Second Day of the 2022 Onground Intensive, with Icons

 I am tired this morning--this morning, it's a mix of the bad tired of not getting enough sleep in a bed that's not my own mixed with the good tired that comes from getting modules completed and staying up late to have good conversations with a Create in Me friend.  So let me try to capture the second full day of the intensive.

I tried to tell myself that it's called an intensive, not a relaxive, but I did feel myself racing from place to place yesterday.  We had a morning learning session on Native American spiritual practices.  I didn't learn a lot that was brand new, but it was interesting to hear it presented in the form of story and Native flute.

And for those of us reeling from the latest pandemic developments, here's an interesting note:  because they were suffering an outbreak of smallpox, the Catawba tribe was not relocated to Georgia with the rest of the South Carolina tribes.  Because they were not relocated to Georgia, they were spared from the trauma of the Trail of Tears and from being relocated even further west.

We had two small group sessions, and in between, I enjoyed a post-lunch walk with my spouse's brother.  I wasn't expecting him to be on campus because seminary students don't return until later in January, but he had to return to work on his externship--a happy surprise.  It was good to catch up.  I'm not sure we've ever had one-on-one time.  I usually see him when there are gobs of family members around.

The highlight of yesterday was the trip to the Greek Orthodox cathedral:

It was actually 2 cathedrals.  We started out in the smaller, older one.  

We got an information session about spiritual direction in the Greek Orthodox tradition, and then we went to the new cathedral that was finished in 2015.  We got an information session about the tradition of icons and about the specific icons in the cathedral.

This icon of Jesus is in the main dome, seven stories from the floor.  The distance from one tip of his nose to the other tip is 15 feet, although it doesn't look that big from the ground.

He is depicted as having no lower body, because the church filled with believers makes up the lower body.

There's a lot of information about the cathedral and all of the icons here.  My favorite piece of information that's not included is that the iconographer met with the Sunday school students to find out what specific animals they wanted him to include in his depiction of the creation story:

I was surprised that there weren't any dinosaurs: 

Two years ago when I first started this program, I heard about this field trip, and I am so glad that I finally got to go and see for myself.  It was one of the parts of the intensive that I was most looking forward to.

We returned to campus for dinner and Compline service.  Even though we were all tired after Compline, a group of us came to our on campus ramshackle house and enjoyed some treats and wine--and most of all, some good conversation.

In a few hours, there will be a commissioning service, and I will be a certified spiritual director.  Tomorrow I will drive home, and hopefully on Monday we will sell our house in the historic district.  Then I will get ready for seminary classes.

Let me focus on staying present to today's delights.  Let me not get overwhelmed by what is coming in the rest of January.

First Full Day of the 2022 Onground Intensive

 As I moved through the first full day of the onground intensive, the one that will leave me a certified spiritual director, I had to remind myself several times that it's called an "intensive," not a restful retreat, not a reconnect with every old friend you've ever had week, not an explore Columbia voyage.  We went at an intense pace yesterday, and today we won't have the afternoon break that we had yesterday.  But I am looking forward to exploring icons in a Greek Orthodox church this afternoon, so hopefully, we won't need a break.  

During yesterday's break, we went to the Fresh Market to buy wine and treats.  By the end of the evening, we were too exhausted to set out the treats.  But it was the good kind of exhaustion, the kind that comes from being fully engaged.

I began the intensive in the chapel.  I had volunteered to help with the morning service, and I wrote some Epiphany prayers (for more, go to this blog post and scroll to the end).  The other volunteer whispered, "Beautiful prayers" when I was finished, and that made me so happy.

The day was filled with a mix of educational sessions and small group work.  I've had the same small group for 2 years, and I feel fortunate that I like them so much.  This program would be impossible if one didn't like one's small group, or if a small group had a divisive person in it.

Yesterday's educational sessions addressed the history of spiritual direction in the Roman Catholic and Anglican/Episcopalian traditions (morning session), and in the afternoon, we explored the history of spiritual direction in the Protestant tradition.  They were good sessions, very informative, almost overwhelming at times.  I didn't know about John Wesley's mother Susannah, who had 10 children who lived and who ran the family home like a monastery of sorts, thus giving John Wesley some of his most inspired ideas about how to live in Christian community.  I must remember to read more about this remarkable woman.

Along the way, I made this sketch, and a haiku to go along with it:

I created it after hearing/reading the second chapter of the Gospel of Matthew several times throughout the day and a session of lectio divina; here are the words to the haiku:

Take another road
Become overwhelmed with joy
The true treasure chest

In the evening, after a wonderful dinner, we heard from Axiom Farms, the ones who prepared our meal.  They have all sorts of initiatives to reach out to underserved, minority populations, to bring them healthier food and information about how to grow one's food and most importantly, to inspire people to have hope.  They have created a garden on the grounds of the seminary.  There's plenty of room--the seminary sits back from the road, and between the buildings and the road is a huge expanse of lawn.  The partnership with the seminary made me want to change all my plans--and do what, exactly?  Come to this seminary?  Buy a plot of land and farm it?  Give them money to support their work?  Yes, to all of those.  I'm not likely to act on any of them, at least not this month, but it was good to feel that hope for the future myself, even if I'm not the target audience for Axiom Farms.

We adjourned to the courtyard for our evening worship.  There's a Native American group that we'll learn more about today who came last night.  They had a smudging ceremony in the courtyard.  We each stepped forward to be smudged with sage that smoked in what looked like a giant shell.  The elders swirled the smoke around us with big feathers.

I wish I could have heard better.  At first I thought the same words were repeated with everyone, but as I watched, I realized that wasn't true.  I was second to be smudged.  The female elder of the tribe said, "Oh, such strong shoulders" as she touched them with the feather.  She said, "And a good heart."  I'm not sure of the rest, although at one point, she did say, "We're getting rid of all negativity."

Later she told me that there are 4 types of smudging smoke:  tobacco, sage, sweetgrass, and cedar.  I wonder if those smudging ceremonies are different.

The one we experienced last night was very powerful.  Many of us cried a bit, and a few of us were deeply shaken, and I'm not sure whether it was in a good way or a bad way.  Once again, I was reminded of how cerebral most of our mainline Protestant worship services are, and how it might be much more powerful/effective to do more embodied practices.

We then went into Alumni Hall for a drum circle, which is different from many drum circles.  There was a big, round drum in the center of the room with 6 people around it.  Their drum sticks looked like they had big cotton swabs on the end.  Around this drum circle, we sat in chairs that were much too close to each other, but this room is the largest on campus.

It was interesting to be in a room of Native Americans, after hearing from African Americans, all of whom were trying to reclaim cultures and practices that can heal both people and land.

We learned that some hymns, like "Spirit of the Living God" and "Amazing Grace," can be sung to Native melodies played on the Native wind instrument which I think is called a flute but looks more like a recorder.  We learned some Native phrases so that we could sing refrains to other songs and chants.  For one song, two women did a bit of a dance between the drum circle and our seated circle.  It was a meaningful experience, but nothing can compare to the smudging ceremony.  

It makes me want to create/recover similar ceremonies that draw from Protestant traditions.  I'm aware of the dangers of appropriating the culture of others, but I'm also certain that Christian communities have done something similar with incense and thuribles, so I don't think I'd be in the dangers appropriation territory.

I am ready to see what today brings.  I am so glad that I decided to attend in person.  In fact, knowing that we would experience the Native American version of Christian worship and that we would be going to a Greek Orthodox church to see icons in their home setting--those were two main reasons that convinced me that in person would be better for me than remote.

And if anyone asks if these experiences would be worth it, even if I get sick, I would say that yes, barring long COVID, it has been worth it.

Epiphany Stars and Prayers

Yesterday, I decided that I needed to change my cover photo on Facebook; my old one had Christmas themes.  I had Epiphany on the brain, or more specifically Epiphany Eve.  I hadn't snapped a picture that would have been good for Epiphany on Christmas Eve, so I looked back through my trove of pictures.  I chose this one from an Epiphany star project that I did for a church a few years ago; I chose this one because of the twinkly lights:

When I chose this picture yesterday, I couldn't see the words on the star.  I feel like I've gotten an important message.  Of course, back in 2017 when I took this picture, I also felt like I was getting an important message.  I don't think it bothers me that the message hasn't changed.  I am pondering saying yes to a whole different set of questions five years later.

I was prompted to change my Facebook photo after reading my e-mails.  Our director of the spiritual director certificate program wrote us an e-mail to let us know that the seminary campus was without electricity, and how she was trying not to lose heart:

"In my prayer this morning, I reflected on John 1, in which Jesus asks the disciples to 'come and see.' This is the invitation—to 'come and see' how God is at work when plans fall apart, when we have no power and all is dark, when we have to adapt, and adapt, and adapt again, when a pandemic continues wrecking griefs of all kinds. . . when the light of Epiphany seems dim. Jesus says, 'come and see.'”

She concluded this way:  "Maybe we will be the light of Epiphany for each other tomorrow. Let’s 'come and see.'”

I wrote her a supportive e-mail:

"Just wanted to write a quick note to tell you that I love the pastoral spirit of this e-mail, that I am bolstered by your words of good cheer in the face of adversity, that I love the reminder that God invites us to come and see what God is up to in this world of wreck and ruin--and that new creation comes in the midst of wreck and ruin. Our beloved community will rise to this occasion."

We ended up having our afternoon session at Columbia College, dinner back at the seminary campus, and our evening worship service in the muted beauty of the seminary chapel.  I loved hearing the magnificent organ and seeing the candles flicker.  I loved the sermon, which referenced Archbishop Tutu and reminded us of the importance of being Christ in the world the way that Tutu was.

This morning, I will assist with the morning service.  I will offer some prayers of intercession.  Let me finish this post by jotting down some possibilities:

For those of us who need help understanding the signs that they see, let us pray:

For those of us who search for new leadership and new directions, let us pray:

For those of us who lose control of our fears and insecurities, let us pray:

For those of us finding that we need to take a new road, let us pray:

For those of us who need a new dream, let us pray:

For all of us, we pray.

Help us to bring the message of God's love to the world, whether our approach is more like the angel choirs or the steady light of a distant star.  Help us to be the star, shining a message of God's love to the world.  Give us the courage to follow our visions.

Traveling to the Last Onground Intensive

 If it was this time yesterday, I would have been on the road for two hours.  I got up, brewed some coffee for the thermoses, and headed north to Columbia, South Carolina for the last onground intensive for my certificate in spiritual direction.  By Saturday afternoon, I will be a certified spiritual director.  Two weeks from today, my next round of seminary classes start.

As I drove, I reflected on the past 2 years.  As I've made my way through this program, it's become clear to me that seminary was really what I wanted to do.  I have liked the certificate program well enough, but the way that many people approach the practice of spiritual direction is a little too close to therapy for me.  I am not trained to do that.

I had a fairly easy trip up I95 and I26.  Along the way, I listened to NPR, with stories of rising COVID rates and the snowstorm that shut down part of I95 in Virginia.  I listened to analysts looking back to the storming of the Capitol on January 6.  I thought about my trip two years ago to the first onground intensive and how much has changed since then. 

As I drove through South Carolina, I saw an unusual amount of downed trees, and I got to the campus of Southern Seminary (LTSS) to discover that power was out on the campus.  Happily, the commuter house where I'm staying still has power, water, and wi-fi.  I'm not sure what will happen as the week progresses if the power isn't restored.

I am guessing that we will move to an alternate site, which will make this strange intensive even stranger.  It was always going to be strange, as this new, more contagious variant has made more people decide to do the intensive remotely.  Half of my small group will be attending by Zoom.

I did think about whether or not it was wise to be attending in person.  But I really yearned to be at the seminary campus, even though it will be a different experience than last time--perhaps it will be even more different than I was expecting.

One of my Create in Me friends is also working on her certificate, so she came over the mountains yesterday.  In the late afternoon, we went to a really cool cloth shop (we're both quilters) and then to a Latin place for dinner.  We ordered the Latin Sampler for 2; it could easily have served 4 or 6 or 8, depending on appetites.  We have a kitchen in our commuter house, so we brought leftovers back.  Will we eat them?  Meals are part of this intensive, so I suspect that I will not.

After we returned, we had a long and satisfying conversation with our other housemate who had arrived while we were out; one more will arrive today.  We talked about how this certificate program had changed the trajectory of our lives.  We talked about backpacking and hiking.  We talked about health and the pandemic.  

Throughout the day, I keep thinking about how I had envisioned this January unrolling, back when I first realized my job would be ending in September or December, and so I applied for seminary.  Back then, the intensive was scheduled for MLK week-end, so I planned to go to the intensive and then to keep driving up to study in person at Wesley for the Spring 2022 term.  Much has changed since the planning that I did in the spring.

I want to do some writing while I'm here.  As is often the case, I'm astonished at how long it has been since I have written in my offline journal.  I need to start doing some deep thinking.  It is the day before the feast day of the Epiphany, after all.  I am ready for epiphanies (to which my epiphanies reply, "And we are ready for you to notice our steady light that has been trying to guide you)".

Meditation on This Sunday's Gospel

The readings for Sunday, January 9, 2022:

First Reading: Isaiah 43:1-7

Psalm: Psalm 29

Second Reading: Acts 8:14-17

Gospel: Luke 3:15-17, 21-22

In this season of New Year's resolutions, consider this question: How would your life changed if you believed that God loves you the way you are, right now, before you even make any changes to become a better person?

It's true. God's not waiting for you to become more spiritual before God claims you. Even if you never get to the point where you pray more often, where you give away more money, where you become that good and patient person you are sure you can be, God loves you, marks you, claims you, is deliriously happy with you.

You don't have to lose that twenty pounds for God to find you worthy. You can have a wrecked household budget, and God still loves you. God loves you even when you are crabby, grumpy, all those emotions we try so hard not to feel.  God loves you before you kick the addictions and in the midst of all your wrong choices.

During our long years through the nation's educational systems, most of us learn all the ways we are inadequate, and most of us never unlearn those lessons. Even as grown ups, often the focus (in pop culture, in our jobs, in our families, in churches even) is on our failings, on all the ways that we would measure up if we just did this thing or that thing or another thing.

And then we work hard on self-improvement, and we've still got those messages: well, great, now you can focus on changing this next enormous thing.

All this effort towards self-improvement can make us a bit self-absorbed, and we forget to work on some of the real and serious problems in the world. What would happen if we decided that God needs us to be the person that we are, right here, right now, without any changes? What if we declared ourselves to be good enough?

Try it for a week or two or three. Tape the words of God to your bathroom mirror: "You are my beloved son/daughter; with you I am well pleased." Act like you believe that God loves you. Silence those voices in your head that tell you otherwise. Cease that negative self talk. And minimize the amount of time you spend with people who don't value you.

We don't have time to waste with all negativity. God loves you before you ever make a self-improvement plan. In your baptism, God has already declared you perfect. Perhaps this year, instead of endless self-improvement plans, remember that God needs you just the way you are, without any changes, and God has a purpose that includes us, in all our imperfections.

Epiphany Sunday, Epiphany Week

Although the actual feast day is January 6, on January 2, many churches will observe Epiphany, the day when we celebrate the arrival of the magi from the East to see and bring gifts to the baby Jesus. We may or may not remember the rest of the story. This year, even more than other years, I am thinking of the murderous Herod. I am thinking of those travelers, those academics who studied the stars but not human behavior, who inadvertently set a crisis into motion. I am thinking of Herod, unbalanced Herod, so threatened that he killed all those children who might have grown up to be a threat to him.

Literalists may protest that there's no shred of evidence that this massacre actually happened. Surely history would have recorded this slaughter, this genocide. The story about Herod's murder of toddlers and babies may not be literally true, but it wouldn't be behavior that would be out of the realm of possibility for Herod.

Like many stories in the Bible, even if it isn't factually true, the story points to a larger truth.

But even if we don't think that Herod's story speaks to us, it offers a powerful testimony to the corrosive effects of power. We would be wise to think of our own power, our own feelings of inadequacy, how we attempt to control the elements of our lives or how we don't. We would be wise to think about how these stories play out on larger stages.

These past decades, many of us have had a closer look at the behavior of rulers who have felt threatened, and it's not a pretty sight. We see many people killed in the crossfire and killed by the fall out. We see lives diminished and potential stamped out.

We see the truth of that proverb that warns us that without imagination, the people will perish.

We would be wise to think about all the strangers who show up to tell us of a different way, a different paradigm.

We would be wise to keep our eyes trained to larger vistas. Sometimes the Good News comes in ways we can't ignore, like those angel choirs in the sky, but for some of us, the message is more subtle.

Now is also a good time to think about wisdom, about gifts, about staying alert and watchful. Let us not forget these important Advent and Christmas messages. Most of us have already bid good-bye to Christmas and returned to our every day lives. Today is a good day to take one last Epiphany moment, to recover our capacity for wonder, to delight in the miraculous, to look for the unexpected, and to rejoice in the amazing Good News of a God who loves us so much that the Divine One comes to live with us.

New Year, Yearning for New Prophets

I have spent this Christmas break going to my seminary's website, looking to see if my grades were posted.  So far, so good.  

I got mixed feedback for my final exam in Hebrew Bible, mixed meaning that I got compliments for some work well done, along with suggestions for improvement, even though we are at the end of class.  I am always happy for the feedback of that teaching team, especially since I am taking the second half of Hebrew Bible in the spring.  I particularly liked this feedback, since I wasn't sure of that writing:  "Good, thoughtful reflection on the 2 tasks of a prophet."

That last chunk of final exam seems a worthy post for New Year's Day.  

"Like those during the reign of Solomon, we here in the 21st century yearn for something different, a better world that isn’t breaking the backs of so many of us, a world where everyone has enough, a God who comes to live with us again. We yearn, even though we may not be able to articulate what our hearts truly desire.

A good prophet can articulate our yearnings. A powerful prophet can inspire us to be brave enough to make our yearnings take flesh and shape and meaning--and by doing so to transform society."

Happy 2022!  And here's hoping for prophets that can call us to our better selves and better societies!