21st Century Congregations
September 2018
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Sabbatical – the root of the word is the same root as “sabbath” – the day during the week when we are encouraged to find a different rhythm of life, to rest, to remember that while our work is important, it is God’s work that sustains the world, and we join God in that work. Sabbaticals are, of course, extended periods of this different rhythm with the purpose of providing fresh perspectives, new ideas and a renewed energy in ministry. Sabbaticals can provide important time with families (who often get shortchanged in time in the balance of a busy ministry and family life), and extended opportunities to read and learn. It is not simply the exchanging of one kind of work for another but, rather, an opportunity to experience life in a new way, see things from new angles, and be refreshed in our lives in God in order to return to parish ministry (or, in my case, Diocesan ministry) renewed. All of our Letters of Agreement between parish and priest include sabbatical provisions for good reason! The second sabbatical of my years in ministry began last May.
The sabbatical emerged in the form of three journeys: a journey into the world – visiting places I have not experienced before; a journey inward – I spent a month of retreat to read, pray, write on a lake in Maine; and, finally, a journey into creativity – I took a road trip south for a class in storytelling, and a class in overshot weaving theory (I won’t take the time to explain that in this forum but, feel free to ask next time you see me!). I want to focus on the first journey, and the thread of a conversation that emerged as I visited Iona and embarked on an Anglican Heritage pilgrimage, visiting some of the great cathedrals of England. The conversation that emerged was between our ancient faith, as exemplified by these medieval buildings - built for the glory of God in a different time – and the modern expressions of that faith.
The first stop was the abbey established by St. Columba on the remote Scottish island of Iona. You may know that Iona is often described as what the Celts call a “thin place” - a place where the veil between heaven and earth is very thin. Words are inadequate to describe the experience of being in this very extraordinary place. St. Columba landed on Iona in 563. In the ensuing years, he not only built an abbey and developed a community but was also an active missionary and founder of other churches. The abbey fell into ruin long ago but in 1938 George McLeod, a Scottish clergyman, founded the
Iona Community.
What emerged was not a repetition of what Columba had so many years ago, but a new iteration of community. The Iona Community, while it finds its spiritual center in this old abbey in this thin island place, is worldwide. Groups of people around the world covenant together locally to experience deep community rooted in
worship and service.
This began a conversation between ancient and modern that continued through my journeys. How can we take the best of ancient expressions of our faith and allow God to transform them to be of abundant life in the 21
st
century? What would it look like to have small groups of people within a parish or from various parishes gather together for prayer, transforming conversations, and service? How could those individuals and groups be part of our revival – the event in October but, more importantly, the ongoing revival and renewal of an ancient faith in this day and age?
From Iona, we traveled down into England, stopping first in York to visit
Yorkminster
, the first soaring cathedral of our trip. It is indeed a gorgeous building, a center of worship and ministry for over 1000 years. The story that sparked my imagination, however, began in
1967 when huge cracks
in the tower began to be visible. Upon investigation, the engineers discovered that the problem lay in the foundation, some of which rested on mud. Pillars that supported the towers were found to be rotting. It would be easy to try to patch and fill the tower so it would continue to look good but continue to rest on an unsteady foundation. Instead they embarked on a massive 20
th
century renovation of this ancient building – they took up the floor in the cathedral and repaired and shored up the foundation. The main tower was part of what was seen and admired; the foundation was unseen, yet held up the tower. Renovating the foundation was a huge job; it disrupted the life of the cathedral but put them on firm footing for the future. It seems an apt metaphor for our lives. When institutions pay more attention to the beauty of the tower - that which people can see and admire - the state of the foundation goes neglected and, pretty soon, the pillars are found rotting. Most recently, we have seen this in a report from the Roman Catholic Church in Pennsylvania. Priests known to be abusers and predators were simply moved around to hide their abuses, and shield them from accountability. I am not pointing fingers at the Roman Catholic Church, it just happens to be a current example of the realization that sometimes what looks good, is resting on mud. In this opinion piece in the
Oregonian
, The Very Rev. Nathan LeRud, Dean of Trinity Episcopal Cathedral in Portland, Oregon reflects on this report, and how all churches can respond. In what ways have we paid more attention to what is outward and visible, to what will “look good” while neglecting our deepest foundations? In our lives? Our churches? Where do we pay attention to the tower and neglect the foundation? What’s the foundation work we are being invited to do? What’s the 21
st
century renovation of our faith that may be uncomfortable and require some disruption?
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Our third stop was
Coventry Cathedral
. The town of Coventry and the Cathedral burned in a bombing in World War 2. The decision to rebuild as an act of defiance was made the following day, though the current building was not consecrated until 1962. What they built is a towering modern building that stands connected by a walkway with the ruins of the ancient building. Today, Coventry Cathedral is dedicated to
peace and reconciliation
. Out of the war ruins of the ancient building, a new mission emerged –one uniquely suited for a post World War 2 context, and still uniquely suited for our world today. The ruins of the
old cathedral stand next to the new building
– they are connected by a walk way – you cannot see one without the other an ongoing visual conversation between ancient and modern. Where can we find new expressions of our mission – not simply doing what we have always done, or relying on the old “building” but, rather, seeing the presence of God and our calling, even in the midst of “ruins”?
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And, just one more…we visited
Canterbury Cathedral
. Canterbury became a center for pilgrimage after the martyrdom of Thomas Becket in 1170. The stone stairs up to his shrine are worn deeply from so many pilgrims over the centuries who approached on their knees. It was a place of pilgrimage for people who wanted Thomas to intercede for them. While we were there, there was
an art installation
, “Suspended” hanging above the nave. It consisted of cast off clothing from refugees from around the world. Its enormity could really be seen as they were dismantling it while we were there – dirty sweaters, torn jackets, shredded jeans. It was disturbing in a challenging and inspirational way. This ancient place of pilgrimage was speaking to the modern world – bringing to light new pilgrims, refugees seeking a better life, risking everything for life itself. While there are major differences between what it is to be a refugee and a pilgrim, both make journeys to seek new life…refugees in desperation for food, shelter, and freedom from oppression; pilgrims in a spiritual journey to find healing, meaning, new and abundant life. How is the church a place for both? How can we, as the church in the 21
st
century, become a place for those who hunger? It is said that evangelism is simply one beggar telling another beggar where to find bread. How can our churches be places where bread that nourishes the body and bread which nourishes the soul can be found by pilgrims and refugees?
These questions linger, even as I come home and return to work. I had the luxury of being a pilgrim to these places, to recover some of the depth of my own faith and vocation. I was able to experience the ancient stone walls soaked with the prayers of generations of the pilgrim faithful. And, I was glad to join in with the modern faithful seeking new ways to make these places live to the glory of God, and for the life of the world. If any of the questions I raise speak to your life, your faith, your church community please give me a call so we can explore ways to be pilgrims together and continue the conversation.
Photo credits – Coventry Cathedral photo comes from their
website
The Canterbury Cathedral photo of “Suspended” is on their
website
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The Rev. Pamela J. Mott
Canon to the Ordinary
The Episcopal Diocese of Western Massachusetts
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The Episcopal Diocese of Western Massachusetts | 413-737-4786 |
diocesewma.org
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