Singing, Even when the CD Breaks (The Final Entry)

The month of July has marched by in a lot of various ways. It has felt like I have been in a crazy whirlwind that won't let up and allow me to take a breather. I have arguably been the busiest I have ever been in my life and know that life probably won't be this intense for a long while to come. When we come to the end of somthing, it is only natural that we want to "leave well" and leave wherever we were "better then when we came". I have been no exception to this rule as I have constantly been thinking about how to say goodbye.

Within this hard push of packing-up, goodbye's, and exchange of emotions I have continually asked myself "how can I be perfectly remembered?" It is probably a human emotion that drives us to leave everything in perfect order and ride out into the sunset like an American cowboy film hero. Perhaps the event that most emphasized this feeling was my coordination of a choir concert at Old St. Pancras Church.

I have had the blessing to conduct a Children's Choir at St. Michael's Primary School this past year which has really been an eye opener for me. The 35 kids in the choir come from all kinds of different backgrounds and cultures which is typical for this part of London. However, many of the children come from very difficult home lives as well and at age 11 find themselves taking care of their younger brothers and sisters without much assistance from the parents. Thus, the stress that faces these kids is absolutley incredible, but they somehow continue to have a passionate energy about life. Most of the kids in the choir can't read music at all and really dont' know proper singing technique. Over the past year, I have been working with them in their singing and have been incredibly proud of their progress. So proud, infact, that I suggested to the headteacher of the school that we give a concert. My thought was to have this concert be combined with various parishoners doing acts inbetween the song sets of the choir. She quickly agreed to the plan and I set out to plan the event.

After a month of planning and rehearsals, the concert finally commenced this last week. "It's going to be perfect!" , I thought. The programs were made, people seemed to be excited to come, the choir knew what they were going to do, and all of the acts seemed to be in place. Ofcourse, my expectation of what the concert should be was a little different to how it actually turned out. First of all, half of my kids showed up late for our meeting and warm-up time, so we were forced to run down to the church in order to start the concert on time. Then, Daniel, a wonderful young man in the parish who agreed to announce the acts somehow thought that the concert was at another church.....so I had to start the show. On top of that, one of the parishoners who was doing a dance for the show missed what time the show actually was so arrived 10 minutes after the concert ended. One can imagine (especially if you have perfectionist tendencies like me) that it became quite hard not to scream AHHH!!! and march out of the doors to go home.

I have found this year particularly that God has unique ways in which God challenges people and walks with people. So where was God in all of this mayhem that didn't seem to be going right? With the children ofcourse. Infact, I can tell you that I don't think I have ever felt the presence of God in a more real way than when I was up directing those children in singing. In one of the songs (which was accompanied by a CD), the CD started skipping and had to be quickly turned off. "GREAT!", I was screaming to myself as we were midway through the song. "We are really going to mess this one up now....". As soon as I had thought this, however, Liza (a 7 year old girl who is one of the youngest in the choir) flashed me a huge smile from the front row and started to clap to the beat. Suddenly, the entire choir was clapping and smiling even more broadly as they were singing (now by themselves). Then the audience joined in the fun and was so moved by the song that they gave us a standing ovation right after the piece ended. I was absolutley flaburgasted....it was such a beautiful moment that I was shaking and had to work at not tearing up too much in order to get through the rest of the songs.

And so the concert ended with everyone in tears and in smiles. "This was the most moving concert I have ever been to at St. Pancras Old Church!", one of the parishoners proclaimed. "I haven't had such a good evening in a very long time!", another person said. The concert did not turn out to be smooth running or perfect, infact far from it. Even though I was getting wonderful hugs, high-fives, and compliments I knew it was the kids who deserved the real applause. They were the ones who walked with me in this journey and actually pushed me ahead at times when I thought I couldn't continue any longer. They were the ones who reminded me that we can still do incredible things- even if they don't turn out the way we think they should turn out.

As I was walking home from the event that night, it finally hit me that this is how my year in London has gone as well. The year in the Parishes of St. Pancras has not gone perfectly and totally to plan....infact far from it. Looking back I laugh to myself in how chaotic at times it really was- having Father Nicholas leave midway through, starting an interim period with no idea how to function in one, parishoners dying, having no heat in the church, and having communication problems with staff and parishoners. But yet, like the kids, God has walked with me and reinforced the fact of "Yes, I can do this". My choir reminded me that God perhaps is more in the imperfect than in the perfect.

It is also important to remember how that journey never ends. I will leave London with a new and challenged concept of ministry. As I come back to Minnesota, start taking classes in seminary as a part-time student, and working to get myself back into the essence of U.S. cutlure, I am reminded that ministry is far from over. God still walks through and with all of us in every chapter of our lives.

As I was saying goodbye to the kids for the last time, I was bombarded with hugs and kisses. Liza, the same girl who started to clap in the concert came up to me and gave me one of the biggest hugs I have ever had. After, she turns to me with a huge smile and said, "You know what my most favorite part of the conert was?!" "What?", I replied. "When the CD broke, but we all continued to sing!!" She then skipped away from me and prominently asked one of her friends "So!! What are you excited about for next year?!" It was hard to miss the excitment that exuded from this little girl as she entered into a new chapter of her life.

As this will be my last entry, I ask for your prayers as I come home and begin my new life in the United States. I pray that we all may be able to reflect on each chapter of our lives as well as to continue the journey knowing that God will always there. May we always be thankful for all of the relationships that help us to see God and this beautiful creation. And finally, I encourage you to try and not get hung up on the things that don't go as planned, but to always be open to God who is working through all of us and to "keep singing, even when the CD breaks."

Holden Evening Prayer London Style

Over this summer, it has been a goal of mine to put more creativity into my work here at the Parish of St. Pancras. Being a Pastoral Assistant can be the same kind of work over and over again which is no fun. Thus, I decided to bring a little of myself into the act of worship here. Within this big plan of mine was the inclusion of the Holden Evening Prayer service into a Sunday mass. Father Bruce was extremely supportive with this idea and gave me the go ahead to try it out.

Holden Evening Prayer comes from a Lutheran retreat centre in the midst of the Cascade Mountains in Washington State. It is an extremely rural place that lies at the end of a 10 mile long lake so the only way to get there (unless being medically evacuated) is by boat. Holden Village is comitted to rejuvinating the Christian worship service with music and issues of peace and social justice.

The first thing that I had to do was to explain to an English parish what Holden Village was. "Holden Village is a Retreat Centre in Washington State", I said. "Oh, so does your church go there for meetings then?" "Yes, but mostly for worship and meditation", I replied. "Oh...meetings are not very medatative... at least in the Church of England". I finally figured out that what Holden Village is in "English terms" is a pilgramage site, not a retreat centre. After I made this clear, people finally had an idea on what I was talking about.

Holden Evening Prayer is also a serivce that is built on silence as well as music. Meditation is extremely important and somthing that I have gained a lot from in the service. At the begining of the worship, we had a long silence before the procession in. "This is going to be great!", I thought. The service began with me processing in with a candle and cantoring which broke the silence. I all of a sudden heard a high pitched "NOOOOO!!!!" from the side of the sanctuary. One of the young toddlers who had come didn't get their way and began to yell and scream. We then began the Evening Hymn which is a wonderful and soft hymn to begin the service. The yelling and screaming from before irritated another baby on the other side of the room which started to cry. Pretty soon, the hymn "Joyous Light" turned into a chorus of "Joyus Cries". AHH!! "They are ruining the service!!", I thought. "This isn't what it is suppose to be". Then, during one of the psalms which is sung in a round setting, ANOTHER baby started to cry which screwed me up in my leading the song. All of a sudden, the round started to become chaos. After the piece, I sunk into my chair...... "this service is a failure", I thought to myself.

Afterwards, I was helping with refreshments and had a herd of people come up to me. "What an incredible service!!", one person said. "It was so moving and the music was incredible!", another person said. "Thanks..", I replied still thinking to myself that they must be making up these coments just for me to feel good. At the very end, Peter Deed, an older member of St. Michael's Church came up to me and asked if he could keep the service sheet. "Ofcourse", I said. "Good, because it will be going right into my scrapbook when I get home. Everytime I will see it I will now think of the incredible young man you are and how wonderful Lutheran worship can be! It really touched me", he said. I was flaburgasted. He was going to put the service sheet into his scrapbook?? Really? Maybe everyone was not making up these coments. Maybe it truly was an experience that people felt God's presence in.

I think that when we bring somthing of ourselves to another environment to share, we want it exactly the same and want it to change people in the same way that it changed us. I know I put so many conditions on to how this evening worship would be recieved that I percieved it as a failure even before it ended. In truth, people do see how important somthing can be to you and will gladly take part in it. They will be changed....only in their own way. Holden Evening Prayer was a sucess for this place. People were rejuvinated and refreshingly suprised at how they found God in somthing new. That, I have finally figured out, was the whole point.

Going to Iona Just as I Am

For my last holiday of this year I decided to visit the last country in the UK that I haven't been to yet- Scotland. My trip included two days in the village of Stirling where Matt, another American Lutheran volunteer is working and then making the pilgramage to the island of Iona for another three days. It was an exciting adventure indeed.

Matt was one of the volunteers that I visited Israel with so we have gotten very close. I haven't seen him since we went on that adventure in February, so it was really good to see him again and catch up. Matt is working with a Baptist Church right in the center of town doing mostly youth work and music ministry. He has been challenged by his job in many ways (in some similar ways to how I have been challenged with my job in London), so it was wonderful to converse about the various experiences we have had and share support and encouragment. Matt has an incredible sense of humor and I knew I wouldn't stop laughing the whole time I was in Stirling. My holiday got off to a great start when Matt invited me to come a long with him to a bible study that he puts on with his youth every Monday night. In order to get to where the session was being held, we had to bike across the village which didn't seem like a big deal. Matt's host father kindly lent me his bike which looked like a very nice race race bike. It, however, didn't really turn out to be in very nice condition since I later learned that Matt's host dad hadn't ridden it in about a year. The tires were flat, the brakes didn't really work, and I couldn't figure out how to change gears. "Let's go!", said Matt as he hopped onto his bike and rode away. "Alrighty!", I said as I hopped onto this not-so-much-in-working-order contraption. As soon as I got on, I realized that the tires were completly flat........then as I rode acouple feet I realize that I was in the hardest gear and couldn't switch out of it.........and then I rode another couple feet and saw that there was a vehicle infront of me which I couldn't stop for because of the less-than-optimum brakes. As Matt describes it, he turned around to see me literally bump into the back bumper of a car and then systematically fall over. "I've never seen somthing so hilarious in my life!!", he exclaimed. Needless to say, I never heard the end of this event and honestly could not stop laughing at myself for it. I'm definelty going to be more careful with a foreign bike next time!

After the two days in Stirling Scotland and finding all about William Wallace (yes, Sitrling is the CENTER for William Wallace and Scotland Independence.....too bad I couldn't find the movie Braveheart before I came), I made the big adventure up to Iona. Iona is a small island off the western coast of Scotland (it's only about 1 sq. mile large). The village on the island called Belle Mor'e only has a population of about 150 people. Even though it is quite small, this island has a history which is quite large. In the 6th century, St. Columba traveled over from Ireland and started a monastary here. It was this monastary that provided a stepping stone for Christianity to spread into Scotland. The island is perhaps the center of celtic cutlure and ruins in the Scottish countryside. It contains graves, monuments, and carvings that are quite spectacular and which illuminate the ideas and thoughts of the early Celtic Christians.

To get there is still a long journey even in 2008. One must take a train all the way to the northwestern Scottish coast to a village called Oban (which is about a 9 hour train ride from London). Then, one must hurry onto the ferry which takes you to the very scenic island of Mull. You must then get off and buy a ticket from a Scottish driver whom you can't really understand and get on an old, creeky bus for a 75 minute ride across the island. Once on the other side of Mull, you then get on another ferry (this one a lot smaller and a little more "rocky") for your final leg to the island of Iona. This entire journey only connects once a day which you have to research carefully otherwise you might be stranded on one leg of the adventure for a while. Luckily, I got there without much difficulty.

When one is traveling alone, you become more aware of the people around you. This is what was the most wonderful thing about the trip....meeting people that are as crazy as you to go to a dinky little island in the middle of the Atlantic. I met a wonderful reitred couple named Dale and Regina who were from Washington State and were just as taken with the scenery and culture as I was. Both were retired public school teachers who were very interested in music. When they heard that I too was a singer, they began to show me various songs that they and their community choir sing. "Let's sing somthing!", exclaimed Dale as he shuffled through some music that they had brought along. I dread to think what the Scots thought of three Americans on the ferry to Iona literally shouting the hymn "What Wondrous Love is This" over the engine noise of the boat. Even so, it really helped me to get into the spirit of coming to this remarkable place.

The old Abbey and surrounding buildings on Iona have been taken over by an Ecumenical Christian community called the Iona Community. Being very similar to a "Holden Village" in the United States, the Iona Community stresses peace, justice, and new ways of worship. The first night I was there, I heard the bells of the Abbey ring for Vespers at 9pm and decided to go. In this beautifully restored medeval church they had a long table set up in the front section. Everyone was invited to take a seat at the table and participate in communion. As the beautiful music rang through the great stonework of the church and as the minister blessed the bread and the wine, I was suddenly moved to tears. This was a place that was steeped in a thousand years of history and somehow graciously mixed it with a hopeful practice of the future. The island seemed to call to me in a real way saying "You are welcome here, just as you are." Even with my scratched up hands from my clumsy bike riding, my horse voice from my singing, and my tired spirit from working hard in London, I was accepted and "held" here. Many things came together for me that night at the table as I was taking communion. I felt extremly humbled and in awe. As I walked back to the village after the service, I looked up at the star lit sky and said a little prayer: "Thankyou God for getting me here saftley.......thankyou God for this beautiful place.....thankyou God for making me just as I am."

God's Presence and Father Malcolm's Motorcycle

In July, we will be taking 30 kids from our pairsh about 100 miles north of London for the annual Children's Holiday. Being a Pastoral Assistant, I am directly involved in the planning of this adventure. One thing I do know about it is that it is going to be an adventure for sure! "It always is when you take inner city kids out of their element and into the country", says Father Malcolm. Even though it can be stressful at times with all of the details in planning, I have enjoyed working with Father Malcolm in getting this week off the ground.

To get better prepared for this event, Father Malcolm invited me to come along with him up north to see the Chellington Center (where we will be staying) and make a desicion between two retreat centers we want to take the kids during two of the days. I responded eagerly because I knew what was coming next after his invitation. "So, do you want ride with me on my bike? It'll be much faster than a car.", he said. Of course, when Father Malcolm means "his bike", he isn't talking about a little 18 speed touring bike that you are lucky to not get hit with in London traffic. No, he is talking about his prized posession- a Honda Motorcycle.

Now, Father Malcolm like many of us has a hidden side. Ofcourse, all of us do in one form or another and some are better at hiding it than others. Maybe it's your secret hobby of collecting "cool rocks" or your fascination with wierd looking buildings. For Father Malcolm, it's being free of all things that hold you down; it's a desire for speed and motorcycles. Perhaps this was infused within him when he owned his own construction business before becoming a priest, or even in his teenage years when he grew up in the inner city of Cape Town, South Africa. Whenever he took on this "other side", Father Malcolm is the only priest I have ever known to do his pastoral visiting in black boots, leather straps, bike jacket......and a clerical collar.

Thus, I sheepishly got on the back of the motorcycle for the first time excited but not really knowing what to expect. I put on this HUGE, space age looking motorcycle helmet and hung on. Going through London traffic was not bad at all. It was great to weave in and out of vehicles and not really get held up by big traffic jams. We then got on the M1 (an English freeway) and ran into construction.... 45mph.......55mph....60mph.... It wasn't that bad really at all. Then, the construction came to an end, and my life flashed before my eyes....AAAAAHHHHHHHHHH!!!!!! We accelerated like a bullet out of a gun and tore down the freeway. The wind was so much that it jittered my entire body.

At first, I was scared out of my mind. I froze up and hung onto Malcolm with all of my strength. What if we slipped? What if we fell? What if I got run over by a truck? I couldn't bare the thought of it. I then focused my attention onto Malcolm and made a big discovery. I noticed how relaxed he was and how he just leaned back and forth with the bike. I said a little prayer and asked that I could relax just like Malcolm. I let go of my white knuckled grip a little and sunk into the seat of the motorcycle. I suddenly felt a smooth sense of calm come over me and began to notice the most beautiful landscape that we were entering into.

In my mind, I suddenly realized how my own life can be reflected on this experience. Life can be a freeway in many ways- sometimes so slow that we can't even bare it and sometimes so fast that we that we have no idea on what will come next. In my own journey, I am in a very fast and accelerated moment right now and sometimes want to hold on for dear life. But God continually helps me see to relax and sink back into the seat a little. When I find I do relax and move with the "back and frow" movement that occurs, I have the blinders removed and can be thankful for where I am right now. For Christ is there with us and inviting us to enjoy the journey.

After our long day of desicions and riding through the country, we finally made it back to London. I thanked Malcolm for allowing me to take part in his "motorcycle hobby". "It reminds you how God is always there doesn't it", he said. He is very right. God is always here. No matter if you are standing still or blasting down the freeway at 95 mph. May we all feel God's presence in the slow and fast parts of our lives.

London: Experiencing it with a Friend

The month of May has been very busy on multiple levels. Parish work continues to rumble along at a good pace and the realization of a time when I will be leaving this place keeps poking at me in stronger ways. This month has also been a time where more than ever, my two worlds (the world of Minnesota and the world of London) keep crashing into one another.

No more is this apparent then when I am hosting friends here. EVERYONE it seems wants to come to London. I sometimes think I should quit my work in the church and just open "Eric's Hotel" at the Vicarage. Along with many of my fellow traveling volunteers now realizing that they only have a couple months left here, there have also been a couple friends from the United States that have made the adventure to this wonderful country known as England.

One such friend who just spent 10 days here is called Nicholas. Nicholas and I met two years ago in Glacier National Park when we were both on an ACMNP (A Christian Ministry in the National Parks) worship team. Having both discovered our passion for Lutheran theology and music, we hit it off and have become very good friends ever since. Nicholas just completed his second year of seminary at Luther Seminary and is about to head off to his intership.

When you are volunteering abroad for a year, you have to be very careful in how you see your past friendships fitting in with your current life. It can be very hard at times as these two different worlds don't overlap much at all. What is incredibly beneficial about it if you do get it to work, however, is that it becomes an opportunity where you can show them a glimpse of the struggles, joys, and environment that you unkowningly have grown to love (at least for me).

Because of Nicholas being so involved in the United States with the church, I decided I wanted to show him as much as I could on how this parish in London works. One such event that I brought him to was an outing with 40 Year 6 (Grade 5) school children to Hampstead Heath from Brecknock Primary School. This opportunity was perhaps the greatest window into the deep, varied, and rich culture of London. Nicholas later commented how incredible it was to be around so many kids of different faiths and cultures. Nicholas saw first hand how to interact and relate to others. "Do you pray??", asked one of the Bangoli Muslim girls to Nicholas. "Yes", he replied. "We pray too! Why do you pray?", she asked. "Well", he said, "It's a good chance to give thanks for the things that we eat and thank God for life." "Yeah, but sometimes I forget to pray.... do you forget to pray?", she asked again. "Ofcourse, we are human", he said, "We forget sometimes." Immediatley, a big smile appeared girl's face. For these kids, ministry is being there and relating to them, not lecturing them. It is a chance to show both them and us that we have more in common than what we think. Nicholas and I both came away from this experience with a new sense of life in our hearts.

Nicholas also joined me for an event in the parish called "Parish Club". This group is basically made up of older church woman that get together every other week for tea and talk about various subjects. Realizing that a lot of people here know that I am Lutheran but are unaware of what exactly that means I decided that it would be a lot of fun to tell these Church of England women about the Lutheran Church. After explaining a little about Luther's life and theology, we wrapped up with a triumphant hymn of "A Mighty Fortress". The women absolutley loved it! Acouple days later, one of the ladies came up to me and said "You know what? After your presentation I went out and aquired a book about Martin Luther. I already have a que up of people who are going to get it next after I read it!" It was quite an honor indeed.

This morning Nicholas left for home to start his new summer job. We both walked down to Kings Cross Station having a wonderful discussion on the future and what lies ahead for us. After embracing, I watched my friend get on the train bound for Heathrow Airport and kept thinking to myself: Nicholas is no longer a friend who will be hearing stories of London from me, but a friend who has experienced London with me. In a future that lends itself to being uncertain, that is a foundation I can count on.

Being Still in Ireland

Last week I had the extrorindary opportunity to go on retreat to Ireland. Not realizing that my job gives me retreat time on top of my holiday time until a few weeks ago, I was lucky to find the place that I went to.

Holy Hill Hermitage is located on the northwest coast of Ireland near Sligo. The monks (both men and women) are associated with the Carmalite order and have two hermitages- one in Ireland and one in Colorado. Since the group originally started in Colorado, all of them are American (including the five "apostolic hermits" in Ireland). The hermitage was a grand old manor house which was owned by a wealthy Irish businessman in the early 19th century. The man eventually died and the family finally gave it to the Catholic diocese. The church in turn handed it over to this order of monks who took it upon themselves to rebuild the entire property. When it was the aquired, the house was in terrible condition and the stables were just walls with trees growing inside. 15 years later, this is a very different story. The stable area was turned into apartments, a kitchen, and a library that contained 6,000 volumes. The house has been totally redone and now incorporates many offices, sitting rooms, and a chapel. There are now about 10 cabins on the entire estate (5 of which the hermits use) and are rented out to retreatants. Perhaps the most amazing thing about this site is that these Carmalite monks did most of the construction and restoration themselves.

I flew out of London at 8am and got into Dublin at around 9am. After finding the main train station, I boarded a train and headed across Ireland (from the East Coast to the West Coast) and got into Sligo at around 2pm. What I did not think out clearly was the fact that it was a Bank Holiday that day (the UK and Ireland have Bank Holidays on specific dates- they are glorious things). My next step from Sligo was to take a short bus ride to the little village of Skreen where the monks were supposed to pick me up (though I had not made recent contact). Stumbling up to the bus station with all my things, I realized that no buses were going to Skreen that day because of the Bank Holiday. Wondering what my next step was, I called the hermitage and finally got through. One of the sisters answered and seemed surprised to hear from me. Apparently, one of the other monks had misread my email and the dates that I gave for staying there. They actually expected me a day later instead of the Bank Holiday. On top of that, she said that they usually don't take retreatants on Mondays because it is there "Desert Day", or the day where they have complete solitude and are out of the office. "You are one lucky young man!", she said. The only reason why she was in the office was to grab some keys for the hermitage vehicle to take another retreatant back to the train station in Sligo (because the busses were not running). Luckily, my phone call intercepted her while she was there and she randomly decided to pick up the phone. It was a day that I had the Lord on my side!

After arriving and upacking in my wonderfully furnished cabin which lay about 20 ft. away from a mountain stream, I went for a walk around the property. It was an incredible evening (the weather followed the same theme every day of the week- warm and sunny), and I found wonderful places of peace among the flowers, trees, and vegetables that lay all around. The hermitage lay at the foot of a large mountain which rose impressivly above our cabins. From the manor house, one could stretch out and read infront of a breathtaking view of the Atlantic Ocean and other mountains across the bay.

In my week with the monks, I participated in many community activities of gardening, mowing, and hiking. One of the monks, Brother Thomas, really connected with me as we both have a deep interest in hiking. Thomas was the first insulin dependent diabetic to hike the 2,000 mile Appalachian Trail streight through. He hiked it in 121 days!! "That is how I decided to become a monk", he said. "I needed to be with nature." Thomas used to be a public accountant before turning to the monastic life. He summed up his incredible story by saying: "You just need to be still sometimes." Being still was a very important part of my time in Ireland. For the first time, I could listen to the birds, water, leaves, and wind and really take somthing deeper in.

This proved incredibly true on my last day in Ireland when I decided to bike down to the beach (or "Strand" as the Irish call it). It was a cooler day and overcast which contrasted with the beautiful week of weather that we had previously. When I arrived at the beach I found that I was the only person there. This beach stretched about 8 miles down the coast and presented you with the most incredible Irish countryside views. Being suprised at the fact of me being the only one there, I first became sheepish and just sat near the car park and watched the waves come in. However, seeing this as an opportunity to be with God, I later got up and started to walk and then playfully run across the vast stretches of beach! As my footprints dotted the shoreline, I stopped again and listened.... The waves crashed along the shore and my heavy breathing were the only sounds that anyone could hear for miles around. Time seemed to stand still.

Sometimes it is the moments that we have alone with God that refresh us the most. For me, Ireland filled me with the most incredible joy and hope. We all need retreats I think. We all need to be with God in a new way.

Tis' the Season of Taxes and Anual Church Meetings

There comes a point in every year where you take the time to pour over all of the numbers and issues of the past and try to focus on a new set of statistics. For many of us good citizens of the world, this comes in April where we pay our tribute to the spirits of tax and rebate. In the UK, there is no difference in this anual ritual and the church also participates. As part of a governmental order by the Church of England, all parishes need to have their Anual Parochial Church Meeting (APCM) in the month of April. Thus, I had the privilage to continue my observation in the way a church is run.

After mass at St. Michael's, all of the parishoners, priest, and church council (observed by some homeless people in the back ofcourse) gathered in the sanctuary for the meeting. Father Bruce started off with his priest report which gave a very positive message on how St. Michael's has done without their parish priest of 12 years (Fr. Nicholas) so far. "We must continue our positive energy and show this community that we are not just a building, but a family ", he said.

Then it was Will's, the treasurer of St. Michael's, turn to share his report. Unfortunatley, this report wasn't as rosey. Because of the dramatic rise in living costs within London, gifts to the church just haven't been able to keep up with the need. Therefore, St. Michael's Church has had to do some dramatic moves to keep it's costs down. One of these measures was not turning on the heat for the building this winter. The debate among the parishoners then began to commence. It was the question on everyone's mind: What can we do to keep costs down?

Now, it is a challenging job to keep any meeting on track sometimes. However, for some wierd reason, church meetings are always the worst at getting offtrack. Being that St. Michael's is made up of such a varied population, it undoubtly is the king of "getting-off-the-beaten-path" meetings. "Why can't we just close the door when we are having mass?", asks one person. "I think we should invest in environmentally sustainable ways of heating our building", another person immediatley responds. "Now going back to that first question", replies a third person, " We can't shut the door because it won't give as welcoming of a message." "And it lets the pigeons in!", came a response from the back. "Yeah! Pigeons are a huge problem right now, we just can't have them inside flying around." "I think we should shoot 'em", said a younger boy in the front row. "Yes! I motion that we get a guy in to shoot the pigeons in our church!", yelled an older lady. "I refuse to come to this church if we shoot pigeons...that is ethically wrong. We should have a picture of a hawk infront of the door.", yelled a younger parishoner. "Well, that will just look frick'n ugly!", said a person who I swore walked in just a minute ago. Father Bruce and Emily (the church warden) finally mentioned that we were on the topic of managing our costs, not of hiring someone to come in and shoot pigeons.

Needless to say, it was one of the most amazing "meeting adventures" I have ever had! Amazingly, we actually were able to get some things done in the end. The parishoners voted in a new church council in, decided on some logical ways to cut costs, and even took some steps to start doing somthing with the pigeons. It's amazing on what can be accomplished, even when everyone seems to want somthing different.

I acknowledge Fr. Bruce and Emily for leading such a good meeting. One never really thinks about the usefullness of having skills to lead a good meeting, but they are very good indeed! In many ways, it must be the grace of God that some decisions are made in parishes. Father Bruce said it best as we were leaving the church. He turned to me, smiled, and said "See, there is a God."

Entering into the Passion of Music....... Again.

This last evening I went with a parishoner of St. Paul's Church to a choir rehearsal. This choir was and unusual choir in that it wasn't formed for performing at all. Infact, to my suprise this group gives absolutley NO performances at all.

The London Motet and Madrigal Chorus was formed over 60 years ago by a group of retired singers who just wanted the chance to keep singing. Over it's history the group has grown and transformed into it's current state repetoire, but still keeps the same mission- singing for the enjoyment of singing. About 40 people gathered at the Methodist International Center for a fun and light-hearted rehearsal of various English Madrigals and Sacred Works.

I immediatley noticed that I was the youngest singer in the group by about 30 years. This, however, didn't prevent anyone from coming up to greet me. "Welcome!", said an elderly man with a thick Welsh accent. "Are you a Tenor or Barritone?" "I am a Tenor", I replied. He then kindly brought me over to the Tenor section and had a very enteratining argument with another chap about if I should sing First Tenor or Second Tenor. "He looks like he is a wonderfully spirited young man who should have the privilage of singing First Tenor with me!", one of the men said. "Now, it is not polite to put a new guest in the front row!", stated the other. It was finally decided that I would sing Second Tenor along side an elderly professor from the University of London called Bert. "I'm glad you're here! I dont' have much of a voice today!", said Bert.

I was immediatley given three thick English Madrigal books and looked through a list of pieces that we were going to sing. As soon as I started looking through the book, I heard a loud clearing of the throat from the conductor's stand: "aaaaakkkkhhhhhheeeeemmmmm". There stood a nicely dressed, very slender, middle aged man. "I am so glad that you have come out this evening to sing with us!", he said in one of the most stereotypical English Professor accents I have ever heard. The conductor's name was Jonathan. Jonathan works as choir master for a church down the road and also gives some of his time to the local universities as visiting faculty. His quirky "Britishness" made me like him instantly and he did a wonderful job at keeping the group together.

As soon as we started singing the first piece, I felt a new part of me come to life. Oh how I have missed being in a choral ensemble- more than I really even thought. "This is so incredible!", I thought to myself as Bert was blaring into my ear and Jonathan was doing a wierd "Madrigal Dance" up in front. In many ways, I felt like I was home.

As I walked back to the Vicarage after rehearsal singing Madrigal tunes I realized how much music needs to be a part of my life. Not only in the case of listening to it, but being involved in it. I think everyone has a certain spiritual part of them that is fed by a certain somthing. Maybe it is writing, or painting, or even walking. What I know about myself now is that singing feeds that part of me in a very real way. You can bet I'll be back for the next rehearsal!

Being Lost and Reminded that "Any Dream will Do"

"Go, Go, Go Joseph!" all the kids were saying as we were coming out of the theatre. This week, I had the wonderful opportunity along with Owen and Fr. Malcolm to take 60 youth and their parents to a West End production of Joseph and the Amazing Technicolour Dreamcoat. It was absolutely fantastic and an event that the kids won't forget for a long time. Father Malcolm came up with the idea to do this last autumn and had been working hard on the fundraising to pull it off. To my amazment, he was able to get all 60 tickets and give them to the kids and their parents for free. All he asked for in return was for them to give a donation of what they could to the event.

Even transportation was worked out as Father Malcolm has a good friend who owns a very old and worn, but trusty double-decker bus. It turned out to be the perfect vehicle indeed! Thus, we joined all of the other "trendy" West End Musical goers and (at least I thought) pulled off the image well. The only difference was that instead of pulling up in a BMW or City Coach- 60 of us pulled up infront of the theatre in a big, smokey, purple coloured double decker bus. The kids loved the attention from all of the other concert-goers.

The musical Joseph was written in the late 1960's by Andrew Lloyd Weber and continues to be loved by the British theatre community. Ofcourse, in line with the "hippy" era that it was written in, the musical contains all of the flash and glammour that you would expect (my favorite was how Pharoh in the musical was played like Elvis!) The UK has been taken by the American Idol craze and has spun off a number of similar shows- one of which last year was searching for a new "Joseph" lead in the musical. The country voted and with a huge majority favored Lee Meed as the new Jospeh. This great performer became Britian's new overnight celebrity and is still putting on incredible performances every night. He sings the part with incredible energy and emotion. This energy ignited our group and the kids were singing musical songs all the way back home. What a tremendous event to be a part of!

After the Joseph event and another long and extensive week, I decided to take a free day and go to the beautiful village of St. Albans (about 30 miles outside of London). It was so nice as the town contrasts London so greatly with the more peace and quiet. In my hurried preperation to go, I didn't really put in any details of the village in my bag so I didn't really have any idea where anything was. I decided that this was ok and just wandered around for a bit. I finally (after walking the wrong direction) found the highstreet and central square of the town. Then, walking further, I came upon the medival Cathedral. I sat in the Cathderal for a while and then went walking around again before deciding to come back to the Cathedral. A wedding was just ending in the chapel, so I quietly stood around and admired the windows.

Upon my viewing of the various things in the Cathedral, I had a surprising tap on my shoulder and a rather tatty looking elderly man smiling at me. "I've seen you twice now walking up and down the Highstreet and around the Cathedral", he said. "Now this is the third time I have seen you and with due respect sir, you look lost." Being surprised at this comment, I chuckled a little bit and said that I was just here from London and making it a day out. We talked for a little while about the wedding that was just ending as he knew the groom involved. "Would you like to walk up to the pub with me to get a drink- or don't you drink?", the man asked. Not being really sure (because of the man's outward apperance) if I would be the one paying for the drinks I hesitated for a split second. However, somthing about the man really struck me as being very genuine and real so I took him up on his offer.

He was infact true to his word and bought me a pint of Guiness. As we sat down he said, "Now back at the Cathedral, I only meant partly that you look lost geographically.....I'm just going to be honest with you sir, you also look weighed down by somthing." Again, I was surprised at his very honest and upfront nature and replied that I did indeed feel weighed down by things. I suddenly realized that this day was probably the first day in a many weeks that I could actually allow myself to feel lost in a way. The stresses of work in London and my future obligations in life continue to put a lot of weight upon my shoulders, but don't allow much opportunity to outwardly show the stresses. "You can't let yourself be sucked in by things all the time.", the man said. "I'll be honest with you, I've been in that place too." He went on to explain how his job in aerospace engineering consumed both himself and his marriage. "I'll just be honest with you, you need to let yourself have times to express your insecurities but then also have people there for you who can walk with you in those insecurities. I've hadn't had that a lot in my life.", he finally said.

I was greatly inspired by what he had to say and his really honest spirit. We both sat and shared a lot about ourselves and what makes us feel "lost". After about a two hour discussion in the pub, it was time to go. "I'll be honest with you, you're a fantastic kid with lots of spirit and I respect you a lot.", he said as he shook my hand. As I was walking out of the pub, I turned around quickly forgetting to ask his name! "My name is Eric!", I said. "What's your's?" "Michael", he replied as he toasted his beer glass to me.

What I finally realized as I was walking back to the train station was the whole beauty of presence. Here was a man who thoughtfully acknowledged my being "lost" and who gracefully wanted to help. In many ways, Michael too was "lost" and gratefully thanked me for being there to help as well. BOTH of us needed each other in a way. We all get "lost" in our lives sometimes and burdened down with the stresses and responsibilities. In that struggle, there can sometimes be no more powerful thing than the presence and attention of another human being. Michael didn't give me any quick answers to solve any of the stresses or fears that I have, nor did I really give him any either. But what did lift both of us in the pub that day was the fact that there are human beings in this world that can give respect and share in struggles and stresses. Michael reminded me of that in a very real way. May we all have the courage to do to the same.

A Lesson of Love

This Easter time has been a very special time for me as I had the opportunity to spend it with my beautiful girlfriend Abby. She arrived in the middle of Holy Week, the most busy week of the year for me in the parish. My schedule was very intense as I had to: prepare for mass every day on Monday, Tuesday, and Wednesday, help create a Garden of Repose (very important in the Anglican tradition) and be at the four-hour long Vigil on Thursday, prepping two 3 hour long masses back to back on Friday, and finally helping with both the Easter Vigil on Saturday and Easter Masses on Sunday. Needless to say, the week was jam packed. Incredibly, we were able to find things to do alone together as in going out for dinner and even going to a West End production of Les Miserables.

It still amazes me as to how a relationship grows and matures in a long distance environment. The state of being in a long distance relationship continues to pose new challenges and questions that I never expect. Ironically, I found that this was never more true than when my significant other was phsycially two feet away from me! Funny how that is....

I think one of the joys and challenges that face any relationship which spreads a distance is that of images. These images of your partner build themselves within our minds, even when we perhaps don't intend them to. When you are living in a world that is independent from the world of your partner, I think it is quite easy for these images to flurish. And for the most part they should! Knowing that your girlfriend or boyfriend is there with you in spirit is a powerful thing that has helped me a lot through tough and stressful times in London. In this sense, there is somthing comforting within this deeply personal and almost spiritual presence of your significant other. I find this to be an amazing and incredible gift when you find it. It emphasises another dimension to your relationship that is quite special and reminds you that you are never alone.

In another way I think that images from long distance can be challenging. I have found out that you must not let your images of the person turn into expectations. This is very hard, if not impossible to not let happen at least a little bit. When not reminded of the true physical person, your imagination starts to build upon their unique qualities and attributes- esspeically within stressful situations that you really want them there for. Without being acknowledged, these feelings can command your perspective of the relationship. In some ways, I think this happened to me.

Instead of walking off the plane as the "sexual goddess who always says the right things and does no wrong", Abby walked off the plane as .....Abby. So thus, the challenge came to start things over in some ways. Ofcourse I did know who Abby was on one level throughout the 7 months of phone calls and emails. But what suprised me more than anything was how much I did not know her on other levels. One forgets when they are in a long distance relationship about all of the levels in a relationship. I found that I had forgotten about her physical energy and her amazing facial expressions, how she walks and carries herself, and her general physical zest for life. All these things create the balanced whole. Getting to know each other again can be quite stressful and hard. Esspecially in a foreign environment when you don't truly know which way is up or down.

What I learned more than anything about having Abby here was the many qualities of love and what it takes to enter fully into a relationship with one another. Love is romantic and should be full of "highs" as having a romantic dinner or walking along the beach. College relationships are perhaps more abundant with these "highs" and you get used to the constant buzz of romance. But love also has a tough side, a side that needs comitment and patience. This side of love can hit you like a ton of bricks and leave you feeling unprepeared. It is somthing that couples usually have to struggle through- especially when dealing with long distance. However, when you come out on the other side of this love, which will happen, I find that you will be all the stronger and grounded.

And you know what? It's worth it. Perhaps it is God talking within me that is giving me the strength to carry on, or perhaps it is craziness. It is probably both. Whatever it is, I know how blessed I am to have this girl in my life and for us to share a love that spans 4,000 miles. It was an incredible faith and emotional journey to have her here in the UK with me. What will I remember most from the whole thing? Falling in love with the "real" Abby all over again.

Royal Albert Hall and a New Sense of Life.

This last week, Mrs. Trigg- the headmistress at St. Michael's Primary School, asked me to accompany the Year 5 class on a field trip to the Royal Albert Hall. St. Michael's was part of a huge group of schools invited to the hall to participate in the Camden Music Festival. Over 2,000 kids from around the Bourough of Camden participated in this event. What an event it was indeed! Knowing that this would be an incredible experience, I didn't hesitate to say yes to this invitation.

At the end of the school day, the 20 kids from Year 5 and four adults boarded a coach and braved London traffic to get to the Royal Albert Hall. The ring leader of all of us was an energetic, and goofy Year 5 teacher named Mr. Russel. While on the coach, Mr. Russel did not hesitate to join in with the kids as they were singing some of the songs for the evening concert. He joked around and seemed in his prime with the kids. His inspiring energy made the long trip through the heavy traffic go quickly.

Royal Albert Hall is one of the largest performance halls in the world as it houses around 4,500 people. Thus, the 2,000 kids who were participating in the evening concert barley filled up half of it. It was an incredible sight to see all of the various school uniforms color the already beautiful hall. St. Michael's school was instructed to take a place right up on stage. I've never been so thrilled! There we were, with the pipes of the GIGANTIC Royal Albert Hall pipe organ rising in our background, sitting on stage at one of the most famous concert halls in the world! Then all the kids started to sing....and what a sound it was! There were so many kids (three sections of the hall were filled) singing during the mass choir pieces that it took four conductors to keep everthing together. I still can't believe how the three choir conductors and an orchestra conductor kept everything in line. They even mangaged to pull off a rather descent sounding Gloria by Vivaldi. The British do not shy away from challenge in the arts! Perhaps Americans could learn a thing or two about the English passion for challenging music.

The period inbetween the rehearsal and the concert got challenging as the energy from the kids got higher and higher. So what do you do with 2,000 10-12 year olds who become wrestless? Good question... I dont' really know. The organizers didn't really know either so consequently we had piles of kids running around and playing tag in the fancy corridors. To my amazment, some of the kids actually got THE WAVE started before the concert began. Yes ladies and gentlemen.... I have seen the wave go around the entire Royal Albert Hall like it was a football stadium. A site to see!

Because of the kids starting to go bonkers, Mr. Russel decided to take the St. Michael's kids out and have them run around in a nearby park. As the kids were playing a British version of Red Rover, I got the chance to look up and see the moon rise right above the Royal Albert Hall. It was a very clear and brilliant night as one could see even the London eye peaking through the trees. It was one of those moments for me when time decided to stop for an instant and I reflected on how blessed I was to be in that very spot. I was incredibly thankful for that moment as it created a space where I could back up for one instant and actually see where I was at and what I was doing. We all get so focused and burried within all the activity that goes on in our lives that it sometimes becomes quite difficult to see the "big picture".

Spring has start to come in London and things are begining to change. Not only can I see the new buds start to form on the trees and the flowers start to bloom, but a new look on people's faces. It is a fantastic time of new life and hope. I saw the first glimmer of this outside Royal Albert Hall this week. I pray that we all might have the chance to stop where we are and aquire a new sense of life this spring.

A Celebration of Father Nicholas's Ministry in Paris Photos

Father Bruce getting off the Eurostar train in Paris .

The Organ pipes with the sunlight shining through the Rose Window in St.Vincent de Paul.

The wonderful view of Paris from the roof of St. Vincent de Paul.

Father Nicholas.

Me in the commanding presence of Notre Dame.

A Celebration of Father Nicholas's Ministry in Paris

As we continue to move towards the Easter season, life in the Parish of St. Pancras has changed considerably recently with the departure of Father Nicholas, the Team Rector. His final service of comissioning took place last Sunday at St. Mary's Church (one our four church buildings). It was quite a bitter-sweet occasion as the packed church listened to their priest one last time before he left for mission work in Brazil. In true Nicholas fashion, he did literally "leave for Brazil" after the service as the taxi was waiting for him at the door. With a crowd of parishoners on both sides of the sidewalk, Father Nicholas paraded through the front door of the church (in what seemed very remindful of a wedding departure). Once he gave his last goodbye hugs and kisses, he entered the taxi with his parents and drove off into the evening. It was quite an emotional time indeed for everyone.

This final celebration was preceeded by a trip to Paris the day before. Father Nicholas has worked for 12 hard years to promote the church within the new billion pound St. Pancras International Station and highspeed rail service. With his and other people's hard work, there now is a dedicated chaplaincy within the station and a name of St. Pancras that is retained- both of which Eurostar officials were originally opposed to. Our parish has now "twined" with a parish on the other side of the channel called St. Vincent de Paul in Paris. With all of this work now seeming to pay off, it was only fitting that the staff and church council of the Parish of St. Pancras ride the new Eurostar line to meet our new friends in France.

Without much sleep at all, we all arrived at St. Pancras International at 6am to check in for our train that departed right on time at 6.55am. The ride of the train was incredible as it felt like we were literally floating. However with a top speed of 184 mph., a person sitting in a seat facing backwards (like the seat I was sitting in) can still be prone to motion sickness. When we got to Paris 2 hours later, I still tried to hold my head up high... but I sure didn't feel very well.

Our friends from St. Vincent de Paul were at the Gard du Nord Station with smiling faces and open arms. They immediatley took us to their grand church which is only about 5 blocks away from the Train Station. After drinking wonderful French coffee and eating some tasty pastries, we went on a tour of the church. St. Vincent de Paul has had a similar history to that of St. Michael's Church (one of our four churches). It is a wonderful, grand, old building that is becoming tired and worn out. We were told the very familiar story of how the parish is struggling to raise enough money in order to keep the building together. Currently it is the roof that is the problem being over 100 years old. There are large buckets stacked along the walls ready to catch dripping water during a rain storm. "We hope we can replace the roof before the wood floor is completly gone", said Father Bruno as he was taking us around the chapel. In the fact that we would not be able to go ontop of the Eifel Tower because of the tremendous crowds on a saturday, Father Bruno and the parishoners took us on a private tour up on the roof of the church. "We think this is an even better view!", said one of the parishoners. "The best part about it too is that it is free!" And what a magnificant view it was indeed! All of Paris seemed to be stretched out infront of us. It was a sight I will not forget for a long time!

After a wonderful reception at St. Vincent de Paul, the 18 of us from St. Pancras boarded a city bus and headed to the Eifel Tower. I know from past conversations that you shouldn't expect to be "wowed" be the height of the Eifel. What is incredible is to see, however, is the size of the base. It's HUGE! What an incredible achievement the structure of the Eifel Tower is! For lunch, we boarded a boat and cruised down the Seine River admiring the French archetecture as we went. At the end of our boat ride, we came right into the presence of Notre Dame Cathedral. Now I have seen a lot of churches in my day, but I think I can honestly say that Notre Dame is one of the most beautiful churches I have ever been in. There is somthing about the gothic design that absolutley captivated me. It was lovely! At the end of our time, we all decided to sit down in a wonderful French cafe by the Cathedral and indulge ourselves in some French cuisine. Indeed, I was not dissapointed as my Crepe' was wonderfully tasty!

My time in Paris, though short, was very meaningful. Though the views, buidlings, and food were all beautiful, perhaps the most beautiful thing was to be with this parish family as it came to the end of a chapter in it's life. Fr. Nicholas could not stop smiling the entire day and was grateful to all of us for helping make this trip a reality. Everyone knows that after all the celebrations and parties are over, things will be different. This family will never be the same again. Though in many ways, that is what this trip in my mind tried to emphasize. A church family is always changing as it is continually saying heartfelt goodbyes to the "old faces" and warm welcomes to the "new faces". What links this group together is a belief that there is somthing more to the equation than just pure chance. We all have our lives to go live and sometimes that means physically leaving people who you really love. However, ties are not just physical at all and remain within us just as the hope and faith in God remains in us. It is important to take time and celebrate the current family ties that you have, but also to take time in knowing that the love of one another will go forth with us always for the rest of our lives.

Seeing the Conflict of Israel with New Eyes

What a month February has been! I have been challenged and lifted up in so many new ways. The event that continues to be processed in the back of my mind is my journey to Israel (February 7-14) and the experiences of culture conflict. Words seem to fail in my effort to describe this experience. "Life changing" just doesn't seem to have the appropiate ring to it. However, that is probably the best term that I can use to describe what the whole geography, traditions, and culture of the Holy Land have done to my thinking.

It was the three of us volunteers who decided to take this journey together. The other two were named Matt (who is up in Scottland) and Amanda (who is in a close by parish in London). Our first exposure to the "tense" atmosphere of Israel was experienced on the plane when flight attendants had to quell a fist fight between Orthodox Jews. Apparently one had been given a kosher meal and the other not. Quite scary indeed.Late that evening, we made it to the apartment of my friend Paul. Paul is a friend from college who works for the Lutheran World Federation; an organization that is really involved in education and healthcare for Palestinians. His home and work are located right on top of the Mount of Olives and overlooks the Old City of Jerusalem. Throughout the week, we became educated on the conflict between the Israeli's and the Palestinians.

Israel as a country is very young- gaining it's independence in 1948. Because of the historical treatment of the Jews, it was agreed (by the UN) that this new nation would be Jewish in origin. This was not a large change as Jews have inhabitated the land for centuries. With the fall of the Roman Empire, people of Arab and Islamic descent also settled in Jerusalem and in the areas of Palestine causing fuel for the crusades in the 13th and 14th centuries. This element also became the major problem of the present day Israel: How do you settle a land that has two peoples"claiming" it? Immediatley, the new Israeli government started to push it's "pro Jewish" policies upon the area which resulted in more conflicts. Today, having control of the entire city of Jerusalem and most of the Palestinian territory, it still seeks to put preasure on the Palestinian people.


Jerusalem is a city with two parts: the Palestinian side and the Israeli side. It is more like two cities, or perhaps a city that is trying to dominate it's other part. There are two taxi systems, two bus systems, two electric grids, and two peoples. For us living on the Palestinians side, it became very frustrating for transportation as a bus or taxi wouldn't take you somewhere, even though it was a mile away. Palestinian cars are not allowed in any part of Jerusalem. Period. In order to live in Jerusalem as a Palestinian, you have to have a special "city permit" issued by the Israeli government. Without it, you are banned from entering the city. Period. I saw this seperation first hand as I talked with a Palastinian Christian taxi driver in Bethlehem. Even though Bethlehem is only 8 miles away from the Jerusalem city boundary, he has not been to Jerusalem in over 9 years. " I would really love to celebrate Easter at my church in Jerusalem", he said. "Without a city permit, that is impossible."

The seperation continues as Israel continues to build illegal (according to international law) settlements on Palestinian lands, claiming them as bargaining tools for international treaties to aquire more land for Israel. It becomes quite simple: if you already have citizens living in the area, you are more likley to aquire that area for your country in future delegations. Thus, "Israeli Citizen Only" roads connect the Jerusalem city propper to these various settlements in the West Bank. These roads bypass the check-points that Palestinians are required to go through.

Finally, there is the Israeli "Security Wall", a wall that stretches hundreds of miles supposedly seperating Israel from the "Palestinians Terrorists". Even with a city permit, Palestinian people stand in line for hours to get to work everyday because of the Israeli policy of letting only 2 people per minute walk through that gates. Thus, one Palestinian employee who lives in Ramallah told me he has to leave his house by 3.30am to get to work by 8am everday. I can't imagine living a life like that.

For many of us, it is hard to not get angry at a particular people. We either "hate" the Palestinians for sending suicide bombers to blow up things, or we "hate" the Jewish population for illigally settling in Palestinian lands. What I have come away with as the biggest cullprit to the the Israeli/Palestinian problem is not the deep rooted land conflict, but the ease of which our societies generalize a people. Through this, we find ourselves attacking and seeing the "people" as the problem, not the greed and politics.

In our last day of the trip, Paul invited us to join him in an interview process where we drove up into Palestinian villages and talked with graduates of the Lutheran World Federation Vocational Training Center. These were people who had persevered and had graduated to start a vocation in auto mechanics, carpentry, or design. One of the young mechanics, who works on Israeli vehicles constantly and is used to seeing Israelis coming to his village summed it all up by saying, "We live along side each other in peace every day. Why do we need to let our greedy leaders tell us otherwise?" That is the question I now continue to ask.

A Visit with the Archbishop of York

Last week I recieved an email stating that I was nominated by the staff at Time for God to accompany them at a meeting with the John Sentamu, the Archbishop of York. After making sure the meeting would work into my own schedule, I gladly accepted the invitation. I didn't really know what to expect.





Thus, I boarded a train and traveled two hours up to the beautiful city York. The city still contains many medieval features like the wall that still surrounds much of the old city and tiny cobblestone streets that you can barley fit a car through. It all seemed amazing, that is, until I stepped off the train and nearly got blown off my feet! You see, Janurary and February for England is the time when winter Gales are at their finest. The day that I spent in York was a shining example of this. Record winds up to 80 mph were reported on the coast of the Irish Sea and more than a dozen ships were affected- some being blown against their will streight into the high cliffs and rocks. This system was continuing it's way southward and was hitting the city of York just around the time we were meeting with the Archbishop. It seems sometimes that not even the hand of God can stop hearty North Country people from going about their daily lives, let alone a measley storm with hurricane winds. Thus, my train remarkably got into the station relativley on time and more important- was only five minutes late going back to London. Even with the horizontal rain outside, people still came into the pub where we ate lunch before the big meeting and were quite cheerful and almost oblivious to the conditions around them. An amazing thing indeed.





The purpose of our meeting with the Archbishop was that of begining a relationship. Jon Sentamu recently agreed to be a patron of the organization Time for God and we were there to describe what the organization was all about and how he could help us. Archbishop Sentamu is an inspirational character who originally comes from Uganda. His passion for political stability on the African continent rings throughout his whole being and is best exampled by his refusal to wear a preist collar until there is peace within the currently politcal unstable country of Zimbabwe.





He was extremely down to earth and welcomed us all with a wonderful spirit to the Archbishop's Palace in York. What was most intriguing about his character and presence was his "no fluff" tone of speach. Every word he said meant somthing and it turned out that he spoke relativley little throughout the entire meeting. It inspired me to see how such a well known leader could talk so little. After the meeting, Claire (the other volunteer who was invited to come and who ironically was also from Uganda) and I braved the conditions and made it to York Minster before our trains departed. After the noise and cold weather outside, it was nice again to come into a space of such peace and tranquility. I now am back in London again inspired by the Archbishop to be ever more of a listener. I think it is somthing all of us could learn.

From left to right: John (Chair of the Time for God Board of Trustees), Archbishop of York John Sentamu, me, Claire (another Time for God Volunteer), David (CEO of Time for God).

Gracious Lord, Grant me Serenity

The month of January has been a month of fantastic high points and tragic low points. As I have passed the five month marker of being in London, I now come to a cross roads in my time here. I can either continue to involve myself within my parish and the commmunity around me, or decide to concern myself with other things and be present in places that don't really apply to my experiences here. It becomes a cross road that doesn't mark itself clearly and is defined by more of the gray than the black and white, though it clearly has an impact on my life.

I went to a Time For God Conference in Wales last week with 120 other volunteers placed all over the UK. It was a wonderful experience to feel the diversity of culture and expression within the group of people. We had a lot of time to sit and talk with one another and about our placements. We shared stories of struggle and stories of hope. I met many people who seemed to be still in the "game" but who have become tired and unhappy. They, thus, have taken a stance of "there's no real hope left for things to get better" and were ready to "plow through" the rest of the year. The reasons for many of the volunteers feeling this way varied with not having a good living situation, being upset with their boss, not connecting with various people at their placement, or just not being sure of where to go from here.

I, too, have slipped into this mindset at times. Father Nicholas is leaving the parish for a missionary priest position in Brazil in exactly a month which leaves many holes in the staff of the St. Pancras Team. Things continue to become more unpredictable as issues with money, people, and time arise at the begining of this interim period. It becomes more of a thought process in "how can we get this done" verses "how well can we do this ministry". My future beyond London now has also shown itself in a real way. I am now tackling the big question of "What am I going to do when I get back to the United States?" Nothing seems clear as issues with re-entry time, school, relationship, and future ambitions all make the future of "coming home" complicated. It all seems at times that I am going through life without much of any control over anything.

This element was hit home for me when witnessing my first street mugging. I was biking to the local market when all of sudden, I heard a voice calling "Help! Help!". As I rode closer down the road, I saw three young guys attack the man yelling and rip him to the ground. They then started to repeatidly punch and kick him right in the middle of the street. I immediatly turned around, grabbed my mobile phone, and called the police. Minutes later, the attackers fled and left an eery silience with a wounded body laying in the middle of the street. The police arrived with an ambulance and carried the victim away. I still don't know if the man survived or even what had caused the attack. From talking with local parishoners who live in the area, many are convinced that it was drug related. "One of the many reminders we have of the huge problems of gangs and street drugs here", a resident said to me.

A little while ago, I was doing some work in my room when an emotional Owen (the other pastoral assistant) knocked on the door. He told me that Francis, an 84 year old man who had dedicated his life to various functions in our church died at his home. Owen, in fact, was the first one to hear the news as the police who discovered the body finally came to the church because they could find no reference to any other family member. "That just explains how much the church was actually the only family left for him", Owen explained. Owen and I both remember fondly the first time we met Francis- an old, bent over man with a cane, a thick Cockney acsent, and an incredible spirit. He came up to both of us new pastoral assistants, gave us both a huge hug and kiss on the top of our heads and exlaimed, " The Fathers told me that you were coming and to take care of you! So that is what I am going to do!" Throughout this time, Francis has taken care of both of us in many ways. The loss of Francis will reverberate throughout all of our four churches this week. We all will miss him greatly.

I just couldn't believe it. These experiences seemed to pound into me the whole unpredictability of life in a real way. I began to be angry for a time exclaiming, "Why God? Why are things in my life seeming so much out of my control?" It felt like I couldn't do anything that didn't have an unforseeable consequence to it.

I then payed a visit to an 86 year old woman of St. Paul's Church named Chris. Chris has fallen into old age quite quickly this past year as her ostioparosis and arthritst have recently dictated that she no longer walk. Though stuck with a tired body, Chris's mind and spirit continue to be as sharp as a tack. As we talked in her flat by her chair that she sits in almost all day, she asked me "Young man, What is going on your life?" I immediatly replied that things were going well and that I was having a good time being in London. A look of disaproval came over her face like I had told a big, fat, lie. Thus, I began to tell her how I have been struggling with the feeling of not having any control in my life and the unfairness of it all. She looked at me keenly for a minute. "You want to know somthing?", she said. "The last time I was in hospital they told me that I had cancer. And so I told all of my friends and family that this horrible disease was infecting my body. Three days later, I was told that my file had gotten switched with another person's file and that I actually had a bad case of arthritist which I knew all along! Is that unpredictability or what?!" "Let me show you somthing!", she exclaimed. She then began to dig around in her pile of books next to the chair and pulled out an old, tatty, black book. She opened it to reveal pictures, letters, and old newspaper clippings. "This is my scrap book", she explained. She furiously flipped through the pages until her face gleamed with a smile. "Ah! Here it is!", she said pointing to a ripped up piece of paper. I took the book and looked at the faded words. It said:

Gracious Lord, Grant me serenity to accept the things I cannot change,
courage to change the things that I can change,
and wisdom to know the difference.

Amen

"You gotta cling on to that faith", she said. I stared at the prayer for the longest time. It seemed to knock me over! Chris was right, life is incredibly unpredictable and can be very challenging at times. We can get so frustrated by this fear, that we try to shut things out and just grunt through the time that we have left. Ironically, this is the time where it seems that we must be the most open and patient. We must be continuing to understand the things we can change, but "clinging to the faith and hope" with those things we can't change. May God grant us that courage and wisdom in this world of uncertainty and continue to love us through our struggles.

Dashing through the Snow

It has been almost five months that I have been working in the UK. In this period I have not yet had a solid amount of time off. This, however, changed last week as my friend Maren and I went on holiday together to the snowy slopes of Austria.

Our first three nights were spent in the town of Feldkirch just a little ways from the German-Austrian border. We stayed in a hostel that was originally built in the 1200's and was used as the primary hostel for people with disease and the Black Plague (in the 14th century). Although the history of the building is not one of roses and rainbows, it was a wonderful place to stay with a lot of character that one should expect from a building of such age. It was also filled with some very interesting people whom Maren and I both had the chance to meet.

One person inparticular whom we met the first night we were in Feldkirch was named Mike. Mike was about our age and was originally from Vienna, Austria. He described himself as origianlly an athiest, but had an "enlightenment" (as he said) acouple years ago with faith. He was in the midst of a pilgrimage from Vienna to Portugal and was very interested in both Maren and my work in England. Due to his relatively broken English, it was hard to communicate fully with him and I wasn't able to ask him more questions on his own faith journey. However, we still were able to exchange a wonderful assortment of laughs and stories of our experiences thus far. Mike remained with us for much of the next day as we explored together the sites and sounds of Feldkirch. After our wonderful day exploring, Mike wished us well and hopped on a train heading west not knowing exactly where he was going to end up that night. I admired his "off-the-cuff" spirit and openess to knew things. His friendly smile and choice of living his faith through travel and adventure really struck me and warmed my heart. I wish Mike well and God's love in the rest of his travels.

After our few days in Feldkirch, we headed up into the mountains by train to the ski village of St. Anton. The village was somthing from a movie with spectacular Austrian archetecture, incredible mountians, and 4ft of snow! We met James, the cousin to Maren's Host Father, who showed us around and made sure that we were settled in with everything. James is a chef who works at one of the restaraunts at the top of Galzig Peak (one of the many in the resort). He is orginally from Belfast, Northern Ireland and came to St. Anton four years ago knowing almost no German. In that time, he not only has made a home here with his girlfriend, but has really become accepted by the local people.

Like a true Irishman, James started a tradition of having drinks with anyone who wanted to join after his long day of work. Thus, almost every day after the restaraunt closes up, all the employees ride the cable car down to the village. They then all then gather together at one local bar (or "lokal" as the Austrians call it) for a time of drinks and laughs. I was invited to acouple of these events and was amazed at the spirit of the place. I met many new people who all greeted me whether they spoke English or not. It was truly a community that was proud of their surroundings and welcomed anyone to participate in this sense of pride.

Bernard, another chef who works with James, was learning English and was excited to talk with someone who had another accent. He was a very solid, dark bearded man from a little village south of Vienna. "I have always wanted to go to America!", he exclaimed to me. "I just can't get those papers." James later told me that it is very hard for Austrians to get work Visas in the United States because of recent immigration laws after September 11th. "It saddens me to see that good people like these Austrians are outrightly denyed acess to your country", James said. For the first time in my life, I was struck with the hierarchy of citizenship. Here I was with a blue passport that somehow allowed me to go somewhere where others weren't allowed to go. I never chose to be an American citizen, but was born into it. Others don't have that luxury. It is people like Bernard that make me wonder why this has to be.

And so I am now back in London and getting ready for work tomorrow. It was fantastic to be in the snow and I feel very rejuvinated. After witnessing the spirit on holiday, it is now time to continue to observe the spirit of London.