Thin Place, Part II

"If you don't become the ocean, then you will be seasick every day."

(Leonard Cohen)

The earth carries us on our journeys. Sometimes I feel so frustrated as I drive along in my little "box". And there are all these people in their own little" boxes"; all of us ignoring each other. And the earth just continues to carry each one of us, patient for that moment when we will stop and see the ocean of earth beneath our feet. When I lived in New Mexico I came to appreciate and love Native American spirituality. Rooted in the earth, it respects this gift of God and expects God to speak through it.

Fraser Firs

 Today has been a day for listening to God's voice in nature. Bella and I set out this morning on a walk through the Christmas tree farm adjacent to Mepkin. The roads zigzag through the trees climbing higher and higher. I don't do downhill so easily with my bum knee, but uphill is great! Of course what goes up must come down… Thankfully Mepkin has lots of walking sticks for help.  Snow and ice are still hiding in the north turned shadows. The roads are carved deeply with ruts from melting snow and rain. I managed to avoid most of the really muddy spots, but Bella adorned her body with the cool pleasures of a mud treatment for her paws. The branches of the Fraser Fir trees were warm with the morning sun. There is a softness in these short needled evergreens; perhaps that's why they are so popular for Christmas trees. I stood at the end of one row of trees and closed my eyes for a moment imagining what it is like to stand in the same place for years bending with the wind; being fed by the sun and watered by the rain.  Trees and their shadows for as far as I could see and then my very different shadow cast upon the same ground as theirs. Daily these trees give themselves over to things that seem cruel and hopeless and yet it awakens in them a softness and beauty that enhances our joy. I wonder what is waiting in me, in us, to be awakened by our struggles with life?

Bella, ready for more snow?

A "Thin Place"

This is a picture of my house in the snow we had last week. It was an abundant snow. Today, as I was waiting to get my hair cut, I started talking with a woman about the snow we had. "Snow is as good as money" she told me. When I asked her why, she told me that snow puts nitrogen in the soil and makes for a good crop season. Last week's snow was, by those terms, a gift of great wealth! Although we have had warm weather and rain over the past few days, there are patches of snow still clinging to the land here in the mountains. My mother was fond of saying that lingering snow was waiting for the snow to come.

The snow was a good thing for me. The painter started painting the inside of my house today and before he could start, I had to pack up all the breakables and clear all the furniture surfaces and the walls. The snow gave me several days of quality time to do all this work. Having moved a number of times, I am no stranger to packing. It is always an onerous task. I stretched it out over a number of days making it a little less intense but never the less it was tiring.  Today after making sure that things were going well, Bella and I moved to a friend's house in Laurel Springs to stay for a few days. My cat, Pumpkin, is not portable, so she is left to keep an eye on the painting project. 

Mepkin Afternoon

My friends whose house I am staying at, live on top of a mountain. There is a Christmas tree farm behind them and a view which includes not only mountains but the Blue Ridge Parkway in front. The name of their home is Mepkin. Like the Abbey of the same name in South Carolina, their Mepkin is a "thin place". The Celts designated places like Iona, off the coast of Scotland, as "thin places" because they felt that the barrier between earth and heaven was particularly thin in those places. Prayer came easier and holy moments were abundant in those "thin places." Being at my friend's Mepkin is like being on retreat. Since getting here today, I know that my blood pressure has dropped to a healthier level. We got here about 1:30 this afternoon and since then I have napped for over an hour, taken a walk with Bella, read, had a glass of wine as the sun set and remembered that God is sovereign over all. What is it about the daily pressures of life, especially in the midst of particular chaotic events, that makes me suddenly feel like I have to take control of the universe? Every problem, every issue becomes larger than life itself. It has been life giving to find my heart and mind turned toward prayer today for those I love, and those who are in pain right now. 

I am so grateful for this time to reorient my heart; to find my voice in prayer and to listen for God's voice. So with my sleepy little Bella here beside me, I pray that a "thin place" will be in your future. 

Prayer?

O God, when work and responsibility 

wrap around my life like a woolen cloak, 

and wonder is closed off from my life; 

throw aside my protection. 

Guide me back to those places 

where my soul lies open to the cool breath 

of the mystery of your Spirit. 

I ask this for the sake of your great Love. Amen

My Monday morning confession is this: I pray but I do not always understand why I pray. This prayer which one of my dear friends sent me, comes close to expressing what I feel about prayer. Prayer does allow me, for that moment, to throw off the cloak of my worry, my self preoccupation (self pity) and my feelings of being overwhelmed. At the same time prayer sends me deeper into the folds of the "mysterium tremendum": the overwhelming mystery of God. 

I have long ago set aside the picture of God seated above the earth, moving hurricanes and tornadoes around to punish the guilty and convince the innocent. Nor do I think God's finger pushes over a wall here or puts out a fire there. I know that I am somewhat schizophrenic in my beliefs about prayer. I thank God for everything I have; every sunset and sunrise that encourages me seems set there for me by God. Every prayer that becomes reality I give thanks to God for that "answered prayer". But when prayer is not answered, when I remain discouraged or watch suffering and injustice all around me, how then do I interpret and make sense of prayer. Am I, and those around me, just not praying "hard" enough! Those are the times when I, like an out of control car on ice, slide into the arms of Mystery. This is Mystery which is surely a part of God; it is that cool misty place which is Spirit. Here things are not always seen clearly...this is not the black and white world that I desire. This is the grey mist of uncertainty; and it is here that I am changed. 

In those rational moments when I want to say what I do believe about prayer it is this: Prayer changes us. I lean on C.S Lewis for this understanding, although I have confirmed this belief in my own life over and over. 

I know that this will shock you but since I have retired from being a full - time priest I sometimes don't go to church! Sometimes I just want to stay in my "cathedral of mountain laurel and rhododendron" here on Ivy Lane and be still. If that is too much of a shock for you, just take a deep breath and read on. Yesterday I did go to church. I went to the place where I feel at home. Like Cheers, it is the place where everybody knows my name. It is the place where my family here in the mountains worships. There were many prayers in my heart for those whom I love and for situations I don't understand but grieve over. I can't begin to name the things that comforted me yesterday: the hymns, people in the pew with me, the liturgy's words imprinted on my heart, bread and wine.... During the Eucharist, two women made themselves available as a prayer team to pray with those who desired and so I went asking for "healing". No specifics needed...just healing. When I sat down afterwards, my knees still hurt but my heart was lighter. I felt encouraged although I could not say exactly why. I was changed. I had left a lot of "stuff" tucked into the arms of the Spirit and, though I would return to pick it up again; I would be ever so slightly changed in my heart. 

That's where I am on this Monday...and I hope your journey is a joy this day.

Snow Thinking

Bella looking for sticks

It is continuing to snow heavily this morning. A friend is here with his snow blower to clear out some paths so I can get out with Bella. It's hard to walk with a bad knee in snow this deep. Bella and I, bundled up like two Eskimos, headed out this morning so she could "take care of her business". I've had Bella on strict leash walking since she had a pinched nerve in her back 2 weeks ago. But there was no way that we could do the leash this morning. She tried to run this morning but wound up just leaping from place to place in the deep snow. She has on one of the wonderful outdoor coats that I had for my other retrievers. Bella keeps a pile of sticks in a mossy area in front of the house. She loves to lay on the moss and chew on the sticks, spitting out the wood chips. I call her my wood chipper. She looked and looked for her "stick pile" this morning.

Howdy at 3 months old

On Friday, the Canine Companions for Independence (CCI) dog that I helped raise as a puppy will graduate and become a companion dog for a teenager with disabilities. I had hoped to be in Orlando, FL to help Howdy be handed to this young woman. But instead I am "snowbound". I was quite anxious about this earlier in the week but I now feel content to watch the graduation from afar. CCI live streams the graduation event. CCI is a wonderful organization. They provide dogs free of charge to handicapped persons, wounded veterans, hearing impaired and other disabilities. To do this they depend on volunteer puppy raisers to raise their dogs for 18 months and then they take over the training. I'm not really sure of the statistics but only about one in three of the puppies raised becomes a companion dog. Puppy raisers usually have the opportunity to adopt a dog that does not qualify for companion work.  So, I am feeling extraordinarily proud of Howdy. I worked with Howdy for 9 months and then realized that because of his size, I could not finish the 18 months. CCI re-homed Howdy with a family near their Southeast Center near Orlando and his "other mom" Pam took him on with help from CCI trainers. So, as the puppyraiser coordinator put it, "It took a village to raise Howdy!" There was no doubt that he was a special pup from the moment I got him. Here are some of the memories that I am sharing in a letter to the young woman who will receive Howdy tomorrow.

I remember picking Howdy up at the airport in Greensboro. He was 8 weeks old. When I entered the building at the airport I could hear him crying. He was such a little fuzzy ball. I took him in his crate to the car and cleaned him up, then let him out to go to the bathroom. I gave him some water and food then held him and played with him for a bit. I put him in his crate in the back of my car. He cried just a bit, then was quiet. I drove about a little over an hour to my house which is in the mountains of North Carolina. Howdy was so sound asleep when I got him home that he did not wake up when I took him in.

Howdy is so smart and he learned very quickly. He grew very fast. The veterinarian here in Sparta recently told me that every time she blinked, Howdy grew! He has always been quite “handsome” and attracts people both by his personality and his “good looks”.

I took Howdy to church with me when he was old enough. He immediately connected with the young people at the church. One young man in particular was attracted to Howdy and Howdy to him. They became “good friends”. I sat in the back of the church with Howdy in case we needed to go out. One day just before church started, Howdy’s leash slipped out of my hand. When he realized that he was free. He ran as fast as he could to the front of the church with me in pursuit. He did a complete “lap” around the sanctuary before we were able to catch hold of his leash. I was embarrassed but it only served to endear him more to the church members. He might be a bit restless during the service but every time I went up to communion, he would walk beside me and stop and sit while I received communion. It’s almost as if he sensed that something “holy” was happening. Of all the people Howdy met here in Sparta the people of Christ Episcopal Church loved him most of all. They continue to ask how he is doing and are very proud of his graduation and service.

Howdy did some traveling with me. We traveled to Fayetteville, NC and to Topsail Beach. He loved the beach. When I was in Fayetteville I stayed with a friend. My friend and I went out one day for lunch and I left Howdy in his crate. He apparently began to cry some while we were out and my friend’s grown son, Andy, called his mom and said, “How do you turn the dog off?” We all laughed.

One of Howdy’s favorite entertainments as a puppy was chasing ice cubes in the kitchen. When they would slide out from under him he looked so puzzled. Eventually he would catch them and crunch them up.

I am so glad Howdy was with me because he taught me so much about myself. He knew where all my “soft spots” were! I had to learn how to be the “one in charge”. I loved watching how he responded to my being excited. I think I had forgotten how much fun it is to just “play”. I think I am a lot more playful as a person because of Howdy. We learned all sorts of games that helped him learn his commands and now I use those same games with my Golden Retriever, Bella. I adopted her 5 months ago and she is almost 6 years old. She came to me with lots of good training but I still use lots of games to help reinforce her commands and help her be a good “citizen”. Learning how to play with Howdy and how to show him my excitement as well as my love has helped me be a better mom to Bella.

You can watch the graduation at 2 pm on Friday, February 14, 2014 by pasting this site into your browser:

http://celebrationofpraise.sermon.tv/9841669

The site stays live for 7 days. You can learn more about Canine Companions for Independence at www.cci.org. There are regional centers throughout the US  and you can find links to those centers at the main site. They are always looking for puppy raisers!

You Are Blessed...

Today I did the service at Good Shepherd Lutheran - Episcopal Church in Galax Va. It is a lovely church built in 2006. The people, the music and those who assisted with the service all made it a wonderful morning. I preached on the gospel lesson from Matthew 5 - the Sermon on the Mount. Part of the sermon follows:

The teaching that Jesus gives in the Sermon on the Mount is foundational to our lives as Christians. Perhaps the very first thing we notice about this teaching is that there are no shoulds or oughts; no thou shalt or shalt not. The language of the Beatitudes and today's teaching is NOT about a transaction with us: if you do this you will receive that; or if you do that, you will receive this. Instead the language used here is descriptive language. It describes who WE are and who Jesus is.

You are God’s children, says Jesus; you are peacemakers. You are salt – you give the world a different flavor; you are light. You see God; your heart is pure. 

This is not the language of the OT law, this is the language of the new age – the Kingdom of God. It is the gospel, literally the good news! This is the good news of hope and promise that the way things are now is not the way they will always be. Those who find themselves at the back of the bus now; they will be sitting in first class as the journey continues. Jesus is saying "open up to who you are." Climb up to the housetop…let your light shine. This is the Olympic podium and you are always a gold medalist to God!

In the 17th chapter of the Acts of the Apostles Paul and Silas are shinning their light in Thessolonica. They are preaching…perhaps even repeating Jesus' words in the SOM. A riot breaks out because of the radical implication of their preaching. The townspeople complain to the authorities saying: "these people who have been turning the world upside down have come here also." And they are right: the good news of the radical, subversive preacher Jesus turns us upside down. This good news stands us on our heads so that we can't see the world in the same way. "Upside down we can't be sure anymore who are the winners and who are the losers." (Barbara Brown Taylor)

Last week we learned about the death of the actor Philip Seymour Hoffman. I liked Hoffman as an actor although I didn’t always like the people he played. Hoffman was baptized and confirmed in the RC church as a child. He became addicted to drugs in his teenage years but managed to get clean; he relapsed as an adult and went through rehab last year. He died from an overdose to heroin. At his funeral  James Martin, a Jesuit priest who worked with Hoffman as an advisor when he played a priest in the movie “Doubt”  said that Hoffman called himself a” believer” even though he rarely attended Mass. Martin said that Hoffman described Jesus with admiration for being an outcast who was “unwieldy” and caused “havoc”. Reading this story made me wonder if we “dumb down” Jesus portraying him only as Jesus meek and mild. Turning the world upside down means shaking things up…not just shaking a little salt out once in a while. It means turning a flood light on injustice, not just risking our penlight when we feel courageous.

A wonderful Italian saint, Catherine of Siena said, "All the way to heaven is heaven…'" God's kingdom unfolds like a flower in us. Tasting heaven along the way, we hunger, we thirst to become all that God tells us we are…for we are those who mourn and you are those who show mercy. You are those who are meek, your hearts open to God and we are peace makers. You are misunderstood and we feel your sense of persecution.  You are salt and light and we are on our way seeing heaven, longing for home but ready to turn the world upside down one more time.

The King of Scotland

I was all set to show some pictures of my latest fiber project today (yet to come!), but a movie got in the way. Last night I watched The Last King of Scotland which was released in 2007. It is based on the book by Giles Foden. The movie portrays the rise to power of Idi Amin as told through the eyes of a young Scottish doctor (fictional) who worked as Amin's physician and collaborator. One of the greatest criticisms of the film is this fictional aspect and its relationship to the truth of Amin's murderous reign of power. One aspect of the film that cannot be disputed in my mind is the incredible portrayal of Amin by Forest Whittaker. He won an Oscar for best actor in this role and it is easy to see why. The movie grossed eight times what it cost to make it or close to 100,000,000 dollars. Somehow I want to hope that some of that money might was spent in Uganda and other African countries relieving the endless poverty and disease there.

The truth of the movie is more powerful than any of the fictional aspects: there was a dictator named Idi Amin whose pathological paranoia drove him to kill 300,000 Ugandans. Having  overthrown Obote's dictatorship, Amin himself becomes a dictator. He kills all those loyal to Obote and then proceeds to kill anyone else who speaks against his abuses.

When I was in seminary in the early 80's, Bishop Festo Kivengere came for a visit. He was the Bishop of Kigezi in Uganda during Amin's reign of terror. Summoned with other bishops to the dictator's headquarters, he watched as mobs loyal to Amin called for the deaths of these Anglican bishops. All but one of the bishops were allowed to leave. Janani Luwum, the Archbishop of the Church of Uganda (Anglican) was held. The government later announced his death in an automobile accident. Bishop Festo told us the story of what happened several days later. Amin's men came to his house and said they had been sent to kill the bishop and his family. Bishop Festo gathered his family and then told Amin's men that "they could kill him and his family but that they would live forever in Jesus." The men became frightened, put down their guns and fled. On Sunday 2 of the young men showed up in Bishop Festo's church and told him that they wanted to know about this man who could make them live forever.  Bishop Festo and his family later escaped from Uganda by walking to the border of Rwanda. He went back to Uganda after Amin's downfall and was one of the leaders of the East African revival.

Through the years I have told this story to anyone who would listen because it made such a deep impression on me. Since meeting Bishop Festo I have met many Ugandans whose lives were influenced by the great revival of faith after Amin. I am deeply humbled by the faith of a man who faced not just death but the living horror of watching darkness pervade his homeland. We who have always lived in freedom know nothing of this kind of horror. My prayer is that we will never face those horrors, nor come to the place of facing death. But my hope is that I will always be found "walking in the Light" so that if I face death it will be with the courage of those whose witness I hold in my heart.