The craziness of the Advent season led me to really enjoy my stay at the Shrine of Our Lady of Walsingham. The village of Walsingham is a population of barley 500 people and sits out with the grazying sheep 175 miles north of London. The shrine itself takes up about half of the town with it's residence halls, church, conference center, and offices. The shrine prides itself on being as "high church" as possible. I respected their quest in this venture as they wanted to express each and every act of worship well and with purpose. This sense of doing tasks with purpose stemmed to how they ran every element of worship during the whole weekend retreat. The retreat was called "Adoraemus", meaning "new life". It was for anyone ages 18-30 and about 50 participants showed up for the "pilgramage". It surprised me how many different areas of England everyone represented as almost every area was.
The usual schedule was very lax and would go in a pattern as follows: 1. go to morning worship, 2. have lunch, 3. go to the pub, 4. afternoon study, 5. go to the pub, 6. have dinner, 7. go to the pub, 8. have evening worship, 9. go to the pub again. There was only one pub in the village that was called "The Bull". It was a nice, quaint little place right in the town square. As you would walk in, you would think it any other normal small village pub...... until you saw all of the pictures of past Shrine priests and icons of saints on the walls. Yes, this was no ordinary pub- this was a "churchy" pub. Thus, my afternoons and evenings in Walsingham were usually spent "drinking down a pint", looking at the pictures of Jesus on the wall, and having deep theological discussions.
These discussions would include lessons for me (the only Lutheran in the entire village which gained me the nickname "Martin") in high-church practices of the Church of England. For example, on the first evening we all gathered in the Shrine Church for an Advent Carol Service to mark the begining of Advent. It was an absolutley beautiful service filled with candle light and more familiar hymns. It came to the end of the service which I thought I had down pat- Eucharist, Lord's Prayer, Blessing, Benediction, done. I triumphantly was speaking the Lord's Prayer when I suddenly realized that everyone else had dropped out. In the more Eastern Orthodox tradition (which the Church of England borrows some traditions from) the last part of the Lord's Prayer (For Thine is the Kingdom, the Power, and the Glory forever etc..) is not said. Thus, I did an entire solo of the more western addition to the Lord's Prayer completley by myself with everyone looking at me blankly. And if that weren't enough, as soon as the priest said the blessing I got out of my chair and walked down the isle thinking it was time to go. Everyone suddenly started kneeling again! I quickly lunged for a kneeler as I turned around and saw the priest pick up this huge frame of a GIGANTIC communion waffer with little flames shooting out of the sides. He then proceeded to take this huge star-bursty thing and wave it around infront of the congregation while the organ played a "Star Wars" type theme. I was very perplexed.
I was told afterwards that this star-burst thing was actually called a Monstrance. It is used to signify Christ physically being here with us. The Monstrance is quite important in major feasts as it is the culmination of Christ in the Eucharist and Christ in the body. A very interesting thing to have learned, even if it was through embarassment. And so, my brithday became a day of really "being" in the stillness of this village and learning new worship traditions in a pub that had Jesus portaits hanging on the walls. Needless to say, it will be a birthday I will never forget!
This evening I went to the opening of an art exhibit that is being held in the sanctuary of St. Michael's. The exhibit incorporates 16 local artists all making pieces based on the theme "shelter". This theme was picked by the group who is putting on the show to reflect the fact that the event is a benefit for the Winter Night Shelter of Camden. The Winter Night Shelter starts in Janruary and runs through March. Each church in the area is assigned one night in the week to house a certain number of homeless residents. It is a very amazing idea as a fundraiser and it certainly seemed to go well tonight. Even though it was a dreary and cold December evening, over 150 people came to see the pieces. It was fantastic to see where each artist took this theme and how the show really spoke as a collective unit. December is proving itself to be a challenging month. I can now see why people in our parish have problems with seasonal depression. The sun sets here at around 3.30pm. It takes events like this art exhibit to really shine light where there is a lot of darkness.
Thursday, December 6, 2007
Tuesday, November 27, 2007
Performing on Stage and the Cold Weather of Advent
Last Saturday, the Parish of St. Pancras had a parish-wide Dinner/Dance which was a fundraiser for the Shrine of Walsingham. For those of you who are not aware of Walsingham, this shrine is a special place. There has been a Shrine to Mary the Virgin in this little village since the 4th century. The Shrine was demolished as the Romans came through- but was rebuilt in the early half of this century using images from coins of the era. The Shrine continues to be an important site for European Christians to make a Pilgrimage. I will have the opportunity to visit this place this coming weekend which I am very excited about (I will be there for my birthday no less!).
The Church in Walsingham is fundraising for a restoration of the shrine and more residence halls to house pilgrims. Our parish decided to hold this dinner, dance, and raffle and see how much money they could come up with. Over 90 people showed up to St. Paul's Church in Camden Square for the event. Father Nicholas wanted to make sure that this was as formal of an event as possible and wanted all of the wait staff (namely the pastoral assistants and church wardens) to wear black and white. I had the privilage of fitting into Fr. Nicholas's old tux which came with the very traditional English boe-tie (one that had to actually be tied!). "We'll turn you into a proper Englishman yet!", Nicholas kept saying.
A part of this whole ordeal, the priests asked Owen and I to perform a type of Cabaret before the dancing would begin. I redid some pieces that I sang from my recital this summer and did some classic American songs as: "Wade in the Water" and "Somewhere Over the Rainbow". Owen and I finished with the famous Fred Astair /Ginger Rogers duet "Let's Call the Whole Thing Off" which we rewrtote the lyrics to in representing me being from Minnesota and Owen being from Cardiff (Wales). I have never sung at a function where they give you a standing ovation after every piece! What an audience it was! Both Owen and I got many compliments, but perhaps the best compliment came from Shiri'n who immigrated here from Iran. "Your songs made my night!", she said. "It was good to see your true heart!"
After the performance, we had a dance of disco music (Father Nicholas is crazy about Disco). It made me take pause to see how everyone got up and danced. It didn't matter how old you were, how young you were, or whether you were black, white, or indifferent- you danced! Perhaps the highlight of the dancing was seeing Gladis (but everyone calls her "Glad" because she is so bubbly in her personality!), a woman of 84 outdance pretty much all of the young guys! It was if she left the cloak of age back at the dinner table and showed her true colors. No one could keep Glad from dancing the night away- and what an inspiration it was.
The next morning, my tired and achy self got out of bed and preached a sermon at St. Michael's. It was Christ the King Sunday and the gospel was that of Jesus up on the Cross and talking with the two criminals. I must say, I found the Church of England's choice of scripture for the Christ the King Sunday odd at first- but then it made sense to me. How backwards is it that our "King" actually suffered and died to the injustices of this world? I think we need to be reminded of that fact more often. So, I think it was a perfect passage for the day.
St. Michael's Church is going through a very hard time with finances. It , out of the four churches which make up the Parish of St. Pancras, is the poorest. In general however, we are truly starting to see how the rising cost of living in the United Kingdom is affecting the poor. More people are being put on the streets because they are being kicked out of their homes to make way for newer, and higher income housing. Job wages are stagnent in London at the moment, so people are left with very horrible situations. No where can this be better seen then at St. Michael's Church where the majority of parishoners are immigrants.
This Autumn, we have been having a parish-wide stewardship campagin to try and raise money for needs across the four churches. Out of the average of 65 people who attend St. Michael's every Sunday, 9 have commited pledges of meager monetary gifts. Because St. Michael's has been such a drain on the parish wide resources- esspecially in the past 6 months- drastic measures are having to be taken. Because of this, St. Michael's has decided that they are going to turn off the heat entirely to the church.
This last Sunday, I looked at the thermometer in the Sacristy. It read 9 degrees Celcius. That is about 38 degrees fahrenheit of wet, bone chilling London cold. Seeing your breath as you give a sermon is quite interesting- let me tell you. I am particularly worried for some of our elderly members as sitting in a chilled church on a Sunday morning is probably not the best thing. However, people are resilent here. Even though there is great fear about how this church will relalistically afford it's mounting bills this winter, there is still a unifying energy that will never cease.
So, I ask you this Advent season to pray for the people of St. Pancras- esspecially for the members of St. Michael's Church. Pray that they may continue to find a spirit that will rally them together. Pray that God may help and comfort this financially troubled church and seek to embrace it with love.
I sometimes laugh when I think of this parish raising funds for another organization. I don't think you could find a better example of the poor supporting the poor.
The Church in Walsingham is fundraising for a restoration of the shrine and more residence halls to house pilgrims. Our parish decided to hold this dinner, dance, and raffle and see how much money they could come up with. Over 90 people showed up to St. Paul's Church in Camden Square for the event. Father Nicholas wanted to make sure that this was as formal of an event as possible and wanted all of the wait staff (namely the pastoral assistants and church wardens) to wear black and white. I had the privilage of fitting into Fr. Nicholas's old tux which came with the very traditional English boe-tie (one that had to actually be tied!). "We'll turn you into a proper Englishman yet!", Nicholas kept saying.
A part of this whole ordeal, the priests asked Owen and I to perform a type of Cabaret before the dancing would begin. I redid some pieces that I sang from my recital this summer and did some classic American songs as: "Wade in the Water" and "Somewhere Over the Rainbow". Owen and I finished with the famous Fred Astair /Ginger Rogers duet "Let's Call the Whole Thing Off" which we rewrtote the lyrics to in representing me being from Minnesota and Owen being from Cardiff (Wales). I have never sung at a function where they give you a standing ovation after every piece! What an audience it was! Both Owen and I got many compliments, but perhaps the best compliment came from Shiri'n who immigrated here from Iran. "Your songs made my night!", she said. "It was good to see your true heart!"
After the performance, we had a dance of disco music (Father Nicholas is crazy about Disco). It made me take pause to see how everyone got up and danced. It didn't matter how old you were, how young you were, or whether you were black, white, or indifferent- you danced! Perhaps the highlight of the dancing was seeing Gladis (but everyone calls her "Glad" because she is so bubbly in her personality!), a woman of 84 outdance pretty much all of the young guys! It was if she left the cloak of age back at the dinner table and showed her true colors. No one could keep Glad from dancing the night away- and what an inspiration it was.
The next morning, my tired and achy self got out of bed and preached a sermon at St. Michael's. It was Christ the King Sunday and the gospel was that of Jesus up on the Cross and talking with the two criminals. I must say, I found the Church of England's choice of scripture for the Christ the King Sunday odd at first- but then it made sense to me. How backwards is it that our "King" actually suffered and died to the injustices of this world? I think we need to be reminded of that fact more often. So, I think it was a perfect passage for the day.
St. Michael's Church is going through a very hard time with finances. It , out of the four churches which make up the Parish of St. Pancras, is the poorest. In general however, we are truly starting to see how the rising cost of living in the United Kingdom is affecting the poor. More people are being put on the streets because they are being kicked out of their homes to make way for newer, and higher income housing. Job wages are stagnent in London at the moment, so people are left with very horrible situations. No where can this be better seen then at St. Michael's Church where the majority of parishoners are immigrants.
This Autumn, we have been having a parish-wide stewardship campagin to try and raise money for needs across the four churches. Out of the average of 65 people who attend St. Michael's every Sunday, 9 have commited pledges of meager monetary gifts. Because St. Michael's has been such a drain on the parish wide resources- esspecially in the past 6 months- drastic measures are having to be taken. Because of this, St. Michael's has decided that they are going to turn off the heat entirely to the church.
This last Sunday, I looked at the thermometer in the Sacristy. It read 9 degrees Celcius. That is about 38 degrees fahrenheit of wet, bone chilling London cold. Seeing your breath as you give a sermon is quite interesting- let me tell you. I am particularly worried for some of our elderly members as sitting in a chilled church on a Sunday morning is probably not the best thing. However, people are resilent here. Even though there is great fear about how this church will relalistically afford it's mounting bills this winter, there is still a unifying energy that will never cease.
So, I ask you this Advent season to pray for the people of St. Pancras- esspecially for the members of St. Michael's Church. Pray that they may continue to find a spirit that will rally them together. Pray that God may help and comfort this financially troubled church and seek to embrace it with love.
I sometimes laugh when I think of this parish raising funds for another organization. I don't think you could find a better example of the poor supporting the poor.
Sunday, November 18, 2007
Rest and Fresh Air in Saltburn
I am now writing from a lovely house in the Saltburn countryside owned by the Breen family, my friend Maren's (another ELCA volunteer) host family. I decided to take a short holiday away from the chaotic and busy nature of London and come here to relax for a few days. It has been very good to get away and have time to think and explore the beautiful English landscape. Saltburn is a small little village on the Northeast border between England and Scottland. It is a sleepy seaside town of 5,000 people who take life at there own pace.
With it being close to the 3 month marker of my adventure here in England, I have been thinking about where I have been and where I still have to go. I think there are some solid things that I have learned about myself which I more or less didn't expect. The first one is being confident in a large, worldly city and not being afraid. God has really pushed me in this direction of learning sucessfully not only the culture of a new country, but also learning the language and culture of an inner city ghetto. It takes a lot to not be overwhelmed by it all and to be able to break up all of the activity into chunks that can be sucessfully processed.
With the curve of learning culture, God has encouraged me to build confidence in meeting and relating to people. Infact, as of now, I think this piece of my job I like most of all. I love to go over to people's homes and hear their stories. There are SO MANY stories to be heard and to be told. It gives me courage and hope not only in myself, but in humanity when I hear of all the struggles that people have persevered through in Camden.
As with each thing to be proud of, there is also a new hurtle to cross and an opportunity to grow more. I feel like those challenges have presented themselves a lot over these last few days while I have had time to be on holiday. The biggest thing that I have realized more than anything is the fact of London making me more tense and highstrung in my everyday life. There are many things in my personality that I think lead to being more of a "tense" person. However, I have really begun to notice, esspecially since I have been in the slow-life of Saltburn, the realities of how the stresses of London affect a person in their behavior and faith.
Thus, when I go back to London tomorrow, it will be time to start thinking about opportunities to breath and truly be able to "listen to God". One thing I admire so much about the slowness of life in this community is their ability to really "be" and to "listen" to what God is doing in their lives. I feel like I don't have the time in my job to really "be". Of course this is the difference between big city and small village life and I don't expect to carry on the life of Saltburn in central London completley. However, I think that we all could learn a thing or two about this slow paced life of a village. Perhaps we would be more healthier in the long run.
Thus, as Thanksgiving approaches for the citizens of the United States, I will give thanks for many things in my life. I give thanks for the way that God has challenged me and changed me over these few months and where my faith will take me and challenge me in the coming year. I give thanks for my family and friends who have supported me through this entire journey. I give thanks for the church and all of the things it has done to promote justice, peace, and the gospel in this world. I give thanks for the people of Camden and all that they have taught me about living life. Finally, I give thanks for a world, though imperfect and conflicted, that still harbors hope.
With it being close to the 3 month marker of my adventure here in England, I have been thinking about where I have been and where I still have to go. I think there are some solid things that I have learned about myself which I more or less didn't expect. The first one is being confident in a large, worldly city and not being afraid. God has really pushed me in this direction of learning sucessfully not only the culture of a new country, but also learning the language and culture of an inner city ghetto. It takes a lot to not be overwhelmed by it all and to be able to break up all of the activity into chunks that can be sucessfully processed.
With the curve of learning culture, God has encouraged me to build confidence in meeting and relating to people. Infact, as of now, I think this piece of my job I like most of all. I love to go over to people's homes and hear their stories. There are SO MANY stories to be heard and to be told. It gives me courage and hope not only in myself, but in humanity when I hear of all the struggles that people have persevered through in Camden.
As with each thing to be proud of, there is also a new hurtle to cross and an opportunity to grow more. I feel like those challenges have presented themselves a lot over these last few days while I have had time to be on holiday. The biggest thing that I have realized more than anything is the fact of London making me more tense and highstrung in my everyday life. There are many things in my personality that I think lead to being more of a "tense" person. However, I have really begun to notice, esspecially since I have been in the slow-life of Saltburn, the realities of how the stresses of London affect a person in their behavior and faith.
Thus, when I go back to London tomorrow, it will be time to start thinking about opportunities to breath and truly be able to "listen to God". One thing I admire so much about the slowness of life in this community is their ability to really "be" and to "listen" to what God is doing in their lives. I feel like I don't have the time in my job to really "be". Of course this is the difference between big city and small village life and I don't expect to carry on the life of Saltburn in central London completley. However, I think that we all could learn a thing or two about this slow paced life of a village. Perhaps we would be more healthier in the long run.
Thus, as Thanksgiving approaches for the citizens of the United States, I will give thanks for many things in my life. I give thanks for the way that God has challenged me and changed me over these few months and where my faith will take me and challenge me in the coming year. I give thanks for my family and friends who have supported me through this entire journey. I give thanks for the church and all of the things it has done to promote justice, peace, and the gospel in this world. I give thanks for the people of Camden and all that they have taught me about living life. Finally, I give thanks for a world, though imperfect and conflicted, that still harbors hope.
Saturday, November 3, 2007
What it is like to Loose a Friend and be 2,000 miles Away from Home
I have delayed a little bit on this post in order to put my thoughts together properly on what has happened this week. Last Saturday, I recieved an email from a friend which told me that Katherine Olson, another dear friend of mine from St. Olaf and camp, was murdered when going to a job interview in Savage, Minnesota. Her body was found in the trunk of her car parked in a nature preserve not far away from the perpetrator's house. This was the first murder to occur in the community of Savage for over 25 years. What a blow it is to have it be one of your friends.
To say the least, this last week has been one of anger, sadness, shock, and challenge. Ironically, it was Harvest Sunday at St Michael's this last week. So while I was dealing with this tragedy within, the whole focus was about thanking God for the gifts he has given us. It actually proved to be very meaningful as we sang "Now Thank We All Our God" and "For the Beauty of the Earth". Life is a gift that we cannot take for granted at any cost. It only takes a horrible thing like what happened to Katherine to remind all of us just how fragile life can be.
The people of this parish have been wonderful and supportive. I have recieved amazing letters and words of encouragment from people of all walks of life. It has shown me how we all relate to one another in this unique community. No one is for themselves and no one stands alone here. For when one person mourns, the community mourns. It affects all of us.
It took me a little while to realize this and figure out what my role should be in this process. We all have our expectations of what a pastor or priest should be in a community. Perhaps I had unrealistic expectations and expected that I could carry out my duties here perfectly even when I was strongly grieving. This, ofcourse, was not the case and I became frustrated in my own human faults. It wasn't until I really started to open up to the staff here at the parish that I began to realize I am not superhuman. People of the ministry wrestle with the same issues as people of the parish and no one should expect them to be any different.
I barely got through the praryer petitions last Sunday without breaking down when I got to the names of the recently departed. Afterwards, I became so frustrated with myself for showing my emotions to the people of the congregation. Nicholas reassured me, however, that it was a good thing. "People need to know that you are human too" , he said. Now that I look back on it, I couldn't agree more.
As with many things, I have realized that I need this parish just as much as this parish needs me. I would not be where I am with my thoughts right now if I didn't have the expression of love and support from the people that I work with every single day. The people become so much more than your co-workers and parishiners. They become your strength and your family.
Even though I will be struggling with this event for a long time to come in my own right. This tragedy has opened my eyes to the very nature of community and hope. Even though I do feel very far away from my family and friends at home right now, I am not alone. I am with my family here. For that, I say thanks be to God.
To say the least, this last week has been one of anger, sadness, shock, and challenge. Ironically, it was Harvest Sunday at St Michael's this last week. So while I was dealing with this tragedy within, the whole focus was about thanking God for the gifts he has given us. It actually proved to be very meaningful as we sang "Now Thank We All Our God" and "For the Beauty of the Earth". Life is a gift that we cannot take for granted at any cost. It only takes a horrible thing like what happened to Katherine to remind all of us just how fragile life can be.
The people of this parish have been wonderful and supportive. I have recieved amazing letters and words of encouragment from people of all walks of life. It has shown me how we all relate to one another in this unique community. No one is for themselves and no one stands alone here. For when one person mourns, the community mourns. It affects all of us.
It took me a little while to realize this and figure out what my role should be in this process. We all have our expectations of what a pastor or priest should be in a community. Perhaps I had unrealistic expectations and expected that I could carry out my duties here perfectly even when I was strongly grieving. This, ofcourse, was not the case and I became frustrated in my own human faults. It wasn't until I really started to open up to the staff here at the parish that I began to realize I am not superhuman. People of the ministry wrestle with the same issues as people of the parish and no one should expect them to be any different.
I barely got through the praryer petitions last Sunday without breaking down when I got to the names of the recently departed. Afterwards, I became so frustrated with myself for showing my emotions to the people of the congregation. Nicholas reassured me, however, that it was a good thing. "People need to know that you are human too" , he said. Now that I look back on it, I couldn't agree more.
As with many things, I have realized that I need this parish just as much as this parish needs me. I would not be where I am with my thoughts right now if I didn't have the expression of love and support from the people that I work with every single day. The people become so much more than your co-workers and parishiners. They become your strength and your family.
Even though I will be struggling with this event for a long time to come in my own right. This tragedy has opened my eyes to the very nature of community and hope. Even though I do feel very far away from my family and friends at home right now, I am not alone. I am with my family here. For that, I say thanks be to God.
Monday, October 22, 2007
Three Part Night
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.
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.
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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