--I've spent the week thinking about students and hunger--but not the hunger for knowledge. No, I've been thinking of statistics and anecdotes that talk about college students, many more of whom are facing hunger and homelessness than we would suspect.
--It's been a successful week of handing out food to returning students, primarily granola bars and fruit to our morning students. Even the ones who have plenty of food at home are likely to forgo breakfast in the morning rush to get to class. I liked being there to greet them and offer food.
--Our new campus executive director arrived on campus yesterday when I was greeting students and passing out food. Later I met with him, and we discussed challenges on campus. I talked about needing to increase retention and to convince students to stay in school. I said, "So that's why you saw me handing out granola bars this morning." He nodded and said, "Good, good."
I've worked for other people who would have immediately totaled up the cost of granola bars and wondered if it was worth it. I'm glad we didn't have to have that conversation yesterday; I do realize that it may come later.
--Yesterday I submitted a proposal to be a presenter at a conference that I'm required to attend. When my proposal was accepted, which means I don't have to pay the $140 conference fee, I immediately thought about how many granola bars I could buy.
--I've also been thinking of other ways to surreptitiously feed students. I know that many students feel shame about not having enough. I've thought of buying peanut butter and bread and putting it on the counter in the student lounge. I've also thought about having a crock pot of soup--something cheap and nutritious. I wasn't thinking of always having those available--but at least once a week, to have something out and available for students who might be hungry. And it wouldn't take much to always have a fruit bowl on the counter. I've been surprised by how many people are taking bananas this week.
--I've thought about the food pantry that we used to run at a former campus. Finding storage for the food at my current campus would be a problem. I have a vision for ready-to-go food bags that students could grab--instead of the food pantry at my old school that had a wide variety of food.
--Am I crazy to be spending so much mental energy on this project of mine? Some might say my time would be better spent by tracking down students who aren't attending--and I do plan to do that with each progressive week.
--As I've thought about the past few days and all my various thoughts about food, I've wondered not only if I am crazy, but if this is God speaking to me. I've thought of Jesus saying, "Feed my sheep." I've rejoiced in my corporate credit card. I will keep on with these projects until someone tells me not to do it anymore--and then I'll explain why we must.
Friday, June 30, 2017
Thursday, June 29, 2017
Hunger and Hospitality
I am thinking about the monastic practice of hospitality and how that practice translates to other, non-monastic, non-overtly religious settings. I'm thinking about the small college campus where I work.
I'm also thinking about the intersection between hospitality and food. We've always been a hospitable campus: when you get off the elevator into our lobby, you'll be greeted by at least one person at the front desk.
Of course, that's partly hospitality and partly safety. We want to make sure that we know who has arrived, and we want to make sure that visitors know that we know.
I have been impressed with the way we greet returning students with the start of each quarter, but yesterday, I decided to go a step further. For the morning students, I bought granola bars, bananas, and tiny, seedless oranges; I think they're clementines, but they go by lots of names now. For the evening students, I put the fruit back out along with plates of cookies that a friend of mine picked up at a Winn-Dixie going out of business sale (I have 4 cases of cookies, and each case holds at least 16 packages, so I have plenty to distribute).
I got lots of positive feedback throughout the day. I heard that students loved having food and loved the atmosphere. That's one major reason why I did it.
I also did it because I know that students across the nation are more at risk of food scarcity. I know that students are often rushed in the morning and even if they have food at home, they often arrive to campus having had no breakfast. I'm also looking for ways to help those students who could use a few more food opportunities throughout the week.
But I'm mainly looking for these kinds of opportunities to create a sense of warmth and hospitality. I want our school campus to have the kind of effect on students that Jan Richardson describes in a recent blog post: "My experiences in Ireland gave me a new glimpse of the power of welcome, of what can happen when someone gathers us in and invites us to be at home when we are not at home, or have had to leave our home, or do not know where home is."
Many of our students are moving through harsh landscapes where they are not loved or affirmed. I want our campus to be a shelter in the storms that swirl around them.
Can granola bars do that? Yes, if they're part of a larger, intentional vision, one that Jesus taught us so long ago and that monks have continued to embrace. You can't address deeper hungers if you don't address the more immediate physical hunger.
I'm also thinking about the intersection between hospitality and food. We've always been a hospitable campus: when you get off the elevator into our lobby, you'll be greeted by at least one person at the front desk.
Of course, that's partly hospitality and partly safety. We want to make sure that we know who has arrived, and we want to make sure that visitors know that we know.
I have been impressed with the way we greet returning students with the start of each quarter, but yesterday, I decided to go a step further. For the morning students, I bought granola bars, bananas, and tiny, seedless oranges; I think they're clementines, but they go by lots of names now. For the evening students, I put the fruit back out along with plates of cookies that a friend of mine picked up at a Winn-Dixie going out of business sale (I have 4 cases of cookies, and each case holds at least 16 packages, so I have plenty to distribute).
I got lots of positive feedback throughout the day. I heard that students loved having food and loved the atmosphere. That's one major reason why I did it.
I also did it because I know that students across the nation are more at risk of food scarcity. I know that students are often rushed in the morning and even if they have food at home, they often arrive to campus having had no breakfast. I'm also looking for ways to help those students who could use a few more food opportunities throughout the week.
But I'm mainly looking for these kinds of opportunities to create a sense of warmth and hospitality. I want our school campus to have the kind of effect on students that Jan Richardson describes in a recent blog post: "My experiences in Ireland gave me a new glimpse of the power of welcome, of what can happen when someone gathers us in and invites us to be at home when we are not at home, or have had to leave our home, or do not know where home is."
Many of our students are moving through harsh landscapes where they are not loved or affirmed. I want our campus to be a shelter in the storms that swirl around them.
Can granola bars do that? Yes, if they're part of a larger, intentional vision, one that Jesus taught us so long ago and that monks have continued to embrace. You can't address deeper hungers if you don't address the more immediate physical hunger.
Wednesday, June 28, 2017
Meditation on This Sunday's Gospel
The readings for Sunday, July 2, 2017:
First Reading (Semi-cont.): Genesis 22:1-14
Psalm: Psalm 89:1-4, 15-18
Psalm (Semi-cont.): Psalm 13
Second Reading: Romans 6:12-23
Gospel: Matthew 10:40-42
This week's Gospel reading has the flavor of the theme that Jesus develops more thoroughly in the 25th chapter of Matthew--that reading where Jesus reminds us that as we treat the least of our fellow humans, that is how we treat Jesus. This tiny Gospel reading reminds us of some of the themes Jesus returns to again and again: stay alert and watchful. Treat everyone as if they're God in disguise. Keep our Christian priorities always in the front of our vision, so that we know what's important.
If I wrote a modern paraphrase, I might say something like this: Why do you swoon over supermodels and superathletes? What good do they bring into the troubled world? Why are you not searching out the words of the wise ones among you? Why do you neglect your duties to the next generation?
When I was younger and not surrounded by multiple types of media, it seemed easier to ignore the siren calls of the larger world. I remember a world before cable TV: we had four channels, and when we lived in Montgomery, Alabama, we could sometimes see a snowy version of one of Ted Turner's superchannels out of Atlanta. Little did we know that we were seeing what would become one of the cornerstones of the cable world. Even in the early days of cable, one's viewing options only expanded to 10-40 channels, and then, as now, half of those were just dreadful creations formed to take advantage of cheap airwaves.
At graduation a few years ago, I listened in shock as our graduation speaker told the graduates that there was no Internet 15 years ago. Of course there was. But there wasn't a widespread World Wide Web, so the medium was text based and not as user friendly. Unless we were at a university dedicated to the technology, it was slow and clunky. Therefore, we weren't as prone to let it suck away our lives.
Now we're surrounded by electronic information, media, and gadgets. Of course, in some ways, it's invaluable. It's much easier to research any subject from the comfort of my computer--unlike the old days, when I'd have to go to a library. It's easier to keep in touch and communicate, at least for those of us plugged in. I've often wondered if Christian communities online can be as valuable--even more valuable--in terms of keeping each other centered, grounded and on track. Are we headed towards virtual communion? Is that possible? What would it look like?
But of course, I wouldn't be the first to point out all the ways the technology can lead us astray. We spend our days dealing with e-mail instead of doing real work. In our quest to be connected, we often let our connections in the real, human world slide.
The Gospel for today reminds us that there are rewards for righteous living. Traditionally, Christian communities (at least in the last 300 years) have translated those rewards as coming in the afterlife. But we shouldn't overlook that righteous, connected living has rewards for us in our lives right here and now. We will be able to recognize the prophets and disciples that Jesus promises to send. We will be able to discern the presence of the Holy Spirit. We will not neglect our duties to the young and disadvantaged. We will drink from the streams of living water and be able to know what nourishes us and what saps our strength.
First Reading (Semi-cont.): Genesis 22:1-14
Psalm: Psalm 89:1-4, 15-18
Psalm (Semi-cont.): Psalm 13
Second Reading: Romans 6:12-23
Gospel: Matthew 10:40-42
This week's Gospel reading has the flavor of the theme that Jesus develops more thoroughly in the 25th chapter of Matthew--that reading where Jesus reminds us that as we treat the least of our fellow humans, that is how we treat Jesus. This tiny Gospel reading reminds us of some of the themes Jesus returns to again and again: stay alert and watchful. Treat everyone as if they're God in disguise. Keep our Christian priorities always in the front of our vision, so that we know what's important.
If I wrote a modern paraphrase, I might say something like this: Why do you swoon over supermodels and superathletes? What good do they bring into the troubled world? Why are you not searching out the words of the wise ones among you? Why do you neglect your duties to the next generation?
When I was younger and not surrounded by multiple types of media, it seemed easier to ignore the siren calls of the larger world. I remember a world before cable TV: we had four channels, and when we lived in Montgomery, Alabama, we could sometimes see a snowy version of one of Ted Turner's superchannels out of Atlanta. Little did we know that we were seeing what would become one of the cornerstones of the cable world. Even in the early days of cable, one's viewing options only expanded to 10-40 channels, and then, as now, half of those were just dreadful creations formed to take advantage of cheap airwaves.
At graduation a few years ago, I listened in shock as our graduation speaker told the graduates that there was no Internet 15 years ago. Of course there was. But there wasn't a widespread World Wide Web, so the medium was text based and not as user friendly. Unless we were at a university dedicated to the technology, it was slow and clunky. Therefore, we weren't as prone to let it suck away our lives.
Now we're surrounded by electronic information, media, and gadgets. Of course, in some ways, it's invaluable. It's much easier to research any subject from the comfort of my computer--unlike the old days, when I'd have to go to a library. It's easier to keep in touch and communicate, at least for those of us plugged in. I've often wondered if Christian communities online can be as valuable--even more valuable--in terms of keeping each other centered, grounded and on track. Are we headed towards virtual communion? Is that possible? What would it look like?
But of course, I wouldn't be the first to point out all the ways the technology can lead us astray. We spend our days dealing with e-mail instead of doing real work. In our quest to be connected, we often let our connections in the real, human world slide.
The Gospel for today reminds us that there are rewards for righteous living. Traditionally, Christian communities (at least in the last 300 years) have translated those rewards as coming in the afterlife. But we shouldn't overlook that righteous, connected living has rewards for us in our lives right here and now. We will be able to recognize the prophets and disciples that Jesus promises to send. We will be able to discern the presence of the Holy Spirit. We will not neglect our duties to the young and disadvantaged. We will drink from the streams of living water and be able to know what nourishes us and what saps our strength.
Tuesday, June 27, 2017
Different Approaches to Vacation Bible School
I was reading past blog posts, and I realized that during most summers, in late June, I'd be involved in Vacation Bible School as the Arts and Crafts director. It was stressful, it was fun, and it was rewarding.
I will be involved in VBS in a different way this year. Our church is trying something different: we will have camp counselors from Luther Springs come to do a week-long day camp at our church.
My grandmother's church did something similar. She was still involved, as she helped with lunch. Unlike my grandmother, I have to work, and I have no accrued vacation time that I can use until November, so I won't be volunteering this year.
We will help in other ways. We have a vacant cottage, so some of the camp counselors will stay with us. I imagine that we may need to help with feeding them and perhaps transport. Still, it won't be the same.
I feel oddly sad about my inability to participate this year. But I'm a grown up--VBS is not about me. Our VBS serves neighborhood kids, who aren't church members for the most part. We have about 8 children from the church who have participated in past summers--and that's all the church kids who were the target age who were in town. The other 50-60 kids are from the surrounding neighborhoods, and VBS is likely to be one of few spiritual experiences they will have throughout the year.
I am hopeful that the camp counselors can make the experience even richer for the kids--or richer in a different way. It's worth a try--just as our church doesn't have many young kids, we also don't have many adults who can commit to VBS the way our grandmothers did it.
I will be involved in VBS in a different way this year. Our church is trying something different: we will have camp counselors from Luther Springs come to do a week-long day camp at our church.
My grandmother's church did something similar. She was still involved, as she helped with lunch. Unlike my grandmother, I have to work, and I have no accrued vacation time that I can use until November, so I won't be volunteering this year.
We will help in other ways. We have a vacant cottage, so some of the camp counselors will stay with us. I imagine that we may need to help with feeding them and perhaps transport. Still, it won't be the same.
I feel oddly sad about my inability to participate this year. But I'm a grown up--VBS is not about me. Our VBS serves neighborhood kids, who aren't church members for the most part. We have about 8 children from the church who have participated in past summers--and that's all the church kids who were the target age who were in town. The other 50-60 kids are from the surrounding neighborhoods, and VBS is likely to be one of few spiritual experiences they will have throughout the year.
I am hopeful that the camp counselors can make the experience even richer for the kids--or richer in a different way. It's worth a try--just as our church doesn't have many young kids, we also don't have many adults who can commit to VBS the way our grandmothers did it.
Monday, June 26, 2017
A Different Kind of Sunday: AC Repair
Yesterday was different than most Sundays when we are in town. We're usually out the door by 9:30, so that my spouse can get to choir rehearsal at 10:00. I go to both the 9:45 service and the 11:00 service. Afterwards we usually stay to count the money and make the deposit.
Yesterday morning as I was making my coffee, I thought, hmm, the air blowing out of the vents isn't as cool as I thought. I went outside to discover that the fan blade wasn't turning. I turned off the AC, hoping that as with some computer issues, a reboot would be all we needed.
Nope--the AC was definitely not working. We made the decision to get it fixed yesterday, even though it meant paying a holiday/week-end charge. We both have the kind of heavy duty schedule this week that would make it hard to find another day to get it done, which means hanging out waiting for the repair person.
And since we needed to wait, we both stayed home--besides, it was too late to get to church anyway. It was interesting to have a very different Sunday morning. I felt we should have brunch or work on a crossword puzzle or do one of those things that people do instead of going to church.
It wasn't a completely non-spiritual morning. I listened to the delightful and spiritual conversation that Krista Tippett had with Martin Sheen on this morning's episode of On Being. I usually tune in to the show, but it's not always as wonderful as it was yesterday.
And throughout the repair process, I remembered to feel gratitude. I was grateful that we have the money for the repair and that we were able to be put on the Sunday schedule. I was grateful that the house didn't heat up too quickly. We didn't have AC again until after 2, and the temperature didn't go above 81 degrees. Hurray for high ceilings and trees that give shade! And I was grateful for downtime, which allowed me to get a lot of things done.
Yesterday morning as I was making my coffee, I thought, hmm, the air blowing out of the vents isn't as cool as I thought. I went outside to discover that the fan blade wasn't turning. I turned off the AC, hoping that as with some computer issues, a reboot would be all we needed.
Nope--the AC was definitely not working. We made the decision to get it fixed yesterday, even though it meant paying a holiday/week-end charge. We both have the kind of heavy duty schedule this week that would make it hard to find another day to get it done, which means hanging out waiting for the repair person.
And since we needed to wait, we both stayed home--besides, it was too late to get to church anyway. It was interesting to have a very different Sunday morning. I felt we should have brunch or work on a crossword puzzle or do one of those things that people do instead of going to church.
It wasn't a completely non-spiritual morning. I listened to the delightful and spiritual conversation that Krista Tippett had with Martin Sheen on this morning's episode of On Being. I usually tune in to the show, but it's not always as wonderful as it was yesterday.
And throughout the repair process, I remembered to feel gratitude. I was grateful that we have the money for the repair and that we were able to be put on the Sunday schedule. I was grateful that the house didn't heat up too quickly. We didn't have AC again until after 2, and the temperature didn't go above 81 degrees. Hurray for high ceilings and trees that give shade! And I was grateful for downtime, which allowed me to get a lot of things done.
Sunday, June 25, 2017
Mepkin Ramble
Two weeks ago, I'd be halfway done with my ramble through the Mepkin Abbey grounds. Because we had so little downtime, I had to make some decisions, and on Sunday, I decided to skip the 6:30 service and walk the grounds.
The sunrise was beautiful, but I couldn't really capture the colors:
I headed over to the labyrinth. I tried to walk slowly and meditatively, but it wasn't as easy for me as it sometimes is.
I was enchanted by some of the plants that make the labyrinth rings:
Then I walked towards the river. Once again, I tried to get some pictures of the statue.
I approached the river from the family gravesite and gardens, rather than from the parking area. My heart leapt up as I saw some hydrangea bushes in bloom. Do I love these flowers more than azaleas? It's a different love. Here's the view looking back:
I heard the deep, disturbing call of the alligators. I felt cautious about getting too close to water.
I took these stairs because I knew they'd get me to a the field that's part of the retreat center.
And then, I discovered some turtle shells. It took me awhile to realize they were dead turtles. Did they crawl up there to die? Did some animal snatch them from the water and eat them there? Was I looking at the discarded trash from that meal?
I took a picture of this piece of heavy equipment--the Mepkin earth moving machine! Sounds like a good children's book . . .
I added some stones to the cairns that had fallen down.
And then it was time to get ready for the Eucharist service.
The sunrise was beautiful, but I couldn't really capture the colors:
I headed over to the labyrinth. I tried to walk slowly and meditatively, but it wasn't as easy for me as it sometimes is.
I was enchanted by some of the plants that make the labyrinth rings:
Then I walked towards the river. Once again, I tried to get some pictures of the statue.
I approached the river from the family gravesite and gardens, rather than from the parking area. My heart leapt up as I saw some hydrangea bushes in bloom. Do I love these flowers more than azaleas? It's a different love. Here's the view looking back:
I heard the deep, disturbing call of the alligators. I felt cautious about getting too close to water.
I took these stairs because I knew they'd get me to a the field that's part of the retreat center.
And then, I discovered some turtle shells. It took me awhile to realize they were dead turtles. Did they crawl up there to die? Did some animal snatch them from the water and eat them there? Was I looking at the discarded trash from that meal?
I took a picture of this piece of heavy equipment--the Mepkin earth moving machine! Sounds like a good children's book . . .
I added some stones to the cairns that had fallen down.
And then it was time to get ready for the Eucharist service.
Saturday, June 24, 2017
We Are Not the Messiah
Last night, my spouse was feeling despair. He found out that one of his classes that he's about to teach is a class that comes to him with a syllabus, book, and assignments that he's not allowed to change. Instead of feeling thrilled about the reduced work load for this week-end (creating a syllabus takes no small amount of time for him), he started to feel huge sadness about the state of higher ed in the U.S., where adjunct faculty aren't allowed to create their own classes or make the important decisions and where there aren't many full-time jobs left.
I have had this conversation many times in the past decade. I, too, despair, and I have such a yearning to fix it all--but it's a problem much bigger than I am and far outside of my meager powers to do anything.
Last night, I thought about the fact that the next day would be the feast day of John the Baptist. I said, "I wish I could fix this, but I can't"--a differently worded version of John the Baptist's answer to the question of identity: "I am not the Messiah."
Now of course the fact that I can't fix the dynamics affecting the larger social picture doesn't mean that I can just shrug my shoulders and go with the status quo. I must do what I can to ensure that the students get a quality education, that faculty have what they need to deliver that education, and that the staff are supported too.
And to continue this metaphor, John the Baptist reminds us to stay alert. He's not the one for whom we wait, but that one is coming soon.
We live in a culture that likes to keep us busy and distracted. We are all too busy to heed John's message: "Repent." Turn around. Do it now, before it is too late.
Today is a good day to think about John's message. What parts of our society need salvation? How can we be part of the redemption of all of creation?
And today, we might take a gentle look at ourselves. We're none of us perfect, and while John's message about vipers and the ax that will chop down the tree that isn't bearing good fruit may sound harsh, it's one that we should sit with for awhile.
John the Baptist reminds us that we are called to emulate Jesus. Some days, though, I’d rather emulate somebody else. I’m so tired of working so hard to be a light to this fallen world.
When I feel that way, I need to listen to the words of John the Baptist again. I need to listen to God, who often calls to us from the wilderness. Most of us need to be reminded to listen to that call that God makes. Let the words fill our hearts with hope: "The crooked shall be made straight, and the rough ways shall be made smooth; and all flesh shall see the salvation of God." (Luke 3: 5-6).
Our salvation is at hand: our grieving hearts will be comforted, our anger and irritation will lift, the planet will heal itself as it always does, God will take care of us and everything we need is on its way.
I have had this conversation many times in the past decade. I, too, despair, and I have such a yearning to fix it all--but it's a problem much bigger than I am and far outside of my meager powers to do anything.
Last night, I thought about the fact that the next day would be the feast day of John the Baptist. I said, "I wish I could fix this, but I can't"--a differently worded version of John the Baptist's answer to the question of identity: "I am not the Messiah."
Now of course the fact that I can't fix the dynamics affecting the larger social picture doesn't mean that I can just shrug my shoulders and go with the status quo. I must do what I can to ensure that the students get a quality education, that faculty have what they need to deliver that education, and that the staff are supported too.
And to continue this metaphor, John the Baptist reminds us to stay alert. He's not the one for whom we wait, but that one is coming soon.
We live in a culture that likes to keep us busy and distracted. We are all too busy to heed John's message: "Repent." Turn around. Do it now, before it is too late.
Today is a good day to think about John's message. What parts of our society need salvation? How can we be part of the redemption of all of creation?
And today, we might take a gentle look at ourselves. We're none of us perfect, and while John's message about vipers and the ax that will chop down the tree that isn't bearing good fruit may sound harsh, it's one that we should sit with for awhile.
John the Baptist reminds us that we are called to emulate Jesus. Some days, though, I’d rather emulate somebody else. I’m so tired of working so hard to be a light to this fallen world.
When I feel that way, I need to listen to the words of John the Baptist again. I need to listen to God, who often calls to us from the wilderness. Most of us need to be reminded to listen to that call that God makes. Let the words fill our hearts with hope: "The crooked shall be made straight, and the rough ways shall be made smooth; and all flesh shall see the salvation of God." (Luke 3: 5-6).
Our salvation is at hand: our grieving hearts will be comforted, our anger and irritation will lift, the planet will heal itself as it always does, God will take care of us and everything we need is on its way.
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