imperfect.

We've lived in the land of self-loathing long enough. Why cripple ourselves with this kind of thinking? There's work to be done, and the world cannot afford for you to waste time feeling bad for all the ways you've failed. Begin the day by remembering that you are perfectly made and return to that thought regularly throughout the day--perhaps as you say grace before you eat.

God loves you. Love yourself as deeply as God loves you.

A Week from Today: Travel to Spiritual Direction Certificate Program Onground Intensive

By this time next week, I will be on the road to my first onground intensive in my certificate program in Spiritual Direction.  The intensive lasts from 2 p.m. Wednesday to 11:45 a.m. on Saturday.  The relatively short time of the onground requirement was one of the attractions of this program.

That said, I'm still finding myself fretful about being out of the office.  It's the end of the first week of classes, and while my active presence isn't usually necessary or needed, it's one of the times when I'm more likely to be needed.  I didn't choose programs that meet in early January for that reason.  When I chose this program, I thought we'd be starting winter term on the first Monday after New Year's Day, as we always have.  A Wednesday winter quarter start threw a slight wrench into my plan, but I held firm on my wanting to get to town the day before the intensive begins.

I also know that there's almost no time in the year when I won't feel fretful; the week of Christmas to New Year's is the only time I can be fairly sure my absence won't impact those left behind.  We have such a small team that when one of us is out of the office, chances are good that others will notice.

I'm trying to see my full-time job as a fairly self-sufficient child.  I can't be gone for weeks at a time, but I'm leaving my child in good hands with all the care needed.  Like modern parents, it's good to have a life apart from the children.

A few days ago I talked to one of my fellow Mepkin Abbey online contemplative partners, and she mentioned that she had done the program at St. Thomas, a local Catholic university.  My first thought was one of dismay--could I have done this program locally?

I went to research it, and I realized that years ago (like 15 years ago), I had stumbled across it and decided it wasn't for me.  It seems to revolve around the Ignatian exercises.  This morning, I looked at the schedule for next week and felt a rising excitement at the thought of what we'll be doing.

As I've been thinking about this upcoming time, I realize that I've been holding my breath in a way, unable to believe that I will actually be allowed to do this.  I've been researching programs for so many years and waiting so long for the perfect time.  This time may not be perfect, but I need to make the leap.

For those of you wondering what my onground intensive will look like, here's the schedule:

Schedule, January 2020

Theme:  The Spiritual Disciplines

Theme verse:  “Work out your salvation with fear and trembling; for it is God who is at work in                             you, enabling you both to will and to work for his good pleasure.”  (Philippians 2.12-13)

Key reading:    Celebration of Discipline. Richard Foster

Praxis Point:    Solitude

Special Worship Foci: Celtic Worship and Native American Worship

Wednesday, January 15

12:00 – 2:00              arrive and check in – Voigt hallway

  2:00 – 2:30              welcome and introductions – Voigt 2

  2:30 – 3:30              small group 1 (introductions/reconnecting) –

Group 3A (Harvey’s group) – Alumni Hall

Group 3B (Kathie’s group – 2^nd floor Price House

Group 4A (Shirley’s group) – 2^nd floor Price House

Group 4B (Sam’s group) – 2^nd floor Price House

  3:45 – 5:00              instruction session 1 for 2019-2020 Cycle 3:

   “The Ethics and Logistics of Spiritual Direction,”

Pastor Gary Dreier, Dr. Harvey Huntley, Pastor Kathie Nycklemoe, Sam Rahberg, Pastor Shirley Wells,  – Voigt 3

                                                                                    instruction session 1 for 2020-2021 Cycle 4:

                                                                                    “What is Spiritual Direction”? 

Dr. Amy Montanez – Voigt 2

 

  5:15 – 6:30              dinner and welcome reception – Alumni Hall

  6:30 – 7:30              small group 2

  7:45 – 8:30              evening Eucharist – Christ Chapel

  8:30 –                                  free time

Thursday, January 16

  7:30 –   7:45            sunrise morning worship

  8:00 –   8:30           breakfast – Student Union

  8:45 – 10:00           instruction session 2: “Mysticism,”

Rev. Dr. Melanie Dobson– Voigt 2

10:15 – 11:15            small group 3

11:30 – 12:15            lunch – Student Union

  1:00 –   2:15            instruction session 3: “Iconography”  

Dr. Harvey Huntley – Voigt 2

  2:30 –   3:15            praxis: Solitude,

Rev. Dr. David Hill – beginning introduction in Alumni Hall

  3:15 – 5:30              Solitude

  5:30 –   6:10            dinner – Student Union

  6:15 –   7:15           small group 4

  7:20 –   8:00           evening worship in the Native American tradition – Alumni Hall

  8:00 –                                   Solitude

Friday, January 17

  7:30 –   7:45            morning worship

  8:00 –   8:30            breakfast – Student Union

  8:45 – 10:00            Instruction session 4: “Thomas Merton,”

 Rev. Dr. Mark Bredholt – Voigt 2

10:15 – 11:15            small group 5

11:30 – 12:15           lunch – Student Union

12:15 –   2:45           Solitude

  2:45 –   3:45            small group 6

  4:00 –   5:15           Instruction session 5: “Celtic Traditions”

Rev. Dr. Susan Prinz – Voigt 2

  5:30 –   6:15           dinner – Student Union

  6:15 –   7:15            small group 7

  7:30 –   8:00            Celtic Worship – Alumni Hall

  8:00 --                                  free time

Saturday, January 18

  8:00 –   8:30            breakfast – Student Union

  8:45 –   9:45            small group 8

10:00 – 10:30           feedback – Voigt 2

10:45 – 11:45            closing Eucharist – Christ Chapel

11:45 –                                   departure