Practice and Patience

This week, my gaming group was learning a new board game. None of us had played it before; it took a bit of time and patience to set up, and after reading the rules we started to play. For the first while, play involved checking the rule book at least one every turn, adjusting our moves as we started to understand the complexities and nuances, checking the rule book again, adjusted our play again when we realised we’d all misunderstood one of the rules, and tried to imagine how we were going to get to the end of the game. It was slow going!

As we continued, we were all being patient with one another, as we asked each other questions or Googled specifics and checked the rule book a large number of times. We got more comfortable with the basics, and started seeing the potential for strategy and nuance in our decisions. While it was a game that defined a ‘winner’, we played in collaborative ways, offering advice and kindness to each other as we took our turns.

As our understanding of the game increased, so did our speed; and when we did come to the end of the game (realising we had actually surpassed a normal ‘end’ point), we all decided that it was a fun game, and would likely be more fun the next time we played it – because now we had a grasp on the game as a whole. We also expected that our next play would fit within the expected time frame (the guidelines suggested it could be played in 60-90 minutes; it took us more than twice that).

Coming home, I pondered with gratitude on how much grace we had all had as we learned this new game. We had all started at the same skill level (none), we all ended with a comparable skill level (basic). Next time there might be a new player, and they’ll be joining in from a beginner position. If we had not exercised this patience with and for each other, the game likely would not have been fun, we may not have agreed that we want to play it again.

Our spiritual journey can be like this: we all start somewhere, with little experience or knowledge in how we engage and understand our religious practices. When we encounter someone new to our community’s expressions of faith, they may be overwhelmed, confused, and a little intimidated. If we can demonstrate the patience and grace for each other the same way we do in learning a new game, we have become encouragers, companions, sojourners.

None of us has all the answers – after all, the faith journey doesn’t have a simple rulebook like a boardgame does. It takes time to try, to consider, to encounter – in the pathway to understanding and discernment. Our goal could simply be to do our best to provide a positive experience, so we all wish to come back and learn more with one another.

"Was That Out Loud?"

Screengrab from the SSO Facebook page

This past week, the Symphony had another of their book and music sales. It’s a bookworm’s dream; used books at fabulous prices. (This happens a couple times a year; I am a regular attendee. New-to-me reading while supporting the SSO? Yes please!)

In the mystery section (but of course!) I came across a few books that are on my reading wish-list; and made some excited comment… and when the very nice person beside me chuckled, I realised that I was, in fact, speaking aloud. I apologised for the interruption, and we both carried on our way of scanning the shelves.

…until a moment later, when she asked if I had read one of the books. Based on my excitement from a moment earlier, she was recommending another author of a similar style and genre. This led to a series of discussions about books, with several other people joining in from time to time.

The conversations were unexpected, and delightful. It was entirely temporary, and that’s okay; we had found common interests and made a connection for that time. It was easy, enjoyable, and beneficial (I chose an extra few titles to try based on others’ suggestions). The tone was always respectful and positive; no judgement for our preferences. At one point, one suggestion came with a caveat – the person saw my collar (I had been privileged to officiate a care home service, hence the unlikely day-off attire) and they had warned me that the book did include some ‘colourful’ language – and they wanted to make sure I wasn’t offended.

These conversations remind me of how easy it is to come together. We started with no reason to connect, and yet were able to find means to relate, to share, to laugh a few times. My visit to the book sale was made better by these folks.

So often, people are put in our paths, and we can choose to make connections with them – even for just a moment – that may be uplifting and brightening to their day. We can treat others around us how we would wish to be treated – with kindness and respect. In finding connections, we are living the life of faith, that calls us to see others as beloved as God. It’s not a means to a religious conversion - Jesus and his friends had many conversations with whomever was there, without delving into dogma and practice. Instead, they exercised a ministry of community: something we can all emulate.

Preaching to the choir?

I’m part of a choir that’s full of busy people. At the start of each cycle, we take our music, and commit to spending time to learn our parts before we come together in rehearsals. It’s a fun experience when we do coalesce as a choir; there’s the social factor of meeting and connecting, as well as the musical overlay of all of our many parts. As we each know what parts we’ll be singing, we live out some healthy boundaries – staying in our own lane, as it were, and letting others stay in theirs.

The commitment to each other is delightful, for in doing our own practice and learning, we are honouring the time and efforts that the others are also contributing to the whole. It can be empowering when we discover how our individual work enhances and uplifts the equal work of the others in the choir; together we are more than the sum of our parts! More than once I have been ‘carried’ by the folks near me, as I wrap my brain around a particular piece of music.

Part of the learning curve continues as our attendance fluctuates each rehearsal; life happens and we’re not always all available every set time. Yet we celebrate the successes we have, and extend grace as we also receive it. (At one rehearsal, I was the only S1, and after we all held an extended end note I was particularly gassed… yet upheld by the supportive comments of my fellow singers).

Part of our rehearsals include the occasional time of ‘shaking things up’; for example, we might all disperse around the room, or into small groups, where we are not singing with others in our same range. It gives us a chance to appreciate the other parts from different perspectives and locations, and learn to adapt accordingly.

Singing in a choir can be a LOT of fun; it can be quite revealing about how we respond to community. We have chosen to be together, even before we know who we all are; we are trusting in the gifts and skills being offered, as we trust that ours will also be appreciated. We are learning, and growing, and evolving, as we find ways to work together in. And we delight in the output: the joy of singing.

Any community can be like this: welcoming in newcomers, extending grace when things aren’t perfect, collaborating to benefit everyone. There are many analogies that can be made between a (functional and friendly) church and a (functional and friendly) choir. My ongoing hope for the church is that it will celebrate the opportunities to come together; and that we will always commit to make a joyful noise unto the Lord.

Freedom?

We’re well into election season here, and a few days ago I happened to be at home when someone came canvassing. I recognise that I’m a political animal; a long-ago earned degree in Political Science set me up well for this time of governmental change.

The person started off with a question that I recognised had the intention to be evocative, controversial, a definitive conversation starter. The loaded question earnestly asked was: “Do you agree that your government should support your freedom?”

I was keen for a political discourse; but he wasn’t prepared for my response: I asked him how he/his candidate/his party was defining ‘freedom’. He wasn't able to; and even when I offered some prompts (Religious? Personal? Military?) and asked how each of those fit in to the question, and by extension the political platform, he wasn’t able to make those connections. (Instead I was encouraged to make an appointment with the candidate directly so I could ask those questions.)

The words we use can have different meaning, and different connotation, depending on our experience and worldview, and the present context. And these contexts are regularly evolving, growing, changing. Life happens!

Overall, freedom is being released from something that constrains us. While there’s a broad way to apply that definition to our lives, as people of faith we can seek the freedom that is promised to us by God. It’s not a freedom that can be quantified by earthly standards, for it brings us beyond earthly restraints. When we are free, we can understand what it means to be in the world but not of the world.

So as I have had a few moments to ponder what it means to be free, I understand that my true freedom is granted by God, through the promises made to us all in Jesus the Christ. We are free to shed the earthly cords that bind, and to dwell in the liberation of divine love and walk in the light of the Lord.

As Simeon proclaimed that day in the Temple: (Luke 2:29-32)
Lord, you now have set your servant free to go in peace as you have promised; For these eyes of mine have seen the Savior, whom you have prepared for all the world to see: A Light to enlighten the nations, and the glory of your people.

Signs and Lattes

Last Monday, on Thanksgiving, I made myself a latte.

It’s not uncommon, but it’s also not common. It differs enough from my day-to-day pour-over brewing in many ways: the grind, the machine, even the vessel of choice (while I have my preferred morning coffee mug rotation, lattes go into a ceramic latte bowl specific to the purpose.)

It is a little sign to myself of how I am beginning the day. These little variances communicate – even just to myself – the intended pattern: a latte in the bowl indicates a relaxed time in the morning. Yes, I had a to-do list, and yes it was a productive day; but starting with a different mindset – all from a latte.

We regularly communicate such small signs to our families and friends, and colleagues and strangers; often without realising it. My dogs know that when I put on my outdoor shoes, a walk is imminent; but when I pick up my purse and car keys that I am heading out (usually without them!)

So much of our communication is non-verbal, which means that little signs can make a big difference in how others will see and perceive us. As Christians, we are given the opportunity to be careful about how we present who we are. For example, wearing a cross but gossiping gives a mixed message. The myriad of ways that we live our faith (responding to the vulnerable with dignity, challenging unjust systems, speaking the truth in love, etc.) can show the world who (and whose) we are.

Jesus spoke often of paying attention to the signs (see Matthew 24); he also demonstrated signs. Signs of mercy and grace, of community-building and of self-care, of prayerful response to the glory of God in our midst. May we all be attentive to the signs of divine grace and love that are continually flowing upon us!

Seeds and Hope

I’ve been writing a lot about my garden lately – a timely topic as we celebrate Thanksgiving weekend!

Much of what I planted last spring didn’t quite take off the way I had intended – or hoped! I have tried to leave things growing as long as possible, yet with the frosty temperatures coming this weekend, most of it is now in.

My squashes came in today let me just acknowledge how thankful I am that I am not relying on this crop to feed me through the winter!

Three pathetically small buttercup squashes were all that came in this fall. One was too tiny to have any flesh, the other two offered a total yield of half a cup (tasty, but tiny).

However; they also provided seeds for next year’s crop. Even the itty-bitty-quarter-sized squash had some viable seeds. So, one hopes for a different outcome next year!

The seeds are little pods of hope; they are a comfort for the future.

In a time of uncertainty in the world, when civility seems a lost art, when fear-mongering seems to be the solitary political platform, when conflicts are affecting thousands of people, when disasters are devastating communities… it is easy to sink into darkness, that place of sadness, apathy, or grief.

Yet the seeds prevail. And I believe that there are seeds of goodness that transcend the gardens; in our lives, in our relationships, in our actions, in our imaginations…

The seeds are there, even in the tiniest or darkest of places. I believe they are worth seeking out, and saving, and planting: so that they may grow.

And when the seeds of hope start growing, they start nourishing us – and perhaps this is how we will overcome the darkness that encroaches in the world.

Francis, Animals, and Connecting

October 4th marks the (liturgical) memorial of Francis of Assisi, sometimes called “the poor one of Christ”. Despite a wealthy family, he is noted for his voluntary poverty after a powerful conversion experience at age 20. He helped establish the Order of the Lesser Brethren (colloquially called Franciscans) in 1209 and a second order, the Poor Clares, with Clare of Assisi in 1212.

Committed to a life of simplicity and compassion, Francis came to understand God’s glory revealed in all of the natural order, and celebrated the gift of all creatures.

Some 8 centuries later, it is the connection with animals that has come to leave a mark on our society, with many faith communities marking a “Blessing of the Animals”: many focus simply on the pets that re brought in by congregants, others also include acknowledgement of the other animals active in our lives.

The Animal Blessing services also provide for us a bridge; in our modern world, it is a chance for us to welcome folks into a community for a time of prayer and connection. Animal lovers who do not have other connections to the church can feel at home bringing their beloved furry/feathered/finned critters to a time of joy and thanksgiving.

Imagine if every week our regular offering of praise and worship were to be so welcoming and encompassing with the broader community around us. How might we engage folks on non-animal Sundays? In what ways do we maintain connection each day?

Hopefully we might be as humble as Francis as we mold this animal ceremony around his feast day, and find new ways to connect with all those God puts in our path.