Seasonal Thoughts

Time goes fast in seminary and this first semester is no exception. At the same time, I have been very aware of the changing season. Fall is a beautiful time of year here in Massachusetts, with the trees vibrant with orange, red, and yellow. As the last day of October comes to a close, it makes me think about life's journey. Fall is a time that I think about rest and about the cycle of life. It is a time when the earth begins to ready for the great sleep of winter. And, for as far back as we know, humans have taken this time of year to think about loved ones lost and the reality of our mortality.

In the old Celtic cultures, this is Samhain, when the veil between life and death grew thin and people remembered the dead who were no longer among them. It was a night of ritual and rememberance, of bonfires and readying for winter.

In my tradition, it is the eve of All Saint's Day. We bring pictures of loved ones and place them with candles on an altar. Some churches have processions where those who have died are named and remembered.

Concurrently, we approach Dia de los Muertos, an ancient tradition where the dead are also remembered and fiestas take place in cemetaries. Elaborate altars carry the fruits of the harvest alongside pictures of the dead. Death is mocked in dances and celebrations.

And, of course, it is Halloween, the Western holiday where little kids dress up as witches and Superman and collect candy from the neighborhood. It is a time of celebration and scary movies, a time where we joke about our mortality.

While everyday is a day when the veil between the sacred and the common is thin, it is nice to have days like this where we think more seriously about what the world is enacting in the great ritual of the seasons and what that tells us about our own lives. In the beautiful garden where I love to walk, I could take a moment to remember loved ones I have lost, to contemplate my own mortality, and then to laugh and enjoy the world around me.

Finding Space in the Chaos

Sorry, folks, that it has taken so long for another update. Seminary life is as busy as it is cracked up to be... and I have been more than busy with settling into a new place, starting classes, and reading more in a day than I ever thought possible. I love all my classes and the teachers here at EDS are amazing.

But I am also finding that there is more to seminary than simply studying. It requires you to put your whole self forward and to engage in just as much heart work as mind work. Because of this, I am learning to find space for reflection and meditation as well. I am glad that I chose one of my classes to address the issue of "Spirituality and Well-Being," as learning self-care and disciplined spiritual practice is vital for seminary life.

I have found it very helpful to find space and time during the week to mediate, pray, and just to be. One way I do this is in daily chapel services, which I find very centering as I start or end my day with prayer in community, in the company of candles and icons. Another way is in spending time outdoors, which has always been my favorite place to find both God and myself. I am still finding it quite an adjustment to move from rural to city life, where there is so much noise and activity and people everywhere all the time. I am glad that just outside the house I am staying in, is a garden that is usually fairly quiet, where I can just sit and watch the bees in the flowers or draw.

This weekend, I visited the beach. I find the sea so calming and centering, so I spent some time reflecting and writing-- and just standing in the surf looking out to the endless horizon. I love the Loreena McKennitt song that says; "The pounding sea is calling me home; home to you." I feel like the sea represents, in some way, the infinite-- new possibilities, new horizons, endless life.

This is the chapel at EDS, where we hold Eucharist and morning and evening prayer. The daily offices held in community has been an amazing addition to my spiritual life...

Protest as Worship

"For many of us, the walk from Selma to Montgomery was about protest and prayer. Legs are not lips and walking is not kneeling. And yet our legs uttered songs. Even without words, our march was worship. I felt my legs were praying." Abraham Heschel

This Sunday, I attended an immigrant rights rally. I rarely miss church for anything-- church is the place I recharge for the rest of the week, meet God in the sacraments, and renew my commitment to service. But for some reason when I got up this morning, I decided to board a bus up to Nashua, NH to join other immigrant rights activists in standing for human rights.

As we prayed for blessing on our work, as we stood on the street corner and chatted together, I realized that what I was doing was also an act of worship. I felt my commitment to God and God's work renewed as I stood with other people and with new friends. A small counter demonstration held a placard that said; "Deport Illegal Aliens." Aliens. But the immigrants who are my friends are not aliens. They are human beings, made in God's image. At the center of my life as an activist is seeing Christ in every human being--seeing the humanity of every person. So, while I did not partake of the Eucharist today, I did meet Christ in all the lovely people that welcomed me in their midst. It was an act of worship to stand with and for people who are marginalized in society and live out Jesus' command to "love one another."

Of course, I will be back in church next Sunday.

A Tale of Three Churches

So, today, I decided to try to fit in three church visits in the same day. Ok, so I'm a nerdy seminary student! At any rate, I am so glad I went to each of them-- each had their own character and draw. One of the things I am loving about the Boston area is that I can access so many experiences. Walking to one church, I passed a beautiful chanted Ethiopian service, a prayer service starting at a beautiful masjid, and a lovely Buhhdist center that I would have walked into, but they were closed.

My morning started at St. James Episcopal Church in Porter Square...



This was my kind of service! Down to earth like I am used to back home (the priest was not even wearing an alb) in a beautiful building complete with gorgeous stained glass. Most beautiful were the people-- a very diverse urban congregation and lively! There were probably about 120 in attendance and the service was punctuated with amens and hymn music that, sung, sounded more like gospel. I loved that I was able to sing many of my favorite hymns from childhood. My favorite segment was the prayers of the people. Instead of the usual mumbling of requests, many people in the congregation offered prayers aloud for people they knew, recent crisises, or just reflecting on the sermon. It was a holy time, celebrating the Eucharist with black and white, citizen and immigrant, all one in Christ.

Then I headed out to the Boston Commons....


Here I joined the Common Cathedral, an outdoor church right in the middle of the commons, where most of the members are unhoused. And this was the most powerful service I have yet attended. The service was very simple and the music was led by a group of men with tamborines and harmonicas. There were about 40 people there, mostly the city's least wanted, with a few curious tourists who either took pictures or rolled their eyes. Sandwiches were handed out before and, come time for the prayers of the people, any person who wanted to had a chance to speak. Some gave a testimony, prayed for a friend, spoke about their fears or just thanked Jesus. I think this was the kind of place Jesus liked to hang out and I felt his presence. The singing was joyful and everyone seemed to know the words-- from the man who kept taking out his whiskey bottle to the girl dressed up in black and red leathers. And, best of all, all were welcome to the table as the priest and deacon and assistants walked around the circle and then the common area, offering all the bread and wine. Afterwards, a sweet older man with a daughter in college came up to me and gave me a cross and a blessing, sharing his story-- how, after 17 years on the street, he got a job a year ago and finally found an appartment recently. He talked about how God has changed his life.

A trip back to Cambridge and a nap later, I was ready to find an evening Spanish service...

So, I do get lost sometimes here and this was a bit hard to find, but I finally made it. About 150 showed up for Spanish mass at St. Mary of the Ascension Catholic Church. I couldn't navigate the missal well, but I enjoyed listening and understood a lot. I loved the priest's illustration during his sermon on the gospel for today as he shared his family's reaction to his decision to attend seminary (apparently, if I heard correctly, they wanted him to be a doctor instead). I felt a bit awkward in a catholic service in a new place with a language I am barely competent in, but I think I'll go back, after I find a order of service in Spanish so I know what to do next! Nothing is more beautiful to me than to hear the Padre Nuestro in Spanish-- especially when it was sung.

Starting a New Life

Then the delight, when your courage kindled,
And you stepped onto new ground...
Though your destination is not yet clear
You can trust the promise of this opening;
Unfurl yourself into the grace of beginning
That is at one with your life's desire. John O'Donohue

I still cannot believe that I am here, in seminary, the place I've dreamed of for so many years. I still walk the campus and tell myself; "This is not a dream, I am really here." The years of waiting have been worth it-- I am ready for this new stage of my life. The best part of orientation was when the campus spiritual director took us on a walk through a labryinth and read this poem. It was a fitting start to a new journey, to take time to reflect on what has brought me to this place and where I will go from here. I felt a powerful sense of the presense of God, cradling me in motherly arms as I start this new life. It has been over a year since I prayed; "I will trust you on the sea" and embarked on this new path and found each door open for me. And it has brought me here, to Episcopal Divinity School, on the other side of the country.

I am settled in the little room that will be my home for the next three years and am learning to use Boston's public transportation. I am happy that I will be substantially reducing my carbon footprint! And I am signed up for classes and very excited to get started studying liberation theology and the church and social movements. I seem to fit in very well at EDS and am so grateful that I chose this school!

This weekend, I have spent a bit of time touring Cambridge and Boston, so here are a few pictures of what my new home looks like...

The campus...

In the Boston Commons in front of George Washington, my new friends, students from Africa...

A park in Cambridge... The stone monument memorializes the Irish potato famine and says in the back, "Never again should a people starve in a world of plenty." Besides the memorial sleeps a homeless man.

Downtown Boston...

Saying Goodbye-- for now

I grew up here on the Olympic Peninsula and while I am very excited to be off to seminary, I will miss the place I call home. This weekend, my sister and I drove around the entire Peninsula and I wrote a poem outside our hotel room in Port Townsend...


Today by the sea I say farewell
To the land that I call my home
The land that has nurtured me
and heard my sorrows
The land that has taught me
And filled my heart with joy.

I say farewell to the grand mountains
And windy mountain roads
To the towering ancient trees
Holding the memory of long ago.

I say farewell to the small forest paths
Lined with moss and lichen under a canopy of cedar
To the bracken rivers
Singing over broken moss-lined stone.

I say farewell to the tiny rural towns
Filled with poverty and laughter
To the uneasy blend of culture
Native tribes, loggers-- immigrants and city transplants.

I say farewell to the toppling farmhouses
With flecking red paint next to rotting silos
To the unkept fields, fences and barns
That speak of a dying way of life.

I say farewell to towering totem poles
Keeping the memory of an abandoned people
To the cedar canoe and the fishing boats
That once roamed and still roam to salty cove.

I say farewell to tourist towns
With streets lined with Victorian homes
To funky bookstores and logging museums
Lining two lane highways.

I say farewell to the creatures I know and love
The deer on the beach with her fawns
To the otter playing in the Hood Canal
And the grand bald eagle alone on the beach.

But I do not say farewell to the sea.
I may cross a continent, but the same
Sea that calls me here, will call me there
The rocks may be different, the seashore unique
But the sea is always the same.

And of course, I will come back!

I'm Back!

I stopped blogging for awhile due to personal circumstances, but since I am on my way to seminary, I thought this would be a good place to keep all my friends updated on my new life. I will be attending seminary beginning in just a few weeks. I am also applying for postulancy in the Episcopal church. I'll keep you all updated on my wild ride!