No Chocolate in Lent

Regular readers of the blog (I know there are at lest a few of you!) will notice a new website listed under my "favorite websites" list.  It is "No Chocolate in Lent," which is a blog I started for the Middleham and Saint Peter's Parish. 

There are several of us who will be writing articles during the 2011 season of Lent.  We want to explore our various experiences and perspectives about Lent.  We found that many come from backgrounds where they had little or no exposure, and those of us who had grown up with Lent had very different expectations.  So, if the blogging seems to be getting sporadic, check out No Chocolate.  But as I say in the first article, I don't think it is necessary to give up chocolate for Lent!   

Climbing Mount Horeb

One of three peaks in the Sinai mountains, Mount Horeb has been believed to be a place of significant biblical events for over seventeen centuries.  At its base is the well where Moses helped the daughters of the priest of Midian (Exodus 2:15-21).  The burning bush was encountered on its side (Exodus 3).  Later, when Moses brought the Israel tribes out of Egypt,  Moses climbed it to receive the Ten Commandments (Exodus 19-20).

So, while not officially on a pilgrimage, the group of Episcopal priests, deacons and family touring Egypt shifted into pilgrim mode upon arrival at the base of Mount Horeb. As many thousands do each year, we intended to climb or ride a camel up the lower portion of the trail, then continue up the "steps" to the top.  It was not going to be easy, and the bus arrived much later than planned.  The sun was already low behind the mountain we were climbing.  We probably should have chosen to start the climb in the middle of the night to watch the sunrise.  But we didn't.

I chose to walk the broad, rocky, steadily rising trail, rather than ride a camel.  I have climbed many mountains over my life, and enjoy the challenge.  This time was different, because we were racing against the clock, the quickly arriving sunset.  I focused on climbing, not looking around to experience the bare granite mountainside or views out across to other ranges. I held onto the hope that I would be able to see the sun drop behind adjacent peaks.  So I did not pace myself, but kept pushing hard to keep moving.

The few times I did stop to look around and take pictures, the view was awesome.  The bare granite mountains were as alive with colors as they were devoid of any plant life.  They continue as far as the eye can see, with no plants to soften their edges  There is no protection from the heat during the day or the cold at night.  The Bedouin people lived along the trail in low buildings with rock sides and flat wood roofs.  The camels slept on the bare ground where they were tied up.

After passing the final stop for the camels, I started the steep section referred to as "the steps."  There was nothing regular, level or consistent about them.  Many places it was hard to see a good place to put your foot down.  My legs were sore and no longer solid under me.  Forty feet or so up the trail, I stopped to rest, and turned around to look. This is what I saw:

The last of the sun was at the tops of the peaks behind me, and the guide said it was another 30 minutes to the top.  Even with the flashlight in my pocket, it would be difficult to know how to climb down section I had just come up.  Once the sun was gone, night and dark would be arrive in minutes.  I turned around, disappointed but clear it was the right choice.  There would be no pictures from the top.  I joined a group at the Bedouin hut at the base of the steps waiting for the rest of the group to return.

After waiting over an hour in freezing temperatures, the five of us started down, without the group climbing to the top. We tried to join another group going down, but they were much younger and faster.  Soon, we were on our own.  David was the scout in front, calling out loose rocks or tricky spots.  I was in back, shining my flashlight forward, to highlight the roughness of the trail.  Two of the group were walking slowly, tentatively, setting the pace for the whole.  We knew we needed to travel together.  I invented silly lyrics to familiar tunes, so we could laugh.  Twice we stopped to turn off the flashlight to look up at the half-full moon and stars in the sky.  Over those two plus hours walking down, we became a community with a common purpose - caring for each other, being aware of the dark rocky desert around us, and walking safely down the mountain of Moses. 

I could not know when I started that afternoon that the place I would encounter God upon his mountain in the Sinai desert would not be on the mountaintop.  God joined the five of us, loving and journeying together in the pale light of the guardian of the night, a pilgrimage of grace I will never forget.  Thank you Susan, Hyacinth, Masud and David.

Masculine Spirituality: A New Beginning

In a recent publicity stunt, a snack food company declared Nashville the Most Macho City. Points were awarded for the number of sports teams, hardware stores, and monster truck rallies. Also adding to the score was the popularity of hunting and fishing, NASCAR and other “masculine” interests. Cities lost points for high numbers of home furnishing stores and minivans. While it is silly, don’t those descriptions fit all of our stereotypes for men?

Yet, at a recent meeting of men during the recent Spiritual Director’s International gathering revealed a different side of masculinity. The group included men who make ourselves available as guides to others on a journey to know God. We asked each other two simple questions focused on our understanding of ourselves a spiritual men: “what values do you hold sacred?” and “how do you live the sacred in your life?”

Many of the values generated by the group were what you would expect from a self-identified group of religious people. The most common value was “presence,” often in a phrase such as “attending presence” or “practice presence.” Other values describe an intentionality about prayer, such as sacred listening, stillness, silence, discipline of devotion and reverence. Yet, these are not common descriptions of men in the popular culture of our time.

Another group of values reflects our relationships, with love and being loved as a foundation of who we are. Different aspects of relationship are treasured such as honesty, truth, trust, humor and intimacy. As one person described, we desire the ability to see the universe in the other. While men are often portrayed as wanting to be Casanova, that is not the kind of love reflected in those values.

But as I reviewed the remaining values, the ones that stand out are those that stand in dramatic contrast to the Macho City award. Those values include gentleness, mutual mentoring, vulnerability, acceptance, humility and availability. Our gathering of men claimed values that are often assumed to belong to women, and are culturally seen as alien to men.

I have various memories that confirm those values as deeply masculine. I know that whenever I visit my father, we hug each other closely both when I arrive and again when I leave. It was a ritual that I initiated as I left for college and that Dad has joyfully joined. Even in times of difficulty, we know that hug conveys our deep love, our acceptance and our commitment to each other.

I remember when David’s son Jeremy was rocking Sam, just 10 days old in his lap. As gentle father he was willing to give up sleep so Ann could get much needed rest. It is an image of love from one generation of men to the next that I will treasure the rest of my life.

I remember David holding my hand tightly as I was waiting to be wheeled to have my inflamed appendix removed, his face reflecting my own sense of fear. He stayed available to me so I would not be alone, even as he felt vulnerable to his own fear.

While some of us learned those values through our own father or other males in our lives, often the opposite was true. One man in the group described how he was raised by a macho father who believed in the stereotype male role. That man learned about the other values of love, relationship and spirituality much later in life through his engagement in a church community. Others in the group described how their fathers had failed them in becoming a mature man, stories of pain, loss and abandonment. They were difficult stories to hear, yet needed to be told in a group of men for healing to occur.

Whether through positive or negative life experiences, we have claimed our values as spiritual men and try to live them in our lives as well as our ministry. We told our stories to each other, beginning to heal ourselves while also committing to the healing of those men who come to us as guides. It is a new beginning.

One of 1.8 Million

Why was I on the Mall to see Barack Obama take the oath of office as President of the United States? Living five blocks from the Mall certainly made it seem an easy choice. Even though circumstances led to me being there alone, wrapped up in many layers against the temperatures in the low 20s, I knew I had to be there.

Perhaps it was the memory of January 1981, when I stood with feminist friends on the side of Pennsylvania Avenue waiting for the car with Ronald Reagan. We held up our signs proclaiming “ERA NOW,” one last argument against what Reagan represented. It was meaningless. It could do nothing to stop the self-interested, conservative era that has dominated the county for the last 28 years. So I needed to be on the Mall to see and believe in the dream of our country in which the values of compassion, respect for all people, and the protection of civil rights would be reaffirmed.

Perhaps it was the need to feel the positive energy of this time of transition. I don’t need to say “I witnessed history” as so many stated to reporters. That puts it immediately into the past tense, already written down. I needed to feel people around me who believe in the hope for a new way of honoring each other through our differences. I needed to be around others who want a new definition of what it means to be an American. Well, not really a new definition, but a return to a previously held definition, one that I find in the best times of our history.

Perhaps it was the belief that this man who knows discrimination and has been attacked because of a core part of who he is will understand how destructive that discrimination is to all of us. A man who is bold in stating his belief that those of us who are different from him in our sexual orientation are still to be treated as equals. A man who invited the Gene Robinson, a proudly gay man who also is a Bishop of my church, to begin a concert with prayer.

Perhaps I needed to be there for those who I know and love who could not. I have been surprised by how family members and others have responded to my talking about attending the inauguration ceremony. Even though I was at least a mile away, I stood there for others, representing their hopes and dreams for new possibilities. They can see the pictures of the crowd of 1.8 million, and know I am there, standing 50 feet in front of the Washington Monument. Sorry Dad, I did not wear anything on the top of my cap so you could pick me out, but I am there.

My prayers are with this new President, his administration, his family, and my country, that we can find a way out of fear into faith, out of manipulation into respect, and out of secrecy into mutual respect and trust.

Sidewalk Directions

I was walking from my home in DC to a movie theater, a journey that takes me across the Mall, with its views of the Capital to the east and the Washington Monument to the west. A young, clean-cut man in his twenties, who was pushing a stroller, asked me which direction he would find the Museum of Natural History. He had emerged from the Metro station and lost his way, several blocks the wrong direction. As I gave him directions, he started out to find it, but since my trip was going the same direction we settled into a conversation.

He told me his name was “Christian.” That caused a bit of surprise, and led me to pay closer attention. It is not everyday you meet a person who introduces himself as Christian! A flag went up in my mind signaling that this could be one of God’s playful intrusions into my life.

It was not a dramatic conversation. He had newly moved into the area and was just beginning to explore it. As a long time resident, I noted how there is always much to do, especially with children. I realize now that I never even saw his child or learned anything about her. Or maybe it was a him? Talking about children isn’t the usual male topic.

He explained why he chose Alexandria after leaving the Air Force, with family near by and lots of opportunities matching his “skill set.” I answered his question about what I do. It is the common getting-to-know-you chatter in a city of career focused people.

As he turned left to walk down towards the museum while I was continuing straight, the goodbye was a simple and understated as our getting to know each other. His “Thank you for helping, Sir” caught me by surprise. Clearly his military training to respect an elder, but I am unused to being called “Sir.”

During those few minutes we walked together along the sidewalk, I experienced more than I expect in casual sidewalk encounters or providing directions around a confusing city. I cannot say with certainty that God was with us. I cannot know that anything happened beyond the unusual event of one man asking another for directions, and our breaking through the usual anonymity of city life to actually talk together for several blocks.

I walked on toward the theater with a new sense of hope for him, for me, for our future as two men journeying through life. For a short time we experienced community, which is definitely a gift from God.