I spent most of yesterday at the Confirmation Class retreat at Wesley Woods. All the mentors were invited to join their Confirmands as they discussed their faith statements, played Episcopal Jeopardy, and shared worship experiences at other churches and synagogues. I anticipated having a fun day, and I wasn't disappointed. I also anticipated being so engaged with the activities that I could take a rest from my mental tug-of-war between making a safe, sane decision about employment and my inner 'pilgrim' who is urging me to take a different path. God had a different idea, tho. One of the activities we did together was a silent walk around the retreat grounds. We were instructed to walk slowly and listen for God speaking to us. Fully expecting to 'hear' God in the beautiful snowscapes, clear blue sky and the deep evergreen woods, I was surprised when I noticed my mind humming "Ultreia," the pilgrim anthem. At first, I tried to re-focus my naughty inner pilgrim, but then I decided that maybe this was God's voice after all. By the end of our walk, I had planned a walking pilgrimage to Conques for myself, puzzled over how to invite others, and decided on questions and activities for the chemin. Now the work begins on how to make this daydreaming with God a reality.
This video is of a French man singing the Chant de pelegins de Compostelle ( Pilgrim's Anthem, as I call it) somewhere on the path. The elderly man next to him is Icelandic author, Thor Vilhjalmsson.
Here is the rough translation of what he's singing....
"Every morning we take the path, every morning we go further. Day after day we are called to the road by the voice of Compostelle.
Ultreia, ultreia! (forward, forward).We go higher, God help us!
I'm telling my 'Pilgrim Imposter' story over at Musings From Red Bell Farm. The pilgrim cell that I stayed in at the Church hostel was decorated with only this icon on the wall. Not being very familiar with icons, I have no idea who this Saint is. I can't even tell if it's a man or a woman. At first I thought it might be Mary, Mother of Jesus, but I think most images of her show her robed in blue, not red. My photo doesn't capture the rest of the picture; that may have given me a clue to this Saint's identity. Whoever he/she is, I felt very blessed by their presence. As I lay in bed, the eyes of this icon looked directly at me. Do you know who this Saint is?
As I began the 'pilgrimage on my journey to discovery' in my online class, I was instructed to take contemplative walks this week with my camera in hand. So...off Lucie and I went to walk on our road, the one we walk on nearly every day. And what begged to be seen? Not animal tracks in the fresh snow, not lovely ice crystals or drifted cornices of blown snow, not even the dried reminders of last summer's beautiful wildflower displays. No, what popped out to me were signs! "Sign, sign, everywhere a sign, blockin' out the scenery, breakin' my mind!" (for those of you not quite as old as I am...those are lyrics from a 1970 song by the Five Man Electrical Band). Why does this minimally maintained dirt road need all this signage? and why can't I seem to find a single sign indicating I'm on the right Path, the Way, the chemin de pelerin?? Maybe I'm looking too hard. Maybe I need to 'soften my gaze' as my instructor suggests and let the Signs find me. I don't know; what do you think?
I'm currently enrolled in an online class on photography. I tried another online class earlier this year that didn't work so well for me. This one, however, has engaged me from my very first email. It's not about taking better photos, learning camera techniques, or marketing what I create. It's about finding the images that are begging me to see them, to record them, and to pray them into an expression of my creativity and spirituality. My first assignment is to take 'contemplative walks' this week with my camera and to 'imagine that I am heading out on a pilgrimage which is a journey of discovery. There it is once again....pilgrimage....I can't seem to get away from it no matter where I go! I did a contemplative walk yesterday with Lucie. Today I'll go into St.Charles and try a walk there. We'll see what images I discover. I'll be sharing some of this pilgrimage journey with you here during the next 6 weeks.
Last summer I made the committment to be a mentor for one of the Confirmands at my church. Lexi and I have met once and shared stories. This morning we completed another one of our 'assignments.' As part of her classwork, she (with her mentor) needed to attend a worship service that was different from her own. She has friends who attend Temple B'nai Jeshurun, so she asked me if that would be agreeable with me. Absolutely! I've always been interested in Judaism. Originally the plan was to attend Shabbat services last evening, but a snowstorm that got 'way out of hand made us change our minds. Instead we went to this morning's Tot Shabbat. It's a service directed to the littlest members of Temple...the children. It was held in a small chapel, but we peeked into the large sanctuary where Friday evening services are held. It's stunning with beautiful stained glass windows, a huge dome overhead, and as Lexi pointed out...blue velvet padded cushions on the pews! We really need to mention this to our Episcopal priests; padding is a good thing. The Shabbat service was lead by Rabbi Kaufman with the assistance of Cantor Laura Berkson. The service was mostly simple songs and a more complicated sung liturgy. Lexi and I fumbled with the prayer book until we figured out that it reads back to front, right to left. The liturgy was written in the Hebrew alphabet, then again in Hebrew in the English alphabet, followed by the English translation. Vested in yamelukes and prayer shawls, both Rabbi and Cantor made us feel very welcome. Rabbi Kaufman read a storybook to the children about a little boy and a Shabbat Box, a special box that holds symbols of Shabbat: candles, a challah cover, and a cup for wine. At the end of the service, the celebrants faced the wall and as we sang and prayed, two doors opened revealing a lighted niche holding the Torah. The words from the Torah for this weekend: Exodus 25:1-27 wherein God instructs the Jews how to make the Ark of the Covenant and its special place in the temple. Lexi and I agreed that we enjoyed this service and might even come back again!
My Webster's dictionary defines a pilgrim as 'one who journeys to foreign lands.' This is a definition that could suit me well: I've been to Canada, Mexico, and France. The second definition Webster offers could define me as well: 'one who travels to a shrine or a sacred place as a devotee.' After all, it's impossible to be in France and not trip over a church several times a day, and I find them all fascinating. When my dictionary goes on to talk about pilgrimage, the comparison becomes even more interesting. 'A journey to a sacred place' and secondly, 'the course of life on earth.' I feel strongly that I am such a pilgrim, that I am on this pilgrimage to sacred places and that this somehow has become my course in life. Here stands St. Jacques (St. James the Greater) in the south transept of the great Abbey Church at Conques in southwest France. His walking staff, robes, and hat emblazoned with the scallop shell that identifies the pilgrim mark him as the saint of pilgrims. His venerated bones at Santiago de Compostele in Spain are housed at the shrine that is the goal of pilgrims on his Way, the Chemin de St. Jacques. Pilgrims light a candle to him in the elegant Romanesque church that anchors the beautiful village of Conques, asking him for safe travels. Here is where I first discerned that I am a pilgrim; here is where I begin my pilgrim's stories.
I'm sitting here feeling very guilty today. I think the Protestant work ethic is kicking in. It's been a week since I lost my job, and I feel as if I should be doing something productive, something that makes money, something that society finds more acceptable than being quiet, introspective, and listening for God to whisper next steps in my ear. I should be getting up in the morning, getting ready for work, worrying about the weather and road conditions. I should be checking emails and returning phone calls making sure I'm on top of the budget, personnel issues, projects and initiatives. I should be sitting in long, boring meetings listening to the 'flavor of the day' management theories and watching my colleagues play the political games it takes to get ahead. Right? I prove my worth by putting in long hours, by worrying about work when I'm not there and by being reachable and accountable 24/7. Right? Doing these things, after all, guarantees a pay check, prestige, and the good graces of Christian society since I'm working hard and taking care of myself. Where in the world did this idea come from? Here's what Google says about it: "The Protestant Work Ethic, sometimes called the Puritan Work Ethic, is a sociological, theoretical concept. It is based upon the notion that the Calvinist emphasis on the necessity for hard work is proponent of a person's calling and worldly success is a sign of personal salvation. " I visited my Concordance to see if Scripture speaks to this work ethic. No where did I find Jesus or anyone else giving these directives. It's true you can find Scripture to support almost any viewpoint; I say this to preface the Scripture that I did find and that speaks to my heart. First, Eccelsiastes 3:22 "...there is nothing better than that a man should enjoy his work, for that is his lot..." Secondly from Psalms 90:17 "Let the favor of the Lord our God be upon us, and establish thou the work of our hands upon us, yea, the work of our hands establish thou it." I guess there is some Biblical precedent for sitting quietly and waiting for God to whisper what my work is to be.
The mist is beginning to clear from my brain and my heart is starting to 'get it.' My world turned upside down this week and for a brief moment, I wondered just where God was in all this turmoil. Today as I read my daily meditation by Father Keating, I began to see more clearly how He works. The question Fr. Keating poses is: what illness did Lazarus die from? And his answer is: his false self. Jesus did not intervene sooner because Lazarus' false self had to die before he could be transformed. The false self is the part of us that hangs onto "security, survival, affection & esteem, power & control, and from overidentifcation with a particular group or role." Lazarus represents me, living in the "Night of Spirit who feels imprisoned and forgotten by God." So what does God do? He lets the false self die and then "calls to me to come out of the darkness, confinement, loneliness, dereliction and grief." I was beginning to think God wanted me stuck here, in this place that is so NOT me doing things that make my spirit so sad, when really He didn't. So, He turned my life inside out and called to me, "Come out!" I'm excited and ready to respond.
I'm sitting here feeling very guilty today. I think the Protestant work ethic is kicking in. It's been a week since I lost my job, and I feel as if I should be doing something productive, something that makes money, something that society finds more acceptable than being quiet, introspective, and listening for God to whisper next steps in my ear. I should be getting up in the morning, getting ready for work, worrying about the weather and road conditions. I should be checking emails and returning phone calls making sure I'm on top of the budget, personnel issues, projects and initiatives. I should be sitting in long, boring meetings listening to the 'flavor of the day' management theories and watching my colleagues play the political games it takes to get ahead. Right? I prove my worth by putting in long hours, by worrying about work when I'm not there and by being reachable and accountable 24/7. Right? Doing these things, after all, guarantees a pay check, prestige, and the good graces of Christian society since I'm working hard and taking care of myself. Where in the world did this idea come from? Here's what Google says about it: "The Protestant Work Ethic, sometimes called the Puritan Work Ethic, is a sociological, theoretical concept. It is based upon the notion that the Calvinist emphasis on the necessity for hard work is proponent of a person's calling and worldly success is a sign of personal salvation. " I visited my Concordance to see if Scripture speaks to this work ethic. No where did I find Jesus or anyone else giving these directives. It's true you can find Scripture to support almost any viewpoint; I say this to preface the Scripture that I did find and that speaks to my heart. First, Eccelsiastes 3:22 "...there is nothing better than that a man should enjoy his work, for that is his lot..." Secondly from Psalms 90:17 "Let the favor of the Lord our God be upon us, and establish thou the work of our hands upon us, yea, the work of our hands establish thou it." I guess there is some Biblical precedent for sitting quietly and waiting for God to whisper what my work is to be.
The mist is beginning to clear from my brain and my heart is starting to 'get it.' My world turned upside down this week and for a brief moment, I wondered just where God was in all this turmoil. Today as I read my daily meditation by Father Keating, I began to see more clearly how He works. The question Fr. Keating poses is: what illness did Lazarus die from? And his answer is: his false self. Jesus did not intervene sooner because Lazarus' false self had to die before he could be transformed. The false self is the part of us that hangs onto "security, survival, affection & esteem, power & control, and from overidentifcation with a particular group or role." Lazarus represents me, living in the "Night of Spirit who feels imprisoned and forgotten by God." So what does God do? He lets the false self die and then "calls to me to come out of the darkness, confinement, loneliness, dereliction and grief." I was beginning to think God wanted me stuck here, in this place that is so NOT me doing things that make my spirit so sad, when really He didn't. So, He turned my life inside out and called to me, "Come out!" I'm excited and ready to respond.
