saints

Posted on August 13, 2016 by harasprice

I’ve been thinking about “saints” a great deal this week, and saints have been finding me.  Although I only get to the West Coast a few times a year, my great joy is worshipping surrounded by the dancing saints of St. Gregory of Nyssa Episcopal Church in San Francisco.  I was talking about St. Gregory’s recently with some of the volunteers at my field education parish with whom I was cooking and serving lunch for those in need of a home-cooked, sustaining meal.  Whenever we feed those who hunger, we ourselves are fed.  That kind of deep, soul nourishment happens at St. Gregory’s, and at my home parish food pantry, and at my field ed parish’s feeding ministry and so many other settings where we feed with love and abundance.  I never, ever leave ministries like this without having been nourished deeply.

I am realizing that the vastness of my understanding of the “Communion of Saints” has been forever altered by my experiences with feeding and being fed.  It is visceral at St. Gregory of Nyssa.  Their worship space is designed for liturgy and feeding…by that, I mean both ecclesial and literal translations of the word.  The same altar around which people gather for Holy Eucharist on Sunday, people gather and glean bountiful amounts of produce and groceries at food pantry on Fridays.  I’ve been fed (literally and sacramentally) in both spaces, with dancing saints all around me.  It is the saints on earth and the saints above joined together that help me feel my place among the ordinary extraordinary, fed by the depth of connection among us all.  This connection with the saints is not about our goodness, but our openness to the working of Divine Presence through us, exactly as we are.

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The presence of saints in our lives is visceral in other places and spaces, too.  I was enthralled earlier this week at an exhibit of Kehinde Wiley’s artwork at the Virginia Museum of Fine Art.  In the exhibition, he has reappropriated historical (predominantly European) art with portraits of African American men and women living into the richness of their own personhood.  I kept walking through the exhibit, seeing more and more depth and nuance of people’s true selves reflecting archetypical strengths time after time, painting after painting.  These works of art evoke a depth of expression beyond the subject and situation.  Not surprisingly, his collection of “saints and icons” was most inspiring for me.  Some stained glass works, some iconography, other paintings.  All incredible.  Just a quick peek at a few of these amazing images in Wiley’s New Republic:

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I hold all these images of saints as a part of my journey: traditional, contemporary, sacred art, modern interpretation.  I tire of hearing news stories that contain verbiage like, “he was no saint…”  What if, instead of judging worthiness, we actually opened to seeing the saints reflected in each other?  We hold this false idea of “being a saint” as self-determining a level of human perfection, rather than as a conduit for divine love and mercy to flow through and dance among us.  When we are emptied to the possibility of divine purpose flowing through our veins and connecting us with each other, we are like those dancing saints where art, music, the poetry of divine mercy and justice flow like water.

I am blessed to be in the presence of saints in this life, connecting me with the Source of all that is life giving.  I am resting, this night, in the small points of light each encounter brings to my path.

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Closing Up

Posted on August 8, 2016 by harasprice

Today, we close an amazing week of camp. Campers have changed and grown, and I have too.

Here is the Gospel text (from the Common for Artists and Writers) and my homily from closing worship for campers and their families.

Gospel: John 21:15-17,24-25

“When they had finished breakfast, Jesus said to Simon Peter, “Simon son of John, do you love me more than these?” He said to him, “Yes, Lord; you know that I love you.” Jesus said to him, “Feed my lambs.” A second time he said to him, “Simon son of John, do you love me?” He said to him, “Yes, Lord; you know that I love you.” Jesus said to him, “Tend my sheep.” He said to him the third time, “Simon son of John, do you love me?” Peter felt hurt because he said to him the third time, “Do you love me?” And he said to him, “Lord, you know everything; you know that I love you.” Jesus said to him, “Feed my sheep.”

This is the disciple who is testifying to these things and has written them, and we know that his testimony is true. But there are also many other things that Jesus did; if every one of them were written down, I suppose that the world itself could not contain the books that would be written.”

Imagine Jesus and Simon Peter, having just eaten a breakfast fit for ShrineMont: French toast, bacon, fresh fruit…you know what I’m talking about! These two were close, tighter than tight having spent time hiking, journeying and boating together, working side by side, talking and laughing, and, the way friends do, sometimes even crying, and consoling each other. This Gospel is like listening to a heart-to-heart feeling check. This particular Gospel gives us a sneak peek into the close conversation of Jesus and Simon Peter, his dear friend and disciple. Yes, the same Simon Peter who tried to walk on water the way our worship team acted out earlier this week. When I listen in to Jesus and Simon Peter, it reminds me of some of the conversations I’ve heard this week. Jesus asks His friend and disciple a question that many of us wonder about our friends, too: “Do you love me, for real?” Simon Peter responds back: “Of course, Jesus…you KNOW that…I love you, and I’ve got your back!” But I don’t think Jesus is giving Simon Peter a friendship test. He asks this question three times, not because he doesn’t believe Simon Peter. This friendship is deep and real. Instead, Jesus is letting his friend know something incredibly important: the most important thing that Simon Peter can do to show his love for Jesus is to share that love with others. Or, in the words of Jesus: “feed my sheep.”

This week, we’ve been forming friendships, connecting with God through our senses, feeding our bodies and our souls, and pausing with intention to consider the lilies. The art that has emerged from this week is spectacular, and I cannot imagine anything more beautiful than taking in the creative expressions that I have watched emerge from each of you, or learning from the depths of love and care shown among counselors and campers as we have grown deeper in relationship with each other, and in relationship with God. Art camp has been a masterpiece, and everyone here has been changed by that artistry. Pause, look around, take it in: consider the lilies in the faces, the expressions, the art that surrounds you.

But, don’t stop there. Jesus’ request to his friend Simon Peter is true for us, too. We have been fed in mind, body, and spirit here on this mountain. I will not go home the same as I was when I came here, and neither will you. You have made new friends, discovered your inner artistry in new forms and expressions, connected with God in new and deeper ways. These are also the ways in which we know Christ, who holds us and enfolds us and shows himself to us through our love for each other, when we take time to stop and look and listen…and even smell and taste…the many ways that God makes God’s self known to us. We are changed and transformed by that love. Like Simon Peter, our friend Jesus who knows that are hearts are filled with love, tells us exactly what we need to do next: Jesus asks us to show the depths of this transforming, inspiring love to all of God’s people…to the whole world around us. Share your stories of art camp. Pray for a friend. Ask someone you care about to do a feeling check with you. Make prayer flags. Give your art to the world. Let the music of Shrinemont….songs and nature…be what resonates in your ears and fills your days with song.

Today’s Gospel ends with a glimpse into that beautiful, transformed world: “there are also many other things that Jesus did; if every one of them were written down, I suppose that the world itself could not contain the books that would be written.” The real beauty is that we continue to live out Jesus’ love and teaching by being the eyes, and ears, and hands and feet of Christ in the world. We are the Body of Christ, transformed so that we can transform the world and continue to fill it with stories and actions of Jesus’ love. So go forth, spreading that love wherever you go. Share your art, connect with God, show love…be the lilies of the field that make this world beautiful as the love bestowed on us feeds the world, leaving brushstrokes of beauty wherever we go.

 

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Feeling Check

Posted on August 5, 2016 by harasprice

One of the joys of camp is the intentionality with which feelings are openly discussed.  Last night, I was humbled by being welcomed into the feeling check and cabin time of 10 and 11 years olds voicing their emerging questions about God and faith.  Today, our staff meeting closed with an intentional feeling check as well, as we round the curve into the last several days.  Tonight, my daughter was adopted by a cabin of young women her age to be a part of their feeling check at close of day.  What a gift: the opportunity to voice how we are really, truly feeling: highs, lows, and everything in-between.  This intentionality has made me consider what a different kind of world it would be if we paused for a feeling check, even periodically.  What a risky, beautiful, vulnerable act that would be.

So, I thought I would do a feeling check tonight, using the form one of our counselors introduced me to: Rose, Thorn, Bud.

My Rose in full bloom tonight is the beauty and joy on the faces of the campers who made prayer beads today during our afternoon elective.  I was bouncing between their prayer bead making and our evening worship planning, so it was like magic to see their sets of beads emerging, each with its own color and character.  What I loved most was their excitement to have something they had created with which they could touch, and hold, and see, and experience a connection to God.  My heart overflowed with their joy and bloomed into fullness from their hugs and expressions of gratitude.  My own reflection is that once again, my role is simply to create the space and offer up supplies.  Then, I can slip out of the way for God to do the rest.

The Thorn is definately my knee.  I have been walking a lot, and I love to walk.  But, my knee which I twisted during my time at seminary started acting up painfully after a downhill hike last night.  Today was my first day at camp where I wasn’t approaching 20,000 steps (and even today was still over 10,000!), because swelling and pain weren’t dissipating even with ibuprofen.  I’m hopeful this (relatively) restful day will allow me to resume full walking around camp tomorrow.  I’m frustrated because it makes me feel old to not be able to pop a squat on the floor, or to have to drive to meals or circle up to the Shrine instead of walking and taking in the sights, sounds, smells, and atmosphere of camp life.  Hopefully, this thorny spot will be short lived.

The Bud emerging for me is to see what will happen with tomorrow’s chaplain time.  I changed things up last minute to make a more self-cared focused day using the scents of healing, essentials oils and inspirational readings to accompany them.  Logic tells me they could be bored; intuition and spirit tells me, it’s what we need.  I’m also letting them write questions and tell me what activities they want to engage or re-engage during our final session…we’ll see how that bud emerges!

Wait, one more Rose.  My daughter returned from feeling check having made several new friends, excited about getting up for breakfast to sit with them, and dragged me outside in my pajamas to see the stars with her.

The answer to world peace might just be the feeling check, friends…oh,what a wonderful world it would be.

  

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Everything clicks

Posted on August 4, 2016 by harasprice

Last night I fell asleep trying to compose a blog post.  Seriously.  It wasn’t even that late, but I was that exhausted.  Like a middle school novella, I had managed to spill my tray in the dining hall during dinner.  All day, my mind was racing, trying to remember names and getting everything “just right” but never quite achieving it.  Then, it poured rain and we had to totally regroup.  At one point, I thought I had entirely missed the worship service I was supposed to be organizing, and I realized I had misplaced my walkie-talkie and couldn’t find anyone to ask where they were, so I felt like a complete loser.  We did eventually find each other, but by that point I was so stressed I could barely think.  Exasperated, at one point I said in front of my daughter, “I’m afraid I might suck at this whole camp thing.”  She stopped me and said, “You don’t, Mom.  You aren’t even close.  You’re actually amazing.”  From a tween, I’m fairly sure that is the highest achievable praise.

Rather like my fall the other day, something happened when I hit that wall and slid out of my ego and into the loving arms of community.  I woke this morning and found that my daughter had done some prep work for chaplain time activities while I slept.  I arrived at breakfast and was approached by the counselor for one cabin of girls so filled with questions about God that they & their counselor invited me to their night-time cabin feeling check.  I teared up at the beauty and depth of their questions, and that was even before chaplain’s time.  All day,  all manner of amazing conversations began to emerge while the prayer flags we had made and hung the day before moved in the breeze while we ran our hands through meditation bowls full of dried lentils, used sea shells for centering prayer, and prayed together with Anglican prayer beads.  Suddenly, it all clicked.  It has been a wonderful and amazing day.

I stood beneath the prayer flags this evening, feeling the strength of all those prayers surrounding and ascending as this community builds mid-week and I find my groove within it.  Come Holy Spirit.  I am deeply, richly blessed.

   
   

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Labyrinth

Posted on August 2, 2016 by harasprice

During the past 24 hours I have circled the labyrinth numerous times, sometimes as an act of my own meditation and others, accompanying campers and counselors as they experience the turns in which there is no wrong path as we journey step by step to the center, in the embrace of divine presence.  My soul is always stirred as I move forward with each step.  I came across this poem tonight, which conveys so much of what I feel while walking this sacred circuit.

Divestiture by Marilyn Peretti

I walked a labyrinth yesterday,
half circles and whole circles
round and round on soft pea gravel,
paths lined by paving bricks.
My pulse slowed I’m sure
as I divested myself of all
that hangs about in my head,
pressing on my shoulders.
 
I know I will return, after this first
meditation in the shade of tall oaks,
clear blue leaking through the leaves,
to reach a holy center,
then reverse and leave the rings,
fresh thoughts replacing old,
continuing my journey
somewhat lighter.

Poetry credit: https://labyrinthsociety.org/writing-contest/3170-first-place-poetry-marilyn-peretti

Today: A day of many steps, all of which remind me that when our intention is focused on God, and our hearts are open to grace, our path will lead us exactly where we need to be.

   

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Resurrection Lilies

Posted on August 1, 2016 by harasprice

This session of art camp, we are “considering the lilies of the field.”  Today, I watched our field literally fill with arriving campers and their families, bringing brightness and curiosity to our mountain camp.  Since I am new to the camping experience here at ShrineMont, I don’t have the hang of the schedule yet.  It was a few hours before arrival that I realized I would be offering a homily, and the intervening time slipped quickly by filled with registrations, welcomes, and ice-breakers.  Suddenly, it was time for worship.

I like time to mull over and meditate, but camp requires the dexterity of being on the fly.  I was saying a little prayer that went a bit like, “help me…I don’t know what to preach!” when my daughter called to me and pointed out one lily in particular: a Resurrection Lily.  This particular flower sends up leaves, which wither away.  But, weeks later, a single stalk topped with multiple pink blooms appears following that time of dormancy.  It is surprise, resurrection.  It catches us off guard.

  
Like the passage I was preaching from (Matthew 6:25-34), I had no reason to be anxious.  My nervousness over details faded as I realized that all is well, all is provided.  God is here, with us.  We are called in this very present moment to simply stop worrying, be still, and notice.  In that space of God’s nearness, we also experience resurrection.  Thank you to the lilies who preached to me with beauty, and offer up today’s small point of light.

  

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Springs and Falls

Posted on July 31, 2016 by harasprice

Whenever I hike during the summer in Virginia, I am painfully aware that I grew up in upstate New York.  I had nearly downed my water bottle half-way into today’s hike, and that barely made up for what my body was sweating off.  The hike today was a staff bonding experience to Seven Springs, a beautiful deep woods location that involved “some” downhill trekking and mild maneuvering over rocks and crossing a stream via a 2×4 bridge.  I was reassured I would be fine.  Admittedly, I was less than convinced.  

  
It really is an achievable hike, I admit.  But I am more accustomed to scaling piles of grant reviews and manuscript revisions than slick, rooted mountainside slopes leading to natural springs.  Suffice it to say: I was the first to do a sliding side-roll down a hillside.  Other than my ego, nothing was bruised.  And even that didn’t hurt….I found myself surrounded by helping hands and encouraging remarks that made my lack of grace seem like a minor hiccup.  I was reminded in that moment that it isn’t really the falling that we fear. What more often trips us up is the fear of being seen and losing face.  On the contrary, with supportive community and my jeans already dirty, I was a lot more willing to take risks in muddy places and navigate the messy moments of the remaining hike without a second thought.  The fall actually made it easier for me to be myself, and to enjoy the sights and sounds of the present moment. Which, in our travel, was to a beautiful, cold-water spring.

My chaplain lesson for the day lies in this juxtaposition: sometimes it requires a fall to see how much support surrounds us.  Falling takes us off our pedestal of “doing it right” in favor of experiencing the journey of the present moment.  True redemption is experiencing those moments for all the divine potential springing forth, roots and falls and springs.  Thanks be to God.

  

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(En)lighten

Posted on July 30, 2016 by harasprice

Three birch candle lamps flicker on the wooden dresser next to a vase of light-strewn branches.  A scarf from my closet back home is spread across the surface, a makeshift forest emerging from branches of gray reaching through the ivory linen.  This corner makes the space feel like home.  It will be home, at least for the next week.  Beannacht.  I am blessed.

A week on the mountain, here at Shrinemint, feels like an escape from the world.  For me, time away from routine is not only a reprieve but a necessity.  I have the honor to hold this space in my heart and soul for the next week, serving as chaplain to campers and staff.  My self-described, “assistant sharing half a genome” is with me, too, making this a mother-daughter adventure.  We have stepped apart from our world of routine.  I am stepping apart from the routines that keep me too busy…even too busy, it seems,  to write. But,  I have deeply missed recording the small points of light that guide my path.  And, I have been reminded of late that others miss these reflections, too.

It occurs to me that this is a time where we need enlightenment, perhaps more than any time I can remember.  News is too often tragic; politics are too often divisive.  It can feel as if we exist to be cruel.  But these are not the dark ages.  We live in the light, if we open our eyes to see it, because Divine Light enfolds us, always. 

Today, there was light in the bright green caterpillar crawling on a rock that someone stopped to point out to me.  There was light in the counselor who asked me if I was here for staff or just campers, and light in the conversation which emerged when I smiled a “yes, and” and felt myself shift to a new role emerging in my own life.  There was light in forgiveness, and in laughter.  The light shining here is simple.  No bright LED glaring.  Just soft, flickering enlightenment.  Perhaps that gentle glow is more necessary in our world than the piercing glare of a beacon.  Sometimes, it is the soft light which illuminates most clearly.

As for me, I write this in the soft glow of lights that help me make peace with my smallness, and embrace awe with the Immensity which flows through me when I am still enough to open.  Beannacht.  Again, I am blessed.

I don’t know where small points of light will emerge in my days here, but I know in my soul, beyond a doubt, that they will. I hope you will share the journey with me, in this space where soft light can enlighten our surroundings and beckon us toward the healing which we so deeply need.  (En)Lightened, indeed.

  

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Good Friday

Posted on March 25, 2016 by harasprice

I began my reading vigil last night; I didn’t know that I would do this.  But the journey through Holy Week always takes its own course, particularly as I stand at Good Friday in the shadow of the cross.  I selected a book for my journey that has been a companion before, Rilke’s Book of Hours: Love Poems to God.  Each time I sit with these words, new depths of meaning speak to me.

This is Good Friday.  This is a suffering world, filled with people who feel overlooked and forgotten.  Just one glimpse at our social media and we can see the invisible craving to find eyes who will see them.  We hear screaming from those who fear they will be silenced, who are silenced, and whose shouts bury the cries of those at the margins.  This is a world filled with suffering.

Is God blind?  I hear people ask.

No.

Is God deaf to our cries?  I hear us, despairing, for our cause.

No.

Our God is the God who suffers, willingly, with those who suffer.  On Good Friday it is God who suffers the pains of cruel humanity.  But, it is not enough that we walk this road with a suffering God.  It is not sufficient to skip over this pain and get to the resurrection.  It’s easy to believe in a powerful God that grants our wishes.  What is more challenging is to believe that in the depths of our suffering we are compelled to know that God abides with us in that suffering because we are that profoundly loved.

It is more than most of us can bear, the profundity of this love.

These are the words that echo in my mind and speak to my soul as I walk this path of Good Friday with my eyes and my ears open, aware of suffering, aware of love, aware of God…

You are the poor one, you the destitute.

You are the stone that has no resting place.

You are the diseased one

who we fear to touch.

Only the wind is yours.

You are poor like the spring rain

that gently caresses the city;

like wishes murmured in a prison cell, without a world to hold them;

and like the invalid turning in his bed to ease the pain.

Like flowers along the tracks, shuddering

as the train roars by, and like the hand

that covers our face when we cry–that poor.

Yours is the suffering of birds on freezing nights,

of dogs who go hungry for days.

Yours is the long, sad waiting of animals

who are locked up and forgotten.

You are the beggar who averts his face,

the homeless person who has given up asking,

you howl in the storm.

–Rainer Maria Rilke, Love Poems to God (tr. Barrows & Macy), III.18

crucifix med

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Holy Week: Stations of the Cross

Posted on March 24, 2016 by harasprice

While my blogging has been quite infrequent in recent weeks (ok, months) my journey has continued to be filled with the awe and wonder of small points of light.  I share this as one of those gifts of the journey, co-curated with my seminary colleagues.  I hope that it enriches your journey through Holy Week as well.

CDSP: Stations of the Cross

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