The Rain Falls on the Just and the Unjust

I was thinking of the psalm phrase, "the rain falls on the just and the unjust," as I was caught in a rainstorm yesterday afternoon while I was jogging. It was a real "gully washer" as we say back home in Snohomish, and yet as I slogged along, I began to feel exhilarated. Another man out jogging caught my eye and started laughing loudly: "Hooray!" he shouted. Yet another man shouted "Twenty bucks for an umbrella!" I find Australians to be very friendly. And getting wet in Brisbane is like taking a warm shower: no chill at all. There was a brief sense of solidarity among us caught in the autumn freshet.

The television has shown pictures of people caught in airports due to the volcano in Iceland. It doesn't matter if you are the Governor General of Australia trying to get to a state funeral in Poland or a tourist or business traveler in Europe, or even just wanting to get to Europe. Everybody shares the same fate: you gotta wait! It seems to bring out the creative impulse in some. A young couple exchanged vows, witnessed by family via skype; they missed the reception back in Britain. Others are just glum, some are teary. With the ash streaming out of the earth and up into the jet stream, the whole globe will continue to be affected for a while more. The depths of the earth and heights of heaven impinge upon each other.

It is a graphic example of our interconnectedness on the earth. You can never escape being part of the Earth and being one of her creatures. Volcanos are natural; imagine if all that mess was radioactive! It is interesting that we are having nuclear reduction talks at the same time that the volcano blows, as if to say: this is what it might be like, this is a bit of a foretaste or maybe a dress rehearsal.

The choice is ours. Can we really pretend much longer that we are NOT connected? If we foul the earth in one place, soon many people feel the impact. This reality of our fragility and interconnectedness is one of our core Franciscan insights, and it is both a source of inspiration and a missional challenge. One of the interesting programs SSF offers for our brothers is a spirituality program, part of ongoing Franciscan formation, originally intended to help the brothers in the Solomon Islands and Papua New Guinea. It grew out of the idea that we are all one community, interconnected and resources to each other. Here Brothers Hilton and Isom from the Solomon Islands stand outside the Friary Chapel at Stroud.

But we can't forget interconnectedness works both ways: we experience the negative impact as well as the helpful assist. We are never alone. As I have traveled around the Australia/New Zealand Province of SSF I have met brothers from Solomon Islands, others originally from England, Italy, Sri Lanka: a web of families and cultures that can quickly provide strength and needed vitality as we share what we've got. The spiritual, intellectual, and cultural resources among us are enormous.

Some pictures from PNG and NZ

Br. Philip Etobae, the parish priest at St. Francis, Koki, in Port Moresby, welcomes the Ministers on our arrival in Papua New Guinea, Feb 28.



We were greeted at Haruro, St. Mary of the Angels Friary,Popondetta, Oro Province for the Ministers Meeting. It was a huge, elaborate ceremony. This warrior was the first to greet us.



Nothing says welcome like a swig of coconut water. Here Br. Laurence is preparing a nut for us to taste. Its a real trick with the machete. The knife can bounce around if you don't know what you are doing (which includes most of the visiting Ministers!)


One dark and stormy night a tree fell. It missed all important structures, including the station Cross: "God is still with us!" the Brothers exclaimed. But cleaning up the mess was a very labor intensive business. Here two brothers use a cross cut saw. I'd only seen one of these in photos of logging in the Pacific Northwest USA. They were popular over 100 years ago! I kept to picking up the smaller branches, not willing to risk amputating a digit!


After the Ministers left, I stayed on, and the brothers asked me to teach a class on prayer. We had a week or so talking about prayer in a lovely palm leaf classroom!



From PNG to New Zealand. This is a picture of me and Brother Simone at St. Peter's School in Cambridge, NZ where we spoke to the student chapel services. Happy flash backs for me from the days I was Chaplain at The Annie Wright School in Tacoma, WA, USA

A Sacred Rhythm

One of the realities of my life is the intermittent access to the internet! I've been in Papua New Guinea for all of March, participating the the Ministers' Meeting and then on to New Zealand for two weeks, conducting a Holy Week mission at a parish and a church school in Cambridge, NZ. Easter Week I was feted and fed beautifully, but often having to give a short talk or presentation about our life in SSF; it culminated with a Quiet Day on Saturday of Easter Week. I flew to Sydney on Sunday and came to Stroud on Monday.

I think my favorite part of my work is getting to stay around after the other visitors go home. Life goes back to normal for the 16 novices and brothers in the friary where I was staying. In Papua New Guinea it meant no more chicken and fish and meat at every meal. We ate piles of bananas--boiled, baked, roasted, fried and raw, and lots of crook neck squash, breakfast, lunch and dinner. Many days nothing else, and we were happy to eat them. Their days are broken up into "periods" and the afternoon is always "work." What this meant for us during my visit was clambering all over a tree which fell in a heavy rain storm, hacking at it with machetes and hand saws. I am a danger to myself and others with a meter long knife, so I contented myself with hauling the branches away. I cursed my choice when I began to get bitten by myriad ferocious ants in very private places! We all suffered so I couldn't quit. The next day the ants had decamped for some other tree in the forest and we labored in tranquility. Plunging into a waterfall after such heavy work is heavenly--soothing to skin pulped by ants, mosquitoes and thorns.

I taught two short courses for them, one on prayer, and another on how to tell your spiritual autobiography. We had some really moving evenings as we began to tell each other how God has moved in our lives. What impressed me most was the way so many of us have experienced God's Spirit working in our lives. Our stories are testimonials to the working of God in the lives of ordinary people. I found the rhythm of the days very restorative: up at 5:30, praying with the brothers by 6:00. Breakfast at 8:00 then classes at 9:00. Midday prayer and lunch, then "solitude" which always meant "nap" for me! Then the hard labor under the tropical sun after which I often went running. Evening prayer at 5:00 so we'd have enough daylight to read by. Dinner then the evening class. Drop dead in bed by 9:30. You think I am crazy to say it is restorative! But the pattern of prayer, study and work, living in community, even bathing together in the river and eating foods we gather from the garden feels like pure gift. A tremendous amount of work gets done even though we only do manual labor about 3.5 hours a day. Bees work just about 5 hours a day...so why do I sometimes put in long days and nights over a hot keyboard? I am trying to keep to the balance.

One of the things the folks in PNG take really seriously is welcoming visitors. When the Ministers arrived, it was huge: a crowd of men and women singing, giving us flowers. But when I went to visit places for lunch or drop by for tea, there was always an elaborate (to my sensibilities at least) welcome. I tried to get the brothers to ask the people not to do this, just let me come by and visit, I whined. They were adamant. Never. This is about honoring our customs and it is who we are as a people. If we didn't welcome you we would feel ashamed. So I had to learn again the pleasure of being welcomed and of eating from every dish offered to me. Lovely bananas! Again!

In New Zealand, I stayed with the three brothers at Hamilton, two of whom I know and love. I met our new novice there, Br. Simone. He was born in Italy not so long ago, so we had some very interesting intercultural, inter-generational conversations, with me high from the Papua New Guinea rain forest experience, but from America, and curious about New Zealand. He and I shared the preaching load during Holy Week. He had never preached before, but by Easter Sunday he'd given 13 sermons! Really good ones too. But it wasn't all work and sermonizing. We went with a friend to Rotorua and gaped at the geysers and boiling mud. Then we went to a spa and jumped in steamy pools of mineral water--the best way to get psyched up for the Triduum I've found yet! Easter week, one day we went spelunking in the Waitamo Caves. Like me, Simone enjoys running, and he curbed his pace to adjust to mine, and we had some really lovely runs. All of this framed by the daily office and friary life. And a richer diet. The brothers hosted a pizza party for friends to come meet me (It was the only night it rained my whole stay). Easter is in early autumn, so we enjoyed corn on the cob, fresh tomatoes, fresh broccoli and crookneck squash (but only at dinner). By the time I left Simone was truly a brother to me!

Over the years the brothers have done extraordinary ministry in New Zealand, and for many years there were several more brothers in the country. Franciscans are very popular, and we enjoy some really good relationships with church folk there. The Archbishop comes by for coffee and to join in the prayers. He organized a luncheon to give some clergy in the diocese who might not otherwise have a chance to meet and talk with me. We spoke about the environment, prayer and community life: we shared some very interesting perspectives.

During the Quiet Day which I conducted for about 21 people my last day in New Zealand, I spoke about being interconnected. St. Francis talks about these relationships in his Canticle of the Creatures: Brother Sun, Sister Moon. Everything is kin to us, we all come from the same source, God. The reality of being interconnected and the invitation to live this as fully and responsibly as possible is part of the core Franciscan message. The ins and outs of relationships and daily activities is the sacred rhythm of our lives.

Welcome to SSF, Korean Brothers!

Today was an historic day. We welcomed the Korean Franciscan Brotherhood into the Society of St. Francis and elected two of them, Br. Stephen and Brother Lawrence to Life Profession. They have been mentored by SSF since 1993, and agreed two years ago that their special covenant relationship would come to its end ad fulfillment at this chapter meeting today. A third member of their group, Br. Raphael, was welcomed as a novice in SSF.

But it was also the first time we'd ever conducted a chapter meeting in SSF with several members joining us via skype. It wasn't without its traumas, it took nearly an hour for all parties to get connected, then a bit longer to get all of us sitting so we could see each other (almost). But now we've broken the ice. I'm wondering about further possibilities. Much depends on facilities available in the Solomon Islands and Papua New Guinea for video conferencing.

Blurry images couldn't obscure the joy we all felt. Many of us have got to know the brothers over the years. I stayed in the friary in Gangchon in 2008

Stephen and Lawrence had an interpreter with them, Sister Catherine, SHC. She has known the brotherhood the whole of it's existence and played a part in many of its key moments, so it was a very fitting role for her to play.

Remembering while waiting for the next flight

I am at Sea-Tac airport after nearly three weeks at home: of late mornings spent sipping rich brewed coffee, contemplating the mist shrouded garden; of struggling to decide did I want chicken or beef or seafood for dinner tonight (Mother's love is voiced in her desire to satisfy any food craving I might have). The arid, airport lounge atmosphere which is so familiar to me makes me already long for home. Instead of listening to airport noises, I would maybe pass the late morning supine on my favorite couch hovering between sleep and a novel then heading out for a run along the country highways lacing the hills around my parents' home in Snohomish, WA. Afternoons often found me sipping coffee or tea, catching up with dear friends, or volunteering to make the evening salad. Evenings we'd watch the Olympics.

Home seemed so precious to me this visit. So many family friends are getting older, my parents are getting older. I am getting older. My brother-in-law's father passed away last week and we attended the funeral yesterday.I felt so sorry for him, and tried to breathe into the family future. Yet the preciousness did not dispel the old aggravations and patterns of behavior I have adopted at home since age 10. I might be 52 but I still have a long way to go to some days.

Some friends have asked why I choose to go home for such long periods of time. I go because it helps me to remember who I am. A close friend preached about remembering on Sunday, and it really struck home with me. I remember I am a son, I come from Snohomish, nothing too la-de-da. I am not self sufficient, but count on the love and care of family and friends. And I need the help of God to get out of my head, to unplug the "hard wiring" that makes me reactive and childish.

It is good to be mindful of these things heading to Papua New Guinea for the Ministers Meeting of the First Order Brothers and Sisters of the order. There is so much about famly life and home that permeate our Franciscan life. We call each other brother and sister for a reason.

I think the order is in a good place. We'll see what everybody else thinks soon. I feel better having sunk my roots down into home soil. We have to remember who we are, it will give direction and focus to our talks. Please keep us in your prayers!.

Making Space

No, I haven't given up on the blog. After the dazzling plunge into Long Island Sound, nothing else seemed quite so remarkable. Day to day life has been the domestic round, and nitty gritty administrative work. And I forced myself to take naps, cueing off Kitty who seemed to know how to survive the bitter days of January.

The month that followed that freezing dip was nearly as quick as my time in Long Island Sound, or at least it seemed to be just two big leaps and I was out, back on a plane from JFK to San Francisco. A clear sign to me I was very happy.

Those two metaphorical leaps bear mentioning though; they were pretty splashy!

I baptized the children of some wonderful friends: Grace Freas and Brian Licitra. The chapel was jam packed with their families and friends. People kept arriving right up to the sermon time and the brothers carried in more chairs (we practically manhandled folks into the front row seats!). Everyone was eager and happy to witness this big event in the life of the families involved. It gave me a chance to think about the meaning of Baptism. Obviously it is a very attractive thing, and the first job for those of us in the Church is to make room for everybody who comes. Baptism is about welcoming people, expanding the circle, putting aside anxieties about liturgical "appropriateness" to deal plainly and generously with people; these can be hard lessons for us Episcopalians!

I've read somewhere that the word "salvation" is etymologically related to the the idea of "making space." By making space for each other in the tiny chapel we were experiencing a parable of salvation. As the church welcomes new members it needs to make space for them and embrace the gifts they bring with them. Brian laughed and cried during the liturgy, the music of new life among us.

The next leap was into some really energizing conversations with the brothers at Little Portion about how we eat, and changing the way we live to more environmentally sensitive priorities. The Guardian, Br. Tom, got the conversation going by announcing that after January 1 he would be a vegetarian, only eating grass-fed beef (!) That was putting the cat among the pigeons as we struggled to understand his comment...he's a poet and has a knack of saying really important things in sometimes inscrutable ways. Something I really love about him.

But he got us to think hard and talk to each other. We watched the film "Food, Inc." and had several meetings about our reactions to it. Fresh from Copenhagen, I was in what one writer in the New York Times described as the "high priestly" phase of ecological justice and living sustainably. I was in favor of planting a garden, grinding our own wheat, drying homegrown fruit, building windmills. We finally agreed some smaller intermediate steps were needed, like reading food labels, trying to eat food in season and locally grown if possible. Some brothers volunteered to do market research. We agreed to keep talking about it. Concerned people who heard distorted messages asked us about our "vegetarian agenda" and we learned our first lesson about how we share the story. Sound bytes don't work too well. It is equally important to make space for all the voices in the friary to be heard. We recognized that well meant enthusiasm can silence the legitimate concerns and questions of others. If we don't make space for each other it becomes an exercise in polemics and you get caught up in different "agendas." And it stops being good news.

So then I was on the plane, off to Berkeley. Walking up Shattuck Avenue I came to Chez Panisse, the iconic restaurant run by the organic food actist Alice Waters: a reminder that we are surrounded by people who are eager to engage these same issues. And a pledge we can flourish! Actually seeing the restaurant reminded me that all we really need to do is start asking for help and ideas, and we will learn new ways of growing, shopping and eating food. If we change the way we do things people might say we are faddists, but I think we should do it anyway. Mother Teresa of Calcutta had a great prayer reported taped to the wall of her room, which I read at the Baptismal service. In effect it says if you are nice people will take advantage of you, but be nice anyway. If you build, people may tear it down, but build anyway...because it isn't between you and them, but between you and God. How we live and relate is a contract between us and God.

If we make space for others, people might complain it is getting too crowded, but make space anyway.

If we change the way we eat, people may accuse us of following a fad. But change the way we eat anyway.

Because it isn't between us and our detractors, but between us and God.

Pazzo! Pazzo! Pazzo!

Happy New Year!

We have had a stupendous celebration here at Little Portion. Continuing a tradition I started 10 years ago (I didn't start it as a tradition, but a Millennium Celebration has morphed into a tradition, praised be!) the brothers put on a big meal and chapel celebration to observe the change of years. We have found a willing crowd of folks looking for a sober party in a cozy environment, with a happy spiritual emphasis. 55 people came for vegetarian lasagna, ham (something for everybody), salad and cream puffs with chocolate sauce. We drank liters of Martinelli's sparkling cider til the sugar rush had some of us ready to dance.

Our friend Jack Lictra of Jack's Waterfall was waiting for the mood to come together, and about he 9:30 he and Br. Tom got us into the chapel, singing, dancing, drumming, telling stories. At midnight I got to play Father Time and rang the chapel bell. But nobody noticed, the cacophony in the chapel was deafening. We couldn't hear the bell at all. I hope the neighbors enjoyed it. I cannot think of a better way to say goodbye to a year than to be together with friends, share delicious food and make music together.

Yes, it was a bit wacky. One guy asked where Dionysus was; that's pretty remarkable for an alcohol free evening. But opening our hearts and bodies in rhythm and music, listening to stories sung and spoken can unleash a sense of joy in the human spirit that I am sure warms God's heart. Dancing around the fully lit Advent wreath I thought of King David dancing before the Ark of God. I treasure an idea of Francis as God's Troubadour. He sang beautifully and touched people's hearts. Jack sang like an angel. Actually he called all the angels and exhorted us to widen the circle of our love and understanding. Tom sang of the mystery of love and asked us to open ourselves up. Ken Corsbie gave some classic calypso storytelling, and I shared a humbler campfire-type tale of my family's vicissitudes with a goat for sale. Br. Ambrose reminded us of mythical continents and held up the vision of joy and adventure. And then we drummed. And hummed. And gave God glory and thanks. Then Max sang an exquisite blessing and we welcomed 2010.

Here's me and Jack, wearing our Kangas. Cool dudes.

This morning we kept another reckless act that has become a tradition. Five years ago I decided instead of reading about people swimming on New Year's Day, I'd do it myself. Taking a brother along with me with a camera (who would believe I did it otherwise?) I broke through the icy edge of Long Island Sound and dove in and out in about a nano second. It was an extraordinary baptismal experience. It coalesced for me my efforts to live New Year's Day the way I wanted to spend the rest of the year.

So it came to pass: let go of the old ideas about what might be fun, the constriction or reluctance to be uncomfortable, take a risk and do something off the wall. The benefits are immediate. I've never felt so alive (or glad to be alive) after an icy dip. I bragged about it to some friends, and the next year there was a hardy gang of about 10. This morning I think 40 people were on Cedar Beach with cameras, and about 24 of us ran across the snow-crusted pebbles and dove into the water (all ages, men and women). In and out! No dilly dallying!! I find it helpful to shout and chant in order not to think, trying to whip myself into a state of whoopee. Driving back to the friary for hot chocolate a friend looked at his watch in astonishment. We'd only been at the beach 6 minutes! "It felt like an hour!" he said. That's living in the moment, full of derring-do. Sipping hot chocolate, the swimmers were high spirited. Nobody could believe they'd done it. We were all really glad we had.

I pray I can stay in the moment this year, seek out chances to be with friends, take a risk on living outside conventionality, and to remember to sing and laugh when I am tempted to hide out and avoid whatever life has got to offer.