Universal longing

"That evening at sundown they brought to [Jesus] all who were sick or possessed by demons. And the whole city was gathered together at the door." - Mark 1:32-33

It was like a scene taken from the pages of the Bible. There were mothers with babies strapped to their backs and cuddled in their arms; there were old people, barely able to walk and some in wheelchairs; there were young children, teens and adults streaming in from every corner. The people spoke to one another with hushed and subdued excitement and in different languages, not recognizable to me. People wore their Sunday best but that mostly equated to simple, modest fabrics, with many of the women wearing long skirts and head coverings.

Such was the gathering our icon class attended today at St. George's Orthodox Monastery in Taylor, PA. A myrrh-bearing, miracle-working icon visited the monastery between 2-4 pm and we were there to venerate it, while at the same time participating in an outdoor worship service on the feast day of the Transfiguration.

Between 250  - 300 people gathered in all, each lining up to have a personal moment of a prayer with the Theotokos (mother of God) and to be anointed by the sweet rose-smelling ointment which has been seeping from Mary's face in this particular icon for a few years. Dozens and perhaps hundreds of people who came into contact with the icon and its myrrh have experienced miraculous healing.  And so we thronged peacefully toward her this afternoon, with constant chanting and prayers led by nuns for healing of all who are afflicted, in the name of the Father, Son, and Holy Spirit.

I thought of those who thronged toward Jesus wherever he went in Galilee for the very same thing: Healing of body and soul. He laid hands on as many as he could, but eventually he had to move on, just like this icon at its appointed time. For there were more sick people somewhere else waiting to venerate and witness this special happening. We weren't the only ones with the longing to be healed and made whole.

God's healing work is a mystery! I feel no need to limit that healing power to rational understanding. Today I was exposed to a healing tradition that was, until now, foreign to me but just as valid an expression of faith as I have been witness to.

Standing in that long line of the faithful, waiting for over an hour for my turn to approach, I was reminded that the healing for which I long and pray - for myself and my loved ones, for others who hurt, for divided communities and nations - is not unique to me, my family, or my church. It's part of all of us - the mommas and the papas, the newborns and the teens, the young children whose parents had to lift them to reach the icon.

And though I am skeptical of much, of this I am confident: God hears our prayers and receives our longings. And in God's infinite love, those longings of the universe are fulfilled.

Healing come, healing come.

Slower is sometimes (often) better

Moving slowly, with diligence and perseverance, is a virtue. And not one I possess. Icon-painting is well suited for those who enjoy giving attention to detail and keeping their attention on one thing for prolonged periods of time. I, on the other hand, tend to be a multi-tasker with a short attention span, flitting around here and there. Watching a feature-length movie can be a tall order at times.

To say that icon-painting all day everyday for a week is a challenge would be putting it mildly, but it's surprisingly not as hard as I thought. Due to excellent teaching, the companionship of other painters, and keeping the hours of prayer at 9 am, 3 pm, and 9 pm - in which we ask, among other things, for God's help to complete the task we are undertaking, the day unfolds in a natural rhythm and no part of it seems overly taxing. I am also aware of what a privilege and gift this time is... to have a whole week dedicated to prayer and painting beautiful things. What could be better? Maybe having my dog at my side as I go about this work. Only because I miss him. But I suspect iconography may be even less suited for the messy furriness of dogs than it is for short attention spans of humans.

Yesterday another of Randi's students stopped in to share with us the icon he just completed. It was an arresting and gorgeous image of one of my favorite Bible characters: John the Baptist. The last time I preached on him was about his death in which his head was served on a platter, which for obvious reasons made me sad. It was restorative to see him looking at us, intact, with a confident and fierce gaze through that icon, as he is remembered now as a saint in light. This icon was the work of a thoroughly attentive local artist - James Vonminden - who works as a maintenance man in an ecumenical Benedictine community. James worked on the piece for over a year. His diligence shows. His work is beautiful in part because of his attentiveness and slowness.

What should I do now?

I am learning  more from my friend and teacher this week than simply about the practical how-to of painting an icon (though there really is nothing simple about it!).  I am learning how to pray and how simply to be. Iconography, after all, is a way of praying with the hands.  As I am completely new to this art form, I have hung on Randi's every word and direction, even if I have, at times, forgotten to apply the technique she demonstrated only moments ago.

Painting an icon requires much waiting and, therefore, patience. Maybe this is true of all painting - because one coat has to dry before another can be added. And, since I am one of six in the class, we are not always on the same rhythm or timetable.

In one of the moments of down-time where I was waiting for one coat to dry and also for instructions as to what came next, I asked my teacher the simple and obvious question: what should I do now?

And she gave me just as simple and obvious an answer: meditate.

It is obvious because that is the point of it all... To meditate on the goodness and beauty of God through these illumined images of saints and Angels. So why didn't I think of that? I guess it's because even while on sabbatical and while taking a week to slow down and pray, I am programmed to think I must be doing something productive at every moment.

Meditate! What a novel thing to try and do, at rest and at work ... while painting, playing, and perhaps most importantly, at transitional times such as waiting for the next thing to happen but yet not knowing what that next thing might be.

When I wonder what I should be doing - even when this icon class has ended - I hope I remember her answer. And, better yet, that I practice it, not because it makes me more productive, but because it makes me a better - and more present - me.

Embrace the Mistakes

I did something I have never done before - and feel completely unqualified to do - but yet have wanted to try for years. My one week angel icon-painting class began at noon today. For the rest of the week the class will meet for roughly 13 hours/day at the Immanuel Icons Studio in the Highland Park neighborhood of Pittsburgh. Having arrived at 3 am this morning due to flight delay and bad weather, I was grateful for today's late start time.

The most helpful word of instruction that my esteemed teacher, Randi Sider-Rose, said was to celebrate and embrace the mistakes in our paintings even more than the successes because it is from mistakes that we learn the most: about such things as humility, grace, and correction.

I learned aLOT about humility today through my many mistakes! But I also feel free to make them, in order that I can keep learning. Otherwise, if we expected perfection of ourselves every time, how could we ever try something new? How could we learn? 

Speaking of figuring things out, as soon as I learn how to upload pictures onto the blog via my phone (without an Internet connection), I will share first glimpses of my first icon - very much a work in progress, just like me.

Here it is! This is actually taken at the end of Day 2. We have three days to go, so I expect the finished Raphael  angel to look quite different from the guy captured here. But he is well on his way! 

Hungry Feast

I appreciated the opportunity to worship at Immanuel Lutheran Church in Amherst, MA, today where my friend Steve Wilco is the pastor. It was clear how much thought and care went into planning worship and that it is a congregation that loves to sing with people accustomed to learning new material quickly. A classic piano duet - on two beautiful grand pianos - provided the music for prelude, offering, and postlude. Each Sunday during August - for the five "bread of life" Gospel readings - the congregation uses a different kind of bread from around the world for communion. Today was Scottish oatmeal bread - fortuitous for me. Music in the liturgy was also selected from around the world, including a Swahili alleluia and beautiful Chinese benediction. Attendees were invited to write down a hymn request and put it in a basket for a "hymn lotto" to be selected and used as the  sending hymn; it was a surprisingly easy and fun way to draw people in before the service even begins.

The assisting minister - a musician himself and leader of the worship ministry team - invited everyone to a worship forum during coffee hour. I would have gone if I did not have other plans, as I wanted to express my appreciation. Instead, I shared my impression with Steve on the way out and asked him to pass that on.

It was a replenishing experience to stand with hands extended at the table of Jesus, receiving the bread broken for me and wine poured for me! And yet, as with all true experiences of worship on this side of heaven and as was preached eloquently by Steve, it left me hungering for more! More of Jesus in my life, more of God's kingdom upending the world, more peace, more resources to be shared among us so no one hungers again.

Sabbatical Begins

After a year of preparation, I am now officially on sabbatical-leave which involves three months dedicated to spiritual renewal and replenishment.  The first day could not have been any more full of stuff I love.  Granted, it was a Saturday -- and I don't usually work on Saturdays other than to finish sermon preparation; but there was a different feeling about this Saturday knowing it was the beginning of something GREAT.

I went for a jog in the morning, and spent the bulk of the day with my friend Rafi -- enjoying a delicious brunch at Green Bean in Northhampton, MA followed by a trip to South Deerfield where I finally experienced Magic Wings butterfly conservatory.  See pics below!  We took Jack for a hike at one of his favorite spots: Mt. Tom, then played tennis  in the cooler evening hours at pro-level courts nearby.  After picking up home-made ice-cream at Mt. Tom Creamery, we made veggie tacos for dinner and chilled in front of a movie - Trainspotting -- selected because it takes place in one of my sabbatical destinations: Edinburgh.  After so much activity, we both fell asleep before the ending...

Here are a few snapshots I took at the Conservatory. Glorious fluttery things, proving one need not travel all that far to marvel at the work of our ever-Creative Creator.

A week into recovery: here I stand?

Having been a runner for over two-thirds of my life (since I was 12!), I hit a new kind of "wall" this summer when I was in full-throttle training for a long-distance relay called Reach the Beach.  I noticed swelling in my knee and some consequent limping in late June. I figured the swelling would go down on its own and I continued training steadily for my relay.  The swelling increased.  It continued to do so as I hiked up and down the tallest peak in New England (this time without my dog): Mt. Washington.  As the swelling increased around the knee, running and sometimes even walking became problematic. I sought help from my doctor and an orthopedic specialist.  It is not necessary to record the saga that ensued, but after multiple visits, an X-Ray, an MRI, and several sessions with a physical therapist, I learned I would need surgery to remove the torn radial mensicus that was causing the swelling.

Thankfully, due to following "doctor's orders" of rest, ice, and Aleve, I was able to participate in the Reach the Beach relay to support Camp Calumet in mid-September.  I am thrilled as it was a highlight of the year for me and I exceeded my goal of raising $1200 for camp. 

This is my 12-person relay team "Jump the Lake" soon after we reached Hamden Beach, NH, completing our 207 mile run!

As one might expect, the knee problem persisted long after the race even though prednisone kept discomfort and swelling at bay during the event itself.  Just last week -- eight days ago! - I had arthroscopic surgery to have part of my meniscus removed.  I did not know with certainty how long my recovery time would take though the doctor assured I would "walk out of the clinic" and that I would be able to walk my dog later that same day which I did with the help of friends.

Once the bandage was removed two days after surgery, you almost can't tell on which knee was the operation.

I am grateful for the combination of modern medicine and prayer that contributed to my quick healing as today I hiked gently for 3 miles with my friend Christa and trusty dog Jack. My prayer request has been for "full and quick healing."  The prayer is being answered as I write.

I am also thankful for the internal drive for which I am not responsible but which is always with me; it is a drive that prompts me - despite difficult circumstances - to "stand up, get your mat and walk."  In the case of my walks this week, I did not use a mat and I have not practiced yoga in awhile.  But I did stand up, get a dog leash, and walk in beautiful places with my favorite four-legged friend.

These shots are from my visit to Mt. Tom state reservation in Easthampton, MA, during my first week of recovery.

I look forward to doing a lot more standing up and walking, hiking, skiing and even running again. In the meantime, there are many other actions and outcomes I expect my "internal drive" will prompt me to pursue beyond the physical realm, such as finishing my paper for class at Hartford Seminary, preparing my homily for tomorrow's funeral and completing the liturgical preparation necessary for All Saints' Sunday.

As the prayers rise up, so do I!

When Martin Luther was called before the Emperor Charles V many years ago (1521) to recant his critique of the Catholic church, he said his conscience was captive to the Word of God and that it would be unwise and unsafe to go against his conscience.  He ended his famous speech with the words: "Here I stand, I can do no other."

I hope my actions and words can be this integrated with my own conscience and commitments as well.