Table of Mercy-Sabbatical Journey

Final Blog

2010-08-10T08:23:00.000-07:00

After nearly three months my Sabbatical Journey is almost to an end. I've been working this week collecting my thoughts about the experiences of the past few months. I've reveiwed the books I've read, looked at notes I took while traveling, viewed the many pictures I've taken and tried to put this experience in perspective. It won't fully happen right now. There is just too much to put my arms around. And there are things I still need to think about and digest.
Our church will have a celebration on Sunday, August 22. Some say it is a welcome back for my wife and me. I think of it more as a time to celebrate the renewal of our life together in the setting of a marvelous church. There will only be one worship service that morning at 10 a.m. I will be preaching if I still remember how. Following the service there will be a catered meal which is paid for by the Lilly grant that has allowed so many wonderful experiences this summer. I'll have some pictures and a whole table of items collected during my travels. They will include some prints of frescos from the catacombs in Rome and a communion token from Campbelton, Scotland dated 1823. We hope to have a booklet for those who want it containing the sermons preached this summer, the communion stories collected and a report on some of the things I've learned this summer. We also hope to have this booklet online in a few days.
Last week I spent a day at the Christian Church Historical Society in Nashville, reading some old documents written by Barton Stone. I also took pictures of two communion tables on display this summer at the Society. One is from the 1909 gathering of the Christian Church in Pittsburg. The other table, one familiar to us because it was designed and built by Mark Whitley, was used at the 2009 Assembly of the Christian Church in Indianapolis. One table is very plain, a table that might sit in our homes and be used as a desk. The other is designed like the trunk of a tree and has a glass top. If you look inside you can see the names of hundreds of people who wrote a prayer on a small piece of wood and had it glued to the inside of the table. The tables are light years apart in design. They speak to two groups of people separated by 100 years. A lot has changed in that period of time. I can only imagine what has changed in 2000 years.
But as much as things have changed I hope the meal is still at the center of who we are as a people, reminding us of God's presence among us through the spirit, reminding us of the need to show the same hospitality and love that Jesus showed when he sat at table so many years ago. It is right that our interpretations change as the world changes. The gospel must always become a new and fresh thing. But the change can never take us too far from the welcoming center of the Lord's Supper. It is there that we continue to be molded and shaped into cups capable of sharing the wine of life with the world.

2010-07-30T21:02:00.000-07:00

Susan and I spent a remarkable day working at St Gregory's distributing food to around four hundred people. The workers began arriving around eight in the morning. Many of the workers are from the neighborhood and receive food themselves to help supplement retirement income. They worked like beavers crating in the food and placing it at stations around the Lord's Table where we celebrated communion last Sunday. The food consisted of wonderful fruits and vegatables from the nearby valley, fresh breads, some rice, cereal, beans and chicken sausage. At around ten thirty everyone stopped for coffee and a cookie. Then work continued until everything was set up around 11:30(see photo). At that time tables were set up for lunch. While the volunteers had been working setting up the food, Paul, the church's pastor and Sara Miles who worked to set up this food ministry as a way of extending the Lord's Table into the community, had cooked lunch (see photo). When all was prepared we ate together and got better acquainted. After the lunch was cleared away each of us was assigned a station where we distributed one item. I did carrots and Sue did plums (see pictures). The people who came in were given assigned times to show up. One group (the red group) comes one week for food and the other group comes the next week. I would say ninety percent of the people who came for food were beyond retirement age. Most seemed very appreciative for the food.
In the brightly decorated sanctuary with all the dancing saints it seemed the community of Christ was taking form again as food was provided for the tables of those with need and as community formed among those who volunteered to serve. In talking with those who served I learned some were devote Catholics, some attended St Gregory's Episcopal, some were not attending any church, and at least one woman said, "My mother would turn over in her grave if she saw her in church. She'd say,'What's wrong with you, going to church? You are a nice Jewish girl."
Today volunteers were brought together around the table not by a common creed or belief, but by a simple desire to care for others. It was a good place for Christ to be found.

2010-07-26T10:17:00.000-07:00

Yesterday I attended three services that included communiion. Two were held at St. Gregory of Nyssa Church in San Francisco. It is an Episcopal Church started in 1978 by two professors from Yale who decided to return to pastoral ministry. One of the professors, so I understand, had the backing of a family foundation that funded much of the early work. They began meeting in another church, but after experiencing some growth bought the property where the present church is located. I’d been told by a professor at Princeton last year that I should visit this church if I was interested in seeing communion done in a different way.
The church is an inclusive church, not just in the makeup of those who worshiped, but in the symbols used to decorate the sanctuary, which consisted of two large rooms joined together. In some ways the sanctuary reminded me of an Eastern Orthodox Church with its many icons and symbols. But there were also symbols like a menorah that seemed to honor other faith traditions. When it came time for communion worshipers went from that part of the room where we were seated into a large open room where the communion table was located. We were taught a simple dance step, similar to what I imagined a Shaker might use, and as we sang we put our arm on the shoulder of the person in front of us and we “danced” into the other room until we had surrounded the communion table. Now we were not the only ones dancing. In the room where the communion table was set up there are paintings on the walls and ceiling of the room. (see photo). These are the dancing saints. They included person from long ago like Barnabas and Moses, but also persons who have lived recently like Thomas Merton and Margaret Mead. One saint did not have his halo, Desmond Tutu, because he hasn’t yet died. At the center of these paintings or icons was Jesus who was also depicted as dancing. I would classify this as the strangest thing I’ve seen while visiting churches on Sabbatical. I can’t say the service was especially meaningful, and yet I did take away from the service a sense that we are far too somber when we come to the Lord’s Table. While I’m not ready to start dancing, I hope I will remember that it is a feast, a gathering of joy that remembers the power of God to turn death into life, the power of God to heal and save us. At this table all the saints do gather, and I’ll bet in God’s presence there may be a few “happy feet.”
Last evening I attended a Eucharist at Grace Cathedral. It was held on the indoor labyrinth at the Cathedral. The assistant rector, Lauren Artress, is largely responsible for having revived the use of the labyrinth as a tool of spiritual formation back in modern times. I was a little disappointed that the communion service did not include the use of the labyrinth, except that the table was set up in the center of the labyrinth and we all set around it for the worship.
For the last couple of weeks I’ve been putting my thoughts and experiences together, re-reading notes from books and travel, and thinking about how all this has changed my understanding of myself and the church. It has been amazing how one experience has connected to another, how one internal conflict has found some resolution through the next thing I’ve seen or read. I found it interesting when I entered the sanctuary yesterday morning at St Gregory’s and saw all the paintings I immediately thought of the frescos that were painted over or removed from the walls of churches after the Reformation. And I thought of the frescos on the walls of the Catacombs in Rome. I wondered how our faith might be expressed were we to try and depict it in some art form.
Many things to think about and ponder, not just the next couple of weeks but hopefully for a long time after I get back into the daily joy of ministry.

Home Safely

2010-07-10T08:33:00.001-07:00

After spending most of the day Friday traveling, we arrived safely home late in the evening. It will take a few days to get caught up with the time. I slept about five hours, dreaming mostly of Rome. I was looking for a place amid ruined arches. Maybe the dream depicts the job before me of making sense of the experiences I've had while traveling and reading. Right now it seems like a really big job. But I hope over the next few weeks, before I resume my ministry at the church, that I'll be able to organize things in a way that will help others taste a little of this banquet I've feasted on this summer.
One of the things that fascinated me on this trip were doorways. Maybe I was thinking about the Celtic understanding that a doorway is a "thin air" place, a place where God is especially real and present. Doorways mark the boundaries between where we've been and where we are going. God meets us in those places of change, inviting us into new ways of seeing and being. I feel my experiences this summer are bringing me through a new doorway.
On Thursday I went beneath St Cecilia's Church in Rome. There were a number of rooms beneath the ancient church that were a part of a large home that once stood on the sight. The home dated to the first or second century. It was the home of a wealthy family, a senatorial family. Cecilia lived in this home sometime around the end of the 2nd century. She was a Christian and she open this beautiful home up to other Christians in that Roman Community for worship. It was a house church. Cecilia was eventually charged with working against Rome, a charge leveled at Christians during the first three centuries in Rome. She was beheaded near the baths in her home. After Christianity became legal in Rome a large church was built on this site honoring the hospitality of Cecilia.
As I walked through the large rooms and stepped on some of the original tile that had covered the floor, I thought of the great community of faith that met there over 1800 years ago. I thought of the faith and generosity of Cecilia that enabled her to share the things that came to her by way of her status in life with Christians who were slaves and laborers in Rome. The church that is built over the house is very elaborately decorated. It is a place of beauty. But for me the presence of God was there in the ruins of that home, there in the place where Christians walked through doorways as equals to give thanks to God for the life that they shared and for the hope they had in the resurrected Christ.
One of the symbols carved on a gravestone from that period in Rome, now embedded in the porch of St Cecilia church, was that of a ship. It was a symbol of the church. Maybe it referred back to the story of the disciples in a ship with Jesus on a stormy night. They were frightened, but Jesus was there and they were not harmed.
The early house church where people came together to break bread, to read the old stories and to pray reminds us of the profound simplicity of our life together as a church. The church was and remains about the people who gather to love one another and to try and love others in meaningful ways.

Wrapping Up

2010-07-07T09:36:00.000-07:00

In a couple of days we will say goodbye to Europe and head home. After five weeks of living out of one small suitcase apiece, Susan and I are ready for familiar surroundings. We look forward to seeing our family and will be anxious to see everyone in our church family in another five weeks.
We spent Monday evening and Tuesday with a friend from Bowling Green. Father Jerry Ridney, priest at Holy Spirit was in Rome for a 35th reunion of his seminary class. He went to school in Rome. He brought a friend from his graduating class who serves a church in Minnesota and we had a great time touring several plazas and then had dinner together at the restaurant of The Twelve Apostles (I’m not kidding). We talked about communion in the Catholic tradition well into the evening. I learned there are Catholic theologians who are looking at communion within the life of the church in different ways. I was glad to get a couple of names and titles of books to read. Jerry’s friend quoted Thomas Merton who said “if you do not love, you cannot experience communion.” The meal we shared sitting along the street at the Twelve Apostles seemed a lot like communion.
On Tuesday we took a bus to Tivoli to a villa built by a 16th cardinal. Jerry Ridney and Gregory went with us. It had a beautiful courtyard filled with fountains that were fed by water that came in from the mountains through Roman aqueducts. It is easy to see why Martin Luther was put out with the wealth and extravagance of the cardinals in Rome. I did try to remind myself that in those days many of the cardinals were from royal families and had little religious training. Setting aside the inconsistencies of such extravagance and I just enjoyed the beauty.
Today, Wednesday, I completed my search for art work depicting communion. I found a beautiful Last Supper scene in the Sistine Chapel done by Michelangelo. There was also a tapestry in the Vatican Museum dating to the Renaissance that had only 11 Disciples. Judas got left out.
My last visit to a religious site in Rome turned out to be the most rewarding. What I saw there, as well as what I’ve experience in my travels will make me look differently at the way faith is experienced and practiced. I can’t get into all that now, but I’ll share just a little of what I saw. I visited the Catacombs of Priscilla which is off the beaten path for tourists. Located along the ancient road Salaria, it is believed a woman from a Senatorial family gave the old mined out area to early Christians as a burial ground. It dates to the mid to late 2nd century. In some of the rooms some pictures remain on the walls above tombs. There are pictures of fish, an early sign for Christians. There are peacocks, early signs for resurrection. There are several OT scenes. The oldest know picture of Mary and baby Jesus is in the upper corner of one of these burial chambers. And there was what is called the “breaking of bread.” It is a drawing of five men and a woman sitting Roman style at a table being served bread by the host who is a man with a beard. There are seven baskets of loaves and fishes and there is a wine cup on the table. This picture drawn before the church had the support of the emperor seems to depict communion where men and a woman gather about Jesus’ table where there is great abundance. There is no cross or crucifix in the catacombs, nor are there images of judgment and torment. What does all that say? Volumes about what the church may have believed about life and death before the church managed to gain power by way of a Roman Emperor named Constantine.
I have lots to think about and digest over the next few weeks, but tomorrow is a free day to just walk around some of the plazas, eat as much gelato as I can, enjoy another good meal with Sue and gladly come home on Friday.

2010-07-05T02:05:00.000-07:00

It is hard to comprehend Rome. I sat down on a bench outside the small temple of Julius Caesar (see picture). Just on the other side of the wall there was a mound of dirt where his remains were cremated. Caesar walked by that spot the morning he was killed by his adopted son Brutus. He should have listened to the street corner Etrusian preacher who near that spot cried out to Caesar, “Beware the Ides of March.”
Later in the day Susan and I toured Palatine Hill where Rome is thought to have begun and where a huge palace covered the west side of the hill. The palace overlooked the Circus Maximus where horses and chariots raced for over 500 years before crowds that could number 250,000. (see picture) The palace was so magnificent that many said it caused the god’s to envy Caesar.
A large banquet hall can be found overlooking a courtyard filled with fountains. Here the powerful, rich and famous gathered to feast. Caesar would be seated on a platform and guests would recline on couches where they would gorge themselves on such things as bowls of larks tongues and pigs stuffed with live birds before roasting and lots of wine. If they got too full and wanted more a feather was provided to help them get rid of what was on their stomachs (see picture).
Hard to imagine the standard of living built on conquest, on booty, and on slave labor. It was great for those who were in power, but the cost in human suffering is all around, from the Coliseum where slaves fought and died, to the stories of rape and violence, the good life had a high price tag for many.
I had to think of the humble birth of a man in a distant country occupied by Rome. No one in this great city would know anything of his birth or his death, which was happened at the hands of Roman soldiers. He would have no palace to call home. No one would fear him. Yet the one born in Judea would inspire a new way that would ultimately conquer Rome. The Caesars are dead now, just their images in marble remain. But the one born in the obscure hamlet of Bethlehem remains a living presence in the hearts and minds of those who believe. And at the coliseum a cross stands where Caesar once sat. Love not hate and violence is eternal (see pciture).

Grateful for America's gift to my Great Grandfather

2010-07-02T07:18:00.000-07:00

My cousin Esther made us very welcome at her home near Thun, Switzerland. Her home is in a valley surrounded by huge mountains. No matter which way you look your eyes feast on unbelievable beauty. Wheat fields and grassland, gardens and trees, farmhouses and barns, streams and lakes are framed by mountains that rise 6000-9000 feet (see picture).
My cousin is a nurse and her husband a family practice doctor. They work together and have two children eight and eleven. I’ve appreciated all the time she gave me over the last three days. When we arrived on Tuesday there was a fresh loaf of zufla (see Picture) that Esther made to greet us. It is a Swiss bread my mother baked and one I sometimes bake. The bread common to our family on both sides of the Atlantic made me feel as though all our ancestors from Switzerland and America were at the table. Esther has managed to serve us excellent meals and act as our non-stop tour guide. She arranged for us to visit several churches on Wednesday and to talk with a friend of hers who was from Missouri but has lived in Switzerland for 13 years and is now a citizen here. He grew up in the Baptist church and attended bible college in Mayfield. I learned so much from him that I want to share, but that must wait until I’m back at home in Bowling Green.
What I want to share today is how this July 4 may be the most meaningful Independence Day I’ll ever celebrate. I know this because in a conversation I had Thursday with a distant cousin, Oswald Muller (see picture) tears welled up in my eyes as I was told how America provided a place where my great-grandfather, John Muller, and his family could go in 1893 to keep from either going to jail or being killed. It is a story I’d never been told. From letters written in the early part of the 20th century by my great grandmother, Rosetta Muller and found a few years ago, we thought my grandfather left Switzerland for economic reasons. He owned a mill and we thought his brother had opened another mill not far from John’s and stolen many of his customers. We had assumed John left Switzerland angry at his brother. We know that when he got settled near East Bernstadt,KY his wife and children followed. My grandfather, Emil, was just an infant when they made the crossing. Our family received several copies of letters written by Rosetta (from 1905-1937) to her sister-in-law in Switzerland and in some of those letters she mentioned that John had forgotten the wrong done to him and was just living in the present. Today I learned from the grandson of John Muller’s brother what really happened. John and his wife Rosetta had become members of the Taufers. The word in German means baptizers. The reformed church believed in infant baptism. That was the official religion in Switzerland and infant baptism records were used to register citizens and to let the state know who existed for tax purposes and the draft When this group of Taufers began preaching baptism by immersion and opposed the draft and war they were hunted down and either jailed or killed. Word was sent to my great-grandfather to either leave the country or he would be jailed or killed. So he disappeared. His mill was taken over by the government and sold. John immigrated to America and sent word to his father when he had settled near to send his family. Even in America he was afraid the reformers might find him, so he never wrote and he never returned to Switzerland. My guess is that is why he changed his last name to Miller to avoid any scrutiny by other Swiss families who had already settled in America.
For several weeks I’ve seen the destruction brought by Reformers bent on changing the church and wrestling political power for themselves. Little did I know I’d discover my own great-grandfather had to leave his native country and lose his business because of the intolerance of the Reformers in Switzerland.
America gave him a fresh start, a place where he and his family could believe as they chose, a place where the government could not put him in jail and or take over his business because he believed in something that wasn’t popular.
On this 4th of July I won’t be in the states, but I will give thanks for a nation where different people are welcome, where new ideas are encouraged, and where freedom remains our most cherished possession. And I will give thanks for the people at First Christian Church who are comfortable with differences and try to room for everyone at the table.
Today we are in Zurick and have toured Zwingli's church. He was a contemporary to Calvin and Luther. Some say Disciples' view of communion follow Zwingli most closely. After what I've seen I'd argue with that point.
Tomorrow we are of to Rome.

Hotbed of Reformation

2010-06-28T12:49:00.000-07:00

After traveling by high speed train on Sunday, we arrived in Geneva, Switzerland, considered by many to be the hotbed for the Reformation in the 16th century. At that time Geneva was a city state, and its ruling body went against the Roman church and declared Geneva a safe haven for John Calvin and reformers like him. Calvin had been a priest, but, like Martin Luther, believed the church needed to reform. He was not allowed to do this from within the Roman church, and would have been tried by the church for heresy had he not had a safe haven where his theology and thought could evolve. Geneva became a safe place where reform-minded ministers came to learn and express their views. John Knox came here to escape persecution in Scotland. Two of the four reformers pictured together at the Reformation Wall near the old city of Geneva are John Calvin and John Knox (see picture). Knox went back to Scotland where his work led to the formation of the Presbyterian Church which was the church out of which Disciples of Christ came.
We visited St. Peter’s Church today in the old city. It is built on a site where worship has taken place for at least 2100 years. It is high on a hill overlooking Lake Geneva. Allobrogians apparently buried a famous tribal chief on the site around 100 B.C.E. Digs under the present church have found evidence of wine and food near an ancient tomb indicating it was a place where people came to worship and their worship included meals. A Roman temple was built over the ancient tomb indicating some Romans found this site sacred. One of the interesting artifacts I saw was a twelve sided silver dice containing the signs of the Zodiac. By the fourth century there was a church here where Christians worshiped. Several baptismal pools have been unearthed showing an elaborate system of how water was piped in, indicating a large pool where the candidate would kneel in the water to be baptized (see photo).
Parts of the present church were constructed in the 11th and 12th centuries. It was a Catholic Church with beautiful stained glass and frescos, but the reformers stripped the church of anything lavish (or beautiful). Not even organ music was allowed until the end of the 18th century.
Tomorrow we go to Bern where my grandfather John Miller was born. We will move on to a small town called Thun where we will spend three days with my cousin Esther.

Speaking the language

2010-06-26T01:29:00.000-07:00

Susan and I are staying in a part of Paris not known for tourism. As a result we are having to make the best of our limited French. Sue minored in French in college and can still read--a little. I look for words that have a root I might understand. And I've gotten very good at pointing. The people we have encountered have been more than gracious. For example, I stopped by a poissonnerie stand to buy a piece of salmon yesterday. Luckily there was a piece just the size I wanted so I pointed to it. The fish monger smiled and picked up the fish with a sheet of counter paper. Then he asked me a question. I didn't have a clue what he was asking. He spoke no English. He disappeared behind the counter speaking loudly. I first thought he was probably cursing the dumb American. But then I realized he wanted me to come behind the counter. There he took a knife and laid it against the skin side of the salmon. He was asking if I wanted him to take the skin off. "Oui monsieur."
Not understanding can be more troublesome in a world where you have need but can't understand how to have that need met.
We extended our stay in Paris by a couple of days because of a national strike on Thursday. We didn't know about the strike when we went to the train station to get tickets. The only thing we could learn was that no tickets were being sold for the following day. That was the day we were suppose to travel to Taize. Being unclear about our ability to get to Taize, we made arrangements to stay where we were for two more days. We walked around mystified for half a day until someone told us about the strike. Then it made sense.
In a country where you don't speak the language you begin to look for people you think may know English. I've discovered people who are of Indian descent and young people are more likely to speak some English.
So, let's think a moment about people in the world who don't understand the message of Christ or have an understanding that leaves them full of guilt,shame or anger. How can we let them know there is a place at the table for them? Seems the fish monger had the best solution. When he saw I didn't understand he showed me what he meant. Those who follow Christ can't expect people to just come in and find their place when they don't understand who Christ is or what the church is about. Neither can those who see God as vengeful, wrath-filled God find comfort or nurture at the table. But if those who have come to recognize Jesus as a friend who shows us God's great love can show others, we'll have to enlarge the table to make room for the many who will come to feast on the good news of love and hope and peace.

Feeding the Children

2010-06-23T21:50:00.000-07:00

There appears little artwork from the middle ages or the reformation in Europe that deals with communion or communal meals. But one theme is frequent in the art I've seen, the presentation of Mary and her child Jesus. Several paintings in the Louvre show an infant Jesus being fed at the breast of Mary. Maybe this is one of the ways people living in a harsh time had to celebrate the joy of birth and new life. Or maybe it was a way of remembering that the child is nurtured by God through the care and devotion of parents.
Paris is the place to come if you want to see children. It has the highest birthrate of any city in Europe, 2.0. Everywhere one looks they see baby carriages and young children. At places like Luxembourg Gardens and the park near the Eiffel tower children are busy playing under the watchful eye of a parent or nanny. This is a joyous scene, but deeper reflection brings sadness. Church attendance and participation are very low in this city. Though these children seem to get a good diet of food, fresh air, an education and recreation, they are not being nurtured in the communal life of the church. They aren't being fed a regular diet that would allow them to develop a sense of God in their world and their place in God's world.
Some would see this lack of commitment to the church on the part of new generations of parents as a result of the past sins of the church. Maybe so! But where will these young children turn when they grow up and face a world full of challenges? What songs and stories will nurture them and give them courage? What will call the to sacrifice and greatness? What will convince them that beyond life's greatest disappointments there is a resurrection, a renewal, a new life?
I fear those who want to provide the very best for their children are neglecting the holy habits and routines most important for a happy and successful life.

Looking for a meal

2010-06-21T22:10:00.000-07:00

Here we are in Paris and I found myself looking for a meal. Now there's no shortage of food. It may be a little difficult figuring out what is being ordered from a French menu when the waiter speaks no English. But I've found one sure method that works every time if you're looking for something good to eat. Go into one of the many pastry shops, point to anything and hold up one finger. Soon you'll be in confectionary heaven.
But let's get back to my Sabbatical theme and my search for a meal. I spent part of Monday going through 12th-16th century paintings at the Louvre museum looking for religious art that might depict the Lord's Supper. The only painting I found was a 16th century depiction of a Mass. It was very clear from the painting what was important in that meal. All eyes were glued on the bread as it was being elevated. They were watching for the moment when the bread would become the flesh of Jesus. The reason they came to Mass was not to share the meal. Only the priest was likely to actually eat the bread unless it was Christmas or Easter. And the church members would never drink from the cup. The Lord's Supper had become a meal of mystery, not a meal of communion. When the reformation began one of the first things that happened was to do away with this adoration of the bread and cup and to offer both to those who came and to make the meal one of communion with God. Later in the reformation Disciples would also emphasize how the meal acted as a way to share communion with each other.
The religious art from the 12th-16th century that I viewed yesterday had essentially two themes,birth and death. There were so many depictions of Mary and the infant Jesus. And there were depictions of Jesus' suffering and death. There were some pictures of the final judgment, but those scenes were filled with tormented souls being escorted to hell. Fear was and continues to be a dominant theme in religious life. In the middle ages, if the plague didn't kill you some war would probably do you in. I'd like to say we've changed. In the past century we've gained a better handle on disease. But we can't seem to do much better with killing one another. As I walked through Pere Lacheise Cemetery yesterday I was struck by the agony depicted in monuments erected in memory of people who had lost their lives in concentration camps. There was a monument for each concentration camp. I also walked past the monument erected at the grave of Oscar Wilde, an author from Ireland and England in the late 19th and early 20th century who was imprisoned for two years in London because of a homosexual relationship with a British Lord.
Could it be that when our religion produces fear in us it also encourages fear of others and allows us to strike out at those who are different from us with a holy, self-rightous zeal.
What difference might be made if we shared a meal. Oh, I'm not thinking that would remove our fear. But in the company of others, in the company of those different from ourselves, in the company of a God who was recognized as loving, would an edge be taken off our fear? Would destructive energy be turned to better uses?

Goodbye to Iona; Hello Paris

2010-06-20T02:27:00.000-07:00

We arrived at an apartment we are renting in Paris on Saturday. From Iona to here required us to take two ferries, three buses, two planes, a train and the subway. No wonder we slept for 11 hours.
The week on Iona was a rich experience. As we were leaving one of the college students who is volunteering this summer as staff at Iona slipped Sue a note. Among other things it said, "What a beautiful couple you are. I so enjoyed meeting each of you. As I sat at the Thursday table service it entered my mind that if I ever get married I would have to be as lovely a pair as the two of you."
She went on to say how much she enjoyed cutting up vegetables with me and then she said of Sue, "I am thankful no one sat in the seat next to us that evening. Sharing dinner with you was a time I really felt God's presence."
Our experience on Iona taught how important food is in bringing people together. Whether it is preparing the meal together or eating at the same table the food becomes a way for community to form as we become acquainted and share parts of our lives with one another. Jesus said, "When you do this, remember I'm am in your midst."
On Thursday our worship was an Agape feast. We had a large table set up in the Abbey church. We didn't share bread and wine but nuts and fruit. It was a joyful service filled with thanksgiving. Where people gather to eat, where they break their lives open and share them with one another, it is Christ's feast and God is present.
The pictures include the agape table before the service, Sue singing with the choir on talent night and a final glance at the Abby as we head to the ferry.

A Day in the Life of an Iona Pilgrim

2010-06-16T02:14:00.000-07:00

Our day begins at 7:45. I'm on the morning work detail. I help set up for breakfast which is always cereal, porridge,toast, tea or coffee. After breakfast we go to morning prayers at the Abbey church. Then I return to the kitchen where I help chop vegetables for our lunch and dinner. Sue goes to clean baseboards and mirrors in the bathrooms. We have lunch at 1 and dinner at 6. Most of the food is vegetarian, with a little meat throne in for the evening meal. Last night it was nips/tatties/hogus.
Each day there are programs you can take part in or there is time to read or walk and enjoy the island. Yesterday Susan and I went on a three mile pilgrimage across the island to learn more about the ancient places. There is a worship service each evening at 9 p.m. Last night's service emphasized healing. I thought about several from our church who are dealing with challenges and remembered them in prayer.
Two things have made this a memorable week, the experience of living in community with other people and the sheer beauty of this place. Living so close to others makes one aware of many of their own weaknesses. We sometimes see things in others that are disturbing only to realize they are things that exist within our own life. Hopefully this experience teaches the importance of grace given to others and to self. And hopefully it provides a way to see things in one's life that may need some adjustment.
This little Island is a beautiful place. From almost any vantage point you can see the sound or the ocean. There are often sailboats either docked in the bay or sailing slowly past. The little village has homes that date back to the beginning of the 19th century. There are several gardens in the back yards of houses and hotels. These gardens often take the place of grass, so there is little mowing. The gardens are filled with flowers, herbs and some vegetables. The growing season isn't long enough to support anything but what we might grow in the spring. For example, their strawberry crop is still a couple or three weeks away.
The rock walls, sheep, and ancient buildings also add to the beauty and mystery of this place. They invite reflection and prayer. They encourage the enjoyment of life as it is given day by day.
We have a couple more days here, then will leave Friday to make our way to Paris.

2010-06-13T11:48:00.000-07:00

We've been almost too busy to post the last few days and it has been difficult finding a place with internet. We spent Thursday and Friday in the Highlands. Sue discovered some new things about her family clan, the Campbells. Seems back in the 1500's they killed about two hundred McDonalds after that clan had welcomed them into their castle and partied with them for 12 days. Some of the highlanders still hold a grudge against the Campbells it seems.
After a 10 hour trip that included a bus ride, a ferry ride, another bus ride and a ferry ride, we ended up in Iona last evening. This 2 mile long ISLAND is a special place. We will be with 30-40 people this week from other parts of the world forming community through worship, work and sharing meals together. I served as a deacon this morning for worship. There were about 150 present. I thought of how many people had settled down in this 12th century church to be reminded of God's presence and love through bread and wine. In the face of all who had sat in that place before me I felt small but realized all are still kept in God's hand.
This Island was settled in the 6th century by Columba and his missionary friends. They started a monastery and from here launched a mission to convert Scotland and northern England.
Sunday afternoon I played golf on a real Scotish golf course. The course was in the middle of a sheep and cow pasture. One of the rules allows a ball to be dropped free if it lands in fresh cow or sheep dung. I played with a group of young people who are volunteering at Iona. There were seven countries represented in the ten of us who played. Most of them were just learning the game, but we had a joyful time.
For the rest of the week we will be worshiping twice a day, sharing meals and doing some work together. I'm talking to lots of people about their practice of communion.
We miss all, but feel we are learning so much. Blessings.

St Andrews and Edinburgh

2010-06-09T11:24:00.000-07:00

Yesterday we spent the day at St Andrews. I know what you’re thinking. Olde Course, the place where golf began, the British Open. I’ll have to admit an interest in seeing this holy place of golf. It was a thrill watching folks tee off in front of the Ancient and Royal club. Even though there was a light rain and a cold wind was blowing stiffly off the North Sea, it was a thrill to think of all the golfing greats who’d walked down that course and then finished up on the 18th. But St Andrews has much more to offer than ancient stories of golf.
In 1546 George Wishart, a reform preacher, was taken into the custody of the cardinal at St Andrews. He was burned at the stake. Shortly after, Wishart’s friends broke into the castle and murdered the cardinal. They occupied the castle and started the first reformation congregation in Scotland. A young preacher by the name of John Knox came to serve as chaplain for those at the castle. They hoped the English queen Elizabeth, a Protestant, would come to their rescue. Unfortunately the French got there first, Knox was captured and was forced to serve as a galley slave for two years. When he was released he went to the continent, met up with John Calvin in Geneva, and returned to Scotland to be the mouthpiece for the reformation a few years later.
I visited the ruins of the St Andrews cathedral. Knox returned to St Andrews, and from the Trinity Church incited mobs to go and tear down all the altars in the Cathedral and remove any paintings, statues and icons from the church.
Today I attended a morning communion service at St Giles church in Edinburgh where Knox was minister. There were only five of us including the minister. It was held in a side alcove of the sanctuary where, before Knox, the Catholic church would have had an altar. I thought I heard the ghost of John Knox ranting that the present minister of the church had built an altar in the church and as including communion at each service on Sunday and two mornings a week. Hopefully Knox has tasted that great feast in heaven and now understands the table of mercy is neither Catholic or Protestant, but a gift of grace and hospitality for all who come.
The pictures include Susan and me at the Olde course, the ruins of the St Andrews castle, and Dr. McMillan,pastor of St Giles whom I interviewed today.

Unfencing the Table

2010-06-07T08:41:00.000-07:00

In the early 1800's a young man by the name of Alexander Campbell was studying at the school of religion at the University of Glasgow. Although he was a Scottish Presbyterian, he came to believe the Lord's Supper was a meal that should be shared with all believers. You see, at that time ministers gave person's tokens that verified they were worthy to take communion. That worthiness came by way of having made the right confession, the one that the church claimed was orthodox. When they prepared to have communion, which was only once every three months, the minister asked the elders to fence the table. They checked to make sure every person had
a token who came down front to sit at a long table to take communion. At one such service Campbell walked down the aisle, threw his token on the table and walked out. As you know he would go on to America where he would become the mouthpiece for the movement his father Thomas was beginning, a movement that placed the table at the heart of worship, removed the fence, and invited all to share the Lord's Supper. Discipes of Christ were given life through his work.
I went looking for that chapel where Campbell had his cleansing of the temple experience. I discovered the school of religion at the beginning of the 1800's wasn't located where the University of Glasgow is today, but was closer toward the town center. The chapel had been torn down, but the tower to the chapel was left standing and is now connected to an apartment building. That would be the picture on the bottom. The other picture is where Campbell would have attended classes.

Scotland at Last

2010-06-05T08:49:00.000-07:00

We safely arrive Friday morning in Glasgow. Though a bit tired we toured Glasgow Cathedral. I was surprised to see all the marks on columns still very visible where the reformers, led by John Knox, removed altars, statues, paintings and anything else from the Cathedral in the mid 1500's that might be idolatrous. I fear many things of beauty were destroyed in this purge aimed at purifying the church.
After good nights rest at a great little hotel we have spent the day at Dean Castle Country Park. A group of churches, all Presbyterian, are part of a program called Priority for the Poor.They are churches located in poor communities sseking ways to serve the poor and stay alive as communities of faith. They got together for a picnic today and we were invited by our hoat Rev.Muriel Pearson (she is in the hat) who explained this good time as communion too. We also toured Dean's Castle built by the Boyd Clan in the 13th & 14th centuries. I got to try on some armour and good ear arms from medival times. It might make good vestments for a church in conflict.

2010-06-02T07:37:00.000-07:00

One of the purposes of Sabbatical is to take a time away so one can better appreciate the time together. Maybe it is akin to a marriage where absence can make the heart grow fonder. I had to stop by the church for a few minutes yesterday and was surprised at how much I enjoyed seeing a number of people and being in my office. It is a good sign, that at the end of this time of being away I will come back with a deeper appreciation for the people with whom I serve and the place where my ministry finds its fulfillment.
I've received several cards and calls concerning my surgery last week. I appreciate them all and know that the prayers and thoughts have been a part of my healing. I've felt surrounded by the church. I'm doing very well. There is no pain, just some tenderness. I'm walking a lot each day and sleeping well at night. There will be a few adjustments to be made in my digestive system, but that is manageable.
We are leaving first thing in the morning for the biggest part of our Sabbatical travels. Hopefully most things will fall into place as they have been planned and the only surprises we have will be good ones.
There is often something in our nature that desires going away. Maybe it is a response to God's call. "The Lord had said to Abram, "Leave your country, your people and your father's household and go to the land I will show you" (Genesis 12: 1). Maybe there is an element of running away from responsibility, "But Jonah ran away from the Lord and headed for Tarshis" (Jonah 1:3). Maybe it is a desire to be independent, free from expectations,"The younger son got together all he had, set off for a distant country" (Luke 15:13b). Sometimes a journey is directed and guided by God's Spirit, "The two of them, sent on their way by the Holy Spirit, went down to Seleucia and sailed from there to Cyprus. Whatever the reason for this Sabbatical journey, I hope the result for me and for the congregation will be that experienced by shepherds long ago who, after leaving their duties for a brief time to go to Bethlehem, "Returned, glorifying and praising God for all the things they had heard and seen" (Luke 2:20a).

2010-05-27T10:01:00.000-07:00

Well, some good news and some bad. First the bad. My gall bladder won't be making the trip to Scotland this Sabbatical Season. It was taken out by a surgeon on Wednesday evening at the Medical Center.
The good news, The rest of my body will be making the trip. My wife Susan will have to handle the lifting for a week or so, but the doctor said there should be no problem in getting me ready to fly by a week from today.
I was suppose to be at a workshop in North Carolina this week dealing with 21st century worship patterns. On the way I began experiencing pain. I thought it was a kidney stone, but turns out it was a gall bladder going bad. After an overnight in the hospital on Wednesday, I'm home and doing pretty good. I guess this will give me plenty of reason to rest and get ready for the rest of the Sabbatical journey.

2010-05-27T09:50:00.001-07:00

Sunday Communion

2010-05-25T11:25:00.000-07:00

The tradition that nurtured my faith for the first 27 years of my life did not include the Lord's Supper as a part of its weekly worship. They celebrated a service of the Word with preaching, praying and singing. Occasionally there would be a service of the Lord's Supper scheduled for a Sunday Evening Service. Only those who were members of that local church need show up. Outsiders would not be fed.
I've often thought the church of my childhood gorged me on judgment and guilt and starved me on grace and acceptance. What was lacking in our Sunday worship may have, in part, been supplied by my Mother after worship each Sunday. She'd always put a roast on to cook while we were at church. Just as surely as the preacher would give an invitation I knew what our house would smell like when I walked through the door after church. No incense ever raised more expectation. The frangrance from the kitchen told you in just a few minutes the table would be set with roast beef and gravy, mashed potatoes and corn and beans, a salad, and always dessert. Sometimes it would just be our family that gathered and sometimes room would be made for a visiting professor who'd spoken that morning or a friend come to spend the afternoon. That table was an extension of the worship we experienced at church. It was a place of fellowship, a place of welcome, a place where life was good.
Last Sunday I did something I've not been able to do in several years. I shared Sunday dinner with my mother. She didn't cook the meal and the food wasn't nearly as tasty or aromatic as what I would have experienced at her table long ago. My mother's illness has taken her memory of how to feed herself away, so I cut up her food and fed her until she told me, "That's enough of that. I don't want anymore." I don't know if she knew who I was. I was familiar enough that she felt secure around me. And she laughed as I talked with her and tried to tell her little stories. That Sunday dinner could have brought me sadness for what has been lost. It could have frightened me because I carry some of my mother's genes. It could have filled me with emptiness about what is no more. But it was a blessed, God-given moment of communion, a time formed in me by a memory of what had gone before, a moment formed in her by the simple task of eating and laughing.
A book I'm reading written by Lee Wandel entitled, The Eucharist in the Reformation, states that both Augustine and John Calvin didn't believe we are capable of knowing God, only knowing the presence of God. I do believe last Sunday, at that table of communion where chicken and dumplings were served, God was present, the host who not only gives life, but shows us how to break it open and pour it out each day.

2010-05-21T12:31:00.000-07:00

I've just gotten home from the last day of a conference in Nashville, TN. The picture I've attached will be treasured. It is a picture of John Bell. He is a part of the Iona Community, a noted song writer and director who has traveled the world to teach his simple text and to gather songs from many nations and cultures. He had a hard time getting to the conference. He was stuck in Glasgow because of the volcanic ash until Thursday, but I got to hear his lecture this morning and it was inspiring and informative. He believes the church needs to look for music that can be sung and remembered, not performed.
One of the things he talked about was the way we make our worship more hospitable by singing songs from many cultures. He also mentioned that 60% of the world doesn't have wheat in its diet, so singing about the bread at the table is often not something that computes. He shared a song from Taiwan entitled "The Rice of Life" that challenged me to think more deeply about what is shared at the table.
The rice of life from heavencame to bring true life from God above
Receive this gift, God's mercy claim
in joy and pain give thanks for love.
The music he taught was simple, easy to learn, beautiful to sing. He often used what was called lining in the mountains, where he would sing one verse and the audience would respond.
I've heard familiar speakers at the conference like Jim Wallis of SoJourner fame and William Willamon. And I heard some exciting new voices at this conference for preachers. Lillian Daniel, senior minister of First Congregational Church, UCC, gave an excellent lecture on Reclaiming the Practice of Testimony.
I enjoyed seeing some old friends at the conference and enjoyed spending a little time with our newest ordained minister, Rev. Debby Neal who also attended the conference. All for now. Next week I'll be in North Carolina at a conference looking at worship in the 21 st century being led by Diana Bass.

Making preparations

2010-05-14T18:09:00.000-07:00

With just a couple of more days before beginning the Sabbatical I've been finalizing traveling plans. The first week I'm attending a workshop in Nashville. John Bell, head of the Iona Community will be leading one of the tracts on worship. The second week I'll be attending a conference on Worship in NC. It is led by Marva Dawn, a noted teacher and author on worhsip in 21st century.
We leave June 3 for Glasgow. We are going on the first Sunday of the month to be a part of Cranhill Church's monthly communion service. We will spend time with their minister and their congregation. If you'd like to read a little about the Crandhill
Parish in a poor section of Glasgow, go to this site http://cranhillchurch.org.uk/
Muriel, their pastor wrote an article in a journal I read last year that spoke of how communion has led the congregation to be more involved in its community ministry.