Last Thursday, Fr. Nicholas and I went out in the evening to do some visiting of people in the parish. We originally were only going to two people's houses (one for a visit and one for dinner). The first person we were planning to visit was a woman from Cambodia named Georgette. She tragically lost her baby during pregnancy (she was five months pregnant) and had just gotten out of the hospital.
Now Nicholas is a wonderful and bright man, but when it comes to directions he really doesn't have a clue. The trick is, you see, that when you are a priest you play the game and refuse to let on that you actually DON'T know where one of your parishiners live. So around this apartment building we went while Nicholas patiently studied the door number of each door and continued to mumble "I just know it is around the corner.." Finally, when we came to Flat #11, his eyes opened up with joy. "This is it! I remember now!" He then confidently knocked on the door. As soon as the person came to the window, Nicholas mumbled "shoot.....this isn't the right house..." It turned out to be one of the older woman of St. Paul's Chuch named Naiomi. I tell you one thing though, if anyone doesn't miss a step when they know they have made a mistake it is Nicholas. As soon as Naiomi opened the door, Nicholas burst out "Hello Naiomi! We were just in this part of town and decided to drop by for a little bit!" I couldn't believe it, a priest who actually lied! We both kept up the act for 45 minutes as we had tea with Naiomi. What a great time!
We finally figured out where Georgette lived and visited her for another hour. I can't find the words to describe how hard it was to comfort this young woman who felt worthless inside. It is hard to imagine the pain that a woman must feel after such an episode. I really didn't know what to say the entire time we were there. It certainly was much more of a listening ministry more than anything else.
We then headed out on the tube and went to a young Equidorian couple named Jenny and Kurlie. They both entered the country as refugees and Nicholas helped them earn their citizenship. They have three wonderful daughters and a son who were very fun to talk with. We watched a movie of their oldest daughter's 15th birthday party. And when I say birthday party, I mean EXTRAVAGANZA. In Equadorian cutlure, when a female turnes 15, it means that she has past from the world of being a girl to being a woman. Thus, it is a very big deal and this family went all out. They first had a mass at St. Michael's where there were 15 "bridesmaid" and "grooms man" type people for the ceremony. Father James (who was doing the mass because Nicholas was on Summer holiday for this event) blessed a pair of high-heel pink shoes that the daughter later put on to symbolize the "entrance into womanhood". After the mass, they then went to a venue nearby and danced the night away with 180 people! I don't know what I would do if that were my 15th birthday!
After watching this movie for two hours (both parents had to pause it and point out every single person that was present to Father Nicholas), we had dinner and went home. I got home at midnight. A long but good night in the parish of Old St. Pancras.
Monday, October 22, 2007
Saturday, October 13, 2007
Stonehenge, Students from Stanford, and the Simple Message of a Russian Hymn
It has been a little over a month since I arrived in London, and I decided that I needed to GET OUT of London for a day. So Owen, Amanda, and our friend from St. Michael's named Edward journeyed by train to Salisbury and then beyond to the rolling acres of Stonehenge. I did not realize how aching I was to get out into the countryside. When you are around people yelling, car horns, smelly busses, and hectic traffic all the time, being out in the English countryside seemed like paradise. First off, it just astounds me as to how ancient this rock formation is. I learned about the "barrows"- ancient burial sites that are found all around Stonehenge and all over the Salisbury Plain. The first of these burial sites were put in around 2,000 years ago. Archeologists believe Stonehenge to be around 3,500-4,000 years old. That means that when these "ancient" burial sites were made, Stonehenge was ALREADY ancient as it would have been roughly 1,500 years old already. It is very hard to grasp your mind around.
After our morning at Stonehenge, we came back to Salisbury and spent the rest of the day admiring the town gardens and the Salisbury Cathedral. The Cathedral was splendid as was the men and boys choir who sang for Evensong. Ironically, they sang a piece by Sammuel Welsley which I had sung before in Cantorei with Dr. John Ferguson in my sophomore year at St. Olaf. It was very interesting to hear an english interpretation of the piece. Also in the Cathedral, we met a large group of university students from Stanford who were spending a term of study in England. Their course was ironically on English history and culture. From talking with them, they had hit all of the major sites and sounds of England and were on their way to London. In my casual watching of them, it definetly posed the question in my mind to how much English culture were they exactly experiencing? In a group, they acted distinctly American and were very comfortable in that. Ofcourse, being in a group of students is a wonderful experience. My life was very much changed after going to Italy and Germany with an Iterim group at St. Olaf. But how much does a course actually really teach you about current culture? Do you ironically need to get outside of your university comfort group to really understand another way of life? How willing are most people in doing this? It is interesting to think about.
Yesterday, I was invited over with Owen to the house of Natalia. Natalia works with me at St. Michaels School as a teaching assistant and music guide. She is from Estonia and moved over with her son and mother to the UK twelve years ago. If anyone would fit the image of a loud, confident, and boisterous Russian, Natalia would be the one. To be honest, the week had been a hard one and Owen and I were very tired and perhaps not in the best of moods to go visit someone. It also takes a lot of energy to speak with Natalia as you have to slow down your speach and really listen to her broken English. However, being that it would be rude to turn down the invitation so late, we went anyways. Our conversation at the table with Natalia and her son Sergio was one of faith, misery, challenge, and hope. Here was a 65 year old woman telling her story of how she beat the odds of being an immigrant woman who headed a family, being homeless, and having cancer. It was somthing that I have seen so many times here, but this time truly struck home with me.
Natalia was a music teacher in Estonia and is still working on getting qualified in the UK. Her love of music rings through her so much, it seemed to reach out and grip all of us. "Music makes us live!", she proclaimed time and time again. After dinner, she literally lifted me out of my chair and plopped me infront of the piano. "Play somthing that is special to you!", she stated. I shared a camp song that my youth pastor Tom Hunstad would always sing called "Dance with Me". I don't know if it was the fact that I told her Tom had died of cancer or of my horrible playing that made her eyes water, but she was very moved. Owen then played a few hymns that were special to him afterwards. After a brief pause for tea, I asked Natalia to play somthing dear to her. The short statured woman looked like she was 10ft tall when she started to play. The song was an Estonian style hymn that she heard before she went into sugery for her brain tumor. The piano hadn't been tuned for probably 10 years and was frightfully out of tune, but for Natalia's playing...it didn't matter. The lyric Russian melody of the piano was a stunning prelude to her singing the Estonian text. All of the tiredness in me was swept away as I was transcended by this beautiful piece. At the end, I asked her what the lyrics meant in English. "Simple", she said. "God's beautiful love is for you and me". How we all should be reminded of that simple fact time and again.
After our morning at Stonehenge, we came back to Salisbury and spent the rest of the day admiring the town gardens and the Salisbury Cathedral. The Cathedral was splendid as was the men and boys choir who sang for Evensong. Ironically, they sang a piece by Sammuel Welsley which I had sung before in Cantorei with Dr. John Ferguson in my sophomore year at St. Olaf. It was very interesting to hear an english interpretation of the piece. Also in the Cathedral, we met a large group of university students from Stanford who were spending a term of study in England. Their course was ironically on English history and culture. From talking with them, they had hit all of the major sites and sounds of England and were on their way to London. In my casual watching of them, it definetly posed the question in my mind to how much English culture were they exactly experiencing? In a group, they acted distinctly American and were very comfortable in that. Ofcourse, being in a group of students is a wonderful experience. My life was very much changed after going to Italy and Germany with an Iterim group at St. Olaf. But how much does a course actually really teach you about current culture? Do you ironically need to get outside of your university comfort group to really understand another way of life? How willing are most people in doing this? It is interesting to think about.
Yesterday, I was invited over with Owen to the house of Natalia. Natalia works with me at St. Michaels School as a teaching assistant and music guide. She is from Estonia and moved over with her son and mother to the UK twelve years ago. If anyone would fit the image of a loud, confident, and boisterous Russian, Natalia would be the one. To be honest, the week had been a hard one and Owen and I were very tired and perhaps not in the best of moods to go visit someone. It also takes a lot of energy to speak with Natalia as you have to slow down your speach and really listen to her broken English. However, being that it would be rude to turn down the invitation so late, we went anyways. Our conversation at the table with Natalia and her son Sergio was one of faith, misery, challenge, and hope. Here was a 65 year old woman telling her story of how she beat the odds of being an immigrant woman who headed a family, being homeless, and having cancer. It was somthing that I have seen so many times here, but this time truly struck home with me.
Natalia was a music teacher in Estonia and is still working on getting qualified in the UK. Her love of music rings through her so much, it seemed to reach out and grip all of us. "Music makes us live!", she proclaimed time and time again. After dinner, she literally lifted me out of my chair and plopped me infront of the piano. "Play somthing that is special to you!", she stated. I shared a camp song that my youth pastor Tom Hunstad would always sing called "Dance with Me". I don't know if it was the fact that I told her Tom had died of cancer or of my horrible playing that made her eyes water, but she was very moved. Owen then played a few hymns that were special to him afterwards. After a brief pause for tea, I asked Natalia to play somthing dear to her. The short statured woman looked like she was 10ft tall when she started to play. The song was an Estonian style hymn that she heard before she went into sugery for her brain tumor. The piano hadn't been tuned for probably 10 years and was frightfully out of tune, but for Natalia's playing...it didn't matter. The lyric Russian melody of the piano was a stunning prelude to her singing the Estonian text. All of the tiredness in me was swept away as I was transcended by this beautiful piece. At the end, I asked her what the lyrics meant in English. "Simple", she said. "God's beautiful love is for you and me". How we all should be reminded of that simple fact time and again.
Friday, October 5, 2007
Where do we draw Boundaries on Ministry?
This week has been a very busy one with St. Michael's Day being on Saturday. The celebration was wonderful as we went out into the street and paraded around Camden Town! One thing I can say....I have never led 200 people down a street in a Cassick before!!
St. Michael's Day for me was also a painful reminder of the community this church is located in. We have a woman named Sara who has been with St. Michael's Church ever since Nicholas has been there. She has had extreme ups and downs in her emotions and has wrestled with depression constantly. St. Michael's Day was a low day for her and she came to the mass absolutley drunk. She shouted out things during the service and even attacked one of the church wardens because they wouldn't serve her more communion wine. She then hid underneath the altar in the chapel for a while so that no one could talk with her or reason with her. After a couple people finally got her out of her "huddle" position in the chapel, she came into the sanctuary and threw one of the largest fits I have ever seen. Sara started punching the altar, kicking down all of the flowers and candle sticks, and even throwing down the cross near by. Finally, the church had to throw her drunk and beligerant self out.
This event has really caused me to think about how much the church can possibly reach out. The congregation of St. Michael's has known for years that Sara drinks and has even enrolled her in psychological courses. She just isn't able to follow through.
St. Michael's Church is no stranger to this behavior either. Acouple years ago they had two gentlemen walk in from the street and start fighting each other with knives from the coffee/tea bar after the mass. There have also been problems with people coming in off the street and having sex on the altar!! Talk about disprespect. Sometimes I can't believe that the church continues it's outreach to these people. Don't we need a little respect and thankyou? Ofcourse, I have to remind myself that most people are very appreciative of the church's actions in this community. The question still rolls in my head though- are there lines to be drawn in ministry?
St. Michael's Day for me was also a painful reminder of the community this church is located in. We have a woman named Sara who has been with St. Michael's Church ever since Nicholas has been there. She has had extreme ups and downs in her emotions and has wrestled with depression constantly. St. Michael's Day was a low day for her and she came to the mass absolutley drunk. She shouted out things during the service and even attacked one of the church wardens because they wouldn't serve her more communion wine. She then hid underneath the altar in the chapel for a while so that no one could talk with her or reason with her. After a couple people finally got her out of her "huddle" position in the chapel, she came into the sanctuary and threw one of the largest fits I have ever seen. Sara started punching the altar, kicking down all of the flowers and candle sticks, and even throwing down the cross near by. Finally, the church had to throw her drunk and beligerant self out.
This event has really caused me to think about how much the church can possibly reach out. The congregation of St. Michael's has known for years that Sara drinks and has even enrolled her in psychological courses. She just isn't able to follow through.
St. Michael's Church is no stranger to this behavior either. Acouple years ago they had two gentlemen walk in from the street and start fighting each other with knives from the coffee/tea bar after the mass. There have also been problems with people coming in off the street and having sex on the altar!! Talk about disprespect. Sometimes I can't believe that the church continues it's outreach to these people. Don't we need a little respect and thankyou? Ofcourse, I have to remind myself that most people are very appreciative of the church's actions in this community. The question still rolls in my head though- are there lines to be drawn in ministry?
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