Service and Discernment

From the top of Dun-I, I could see the abbey and beyond it the grey Scottish sea. I breathed in the fog that had dampened my clothes and given the world a delightfully mystical quality. I exhaled and sent out a prayer of thanks for having found myself in such a place. Here I was working on the Scottish Isle of Iona as a volunteer children's worker at the Iona Community. For several years I had dreamt of going to work on the island, but the actual experience of living in an ecumenical community for three months proved to be more spirited and more life changing than I had any inkling for. I went to Scotland because I felt a tremendous pull to work with the issues of social justice, peace, and poverty. The Iona community was founded on taking up these matters, and I longed to work with others who also felt the corruption and brokenness of the world weighing on their hearts. Over the course of my stay, I met many ministers, seminarians, and lay people who had worked in Africa, or inner cities, or their hometowns with those who were suffering and repressed. Often at a meal I would find myself sitting across from an abbey guest with the most amazing story to tell of work done, setbacks endured, and prayers prayed. Somewhere in and among all these conversations and worship services for peace and justice the idea of one day studying theology myself softly crept up on me.

My experiences on Iona brought me into a world of religious inquiry coupled with open, creative spirituality. Conversations about how faith should inform our political and social lives kindled my spirit just as endless cups of tea warmed my hands. More than anything, I left Iona with a profound sense of community. I have often felt that I lacked a place in the world. I naively believed that I would never find a place where all were accepted and encouraged to do work informed by their faith and with all the strength God gave them. I was blessed to be proven wrong on a daily basis. This newfound sense of common purpose has given me freedom and confidence that up to then I lacked. It is with this sense of congenial resolve that I try to discern whether spending three years in seminary is part of my destiny.

In many ways I am surprised to find myself here. I have always insisted that I would never go to seminary. Somehow, though I often admired my minsters, I couldn't see myself standing in a pulpit every Sunday morning telling a congregation what that day's lectionary readings meant for their lives. Living in community this summer served to show me where I was lacking with helpful regularity. I have difficulty with listening to my own intuition while at the same time I fear having to confront others when it is necessary. Though I am ever embarking on quests for self discovery and improvement, I am not sure that I can muster up the qualities needed to lead a congregation. What I am sure of is that we live in a time of tremendous fear and upheaval. I live in a country that pays for expensive bombs and military equipment, while at the same time refusing to provide adequate services for the sick and needy among us. These sentiments were what inspired me in years past to pursue a career in Waldorf education. At Sunbridge College in New York, where I earned my MS Ed, I studied the spiritual philosophy of Rudolf Steiner and how it relates to the education of the whole human being: body, mind, and spirit. In becoming a teacher, I found a balm for the world's woes. By educating children in a way that respected them as spiritual human beings, I imagined I could find a sense of purpose and create a more just world. Nevertheless, this past September I found myself far from my classroom carrying little with me besides the feeling that my destiny lay somewhere outside of it.

"Buen Camino! Buen Camino!" I heard as several cyclists whizzed past me. "Buencamino," I replied with a wan smile and a voice too soft for them to hear. I gave my backpack a perfunctory adjustment and continued on my way; putting one foot in front of the other down a Spanish road headed to Santiago de Compostela. As I walked the 550 odd miles of the Camino pilgrimage this Fall, thoughts of the past and the future filled my mind and accompanied the even cadence of my sneakers' crunch, crunch on the gravel. I thought about St. Andrews Episcopal, my church in Denver, and how inspiring I found the growth and the activist nature of the congregation. I found myself telling a fellow pilgrim about being a volunteer at the St. Francis Center, and how meeting and speaking with homeless men face to face had fostered compassion and respect in me. I stopped in the evenings to practice centering prayer in dimly lit medieval churches, and wrap myself in the silent memory of prayers whispered for hundreds of years. The word "Camino" means "to make your way," and as I flew home I had a sense that I was still "making my way" towards something. I wasn't sure of much beyond a commitment to continuing to walk the path of peace and work towards empowering fellow travelers, who have been left by the wayside, to see Christ in themselves and each other. Even so, this is enough to compel me forward into a time of study out of which I hope to gain the insight to make my passions causes for which I can work. For whether one is on an island in Scotland, or in a classroom full of children, or walking across Spain, there is work to be done.

The Bible, Jesus, and Universal Healthcare

"In case some one of your brothers becomes poor among you in one of your cities, in your land that Jehovah your God is giving you, you must not harden your heart or be closefisted toward your poor brother. For you should generously open your hand to him and by all means lend him on pledge as much as he needs, which he is in want of... You should by all means give to him, and your heart should not be stingy in your giving to him, because on this account Jehovah your God will bless you in every deed of yours and in every undertaking of yours. For someone poor will never cease to be in the midst of the land. That is why I am commanding you, saying, 'You should generously open up your hand to your afflicted and poor brother in your land."
(Deuteronomy 15:7-11).
I would be surprised if any Christian, liberal or conservative, progressive or traditional, would deny that compassion for the poorest among us is one of the most central tenets of Christianity. How is it then, that one of the most church going nations in the world continues to elect leaders who push forward legislation that does everything but care for the poor? More specifically, how can anyone call themselves a Christian and not be in favor of healthcare for every citizen?
If we as Christians are trying to walk in Jesus’ footsteps, we cannot continue to elect leaders who preserve the status quo. We should be asking ourselves how we can use our votes to create a more just and loving society. A policy of universal healthcare would go far towards creating such a climate outside church sanctuary walls. The time has come to stop gripping our tax dollars with sweaty palms. As Christians, how can our tax dollars be better spent than on healthcare for all of our fellow citizens? If we as a country can afford to drop bombs on innocent women and children in far away lands, then we can afford to provide prenatal care for women and children in our own towns and cities. The time has come for us to open our eyes. We cannot "pass the peace" to the granny in the pew behind us and promote everything but peace with our actions. We say, "Peace be with you sister," knowing full well that she might be one of the millions of elderly Americans who cannot afford their medications. We are to honor our fathers and mothers, not leave them to be swallowed up by a corrupt system. We promote violence in our ignorance and inaction.

"One of the teachers of the law came and heard them debating. Noticing that Jesus had given them a good answer, he asked him, "Of all the commandments, which is the most important?" "The most important one," answered Jesus, "is this: 'Hear, O Israel, the Lord our God, the Lord is one. Love the Lord your God with all your heart and with all your soul and with all your mind and with all your strength.' The second is this: 'Love your neighbor as yourself.' There is no commandment greater than these."
Our highest commandment is to love God and love each other. Love. That is it. There is nothing else; nothing higher. This commandment should compel us to make political choices which demonstrate that love for every human being. That means, grannies, drug addicts, immigrants, and grocery store checkers. We are all beloved by God. This is not about big or small government, family values, or fiscal responsibility. All that is merely weightless rhetoric. Those of us who carry God’s universal love and compassion in our hearts have only one clear path: elect leaders who will see to it that no one is left to suffer unaided. Let us not forget that what we do to those in need we do to Christ himself. Let us not be swayed by this who would distract us with party politics in a thinly veiled attempt to serve the rich and the powerful. We are called to generously open up our hands to the afflicted and poor. Anything less is unacceptable.

A Thousand Splendid Suns Book Review

If you haven't yet read Khaled Hosseini's novel, A Thousand Splendid Suns, do yourself a favor, and don't wait for it to come out in paperback. Take a trip to your local bookstore (preferably an independent one) and pick up this novel, which will show you, in beautiful prose, the true cost of war and fundamentalism. As a person who usually looks down my nose at anything the popular culture is raving about, I wouldn't expect to find myself to be so wholeheartedly endorsing a book which holds the number one spot on the bestseller list. However, I have come to realize that if everyone is saying that something is good, sometimes it just might actually be so. Not only is Hosseini's novel full of vibrant, nuanced characters, but it offers many historical and political details I'm willing to bet many a reader can learn from. The story takes place in Afghanistan and spans time from the mid-seventies Soviet occupation to the post 9/11 War on Terror. The reader gains a view into life in this now well known country through the eyes of two women: Mariam and Laila. For much of this novel, that view is devastating. As much as Hosseini's book is about these exceedingly sympathetic characters, it is also about the country of Afghanistan. This is the story of a country who's people have been at the mercy of one regime after another to disastrous consequence. Read this novel for a compelling story that will keep you up past your bed time, and read this novel to remember that Afghanistan (as well as any country targeted by The War on Terror) is populated by regular people who suffer just as you and I do. In this time of war and fear, it seems we could all do with a reminder that the people we call our enemies have hearts and spirits just as delicate as out own.

WWJED?

Do you remember when folks everywhere started wearing those "What Would Jesus Do?" bracelets? They were quite the thing in certain circles. The idea of course was to ask ones self this important question when at a crossroads in life. The sentiment is alright I think. Jesus was a good guy no matter what horrible things his groupies have done. I imagine some overfed, Milquetoast minister types getting together and bemoaning the moral state of America's youth in the mid-nineties. They settled on developing a campaign to keep the kids on the straight and narrow. What would Jesus do? Or "WWJD?" (because its shorter and looks cooler). They thought if a young person is in a fight with a friend, before he throws a punch he will stop and ask himself, "What would Jesus do?" Of course we all know the answer to that. Jesus would turn the other cheek. As a professed pacifist, this seems pretty good to me. We could have people everywhere, young and old, looking down at their WWJD? bracelets and choosing not to do violence, or gossip, or steal. This planet could use more of that. The problems arise when a person finds herself in a situation where the books of the New Testament fail to provide a precedent.

For example, a couple months ago I was flying to New York City from London. While waiting to board the aircraft, as I was quietly and intently reading a British women's magazine, a young man sat down across from me and began to make an attempt at conversation. Woe to those lovely people who designed the rows of chairs in airline waiting areas to be facing each other. It was slow going to say the least. As an introvert, it requires much effort for me to make small talk with strangers; still, I hung in there and discovered various and sundry details about his life...he was living in London...he worked in computers. He didn't ask me much about myself, and as he was not the most riveting of storytellers, there were long uncomfortable pauses when I was wracking my soon to be jettlagged brains for something to say. The important fact to note here is that I tried. I sensed that this man wanted to talk to someone, and I looked inside myself and summoned up strength of will to be compassionate to him. After all, isn't that what Jesus would do? Later on when he came by to ask if he could sit with me in my comfortable row of emergency exit seats, which I had all to myself, I graciously obliged. Despite wanting to curl up for a nap, I was feeling pretty good about my benevolence at this point. "This guy has no idea he's sitting next to the big JC in the flesh," I thought to myself. While I was basking in the glow of goodwill and listening to my travel partner explain the beauty of LINUX, I looked down at my hand and saw that he was holding it. Or rather, caressing it would be more to the point. Now here I was in a potentially compromising situation, and as I scrambled over the hills and eddies of my mind searching for guidance, I realized that Jesus wasn't going to be much help. On one level, the Bible would seem to look down upon trashy girls who get cozy with perfect strangers on public transportation. Yet, I was also conscious of the fact that we as Christians are supposed to act out of love and compassion. Would hastily tearing my hand away send this poor young man into a tailspin of depression? I imagined he must be a bit unhinged to be fondling a strangers hand in public in the first place. What if he made a mad dash for the nearby emergency exit door and we were all sucked out into a miserable and frightening death? Unfortunately, in the time I had taken to ponder my situation, the young man in question had moved up to my wrist and started to lean towards me. "What in the world is he doing!?" was my desperate internal scream. Then his intentions quickly became all to clear. I shrank back into the corner by the window and covered my face with my hands just in time to avoid a rather unwanted, and I imagine what would have been, unpleasant kiss. It seems my inactivity in the handholding phase of our short relationship had led our young hero to imagine that I was game for more. There is no telling what he might have had in mind as his end goal! No doubt it would have involved cramming into one of those unsanitary closets that pass for bathrooms on airplanes. I shudder to think.

Gentle reader I implore you, what should I have done? Without Jesus to give me a clear answer, I was adrift in a sea of possible reactions. Since that rather awkward six hours, I spent not a little time pondering ways I could have behaved differently to avoid that near catastrophe. Then one afternoon as I was drinking a cup of tea, like a message from an angel whispered in my ear, I had an answer. All the time it was sitting on my bookshelf protected by a frayed forest green hardcover. "What Would Jane Eyre Do?" the book by Charlotte Bronte seemed say in a quiet, unassuming voice from the corner of my room. I took another sip of tea. My favorite book, and my most admired heroine would provide me with all I would ever need to navigate life's trials. Unlike Jesus, Jane Eyre was headstrong and opinionated. She messed things up sometimes, and she fell in love with a married man who's mad wife was hidden up in the tower. If Jane had been on that airplane, I have no doubt she would have withdrawn her hand immediately and informed her suitor that she was not the kind of young lady to be compromised in such a manner. "Yes, I believe this new outlook is going to be singularly life changing," I thought as I paced the length of my room. Jane's life was full of mystery and dark passions and wandering across damp moors. It all sounds a lot more attractive than getting nailed up to a cross at 33.

From now on I vow to ask myself, "What would Jane Eyre Do?" (WWJED? for short) whenever I find myself at a crossroads. To those readers who have born with me thus far, I will not be offended if you too choose to make Jane your worthy example. Nevertheless, I challenge you to find your own individuals to call upon in times of duress. Perhaps the Dali Lama would be helpful? I can imagine very fetching t-shirts saying "WWTDLD?" What about another literary character? Elizabeth Bennet or Holden Caufield? The possibilities are endless, and as long as you don't choose Paris Hilton I imagine you will fair admirably well.