I'm not sure if the title triggers any thoughts in your mind, but, if you have spent any time with researching, reading or immersing yourself with the "emergent church" then maybe it means something to you. Emergents are very concerned with the idea of conversation. Adding to the conversation, is one who often a part of it, Scot McKnight. The place: the newest issue of Christianity Today in the article, "Five Streams of the Emerging Church". I have gained a respect for Christianity Today as I subscribed on a whim, really. It sounds like such a bastion of evangelicals/fundies who elected Bush, or the people who leave social justice at the door while trying to harvest souls. Now, there is much more to be said about "these people" that I am stereotyping unjustly, I'm sure. However, I have not found CT to necessarily be a part of that demographic. Certainly, they are evangelical (Billy Graham founded the magazine) but more in the sense that World Relief is evangelical. Maybe it wasn't like this in the past...I don't know. What I do know is that I have been greatly refreshed.
And today was particularly encouraging. I won't go into the article in detail because it is a rather short read and a synopsis in itself. However, I think that it provided a good overview of the emerging church, identifying key elements and connections to classic Christianity as well as recent movements in the last few decades that have similarities (similarities that I have found myself when I talk to my parents about the charismatic movement in the 60's and 70's). Of course, this article would also not be scathing, because it is by an insider. Anthropoligically speaking, it is hard for an insider to describe their own culture, but I think that McKnight does it well. It is also difficult for an outsider to understand a culture, which I have found are the severe downfalls of critiques of the emerging church as written in Modern Reformation. Additionally, "outsiders" tend to focus on the celebrity of a movement, when this movement is somewhat anti-celebrity (or maybe everybody gets to be a celebrity with a blog). Or atleast, we like to think so...although who in the DC area has not visited Cedar Ridge Community Church or heard Jim Wallis speak? The emerging church is certainly messy; so was the first century church it seems, particularly with Paul and Peter quarrelling. But, the Holy Spirit worked there and He (She?) is working here, too.
All that being said, I think that I can affirm again that I resonate with the emerging church (and it so much easier than saying "post-evangelical"-a term coined by Dave Tomlinson, check out the book or I think there is an American version co-authored with Dallas Willard). I believe that there is such a strong connection between what we believe/say and do...and integrating our lives is a worthy journey to embark on.
Wednesday, January 31, 2007
Tuesday, January 30, 2007
A couple of sobering thoughts
OK...I am not as democratic as I thought because I have not fulfilled my promise of letting the readers choose the topic. I'm waiting for one more vote. In the meantime, as I have just eaten a rather yummy meal and spent a good portion of the last hour or so talking with my masseuse about nutrition (I have deficiencies in protein or protein absorption).
Why is it so hard to get nutritious food? In the nation of plenty, we eat under nutritious food. Last year, both Sojourners and Ode dedicated a whole magazine to food. There were interesting stories: dumpster divers, organic Walmart, the cost of fuel to pick up your locally grown food, etc. My masseuse and I talked about putting good things in our bodies and how MSG is hidden in many foods at almost all restaurants.
It is hard to get nutritious food in other parts of the world. Today, I sat in a meeting learning about my organization's new Agricultural sector. It was fascinating. I have been fascinated with growing food since I was a child, as much of our produce (at least in my memory) came from our organic garden or our relatives' gardens. I mean, who else has an asparagus patch in their yard? Granted, it took quite a lot for my dad to give me a piece of soil to grow flowers, since they were not edible. He gets a little caught up in the functional when I want to create a land of beauty. But, this legacy continues in my life; I wrote my Community Organization and Development paper on city gardens; I grew herbs in almost all of my college living spaces and a few in one of my housemates' gardens. I love things that grow and tending to them. A connection to the earth makes me feel more centered and considerate. Maybe it is the nurturer in me.
I just read an interesting article, by one of the attendees at Urbana 06 which you can read here. It reminds me to be grateful for the food that I have and also not to waste. I waste all the time. It is true. I feel guilty many times...except that I would rather those calories be in the trash than on my hips. I feel guilty when I split meals, too, like I am gipping the waiter. Oh the ethical conundrums of modern life. I always feel good when I put scraps into the compost containers on our container (that my mother hates) or the bin in the yard, burying it under leaves and "dry" material. I am sure that there are downsides to this as well, but I want to stick with something that makes me feel good for a little while....
Why is it so hard to get nutritious food? In the nation of plenty, we eat under nutritious food. Last year, both Sojourners and Ode dedicated a whole magazine to food. There were interesting stories: dumpster divers, organic Walmart, the cost of fuel to pick up your locally grown food, etc. My masseuse and I talked about putting good things in our bodies and how MSG is hidden in many foods at almost all restaurants.
It is hard to get nutritious food in other parts of the world. Today, I sat in a meeting learning about my organization's new Agricultural sector. It was fascinating. I have been fascinated with growing food since I was a child, as much of our produce (at least in my memory) came from our organic garden or our relatives' gardens. I mean, who else has an asparagus patch in their yard? Granted, it took quite a lot for my dad to give me a piece of soil to grow flowers, since they were not edible. He gets a little caught up in the functional when I want to create a land of beauty. But, this legacy continues in my life; I wrote my Community Organization and Development paper on city gardens; I grew herbs in almost all of my college living spaces and a few in one of my housemates' gardens. I love things that grow and tending to them. A connection to the earth makes me feel more centered and considerate. Maybe it is the nurturer in me.
I just read an interesting article, by one of the attendees at Urbana 06 which you can read here. It reminds me to be grateful for the food that I have and also not to waste. I waste all the time. It is true. I feel guilty many times...except that I would rather those calories be in the trash than on my hips. I feel guilty when I split meals, too, like I am gipping the waiter. Oh the ethical conundrums of modern life. I always feel good when I put scraps into the compost containers on our container (that my mother hates) or the bin in the yard, burying it under leaves and "dry" material. I am sure that there are downsides to this as well, but I want to stick with something that makes me feel good for a little while....
Monday, January 29, 2007
Donald Miller comes to Houghton
OK-since I haven't received two votes yet, I get to go my own way. I just found out that Donald Miller is going to be speaking at Houghton on Monday....Maybe I could find a husband at Houghton after all...my dreams of ring by spring could come true...if only...but given that Donald was not overly impressed with the last time that we met and I tore up the letter that my writer friend encouraged me to write...I do not think that my dreams will come true. And I have kind of figured out that writers, men in particular, do not seem to be the more interactive of personalities. Maybe that is why they right-they can't say it all in person. Of course, I do enjoy hearing Donald Miller speak, like at Grove City a while back (and I enjoyed all the giggling and the joy of the road trip with my sister's best friends).
Oh well, Houghton girls, give it your best try...maybe one of you will catch the eye of the elusive Donald Miller...but probably not when you are bundled up in the sub-zero weather. Then again...maybe we should just read Miller's writing and go find our own elusive shy men to engage...hopefully none of them will hold us while thinking of the women they love....
Oh well, Houghton girls, give it your best try...maybe one of you will catch the eye of the elusive Donald Miller...but probably not when you are bundled up in the sub-zero weather. Then again...maybe we should just read Miller's writing and go find our own elusive shy men to engage...hopefully none of them will hold us while thinking of the women they love....
Sunday, January 28, 2007
Survey says...
Because I am an interactive person, I have chosen to let the audience choose the next topic of the blog (in the meantime, I am fomenting thoughts on all):
1) Sex
2) Drunkeness or something like it (and no it was not the 3 glasses of wine last night. They were bubbly but not very alcoholic)
3) Carbon emissions
I need two votes on a decided topic.
1) Sex
2) Drunkeness or something like it (and no it was not the 3 glasses of wine last night. They were bubbly but not very alcoholic)
3) Carbon emissions
I need two votes on a decided topic.
Love
I have been thinking about the nature of love lately. A couple of weeks ago a I thought I was "falling in love". I think that it was probably something less noble. I remember these little cartoons when I was a child. My grandmother had a collection of them-or at least they are someway connected to her. "Love is..." with these two little people who really didn't look like they were wearing clothes, per se, but neither were they exposing themselves. Very odd on second thought.
Anyways, I have found lately that I have a profound sense of acceptance for some people. Maybe I am truly starting to love them. It's not that their flaws have disappeared or that they have changed. It's more like I almost cannot truly comment on them, because I am blinded in some way by my love and appreciation for them. It's quite astounding, I can assure you, for a person who (at least in the past) has constantly seen room for improvement. Primarily for myself, but I sort of thrive on change and improving myself and something we like to call "sanctification". I like seeing people progress on a path.
But, lately, I find myself accepting myself more. Being ok with where I am. Being ok with other people. Loving their idiosencrasies (I need help spelling). Saying, "eh, it's ok" or "what do you mean, they are like what?" (little conversations in my head). Does loving myself and accepting God's love really start to help me really love other people?? This is transformational. I mean, I still want good and better situations for my friends...I encourage their path. But, I am not as anxious for myself and others. I'm accepting the providence of God, trusting him. It is all so very weird. Peace. or at least something that tastes like it. Kind of like communion wafers.
Anyways, I have found lately that I have a profound sense of acceptance for some people. Maybe I am truly starting to love them. It's not that their flaws have disappeared or that they have changed. It's more like I almost cannot truly comment on them, because I am blinded in some way by my love and appreciation for them. It's quite astounding, I can assure you, for a person who (at least in the past) has constantly seen room for improvement. Primarily for myself, but I sort of thrive on change and improving myself and something we like to call "sanctification". I like seeing people progress on a path.
But, lately, I find myself accepting myself more. Being ok with where I am. Being ok with other people. Loving their idiosencrasies (I need help spelling). Saying, "eh, it's ok" or "what do you mean, they are like what?" (little conversations in my head). Does loving myself and accepting God's love really start to help me really love other people?? This is transformational. I mean, I still want good and better situations for my friends...I encourage their path. But, I am not as anxious for myself and others. I'm accepting the providence of God, trusting him. It is all so very weird. Peace. or at least something that tastes like it. Kind of like communion wafers.
Thursday, January 18, 2007
Friends
I just had dinner with a woman who was a fellow participant in a Bible Study about a year and a half ago. I am amazed by the ability for people who "click" to "click". We talked about real things-faith, church, Jesus, non-profit work, relationships, fellowship, immigration, refugees, etc. And she made me a great meal. It was great!
And then I came home to have a spat with my father-oh well. I suppose you have to enjoy the good things and let the other things fall off like water. I better go apologize-even if it's not really my "fault". I can't stand relational discord (don't let the sun go down on your anger).
And then I came home to have a spat with my father-oh well. I suppose you have to enjoy the good things and let the other things fall off like water. I better go apologize-even if it's not really my "fault". I can't stand relational discord (don't let the sun go down on your anger).
Wednesday, January 17, 2007
Traipsing about in the woods
I am sad to say that I did not service mankind directly on the celebration of Martin Luther Kings, Jr's birth. However, I did take the opportunity to enjoy the bizarre weather that we were having. I dusted off the cobwebs on my hiking boots (although river sandals would have done in a pinch), threw on jeans and a T-shirt and headed out with my friend to scour the wilds of a local park (largely domesticated with a dog playground and such). I brought all of the usual items that you might need for a quick walk-waterproof breathable, bulging wallet, cell phone (just in case the friend passed out and I needed to call 911 because my wilderness survival skills are not up to date. It was on vibrate, though), huge water bottle, lactase enzyme (you never know when milk might attack), Burt's Bees lip balm, camera, camera battery, extra film, river sandals in case I wanted them when I got back, light sweater.... I think that's it. Needless to say, I left some of this in the car. I think my friend thought we were heading for the real backwoods.
I have been to this park before. Several times in fact and I generally walk along the paths that are set-the asphalted ones. But, the more that I traverse this park, the more that I see there are other paths. Some barely discernable in the fallen leaves but with my keen Cherokee sense of tracking, I pick them out. And sometimes the tree limbs and thorns and mud pick me out. Some of these "paths" run straight to the cliffs (otherwise known as 10 foot falls due to erosion).
We found some pretty cool things. I spotted (or maybe he did) a capsized boat and we actually found our way there eventually. There were lots of ducks in this one inlet. It was very peaceful there, except for the "leaf-blower" in the distance (??). There is something about just watching the water that rejuvenates me. At this point in my life, I have a very hard time considering living very far from the water. Most places that I have lived since I was about 11 have been near the water. My house has never been on the water, but I have been minutes from large rivers or estuaries (I just love saying that word). I'm a costal chick. When I think about moving, particularly to somewhere flat, I feel clausterphobic. Just one of my minor nueroses.
But, this park was great.
Then, we went to Annapolis for lunch and stroll, peeking along the way into gardens, the Naval Academy, various places. I would love to get married (if the blessed event were ever bestowed on me) at the Paca House Gardens. LOVE. or a conservatory. Or a decrepit abbey like St. Andrews in Scotland (I think that was St. Andrews...not quite sure but it was beautifully destroyed with vibrant green lawns).
I have rather domestic fantasies these days. Not even like biological clock ones indicating that I want babies. Domestic. Like houses and gardens and community. It is very bizarre. I think that is because I work in the city. I now understand why people who work in cities need country homes. They need them for sanities' sake. Of course, we could bring the country into the city. Not by decorating in the psuedo-country style (yuck, ruffled curtains) but developing spaces for gardens and redeeming them. I love redemption of anything. It is the meta-narrative that I most identify with. Reminds me that I can make a mess of life and it can still be redeemed, made beautiful.
But, oh yeah, city gardens are a good thing...I think that I wrote a paper about them in college for Community Org and Development.
So, back to my day. It was rather marvelous. Restorative views, marvelous company, good physical exertion. I felt embraced by the world.
Is this too sweet to leave things at? We'll pretend the ending really was this good. Maybe it is if I believe it. ;)
I have been to this park before. Several times in fact and I generally walk along the paths that are set-the asphalted ones. But, the more that I traverse this park, the more that I see there are other paths. Some barely discernable in the fallen leaves but with my keen Cherokee sense of tracking, I pick them out. And sometimes the tree limbs and thorns and mud pick me out. Some of these "paths" run straight to the cliffs (otherwise known as 10 foot falls due to erosion).
We found some pretty cool things. I spotted (or maybe he did) a capsized boat and we actually found our way there eventually. There were lots of ducks in this one inlet. It was very peaceful there, except for the "leaf-blower" in the distance (??). There is something about just watching the water that rejuvenates me. At this point in my life, I have a very hard time considering living very far from the water. Most places that I have lived since I was about 11 have been near the water. My house has never been on the water, but I have been minutes from large rivers or estuaries (I just love saying that word). I'm a costal chick. When I think about moving, particularly to somewhere flat, I feel clausterphobic. Just one of my minor nueroses.
But, this park was great.
Then, we went to Annapolis for lunch and stroll, peeking along the way into gardens, the Naval Academy, various places. I would love to get married (if the blessed event were ever bestowed on me) at the Paca House Gardens. LOVE. or a conservatory. Or a decrepit abbey like St. Andrews in Scotland (I think that was St. Andrews...not quite sure but it was beautifully destroyed with vibrant green lawns).
I have rather domestic fantasies these days. Not even like biological clock ones indicating that I want babies. Domestic. Like houses and gardens and community. It is very bizarre. I think that is because I work in the city. I now understand why people who work in cities need country homes. They need them for sanities' sake. Of course, we could bring the country into the city. Not by decorating in the psuedo-country style (yuck, ruffled curtains) but developing spaces for gardens and redeeming them. I love redemption of anything. It is the meta-narrative that I most identify with. Reminds me that I can make a mess of life and it can still be redeemed, made beautiful.
But, oh yeah, city gardens are a good thing...I think that I wrote a paper about them in college for Community Org and Development.
So, back to my day. It was rather marvelous. Restorative views, marvelous company, good physical exertion. I felt embraced by the world.
Is this too sweet to leave things at? We'll pretend the ending really was this good. Maybe it is if I believe it. ;)
Saturday, January 13, 2007
Changes in the day
I was going to write a post about flirting tonight. But, I think that I will change my mind. On a whim, I decided to invite a friend to see Blood Diamond with me. The movie had been mentioned in a meeting last week at work and I originally had wanted to see it, as I was sensitized to the issue of conflict diamonds while in college (some of my profs were former missionaries to Sierra Leone). I knew that this movie would be graphic in violence and emotional for me. Emotional because of the sweeping vistas of grassy plains and hills, interspersed elephants going about their business, while men are at the business of war (not to let the ladies off the hook-I will get to that later). Graphic, well, the title should indicate so.
In college, some of my friends had the ethical conundrum regarding an engagement ring. They had just found out in a class that diamonds were being mined, exported illegally, and ultimately that symbol of finding your soul mate could also have funded the killing of many lives. But, I'm not laying on the guilt. I'm a consumerist and I make choices every day that I do not even think about, which I am sure have global results. That's the western guilt I live with. I try to buy fair trade, and organic, and shade grown, and...but I really get exhausted. And when I see a pair of jeans on sale that fit, I really have to try hard to remember what conditions the jeans might have been made in, or the plight of cotton workers, or that there might be lingering chemicals that are toxic to me. Frankly, with the amount of knowledge I have and an active imagination, I don't know why I get up in the morning!!
But, I am reminded that the world is broken (fallen, some would say) and that we can have hope that our actions are somewhat better than worse. Maybe not the best, which I hope and dream for (some would call that eternity or heaven), but certainly not the worst. HOPE.
I can't really even believe that I have started writing about a movie such as Blood Diamond and ending up hopeful. I could explain it a little more-there are themes of redemption, righteousness, sacrifice and justice in the movie. Tastes of the future. There is mercy. But, to mention specifics would give the movie away. It was somewhat traumatizing, but if I live a life where I am not even traumatized by the movies that I watch, then I will be numb.
One part of the movie that deeply distressed me, but I also felt helpful, was the depiction of the indoctrination of child soldiers. I am sure that wars have been waged in the west using children, but I hope it was not to the length that is currently going in some places of the world. Children should be appreciated and cared for, so that they can create a better world (and because they are intrisic worth, just like you and me). Not abused, drugged, traumatized and forced to do the jobs that adults won't or can't. But, then they grow into adults who can't get out of the system.
HOPE-oh yeah-what is that? Well, there is a little hope-maybe you've seen the movie and can comment. I like comments. Any ideas on how to change the world just a little? Man, I am so cheesy!
Oh, I found a curious musing here. And thanks to my friend for joining me for the movie-my nail marks on your arm will disappear shortly.
In college, some of my friends had the ethical conundrum regarding an engagement ring. They had just found out in a class that diamonds were being mined, exported illegally, and ultimately that symbol of finding your soul mate could also have funded the killing of many lives. But, I'm not laying on the guilt. I'm a consumerist and I make choices every day that I do not even think about, which I am sure have global results. That's the western guilt I live with. I try to buy fair trade, and organic, and shade grown, and...but I really get exhausted. And when I see a pair of jeans on sale that fit, I really have to try hard to remember what conditions the jeans might have been made in, or the plight of cotton workers, or that there might be lingering chemicals that are toxic to me. Frankly, with the amount of knowledge I have and an active imagination, I don't know why I get up in the morning!!
But, I am reminded that the world is broken (fallen, some would say) and that we can have hope that our actions are somewhat better than worse. Maybe not the best, which I hope and dream for (some would call that eternity or heaven), but certainly not the worst. HOPE.
I can't really even believe that I have started writing about a movie such as Blood Diamond and ending up hopeful. I could explain it a little more-there are themes of redemption, righteousness, sacrifice and justice in the movie. Tastes of the future. There is mercy. But, to mention specifics would give the movie away. It was somewhat traumatizing, but if I live a life where I am not even traumatized by the movies that I watch, then I will be numb.
One part of the movie that deeply distressed me, but I also felt helpful, was the depiction of the indoctrination of child soldiers. I am sure that wars have been waged in the west using children, but I hope it was not to the length that is currently going in some places of the world. Children should be appreciated and cared for, so that they can create a better world (and because they are intrisic worth, just like you and me). Not abused, drugged, traumatized and forced to do the jobs that adults won't or can't. But, then they grow into adults who can't get out of the system.
HOPE-oh yeah-what is that? Well, there is a little hope-maybe you've seen the movie and can comment. I like comments. Any ideas on how to change the world just a little? Man, I am so cheesy!
Oh, I found a curious musing here. And thanks to my friend for joining me for the movie-my nail marks on your arm will disappear shortly.
Sunday, January 07, 2007
Taize
Pronounced "ta-zai". There's a new Taize service being held by a local Catholic church's young adult group. All in all the origins of why this group is holding a Taize service are a little curious, but I had been hearing about Taize for a few years. I think the first time was after my completion of the Christian in the Modern World Course at the London Institute for Contemporary Christianity. I was visiting a friend in Devon and I think that we were talking about alternative or "postmodern" worship services. She told me about a community in France that wrote hymns. I was a little intrigued because I thought "hymns" had to old, something akin to the age of item being labeled "antique" or "vintage". It's easy to qualify a Charles Wesley song as a hymn, but I wasn't so sure about "contemporary" hymns.
I'm not sure the next time "Taize" popped up. I think it might have been when I met with the Associate Pastor of Spiritual Nuture at a local church, but maybe not. I know that I learned more about the life of Brother Roger, the founder of the Taize community, at the Contemplative Retreat that the church held just last August. I think at that point, I looked them up on the internet to find out a little more. I found out that the "community" was not THAT old; it was started during WWII. It is an ecuemenical community, which draws me in: my extended family is quite ecuemenical, although they might not view it that way. The community focuses on contemplation and reconciliation; everyone knows that I need to slow down a bit and I am always intrigued, amazed, and humbled by reconciliation.
Then, the aforementioned young adults' group had a lecture on the Taize community, which my Tuesday night group decided to attend. Not only did we learn a little more of the history of the community and that thousands of young adults pilgrimage there every summer, but was also sang some of the hymns (very easy to sing, very rich in truth and depth), as well as participated in a little Q & A. It was then they announced that they were going to have a Taize service on the first Friday of the month. There are many Taize services and Taize communities around the world. I missed the last two services, because I was out of town, busy or ill. Last Friday, however, I planned as best as I could. I tried to catch the 6:02 train out so that I could arrive by 7:00 p.m.... the train was late. I ended up being about 10 minutes late and quietly, as possible, entered the basement room of silent people.
There was an icon on the wall depicting Mary and the infant Jesus. Four or five lamps on the table at the front. Wooden benches, carpet squares on the stone or concrete floor. All of the benches were filled in the back, just like in church. The air was moist, as it was outside, with a very bizarre fog and warm weather. I tried to sit on the carpet in the aisle, as there was another girl there, partly blocking my attempts to take a seat on the benches further up. A woman patted me on the shoulder, though, and indicated that there were seats. I clutched my keys so that they would not jingle in the silent breathing, as I clumsily moved to the seat, picking up the song sheets with my left hand, and wondering what use my purse was inside.
As I had entered the building, there was a basket purposed to hold flashlights, but they were all out. There were boards to my left, reminding me to be silent on AstroBright pages. "Silence!!" on fuschia paper. So, I held on to my keys, which have a small LED light on them, just in case.
In the darkness inside the room, a woman blew a pitch pipe and then started to sing. After she finished the first round of the song, we then sang with her, multiple times. At first, I was just concentrating on the melody, trying to read the notes in the dark. I gathered enough. Then, I focused on the words, listened, and let them soak in.
15 minutes of silence. When do I have 15 minutes of silence-to think of God? Of my "to-do" list? Of what I desire? This was the time. I felt like I was in an elevator. No one speaks to each other in an elevator and this is appropriate politeness. No one speaks during the silence and this is appropriate. What a break to be in community, focused on God and not have to speak! To know that you are in communion with your brothers and sisters and not have to be doing anything. We all may be having a different experience of God; the girl on the floor now to my right is sitting with her palms up, I can only guess expecting to receive something from the Lord. It was beautiful to sit there.
I have been in other environments like this: the retreat, Teen Mania internship, etc. Rarely have I experienced this in "church". All of the chatter-can we hear God?
We ended with songs and scripture and silently floated out. I re-entered the larger, lit room, looked around and saw unknown faces. But, as I was exiting, the silhouette of a guy from my group stood out. We started chatting, but then another girl from the Catholic group introduced herself and invited me to pub. So, I went, parked and found the group again, to meet some new people....
I'm not sure the next time "Taize" popped up. I think it might have been when I met with the Associate Pastor of Spiritual Nuture at a local church, but maybe not. I know that I learned more about the life of Brother Roger, the founder of the Taize community, at the Contemplative Retreat that the church held just last August. I think at that point, I looked them up on the internet to find out a little more. I found out that the "community" was not THAT old; it was started during WWII. It is an ecuemenical community, which draws me in: my extended family is quite ecuemenical, although they might not view it that way. The community focuses on contemplation and reconciliation; everyone knows that I need to slow down a bit and I am always intrigued, amazed, and humbled by reconciliation.
Then, the aforementioned young adults' group had a lecture on the Taize community, which my Tuesday night group decided to attend. Not only did we learn a little more of the history of the community and that thousands of young adults pilgrimage there every summer, but was also sang some of the hymns (very easy to sing, very rich in truth and depth), as well as participated in a little Q & A. It was then they announced that they were going to have a Taize service on the first Friday of the month. There are many Taize services and Taize communities around the world. I missed the last two services, because I was out of town, busy or ill. Last Friday, however, I planned as best as I could. I tried to catch the 6:02 train out so that I could arrive by 7:00 p.m.... the train was late. I ended up being about 10 minutes late and quietly, as possible, entered the basement room of silent people.
There was an icon on the wall depicting Mary and the infant Jesus. Four or five lamps on the table at the front. Wooden benches, carpet squares on the stone or concrete floor. All of the benches were filled in the back, just like in church. The air was moist, as it was outside, with a very bizarre fog and warm weather. I tried to sit on the carpet in the aisle, as there was another girl there, partly blocking my attempts to take a seat on the benches further up. A woman patted me on the shoulder, though, and indicated that there were seats. I clutched my keys so that they would not jingle in the silent breathing, as I clumsily moved to the seat, picking up the song sheets with my left hand, and wondering what use my purse was inside.
As I had entered the building, there was a basket purposed to hold flashlights, but they were all out. There were boards to my left, reminding me to be silent on AstroBright pages. "Silence!!" on fuschia paper. So, I held on to my keys, which have a small LED light on them, just in case.
In the darkness inside the room, a woman blew a pitch pipe and then started to sing. After she finished the first round of the song, we then sang with her, multiple times. At first, I was just concentrating on the melody, trying to read the notes in the dark. I gathered enough. Then, I focused on the words, listened, and let them soak in.
15 minutes of silence. When do I have 15 minutes of silence-to think of God? Of my "to-do" list? Of what I desire? This was the time. I felt like I was in an elevator. No one speaks to each other in an elevator and this is appropriate politeness. No one speaks during the silence and this is appropriate. What a break to be in community, focused on God and not have to speak! To know that you are in communion with your brothers and sisters and not have to be doing anything. We all may be having a different experience of God; the girl on the floor now to my right is sitting with her palms up, I can only guess expecting to receive something from the Lord. It was beautiful to sit there.
I have been in other environments like this: the retreat, Teen Mania internship, etc. Rarely have I experienced this in "church". All of the chatter-can we hear God?
We ended with songs and scripture and silently floated out. I re-entered the larger, lit room, looked around and saw unknown faces. But, as I was exiting, the silhouette of a guy from my group stood out. We started chatting, but then another girl from the Catholic group introduced herself and invited me to pub. So, I went, parked and found the group again, to meet some new people....
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