Itinerarium:The World is my Friary

A Christmas Sermon

2011-12-27T18:53:00.000-08:00

Tonight we celebrate the birth of Jesus Christ. It is extraordinary, when you think of it, to come out in the middle of the night to remember, celebrate this event and to dedicate ourselves to the religious ideal it proclaims: God is with us, particularly the 99% as we say today. “God is on the side of the poor,” the theologians point out with this Christmas Gospel. The loneliness, the sense of dispossession, of being caught in a way of life that deep down we feel is not sustainable: these are all contributory themes in the Gospel story we’ve just heard.

Perhaps the Gospel story is familiar to you; I am surprised when I meet people for whom it isn’t familiar—but there are more and more of them. I think that that is a precious opportunity. The challenge isn’t overcoming the overly familiar, but to help people hear it for the first time. Put yourself into the story. Did you by any chance read the New York Times Travel section last Sunday? In Barcelona the Christmas Nativity scenes always include the caganer, a figure relieving himself in the corner. The article says it is a reminder of our essential humanity or perhaps the absurdity of life even at the holiest moments. I’d never say it if I hadn’t read it in the New York Times. The point is that he is there. And by extension so are we—any one of us. Being part of God’s plans for humanity has nothing to do with appropriate behavior, or better, all that is human has a place with God. The embrace of Luke’s Gospel story of the Birth of Jesus gathers us all together around that manger. It is not about dressing up or conforming to somebody’s expectations, but to come as you are and encounter the beauty and love of God.

Who else is around that manger? Luke includes the shepherds. 2000 years ago these men were considered uncouth. They didn’t earn much money. They were always with the sheep—so they couldn’t go to church or temple. Rough men: but they are the first to hear the message of the angels.

Mary and Joseph had encountered this counter-intuitive holiness months before when the angel appeared with its life-changing message of God’s favor. What was the angel’s counsel to Mary, to Joseph, to anybody who reads the story? “Don’t be afraid,” the angel said: timely words of encouragement for them and for us. Fear debilitates, shuts you down, keeps you home when you are needed to show up and help out, play your part in God’s story, to speak the truth to power.

The powerful are also characters in this Gospel story— those rulers Luke mentions in the beginning—Emperor Augustus, Quirinius (and Herod, of course, though he doesn’t get a mention in tonight’s passage). These rulers represent the 1% who gives their names to the times, who control the movement of people and goods. They are important to this story mostly because of Jesus—another Name that is being announced, a name to challenge the power of the rulers, a name that would come to characterize all that is good, all that is opposed to the forces that diminish people, making them go get counted in a census so that they could be more fully taxed to pay for their own oppression; Jesus opposes all that shuts people down, tells them they are not “appropriate,” not ready to govern, that they have no good ideas.

The Jesus movement and the Occupy Wall Street Movement have some intriguing point of connection, and I like to play around with the rhetoric: I attended an event in New York City last weekend, so it is all fresh in my imagination. But Christmas is not a time to get riled up about partisan politics—or is it? The message the angels proclaimed was “Peace.” When we look that up we find “Shalom” lurking in the roots of the word, sentiments informing the proclamation that urges a holistic view of life—let there be an end to war—shalom. Let there be health and strength for all the people—shalom. Let the minds of the people be opened, let them turn their hearts to each other and God—shalom. May the words of Scripture, the holy Wisdom abide with them—shalom. All this and more is in the angels’ saying: “Glory to God in the highest heaven, and on earth peace among those whom he favors.

So it is, on the one hand, when the story we live in, the story we tell ourselves and the story we hear from Scripture and God all come together, we find this to be a huge affirmation. What a joy for any one of us to think: “I am doing God’s will.” On the other hand some wonder: how can this be? Perhaps their self-understanding, or the story they tell themselves, collides with the story God is telling them. “Who, me?” said Mary. When things collide it means we are being called to listen to God’s story, and I believe, turn our lives over to the care of God, trust the message we hear. Is fear your problem? Or do you think you are not important enough to change things? For 2000 years now God has been hammering away at this self-esteem issue. Christianity, or at least the Christian story, teaches that we all have a part to play, we all are capable of the greatest things imaginable—telling right from wrong, for instance. We are also all capable of living lives of beauty and productiveness. God is asking us to collaborate with him. Over and over God has taken initiatives towards us—sending prophets and teachers holding up a vision of what life with God could be like. But alas, as Jesus says later in his life, we stone the prophets, killing those who are sent. Finally God sent his Son to reach out arms and hands of love to all humanity. God is asking each and every one of us to work with him for the salvation of the world—meaning the forgiveness of sins, putting people in a right relationship with God and also healing the planet, restoring the beauty and integrity of creation. Don’t forget the animals were also there at that birth. “The cattle are lowing…” we sang earlier tonight. We are not to abandon the earth and its troubles, but to engage with the cosmos as God has, and continues to do so—head on, without fear, with love and compassion. God will work with whatever we have to offer. Nothing is unacceptable, no one is unimportant to the plan. Every little thing will be taken, broken open and multiplied for the joy and satisfaction of thousands more. So offer your gift, raise your voice and sing out about peace! Sing about justice! Join the happy throngs that have sprung up all over the globe and the faithful friends of Christ who have born his name in ages past.

This Christmas of 2011 is full of gifts we never imagined a year ago. Think of Tunisia, Libya, Egypt, and all the other places of the so-called Arab Spring. We’ve seen the end of war in Iraq. People you never thought would get the message about sobriety or the need to change their lives—they’ve got it! It’s not all neat and tidy—none of it. Change—social and personal change—is messy and people have been hurt. But people are re-shaping the way they live. Our society is showing signs of an emerging consciousness. I believe God is re-shaping the way we live. We have a huge opportunity to live large these days, collaborating with God, the God who is with us, sharing all that we are and all that we have.

Repeat after me:

Don’t be afraid.

Seek peace.

God is with us now and to the end of the ages.

It was one of those trips

2011-11-29T12:55:00.000-08:00

It was one of those trips I hoped never to have: stolen phone, septic leech bite that caused my leg to swell and weep pus, airport closure which caused me to miss an international connection, thus canceling all subsequent flights, vandalized ATM so no access to money, leaving me to beg for food, cold water.

What a relief to get back to Little Portion. Not even a bank overdraft could dim the pleasure.

Today I got a replacement phone re-activated, banking snafu straightened out, noted that all traces of the leech have disappeared (finally!).

I wish I could say I went through all of this undisturbed.

I had some moments of extreme aggravation.

Sometimes the most important thing is just to get through things and move on.

So I'm movin' on, with a backward look of gratitude at some of the really great things that happened during my trip to South Africa, Papua New Guinea and Solomon Islands.

I led a Quiet Day for the superiors of 10 Anglican Religious Orders in South Africa. I was leading them in some reflections on the vows that we take as religious: poverty, chastity and obedience. I'm not sure what they got out of it, but I found in myself a deep sense of gratitude for my life as a friar. Talking about the vows was a chance for re-committing myself.

In Papua New Guinea, I led a retreat for the students and staff of Newton college, the Anglican church of Papua New guinea's theological college. This time my theme was "Taking up the Cross" and I reflected on ordained ministry.

In the Solomon Islands I was asked to meet with a group of 35 eighteen year old "sixth form" students from Selwyn College. It was a real joy to recount for them the story of my conversion when I was about their age.

And to cap it all off I preached in London at a parish with deep connections to Society of St. Francis, St. Philip's in Plaistow, the East End of London. This had been the parish of the Society of the Divine Compassion which became part of the Society of St. Francis. They asked me to talk about Celebrating Diversity: Unity in Diversity.

And to be honest I always enjoy the time with the brothers, sharing our Franciscan life and collaborating in ministry in all the different cultures.

Songs to Give Us Courage

2011-10-02T03:09:00.000-07:00

A young man wearing a black beret stood and read a poem. Every occasion demands the right costume, and he pegged it. I got the idea he was an ex-soldier, or at least the poem was from that perspective. His physique seemed soldierly, too. It was last Friday night, and we were crammed into a small café, maybe thirty of us: young, old, male and female, black, white: a poster gathering for the new South Africa. Television took a clobbering from this group: poem after poem decrying the soul-destroying impact of poll-driven capital conniving media (I’m writing under the poets’ influence, obviously).

Suddenly he started to sing. “Sim’s” voice was clear, loud and the pulsing rhythm crackled around the room. Then he wasn’t reading, he was looking at us as he sang, challenging, inviting, inspiring. He wasn’t singing in English, but I still wanted to join up! “We sang songs to give us courage,” he continued. Reading.

I began to think about the courage he might need: to challenge the corruption and violence in to South Africa, to collaborate in the dream of a just, multiracial, prosperous society.

Then I began to think of the songs I sing. It’s hymns usually, occasionally U2 (that’s how old I am). Words and tunes rise up in my mind: “God of grace and God of glory…” “Singing songs of expectation…” “Lift high the cross…” Not quite the whole hymnal, but they give me courage. U2: “You know Lord that I believe…I have climbed every mountain and scaled these city walls, only to be with you. And I still haven’t found what I’m looking for…”

Songs give courage for the living of these days. St Augustine said, the one who sings, prays twice.

It doesn’t matter how well we sing. The song’s the thing. I’m staying with some friends, the monks of the Order of the Holy Cross at Mariya uMama weThemba Monastery. They sing all the time. The songs get in your brain: antiphons, hymns, choruses. Moreover, these song-filled men live courageously. They are building a school for 60 local children in Grahamstown, South Africa. Sunday Mass is full of neighbors, black and white. They are creating a community based on justice; Gospel values of hospitality, care for the poor and following the way of St. Benedict. As Gandhi advised, they are being the change they want to see in the society around them. It’s their answer to the corruption and violence around them, and I think it is something to sing about!

Next week I lead a retreat for the Superiors of all the Anglican Religious Orders in South Africa.

I’m sure we will be singing.

Remembering 9/11

2011-09-16T07:52:00.000-07:00

Last Sunday I preached during our First Order Chapter, here is the sermon!

Sermon for 9/11
By Br. Clark Berge, SSF
Delivered at Holy Cross Monastery, West Park, NY

Proper 19 Year A

Exodus 14:19-31
Romans 14:1-12
Matthew 18:21-35

Let us pray: Compassionate God, as we gather today, we open our hearts to you and ask for the help and guidance of the Holy Spirit, recognizing that there are only two feelings. Love and Fear. There are only two languages. Love and fear. There are only two activities. Love and fear. There are only two motives, two procedures, two frameworks, two results. Love and fear. Love and fear. (Adapted from Michael Leunig, A Common Prayer, HarperCollins Religious, Sydney, 1990)

What a great joy to be gathered here today with friends and people of faith; to be reading Scriptures about forgiveness and sharing the Sacrament, being assured of God’s forgiveness and commissioned to be ambassadors of reconciliation. This is the only context I can bear to think about 9/11. The hurt is still there, and we pray for all who died, all who suffer grief or disability because of the attacks on New York and Washington DC—all the wounded. We pray for them and hold them in our hearts. Politicians have to balance American interests and the authority of pollsters against their re-election chances when they talk about these events. Inevitably it becomes “us against them.” It is so easy to fall into that. Yet we are called to live differently as Christians. Embracing our pain, is there still room to love our enemies?

In the Exodus passage for today we are reminded God is very much active in human history, working in our midst to bring us out of slavery into freedom. Not everyone has moved beyond believing God takes sides in human conflict (that is a big part of the rhetoric from both Al Qaeda and some Westerners). But we must never lose sight of God’s action that is to free us from all the things that enslave us—capitalism, Islamism, “Christian-ism”, Marxism, liberalism, conservatism—and all the other “—isms.” God is actively leading us into a land of new possibilities for the human spirit. I say that with confidence because God has continued to lead his people through obstacles, from the Red Sea onwards, leading us to freedom. The evidence has mounted over the ages and God’s methods have matured. From drowning Pharaoh God gave his only Son. God raised the stakes. There is nothing God won’t do to set humanity free.

The reality of 9/11 is that a terrible thing happened. We live with the question: how will we prevent it from happening again in America, in Britain, in India, in Pakistan, in Sri Lanka, in Israel, in Palestine, in Iraq, in Zimbabwe, in south Africa, in Tunisia, Libya, Egypt, Norway, Syria, Northern Ireland,, Colombia, Mexico, Bali, the Solomon Islands, Japan…I’ve only just started on the list. Who can think of a country that does not commemorate a tragedy where bombs exploded, innocent and not-so-innocent people died? How can we prevent such things from happening?

What would happen if we stopped judging each other, as Paul suggests in this morning’s reading from Romans? I am not talking about “anything-goes” or suspending justice, but what if we humans started expecting the best of each other? What if we committed ourselves to a nonviolent response to whatever provocation? Not just you and me, but what if everybody made this commitment? Of course it won’t happen spontaneously. I won’t happen quickly. But I wonder if the perceived odds prevent us from even trying it at all? Alternatives can be taught, as the SSF Formator’s learned at our conference in the Solomon Islands last year the Alternatives to Violence Project. Do we cringe from being called naïve? Spreading the message of nonviolence means working with whomever we can. It means refraining from violent thinking and action. It means being willing to keep on with it even as it seems more and more futile. Because what else can we do—us Bible-reading, Sacrament eating people? Can we go from Altar to armory? Some have had to, and some still do. But as Religious, we don’t have to promote a diminished Gospel, a fear-based message.

The Gospel we have been given teaches love and forgiveness. Love is the opposite of fear. Love compels us to forgive our enemies. Jesus rejected violence and forgave his persecutors. That is the story that continues to inspire people throughout the ages. How many tims we fail at this is not the point. Rather the point s how often we dust off and try again. Love never ends. It is never too late to do the loving thing.

So today, as we remember 9/11, Christians using the Common Lectionary around the world hear the message from Matthew—how often should I forgive? Matthew frames the question in terms of forgiving brothers and sisters in the Church, but Jesus’ story is definitely not “churchy.” Forgiveness frees us from retaliation. Forgiveness makes the human spirit shine. It shows the active, death-defying, all-powerful presence of god—that spiritual power of forgiveness shining in the human breast is a pillar of fire shining in the darkness of our confusion and hatreds, our pettiness and our fully justified reasons to annihilate each other. The only way to stop it, I sense from Jesus’ teachings and example, even as he hung from the cross, is to forgive.

What are the stories that make you squirm and re-evaluate your life? What are the stories that make you pray: “Oh God, I wish I could be like that: like Dorothy Day of the Catholic Worker movement, Mother Teresa, Dr. Martin Luther King, Gandhi?” Central to their stories is compassion, forgiveness, and a commitment to non-violence, we hear of love overcoming fear and hate. Their stories shape, for me, everything the Gospel stirs up in me. Jesus said things, Paul taught long ago, but these men and women show how it can be done today, in the face of horrendous modern evil. They show us that we live in a reality defined and infused with love.

We’re God-loving, Bible-reading, Sacrament-eating, world-serving people: what other reality is there?

Today is 9/11 and some say it is about Islam and terrorism. I want to close by reminding us of some people I have recently added to my list of inspiring people who make me squirm, the Trappist monks of Tibhurine, whose story has become famous recently with the release of the film “Of Gods and Men.” If you have seen the film, you know Christian de Cherge was prior of Notre Dam de l’Atlas, a small monastery in Algeria. He wrote a lot about Islam and Christianity. One thing he wrote was that “Forgiveness” is one of the names for God in the 99 praises of God. We know St. Francis loved that prayer and captured it for Franciscans in his Divine Praises, joyfully repeating the names of God: “You are forgiveness…you are love…you are joy.” Anticipating his death, Christian wrote a letter to be opened in the event of his death. Terrorists in Algeria killed him and several other monks.

If the day comes, and it could be today, that I am a victim of the terrorism that seems to be engulfing all foreigners living in Algeria, I would like my community, my Church, and my family to remember that I have dedicated my life to God and Algeria.

That they accept that the Lord of all life was not a stranger to this savage kind of departure; that they pray for me, wondering how I found myself worthy of such a sacrifice; that they link in their memory this death of mine with all the other deaths equally violent but forgotten in their anonymity.

My life is not worth more than any other—not less, not more. Nor am I an innocent child. I have lived long enough to know that I, too, am an accomplice of the evil that seems to prevail in the world around, even that which might lash out blindly at me. If the moment comes, I would hope to have presence of mind, and the time, to ask for God’s pardon and for that of my fellowman, and, at the same time, to pardon in all sincerity he would attack me.

I would not welcome such a death. It is important for me to say this. I do not see how I could rejoice when this people whom I love will be accused, indiscriminately, of my death. The price is too high, this so-called grace of the martyr, if I owe it to an Algerian who kills me in the name of what he thinks is Islam.

I know the contempt that some people have for Algerians as a whole. I also know the caricatures of Islam that a certain (Islamist) ideology promotes. It is too easy for such people to dismiss, in good conscience, this religion as something hateful by associating it with violent extremists. For me, Algeria and Islam are quite different from the commonly held opinion. They are body and soul. I have said enough, I believe, bout all the good things I have received here, finding so often the meaning of the Gospels, running like some gold thread through my life, and which began first at my mother’s knee, my very first church, here in Algeria, where I learned respect for Muslims.

Obviously, my death will justify the opinion of all those who dismissed me as naïve or idealistic: “Let him tell us what he thinks now.” But such people should know my death will satisfy my most burning curiosity. At last, I will be able—if God pleases—to se the children f Islam as He sees them, illuminated in the glory of Christ, sharing in the gift of God’s Passion and of the Spirit, whose secret joy will always be to bring forth our common humanity amidst our differences.

I give thanks to God for this life; completely mine yet completely theirs, too, to God, who wanted it for joy against, and in spite of, all odds. In this Thank You—which says everything about my life—I include you, my friends past and present, and those friends who will be here at the side of my mother and father, of my sisters and brothers—thank you a thousand fold.

And to you, too, my friend of the last moment, who will not know what you are doing. Yes, for you, too, I wish this thank you, this “A-Dieu,” whose image is in you also, that we may meet in heaven, like happy thieves, if it pleases God, our common Father. Amen! Insha-Allah!

(The Monks of Tibhirine: Faith, Love, and Terror in Algeria. John W. Kiser, St. Martin’s Griffin, New York, 2003, pp. 244-246)

More Martyrs

2011-06-23T06:48:00.000-07:00

Yesterday was the Feast of St. Alban, the first martyr of Britain. Martyrs seem to be a theme with me recently...

Alban was killed by the Roman Empire in a crackdown on Christianity in the third Century. His death was voluntary: he volunteered himself in place of a priest to whom he'd offered hospitality. After a few short days of conversation with the priest, Alban embraced Christianity, and then was required to either turn in his guest, or offer himself. He did the latter.

I spent last Saturday at St. Alban's Cathedral, in (where else?) St. Albans, England. It was for the annual observance of St. Alban's Day. Hundreds of folks came--the event took me by surprise. I'd been expecting something stodgy and conventional. But it was nothing like that. Huge puppets dominated the outdoor procession. The spring which welled up to slake Alban's thirst was suggested by the local fire department blasting fire hoses from the shrubbery. Scores of children participated too: dressed as flowers, stained glass windows, soldiers and monks the procession was colorful and LIVELY!! The high point, for most of the little boys at least, was when the centurion who chops off Alban's head loses his eyeballs in some kind of divine retribution, and they roll around the grass...

I am not sure who the guiding genius is behind this extraordinary event. It got even better inside the Cathedral with the girls choir singing a jazz mass. The Dean of the Catheral is Jeffrey John, who seems unpopular with the Church hierarchy because he is a gay man in a relationship. I suspect he is the source of the razzle-dazzle. Even the way he introduced the different pilgrim groups had people laughing out loud--in an English Cathedral. I was totally charmed.

The day ended with everybody filing past the shrine of St. Alban singing special words to a familiar tune (The Battle Hymn of the Republic):

We sing of holy Alban and his suffering for the Lord,
of resounding words of witness for the Christ whom he adored;
of his boldness and his daring and his dying by the sword;
his faith is marching on.
Glory, glory, hallelujah! ...His faith is marching on!

It was an inspiring day. The classsical formulation is that the blood of the martyrs is the seed of the church: new life and growth and encouragement springs from their witness.

It worked for me. The Cathedral was packed. The Dean made us laugh and everyone felt welcomed: imagination was unfettered.

It made me think: imagine if this man was a bishop!

Pentecost

2011-06-13T05:36:00.000-07:00

Pentecost is about empowering.
New beginnings.
Growth.

Hildegard of Bingen said the color best associated with the Spirit is green--
the green of trees leafing out
herbs growing in the garden,
wheat sprouting in the fields.

The friary kitchen garden here in Dorset is an icon of fecundity! (I haven't figured out how to get photos off my cellphone onto the internet yet...soon, soon, soon...)

There are complaints of drought in other parts of England. A photo of burnt fields appeared in the newspapers recently. Bewildering weather patterns are a sign of global climate change, I fear. Whoever heard of a drought in England in May???

Nevertheless here in Doreset, at least our corner of it is GREEN. Pentecost came at the end of a long week of Chapter meetings. And the sap was rising all week! It was the first All Brothers Chapter, now expecting to meet every year at Pentecost. Every borther in the Province had a voice and a vote. We spent two days in small groups and a third n plenary, sharing the results of the small group work and making decisions for the year ahead. We concluded singing the praises of God. Everybody had a wonderful time. Not always the case at the end of a business meeting.

Every voice was honored.
Leadership was shared.
Creativity was everywhere.

These are key features for what I think must charatcterize Franciscan life!

And the week wasn't all work either. There was time for Brother John and me to get away to visit a nearby stately home/museum, Stourhead. I'd visited there in 1978: very faint impressions endured. It was a pleasure to re-visit especially the gardens, designed by Capability Brown. And we ate a Ploughman's lunch at a little country pub--all my favorite lunchtime foods of cheese, pickles, ham and lettuce...

Another highlight was gathering with all the brothers and watching Of Gods and Men together. It is a story of a small communityof Cistercian monks lifing in algeria who decide to stay at their monastery during a time of Islamist jihad. Most of the monks are killed. It is a true story, from 1996, I believe.

The other color for Pentecost is red, the red of fire. Of martyrdom.

I had a strong sene of identification with the brothers in the film. Their community life was not so different from ours in SSF--small, fragile, poor. Yet the relationships among the brothers in the film rang true too: both the small frictions among them and the profoundly loving way they came together to make their decisions and face the future together. In one scene they were in the chapel singing, as a helicopter circled tightly overhead. They gathered together, in a kind of communal embrace. I have felt that at time with my brothers. But thank God, never under threat of death.

Their fear and their faith moved me to tears. Their decision not to run from the terrorists, but to stay with their neighbors, knowing what might happen to them struck many of us SSF brothers in a deeply personal way. What would I do (or what will I do) in similar circumstances? They wrote to the terrorists as their brothers, and recognized a terror-filled death was one shared with Jesus.

It is the highest hope and greatest fear of a religious calling.

Come Holy Spirit, fill the hearts of your faithful people, and kindle in us the fire of your love.
It was an enlivening, green time.

In Communion

2011-05-31T12:15:00.000-07:00

I can't believe it has been a month since I last posted on the blog. It has been a month of chapter meetings: first in Brisbane, Australia, then on Long Island, NY at Little Portion. Both meetings were good and interesting.

But combine jet lag with meeting-lag and I didn't have much juice in my batteries!

These past few days, however, I've been able to get back up on my feet and begin to do some things. Most enjoyably, I've been gardening. I've got blisters to prove it, and the flower boxes are now brimming with marigolds, shrubs have been pruned and the terraces swept. It is hard to do this around Little Portion without thinking abut all the brothers before me who have popped their blisters doing the same tasks. I feel very closely connected with them, part of the continuity of religious life, the "Quotidian Mysteries" Kathleen Norris writes about. Every day mystery of communion with brothers, nature, God: the communion of saints and the communion of the cosmos.

As I swept this morning I remember how Jon and I would watch the bees and drink coffee together next to the herb garden, resting from weeding. Jason would smoke his pipe and spend his summer evenings joyously weeding a lush English border he'd planted next to the arbor. Dunstan still weeds with a table fork and has a personal relationship with every bulb and bush ever planted at Little Portion, as well as living on a first name basis with the chipmunks and the birds.

Yesterday I was running along Shore Road, along Mt. Sinai Harbor, and a box turtle was just edging out onto the road. Fearing for its safety I snatched it up and carried it across the road: power to the box turtle!

Inside I typed up all the Norms and Policies for the Province so that they could be restored to our Manuals. These too are a trip down memory lane. Every Norm, which is really a statement about things we have agreed upon as a chapter, is a story. I remember why we said we wanted brothers to learn Spanish. I remember why we agonized for a long time over job descriptions. There are older norms about participating in demonstrations: I can just hear the brothers debating it, and the differing points of view. These ancestor brothers still have a vote, as their opinions have been captured in the Provincial Norms.

Australian Easter

2011-04-27T18:30:00.000-07:00

I celebrated the Easter weekend in Darwin, Northern Territory. Talk about hot! But Br. James Andrew's house is set to capture any breeze blowing through, and it was fairly comfortable. I preached on good Friday at the little Anglican Church in Palmerston that Br. James attends. After that we had a picnic on the beach. Easter Sunday we were back in Palmerston.

I've just finished reading a couple of great books: Rob Bell's "Love wins" and Eugene Peterson's "Practicing Resurrection." Rob's book had been coming up on my Amazon "recommended book list" for several days, but it wasn't until after I read a review of it in the UK Church Times that I got it. Apparently he gets protesters appearing when he speaks about this book because he holds out the possibility of heaven for everybody who wants it, and insists that Jesus is the "Way" meaning it in the broadest possible terms: even people who aren't Christian but practice love and compassion and justice are part of Jesus' Way. It's depressing to think people would get angry about that.

Practicing Resurrection is another very helpful book. Peterson is the author of "The Message," and after listening to Br. Tom read from it during my stay in Los Angeles, I was intrigued to see what the guy has to say. The book is a fairly thorough exegesis (study) of the Letter to the Ephesians. I found it very liberating to read.

Lots of time to read because it is wet weather here in Brisbane, Australia. There is more flooding to the west of the city, but the part the brothers live in is high and safe from the floods.

Fine Fall Days Down Under

2011-04-13T20:50:00.000-07:00

I spent a week in New Zealand, with the Brothers at Hamilton. Hamilton is a small city on the North Island, far from Christchurch and the earthquake. But we were not isolated from the effects of the earthquake--being a small country, the brothers knew of plenty of people who'd been affected directly. And there are lots of fundraisers for the earthquake victims being advertised on T.V.

Br. Simone and I enjoyed a day out, going to visit several places where volcanic activity was bubbling to the surface. Steaming rivers and boiling pools of mud are big tourist attractions in New Zealand. Best was swimming in the hot springs at Rotorua.

Here we are standing on a beach with the Pacific ocean stretching out behind us.

Brothers Damian Kenneth and Brian hosted a dinner party during my stay. It was a very ecumenical affair with Roman Catholic, Anglican and Romanian Orthodox clergy.

Another evening Simone and I visited a homeless shelter where he volunteers. We took some food, then stayed to talk. I was impressed by the experience--we could have been in New York, Washington or California. Its depressing to think homelessness is such a universal experience. The major difference here is that the men were mostly Maori. The other universal quality is the selflessness of the volunteers, the sign of never failing grace and generosity and that where homeless exists and the worst of urban life, there is always it seems right alongside it, the very best of human behavior: generous, caring and creative in the face of tremendous need. I was reminded of a line of a liturgy from the 80's: God came not to take away our suffering but to be with us in it. Yet with some political determination and a minor allocation of resources (compared to, say, defense budgets) we could make homelessness history.

The last weekend I was there I gave a quiet day for about 10 people: "Remember who you are" was the theme. I told them "be who you are before God: be simply yourself." The desire to do this is evidence of God's action. We spent the morning remembering family, hometown, the costs of forgetting our background: vulnerability to social marginalization, addictions. Remembering brings the will to work for healing and can unleash creativity. In the afternoon we spent time remembering who we are in God's eyes: beloved, worthy, empowered, forgiven. And to remember that we ARE the church. I ended up with the words of Eugene Peterson: Now God has us where he wants us--with all the time in this world and the next to shower grace and kindness upon us.

Now I am in Australia. We spent the other day digging trenches to divert rain water, and since then we've not had any rain: glorious early autumn weather. Generally though getting spiritually ready for Easter and the cold winter months.

It is such a head trip switching hemispheres!!

Leaving Lincoln heights

2011-03-25T13:58:00.000-07:00

Preaching, cooking, housework, food pantry, and running, going to meetings: it’s been a full month in Los Angeles.

The greatest part has been working in the kitchen. I almost never get to work in the kitchen on a daily basis anymore. Simon taught me how to “supreme” an orange. The weekly food delivery from the food pantry the brothers run (and live off of) brought out all my creative impulses. What to do with grits, 20 pounds of them? Beans, beans, beans…

Every afternoon I sat on the verandah to drink a cup of tea. After a few days I recognized the neighbors, and they me. Now we greet each other with a nod or a smile. One tot who goes by with her Grandma every day waves enthusiastically. I sure wish I spoke Spanish; add that to the bucket list.

The Church of the Epiphany has long been a community anchor. Although attendance has declined in the past 10 years or so, it has an amazing past. And with the SSF brothers here, I wager it has a brilliant future. Throughout the Sixties through the Eighties, the Church was “the storied Lincoln heights church that hosted United Farm Workers organizer and former Archbishop of Canterbury Robert Runcie and was a center of Chicano civil rights activism” according to The Episcopal News, the diocese of Los Angeles magazine.

Last Tuesday Br. Tom Carey and I went to a book signing for “Blowout!: Sal Castro and the Chicano Struggle for Educational Justice” by Mario T. Garcia and Sal Castro. It was mesmerizing to listen to Sal tell his stories of how he helped students organize perhaps the largest student demonstration in history, and to hear about how the folks from Epiphany church helped and shared their lives and parish facilities for dances, speeches, teach-ins. I kept thinking about the stories of the Chicano students and their desire for education, for opportunity and respect here in America sound so much like the students in Tripoli, Sana, Cairo and the other cities where we see students speaking out against oppression, fighting for opportunity.

There is still so much to do here in this neighborhood and around the world.

Tonight I fly to New Zealand to spend some time with the brothers there.

Praying through the news

2011-03-11T11:50:00.000-08:00

The T.V. has been on already this morning, and we have been watching scenes from Japan. Then they cut to scenes from Libya. People have been phoning with news about my “step-nephew” who lives in Nagoya, Japan (he and his family are okay).

Something about watching disasters and wars that make me feel impotent, sometimes a bit frightened and wondering what the heck I can do….

Pray, of course.

The real task is to take this chance to get in touch with who I am and be ready for whatever might happen in my life. Because we never really know what might happen. I am traveling soon to New Zealand, we know earthquakes strike there. I don’t have any plans to visit a war zone, but I feel I need to be ready, if I find myself in harm’s way to do what I need to, to help others; ready to work to find safe solutions, promote peace. Necessary skills, when you come to think of it no matter where we are…

Do I have choices about my involvement? If I choose to be involved in a protest or demonstration or contentious conversation (try “abortion” at the dinner table) am I at peace inside? Am I still equipped with my sense of humor and compassion? Am I motivated by love? If not I need to watch out I don’t get caught up in a situation that pulls me into a place of forgetfulness, governed by fear and anger.

Sometimes we don’t have a choice: even more we need to remember who we are. I remember speaking with some monks who escaped their burning monastery in the hills above Santa Barbara, CA a few years back. How did they feel? One reported he felt concerned but not panicky, able to follow instructions and to look out for the welfare of others. I hope I could say the same! After watching the response of many during 9/11 I think many of us have deeper reserves of strength than we suspect.

I spoke with a nurse a few years ago in the Solomon Islands after a tsunami warning had her moving patients from the Central Hospital to higher ground. How did she feel? She admitted to feeling frightened but glad of work to do; happy to be helping others. It turns out that experience was a real wake up call for local authorities who would have only been able to save half the patients if disaster had struck.

But the nurse, the monks, they are people who were able to walk through frightening experiences, grounded n an understanding that they were accompanied by God.

They did not expect exemption form trials and disasters. They were able to find comfort and meaning in their faith which made them much more effective.

“Be still and know that I am God,” the psalmist writes. I pray this often. Not that I will sit still and avoid life, but that I can maintain a calm center, a quiet heart, a sense that God is with me. Then I find my decisions are sounder, my attitude is saner and I am of better service.

A Week In Thailand

2011-02-26T16:04:00.000-08:00

Last week I was in Thailand.

I was attending a Leaders’ Conference hosted by Franciscans International. They brought together a large group of Franciscans from around the Asia-Pacific region (which embraces everything from Pakistan and India to the Solomon Islands and New Zealand, and Mongolia!!). I went to speak about the Solomon Islands training Franciscans International helped us with (and to remind them that Franciscans International is an ecumenical organization). It was a good meeting, and I made friends with a wide array of people.

Our visit began with a visit to the United Nations offices in Bangkok. We met with a staff officer from the Economic and Social Commission for Asia Pacific, and then we listened to a panel of experts representing a variety of organizations within the UN. We were reminded that the UN is “a member State driven organization.” I took this to be a reason why the UN is so often perplexingly silent. Some of the speakers expressed frustration with the UN yet at the same time they endorsed it as one of the few international organizations to which most of the nations belong. Our FI staff said the real power of the UN is in its ability “to name and shame” member states. What happened to Libya is an example.

Franciscans International will be spending a lot of time and effort this year looking at the plight of women and children who are trafficked for cheap labor or sexual exploitation. Because these are big issues, we have partnered with other organizations, especially ECPAT (End Child Prostitution, Pornography and Trafficking), Save the Children, Caritas and Jesuit Refugee Service. These NGO’s offer direct service to at risk and exploited children and they advocate for them at the UN. Those countries that do not have laws or systems in place to protect children will get some pressure from other countries at the UN, with a big push from FI and our friends.

In addition to advocacy at the UN, Franciscans International does a lot of “capacity building” among Franciscans. This means they come and do training about human rights, and how to develop social justice ministry like they did for the religious orders of the Anglican Church of Melanesia in the Solomon Islands. I was able to talk about our experience and the possibilities we now have as a result of the training.

But we couldn’t ignore what was happening all last week in Libya, Bahrain, Tunisia, Egypt, Iran…did I leave anybody out? It was an amazing week to watch Al Jazeera television during my jet-lagged nights, my body unable to sleep. The conference received messages asking for our prayers in solidarity with all of the people caught up in the amazing changes. We heard about some Franciscan friars living and working in Libya. I was happy to know that friars and sisters live and work in these countries, though all of us were deeply concerned for their safety.

Peace is not just an ideal. It is a process. And all of us, especially those who profess and call themselves Franciscans must find ways to engage people, break down barriers of suspicion and hatred, raise up the common ground of men and women in the world today. I finished my time in Thailand by going to visit the place where Thomas Merton died.
He’d gone to Thailand to engage in an interreligious dialogue and had spoken about Marxism and Christianity. He died when a fan shorted out and he was electrocuted. We stood in Star Cottage where it happened and shared a moment of prayer: I prayed that I might find ways to reach out to those of different traditions and cultures like Merton did.

Of course 21st-Century barrier bashing and social change is very different from 40 years ago. The “Arab Spring” is due to the internet. Crowds are galvanized by Facebook and Twitter. Cell phones transmit pictures and stories; these are posted, shared and read out over the television. Anyone can report on what’s happening. All of us have the possibility of “being a contender” and offering what we can to encourage the forces of democracy and freedom and peace.

Gratitude List

2011-02-15T10:39:00.000-08:00

This photo is of Dolores Park, right across from San Damiano Friary in San Francisco. I took it Saturday afternoon, after finishing my 4 mile run: a beautiful spring day! It is the perfect image for how I am feeling: grateful!

Flying across the country two weeks ago, the Delta airlines magazine had a section on "Things we liked in 2010" or something like that. Along with the Old Spice Guy, they included a special box on gratitude: how important it is to a happy productive life. I was reminded then of a verse from psalm 66 "Come now and see the works of God, how wonderful he is in his doing toward all people." This verse caught my attention a few weeks ago and prompted me to reflect on the wonderful things God had done in my life, and the link between being grateful and my willingness to keep my vows. Last Friday a group of us were telling stories about the things we are grateful for in our lives today. For me it is the chance to spend time in San Francisco (escaping the snow in New York!!), for meaningful work, for my health, and all the people in my life who love and support me.

On a more micro level, I really enjoyed eating a "Proposition 8" hot dog (two weiners in one bun!) at Zog's Dogs in San Francisco, coffee at the original Peets in Berkeley, cooking dinner for the brothers.

Perhaps it sounds too Pollyanna, but I have discovered that especially at times when I feel aggravated and unhappy, the best way to move through it is to start to list the things that I am grateful for. Eventually the glass is half full, and before I know it it is overflowing.

Forty years in San Francisco

2011-02-09T09:13:00.000-08:00

I left New York last Tuesday, possibly one of the last flights to get out of JFK due to an ice storm. What a relief to arrive in nearly 60+ F weather!

Tuesday evening the brothers in the Bay area gathered with the retired Bishop of California, Bill Swing, and his wife Mary for Holy Eucharist and dinner. We began to tell stories about the early days of SSF in San Francisco. It is humbling to think of all the brothers who have lived at San Damiano, and the breadth of their ministries over the past 40 years. Bishop Swing spoke movingly of his perception of our contribution to the life of the diocese.

Wednesday evening, the Feast of the Presentation, we gathered again with the sisters of the Community of St. Francis. After dinner Br. Robert Hugh gave a brilliant talk about the early years. Arriving in San Francisco in February 1971, we originally lived in a apartment until the present location on Dolores Street was found--a "marginal" neighborhood in those days, he said. We moved in a floor at a time over the course of nearly a year.

In those days the men who came to us were like as not to be seeking a way to avoid the draft, something which our commitment to peace and non-violence made an obvious option. But, as Robert Hugh observed, the formation process became more about helping late adolescents mature into adulthood than an in-depth exploration of Franciscanism, though the two are by no means mutually exclusive efforts. I think Robert was being a bit modest as he was very involved with the formation program in those days.

One of our earliest ministries in the Bay Area was welcoming young people who came to San Francisco through the Haight Asbury help center. People needing a place to stay were given chits to present to the brothers who provided showers, beds and food. Later we offered the same resources to refugees from Vietnam and Cambodia.

San Damiano was a new kind of effort for SSF in those days, at least in the American Province, because it was not affiliated with a parish. Then, as now, the brothers were involved in different parishes and ministry initiatives.

Sister Ruth, one of our First Order Sisters of the Community of St. Francis has also lived in San Francisco almost the whole 40 years of our presence in the city. CSF came to San Francisco shortly after the brothers. She is justly famous for founding Family Link, a ministry to families of persons affected by AIDS. Now it is for families of people who are affected by illness of any kind and needing housing. But before that she was a contractor and also a nurse to the founder of the American Episcopal Franciscans, Fr. Joseph. She spoke after Robert Hugh finished, and told some poignant stories of the old man's last years. I wanted to laugh and weep at the same time.

Its a joy to hear such a generous assessment of life and ministry.

1971 was also the year the brothers moved into Patteson House in the Solomon Islands. We shared the house with the Sisters of the Church, another Anglican religious order. Initially the brothers and sisters shared the main house: kitchen, dining room, laundry and common room. But within a year or so, a wall was built so that each community could have it's privacy.

So the experiments in community living carry on. It is exciting to me to think of where we have been, and encouraging as we dream about where we can go. We've been out there, challenging culture, welcoming strangers, ministering to the sick and needy, experimenting with the forms and norms of religious life.

Light for Epiphany

2011-01-07T12:08:00.000-08:00

Yesterday was the Feast of the Epiphany. It is hard to believe that time has flown so quickly. My last big post was in the Solomons when we published the Declaration from the Social Justice Conference there. That was a remarkable time and a huge event in my life. The month since then has been full of events, and I have thoroughly enjoyed myself. But there wasn’t a lot of gas in my engine. I was very tired. It has taken the whole month to feel “normal” again. Being back at Little Portion with its deeply familiar rhythms, joys and aggravations, and plentiful food and comfortable bed, has helped me feel strong and creative again. Time for another blog entry! Today we got rid of all the Christmas decorations, and as beautiful as they were, it is great to return to ordinary life.

Ordinary life is pretty rich stuff. Kathleen Norris wrote a book called “Quotidian Mysteries” in which she wrote about her experiences of the divine in everyday life. (She of course writes from a Benedictine perspective, but I wonder if she doesn’t have secret Franciscan tendencies? It doesn’t really matter….) Part of the gift of being part of any community that reads and listens to Scripture every day is that the imagery lurks in your brain; for instance, I find myself thinking about scripture throughout the day--in the hardware store even--as I did yesterday.

I noticed yesterday that one of our outdoor lights had burnt out, so I went to Sears in search of a bulb that was suited for outdoors. Much of the imagery that we heard in from the Epiphany Scripture readings had to do with light: ‘the light of the nations,’ ‘light of the world’, and ‘the people who walked in darkness have seen a great light.’ “Where do I find light?” I wondered. “How much light do we need?” After fifteen minutes wandering around the store, I had to ask, and was sent to aisle seven.

This particular floodlight illumines a stair that leads to the house from the labyrinth. For years, when I was Guardian here, I’d minimized the danger of these steps, warning people “Just be careful!” Until, about 5 years ago, one poor woman fell and hurt herself. Suddenly, distracted penny-pinching warnings were totally inadequate. Something had to be done. I contacted an electrician and we got a fixture immediately. Tired of warnings, God sent Jesus to be the light of the world, a light to the nations.

For $12.88 I got two light bulbs; no more darkness.

Videos of Life at Little Portion

2011-01-05T13:27:00.000-08:00

Brother Max has been busy with his camera making videos of our life at Little Portion. There's one of me making bread last Friday. It was 5:00 a.m., and I wasn't fully awake, so no small talk! Actually I find the process of baking extremely meditative and healing. You'll have to cut and paste the link below into your browser. Enjoy the show!

http://www.flickr.com/photos/brothermax/

Declaration from Solomon Islands Social Justice Conference

2010-11-28T15:19:00.002-08:00

DECLARATION OF THE CONFERENCE OF THE FOUR RELIGIOUS COMMUNITIES OF THE ANGLICAN CHURCH OF MELANESIA ON SOCIAL JUSTICE, HUMAN RIGHTS AND ADVOCACY

Tabalia, West Guadalcanal, Solomon Islands, November 21-28, 2010

Beloved in Christ:

From November 21 through 28, 2010, we, 152 members of the four religious communities of the Anglican Church of Melanesia, have met together at Tabalia, West Guadalcanal, the headquarters of the Melanesian Brotherhood, for prayer, biblical reflection, discussion and planning on issues of social justice, human rights and advocacy in Solomon Islands and beyond.

We are members of the Community of the Sisters of Melanesia, the Society of St. Francis, the Community of the Sisters of the Church and the Melanesian Brotherhood. It is the first time in the history of the Anglican Church of Melanesia (ACOM) that the four religious communities have met together for such an event. We rejoice in the new friendship and cooperation that has emerged among us, breaking down old barriers and misunderstandings. We are also happy to be joined by some of our community members from Vanuatu and Papua New Guinea.

We thank the initiator and a facilitator of the event, Br. Clark Berge, SSF, Minister General of the Society of St. Francis; four facilitators provided by Franciscans International, Mateusz Tuniewicz, Sr. Odile Coirier, FMM, Morse Flores and Sanjay V. Gathia; and local facilitators Lanieta Leo and Bishop Terry Brown. We thank the 27 facilitators from the four religious communities trained the week before by the same facilitators. We also thank the Society of St. Francis Legacy Fund for financial support for the event.

In the context of the daily Eucharist and offices, we have reflected upon the biblical and theological roots of social justice and human rights; gained an understanding of the variety of United Nations human rights declarations, covenants and conventions; gained skills in advocacy; examined our local social, cultural, economic and political contexts; and tried to discern our future work in promoting justice and human rights in Solomon Islands and beyond. Particular themes for discussion were women, gender and children; respect for the environment; and good governance, transparency and rule of law. These themes were chosen in light of the country's high rate of family violence, ever increasing environmental degradation and widespread corruption.

We affirm the world as God's good creation in Christ, restored by Jesus Christ's death and resurrection (Genesis 1:1-25, Colossians 1:15-20). We affirm the equality of women and men as created in God's image and companions for one another (Genesis 1:18, 26-27). We affirm God's covenant with Noah, blessing and protecting the environment (Genesis 9:1-17). We affirm righteousness and justice as put forward in the Jewish Law and prophets. We affirm Jesus' loving solidarity with the poor and suffering, leading to his death on the Cross. We affirm the Cross as offering forgiveness for our sinful ways, and life in Christ as a new way forward (Ephesians 2:1-10, 2 Corinthians 5: 16-21). We affirm our faith in the Holy Spirit, the Advocate, who leads us to advocacy for truth and justice (John 15: 26-27, 16:13). We affirm that the whole Church, the Body of Christ, is called to advocacy for justice and righteousness both within itself and in the world at large.

In light of these affirmations and our work together this week, we discern the following:

1. Family violence, particularly violence against women and children, remains a widespread practice in Solomon Islands. We reject any cultural defence of this practice. We believe that the root causes of family violence (cultural beliefs, poverty, forced and/or very early marriages, lack of Christian teaching about marriage, poor communication in marriage, misuse of alcohol, etc.) must be addressed. We, both women's and men's communities, pledge to continue to support the work of the Christian Care Centre as a shelter for women and children who are victims of abuse and as an educational centre on this issue. Within each of our communities we also promise to address this issue, for example, with direct intervention in situations of family violence, inclusion of teaching against family violence in mission programmes that go out to the dioceses and the development of training programmes on family counselling within our novitiates.

2. We note widespread complaints about how the Royal Solomon Islands Police (RSIP) deal with alleged situations of family violence, often ignoring them as "domestic disputes" and refusing to intervene. Some police even side with the perpetrator, especially if he is a relative or friend, blaming the victim. We urge better training of the police on this issue and more frequent deployment of women police officers. We are willing to assist in this training. We urge that the rule of law be observed rather than ignored in these cases. Where police refuse to act, they should be reported to higher authorities.

3. We are concerned that there is widespread abuse of the human rights of children, especially girls, in Solomon Islands. Despite the government's programme of free and universal primary education, many girls are not allowed to go to school but are kept home to work. Adopted children are especially vulnerable. Many children and young persons are subject to sexual and physical abuse in the home, usually by close relatives. The country's shortage of secondary schools and tertiary education further disadvantages children wishing to pursue education at higher levels. We promise to encourage parents to send their girls to school. We also promise not to let our households become refuges for children who should be in school.

4. We are deeply troubled by parents who allow their under-aged daughters and young daughters to become "wives" of foreign logging crews (usually from Asia) for payment of goods and/or money. These relationships are often forced, not permanent and are really a form of child prostitution and slavery. Children born out of such relationships are very vulnerable. Especially where our community houses are near such logging camps, we pledge to counsel the parents and children concerned and place pressure upon logging camp managers to halt this illegal practice, publicly exposing it where necessary. We urge dioceses, parish committees and clergy to do the same and not to accept gifts from the logging companies concerned. We support the recommendations of the Christian Care Centre's 2007 report, "Commercial Sexual Exploitation of Children in a Remote Region of the Solomon Islands". The same practice is also emerging in the fishing and mining industries. We also note with concern increasing urban prostitution employing local young women and the trafficking of women brought from Asia. We are also concerned about allegations that girls are earning their school fees through sex. We pledge to work against these practices and to minister to those involved. We urge the police to act in all situations where the law is being broken, particularly in remote rural areas.

5. While women are well represented in the civil service, including at the level of Permanent Secretary, only one woman has been elected to Parliament since Solomon Islands independence in 1978. We strongly believe we should have women Members of Parliament in Solomon Islands. Reasons for the absence of women in Parliament are largely cultural and economic, resulting in well-qualified women (of whom there are many) unable to get elected. We believe serious consideration should be given to 30 percent reserved seats for women in Parliament. We are pleased to see this development taking place in Bougainville and Papua New Guinea. We also pledge to encourage well-qualified women to run in national and provincial elections and, while not endorsing specific candidates, urge voters to give serious consideration to voting for women candidates. Men do not have the right to control women's votes. Each woman has the right to vote for the candidate of her choice.

6. We are pleased that Solomon Islands Government has become a party to the Convention on the Elimination of All Forms of Discrimination against Women (CEDAW) and the Convention on the Rights of the Child (CRC). However, we are concerned that Solomon Islands government has not met its international obligations in both implementing and reporting back to the United Nations on the two conventions. We urge Solomon Islands government to make the required reports to the United Nations on CEDAW and CRC immediately. We also urge Solomon Islands government to be transparent in developing public awareness programmes to show the steps it has taken to implement these two conventions.

7. We are deeply concerned at the widespread degradation of the environment in Solomon Islands, particularly through unsustainable logging and fishing, often by foreign companies in collusion with local politicians. Despite years of warnings, the Solomon Islands government has refused to reduce the level of these activities. We urge Solomon Islands government to reduce logging and fishing to sustainable levels. We urge a complete ban on logging in Guadalcanal, Isabel, Makira and Malaita and other islands, where we have especially experienced its negative effects (land degradation, flooding, destruction of water supplies, rivers and reefs, land disputes and prostitution). As members of religious communities, we shall discourage local communities from entering into contracts with logging companies.

8. We are concerned about the environmental and social impact of gold mining about to begin again on Guadalcanal, proposed nickel mining on Isabel and other mining projects planned around the country. Some of us have witnessed major environmental destruction caused by the current nickel prospecting on Isabel and urge that prospecting not take place without an environmental impact study. Aware of the disastrous environmental and social effects of mining in Papua New Guinea, we urge Solomon Islands government to move cautiously in this area and maintain maximum transparency with all parties about proposed projects. As members of religious communities, we shall urge local landowners to proceed with the greatest caution.

9. We are also aware that there are local environmental practices that need to be challenged and resisted: over-harvesting of marine and land resources, dynamiting of reefs for fish, destruction of endangered species and their habitats, careless use of land and sea for disposal of rubbish, destruction of mangroves, fruit and nut trees; and lack of rubbish collection in urban areas. We confess that we have sometimes failed as religious communities in these areas and pledge to try to make our households good examples of respect for the environment. We also pledge to assist village people to address these issues through change of practice and advocacy. We are also aware that for some islands rising sea levels and over-population are major environmental issues. We have met as island and national groups and prepared appropriate action plans. We shall be implementing these.

10. We have discussed issues of good governance within our own religious communities. We recognize we have sometimes failed and pledge the greatest possible good governance, transparency and faithfulness to our Rules in the future. The governance of large religious communities is not easy and further training is needed, for example, in looking after money and assets.

11. We have discussed the corruption and violence that frequently accompany national and provincial elections in Solomon Islands. We believe we can exercise leadership in areas of developing accurate voters' lists, encouraging well qualified women candidates, discouraging bribery, monitoring elections for fraud and preventing violence at polling stations. We also recognize the urgent need for reform of the nation's electoral laws by Parliament.

12. We intend to take the concerns expressed in this Declaration back to our four religious communities and the Anglican Church of Melanesia for consideration and endorsement. We also wish to continue to meet together as religious communities on issues of social justice and human rights. We recommend that the ACOM Religious Life Advisory Council appoint a social justice committee comprised of representatives of our four religious communities. We pledge to work with the ACOM, other churches, the Solomon Islands Government, non-government organizations and all other organizations working on social justice issues. We also ask for the solidarity of church partners overseas, especially in countries from which our exploiters come.

For us, this has been an exciting week, full of new learning and new friendships. Sent out on Advent Sunday, we make a new beginning, incorporating and moving beyond the peace and reconciliation work we have done in the past and will continue to do. We shall continue to "lay aside the works of darkness and put on the armour of light ... the Lord Jesus Christ" (Romans 13:12-14, Collect for Advent Sunday) and actively seek justice for all.

Agreed to by the consensus of all the participants and signed on their behalf by:

Sister Mary Lulo, CSM
Head Sister, Community of the Sisters of Melanesia

Sister Phyllis Margaret Sau, CSC
Sister Provincial, Solomon Islands Province, Community of the Sisters of the Church

Brother Clifton Henry, SSF
Representing the Province of the Solomon Islands, Society of St. Francis

Brother Leonard Yanga, MBH
Regional Head Brother, Solomon Islands Region, Melanesian Brotherhood.

Advent Sunday, 2010
Tabalia, West Guadalcanal, Solomon Islands

Back in the Solomon Islands

2010-11-10T16:15:00.000-08:00

I have come full circle, back to the Solomon Islands. It is good to be sitting in the brother’s semi-air conditioned office again. I can hear the sounds of people laughing and talking outside. The friary is surrounded by people all day long; the sounds of laughter and conversation wake me up in the morning and are the last things I hear at night.

The brothers try to limit the crowds, and there are signs posted that say: “We discourage you from sitting around…” but it is hopeless. The brothers are all sitting around with at least two dozen visitors as I write. Everyone is busily chewing betel nut, telling stories. It is a kind of never ending reunion. I have learned that it is not wasting time. These meetings are the way social life (and a lot of business) happens, and a tremendous amount of information is processed. Of course some of it is not true. It is, in the memorable words of Dr. Shriver penned at the bottom of one of my seminary exams: “a jumble of things true, untrue, half true and almost true.” To get at the truth of a situation you need to talk to lots of people over a long period of time. But I think the most important thing for them is the connection that the never ending threads of conversation provide. It is a powerful web.

I am getting more and more Melanesian. My life is all about talking with people, and trying to keep up the conversation by email and phone calls. When I don’t hear from somebody for a long time, I suddenly have an urgent desire to re-connect.

The past few months have been full of travel, and I have seen some of the most beautiful sites: animals, the stars at night, mountains and rivers, incredible flowers in the strangest shapes and colors. Travel can be tiring, yet I feel very encouraged and inspired as well. Thomas Berry in “The Sacred Universe” writes: “To lessen the grandeur of the outer world is to limit the fulfillment available to our inner world. For the stars in the night sky over our cities to be blocked from view by particle and light pollution is not simply the loss of a passing visual experience. It is a loss of soul. This is especially a loss for children, for it is from the stars, the planets, and the moon in the heavens as well as from the flowers, birds, forests and woodland creatures of Earth that some of their most profound inner experiences originate. To devastate any aspect of the natural world is to distort the sublime experiences that provide fulfillment to the human mode of being.”
Right now everybody wants to know about Africa. I tell them about the little round mud houses with thatched roofs, lions and rhinoceros, swimming in the deep pool at the base of the waterfall in Nyanga, Zimbabwe. I conducted a retreat for about 10 folks, members of the Third Order, some friends, and the Brothers. At night I told them: look at the stars!! We put chairs on the lawn, and gazed in wonder at the night sky of Zimbabwe, reminding ourselves that god is great, the world is a beautiful place and we have been given a precious vocation not to forget these things in the midst of political turmoil. The weather was gorgeous, but of course everybody was praying for rain!

Returning to South Africa, a Third Order member and friend took me to several amazing sites: Freedom Park in Pretoria and Maropeng, the “Cradle of Humanity.” The Freedom Park was very moving as it is a tribute and memorial to all the men and women who worked and gave their lives for freedom in South Africa. Black and white. The whole complex is beautifully crafted out of stone; it is all curving lines and gentle slopes. Looking around the veldt surrounding the enormous exhibits about the birth of humanity it was easy to imagine the first humans and to think about them discovering fire and hunting techniques. It is incredible to think how quickly we humans developed and learned how to live and protect ourselves. I found myself wondering if we are capable of a new consciousness, of discovering a new way to be human on the earth today.

From South Africa I flew to Hong Kong: what a treat! I met with many people: bishops, seminarians, clergy and social workers. I met with women in a safe house and talked with AIDS activists. I was struck by the incredible vitality of Hong Kong and Macau. And it appears the relationship with China is not so scary, the people I spoke to in Hong Kong had a sense of hope and confidence. “Everything is changing, really fast,” I was told when I asked about the relationship with China and what the future might be like. Economic forces are driving the change. But another statistic I learned, the Chinese have printed over 8 million copies of the Bible; or is 80 million? People are discovering the Bible and there is interest. It is still illegal to proselytize, but still people go to and fro, contacts are made, there is much to celebrate, think about and work with as we ponder God’s call to us.

By the time I got to Korea, I was pretty wired: lots of information, lots of conversations and a sense of fullness. I went there to share in the celebrations of the Life professions of two brothers, Lawrence and Stephen. The Profession service was pretty much all in Korean except for a few parts that required the English speaking brothers to know what was going on. So I was able to let my mind roam and think about our vocation as SSF brothers and to marvel at how we are adapting to different cultures, learning new ways of sharing the Gospel life that Francis loved so much. We have definitely been given the challenge of learning to live differently on earth, to recapture the primal connections with Earth and the stars, the animals and plants, to work for healing and wholeness for all creatures, a fundamental commitment to justice.

Much of the rest of my time in Korea was spent trying to get the training books and information pulled together for the social justice training we are holding herein the Solomon Islands. I invited Franciscans International to come and work with the four Anglican religious orders. The four facilitators are either here or on their way! Starting Saturday 30 brothers and sisters will meet at the Melanesian Brotherhood headquarters, Tabalia, to get intensive training on how to develop social justice ministries around three issues that the brothers and sisters identified as most urgent: violence against women and children, government greed and corruption and the environment, especially logging. Logging in Melanesia actually encompasses all three areas of concern. More on that later…

uMama weThemba Monastery

2010-09-29T07:47:00.000-07:00

I have enjoyed a really wonderful retreat and quiet time--time catching up, in this beautiful Monastery of uMariya uMama weThemba, the Order of the Holy Cross Monastery in Grahamstown South Africa. I got here late Sunday night a week ago, and was welcomed by the Prior Timothy Jolley. Tuesday September 21 I celebrated 25 years as a priest, the brothers welcoming me to celebrate at their Eucharist. I am extremely grateful for this time of rest and retreat. Tomorrow, September 30 I go to Zimbabwe to visit the brothers of the Community of the Divine Compassion

Peace and War

2010-09-25T00:56:00.000-07:00

Peace is the message and working for peace is a preoccupation: peace in my heart and private life, peace in my community, working for peace in the world.

It is hard. After two weeks of anti-violence training in Solomon Islands, I got very angry with somebody and immediately began to think violent thoughts. However, we shook hands, the relationship wasn’t ruptured.

Not all conflicts are so easily solved. In the Solomons we heard stories about how the brothers worked to bring peace by befriending combatants and praying with them, reminding them of who they were as Christians. But the brothers wept as they told these stories. The violence is still taking a toll on them.

I left the Solomon Islands on August 30 and traveled to Sri Lanka. I visited Br. Lionel, SSF, who lives and works there; he spends most of his time and energy working for peace. He arranged a full schedule of visits up and down Sri Lanka to introduce me to the Church of Ceylon and to get an awareness of the situation of the country. He is very active promoting peace and reconciliation in collaboration with Roman Catholic Franciscans, with colleagues within the Anglican Church, and through interfaith relationships.

On the way back from picking me up at the airport, armed soldiers, demanding our documents and questioning us, stopped us twice. I learned too about the plans in parliament to change the constitution—effectively giving the president the right to run for office as often as he likes. Welcome to Sri Lanka! The national troops had put down a rebellion by the Tamil Tigers last year and the president is riding a crest of popularity. The armed soldiers and the constitutional reforms struck me as rather sinister.

Within 12 hours of my arrival, I gave a talk on Franciscan Spirituality and Reconciliation at the Diocesan Center next to the Cathedral.

At dinner at Bishop Duleep de Chickera’s house the next night, the conversation circled around the constitutional amendment. It is an alarming development, but one, they felt, which was about to slide in under the radar of most people. For the next few days we traveled in our little three wheeled “tuk-tuk” among crowds of people protesting against the proposed changes, and others demonstrating for it. But the crowds were measured in hundreds, not tens of thousands. Ordinary Sri Lankans, I was told, simply feel grateful that the Tamil Tigers have been squashed and they are willing to give the President anything.

Br. Lionel and his friends at the Diocese of Colombo were able to get a special pass for me to travel through the recent war zone to the northern city of Jaffna. Most outsiders are forced to fly because the government doesn’t want outside scrutiny of this area. We drove north, from Colombo to Jaffna: past soldiers de-activating landmines, past checkpoints staffed by wary teenagers with huge guns, past newly erected army camps, still sporting temporary fencing made of palmetto leaves. We drove past small tents with a few people sitting in front of them: newly returned property owners, sitting where their houses used to be. The strafe bombing of the Singhalese destroyed the homes of the Tamil people, and now that the Tigers have been defeated the people are subject to an occupying army, and the challenge of rebuilding their homes and lives with meager assistance. At lunchtime during our trip, we stopped at an orphanage. The building had been bombed, yet already part of it is re-built, providing daycare facilities and a place for older children to study and take their exams. The simple food seemed unusually delicious sitting in the bombed out precincts of the old orphanage: warm hospitality in the midst of heartache.

How does one work for peace in a land torn by war? Frustrated local leaders in Jaffna spoke of the low amount of assistance the government is giving to people. We met with the Roman Catholic Bishop, a Muslim leader, Anglican clergy and an interfaith youth group. Yet it was incredibly heartening to listen to them speak of the need to make friends and develop relationships across religious and language barriers: “we are all people, we all live here.”

We visited schools, orphanages; youth groups: the first building blocks for rehabilitation, the first initiatives towards a rebuilt country and peace. Over, and over again we met people who threw protective arms around the youth of the country. Christians, Buddhists, Hindus and Muslims were working to create a deeper sense of their common humanity. And we shared meals. Eating seemed to be a necessary aspect to most of the meetings: plates of spicy curry, juicy slices of fruit, bundles of noodles, heaps of rice. (Everybody eats with their hands; it took a bit of practice to eat and keep the juices in my hand, off my forearms and elbows.)

In the center of the Island we met people working on the tea plantations. Pushing high into the mountains, we visited the Tamil people impressed into service over a hundred years ago. They have been are kept in subservient peonage. Education is substandard. Life in the villages is isolated. Health care is hard to come by. To be a Tamil in Sri Lanka is to experience tremendous inequities and discrimination. It was a real privilege to meet the young clergy who are active in these communities. They are creating educational programs, challenging the people to create opportunities for themselves and speaking up to the larger church about the terrible difficulties the people face.

We drove south to Galle, past the still visible devastation of the 2004 Tsunami. How much can a people endure?

I was riveted by the sight of elephants, water buffalo, monkeys, people harvesting rice with hand sickles, women carrying heavy loads on their heads wearing beautiful saris, barechested men wearing sarongs, clambering on construction sites. We careened through the plaited traffic, making our way along narrow roads, overtaking oxcarts, lumbering overloaded busses, and were overtaken in turn by cars, vans and busses. We could have been killed many times over or run over hapless pedestrians. By some alchemy of spirit and skill, we maneuvered unharmed and not causing harm.

Everywhere we met people I spoke about the Franciscans. I wanted to support Br. Lionel’s work, and I wanted to encourage everyone with the story of our community working for peace and justice in many places around the globe.

Working for peace: I felt like I was doing little enough, yet the important first step became obvious: people need to be in relationship with each other. Links of friendship and solidarity can help in time of the erosion of civil liberties. The more I know about places like Sri Lanka, the greater the possibilities are for the future. It is easy to feel indifferent about statistics, but impossible to ignore the claim of friends.

Francis talked about the interconnectedness of all people and all creation. I feel my trip gave me not only insight, but also friendships. In some way, I am a Tamil tea picker, like JFK’s claim to be a Berliner.

What does this mean for me and for the world?

Redeeming The Air Miles

2010-08-18T17:10:00.000-07:00

Monday and Tuesday of this week a group of us brothers in the Solomon Islands cleared ground in preparation for planting new mahogany tree seedlings. Of course it isn’t as straightforward as it sounds. We had to clear thick underbrush from old cassava gardens, cut down scrub trees, then plant stakes in a meticulous grid pattern over a hectare of steep hillside. The ground was hard and slippery, and it was really hot!

The tree planting exercise was part of a week-long workshop the Province put on for the 30 First Professed Brothers. I opened the week with two workshops, one on the role of religious orders in Melanesia and then (later that same day) a workshop on leadership. My leadership workshop was the first of three the brothers had that week on leadership. I think we looked at the issue from every conceivable angle. It is obviously a high priority for the current leadership of the Province. By Monday we were itching to lead somebody somewhere. The workshop that day was about care for the environment. It was my turn again to facilitate and I decided to look at the issue of logging in the Solomon Islands. It is an issue which is front and center for most of the brothers and the workshop was really lively, especially when we discussed the two questions: “How have you suffered from logging? How has logging benefitted you?” Br. Lent is a dedicated environmentalist and advocate of the rainforest, and he helped the brothers recognize some of the less obvious costs to logging: depletion of oxygen, erratic rainfall, crop failure.

As part of my effort to offset the carbon foot print created by my travel, last year I sent some money to Br. Lent to plant trees; I was really happy to be around for the actual work! I am always attracted to big projects, and love hard physical work—I rarely get a chance since I spend so much time flying around.

Other eco-friendly efforts in the Solomon Islands Province include solar power panels in some of the remoter friaries. I trekked to one just to see what the panel looks like as I had been at the meeting in Australia when we approved the funds for them. Surprisingly small, but the brothers are delighted as they now have a light bulb in each room, making it bright enough to read

Not to forget about eating food locally grown in a sustainable way: nearly 7 weeks of eating sweet potatoes, Chinese cabbage, and fish caught in local waters by spear wielding brothers. Yesterday we celebrated the conclusion of the conference for the First Professed Brothers. First we had to pluck the chickens and cut up vegetables, then build a table of sticks and a fireplace of large stones. After 4 hours we were ready!
Grace at dinner is perhaps one of the most heartfelt prayers: “We thank you God for the rain which fills our tank and gives us water to drink, for our gardens and the food they provide us and for the creatures of the sea; for these and all your many blessings we thank you Lord.”

July 9 to 25 was the Formator’s Conference, also held here in the Solomon Islands. Representatives from all of the brothers’ provinces attended plus Sr. Joyce, Minister General of the Community of St. Francis. Our theme was Francis and Peacemaking. A side benefit was experiencing life in a developing nation and being exposed to some incredibly creative teaching techniques by the Anti-Violence Project. Next week is my last commitment in the Solomons, the Provincial Chapter.

And then I’m off August 30 to Sri Lanka and a visit with Br. Lionel.

A Clean Sweep

2010-07-07T19:16:00.000-07:00

People do their best. Over and over again, I have to acknowledge this personal effort. Yesterday as I walked to "downtown" Port Moresby I passed a dozen men and women sweeping the streets and sidewalks with a clutch of straws. Men cutting grass with weed whackers. Throughout the city large black plastic bags bulging with garbage waited alongside the roads; occasionally they get picked up by city crews. Frustrated by the proliferation of rubbish, people sweep it into piles and burn it. The acrid smoke of burning garbage and clouds of dust from the crumbling roads make me sneeze and cough. I have to keep my eyes down, because sidewalks and pathways often are missing metal covers for sewers and utility holes. Sometimes the pavement has been broken to repair a water or electricity line (you can see the trench both sides of the walk way) but lack of funds to repave the place means in time the gravel filler erodes and there is a trap for the unwary. Public spaces invite public use: parks have been built but no money has been spent refurbishing as the moveable parts wear out or benches and equipment succumb to heavy use or suffer vandalism. So an old woman sweeps fastidiously around a metal spur that sticks out of the ground, obviously once part of the foundation for a park bench. The city has grown too rapidly to absorb the effluent that is produced by thousands of people; someplaces there are no sewers, other places the PVC sewage lines are broken, in someplaces I am sure the problem is due to older, discredited strategies for disposing of waste i.e. pumping into the sea: whatever the reason, there are warning signs about fecal coliform posted on Ela Beach next to downtown. The tide also brings an unmanageable load of plastic bags and other rubbish.

There is an urgent need for housing. People come to the city and move in with relatives, then build a small shelter behind the relatives' home. So many people living in small spaces mean that there is a gradual disintegration: windows get broken, doors sag, roofs leak, appliances wear out, plumbing breaks down. So the old appliances are shifted outside, tarps are put over the leaky roofs, extension lines get electricity to new structures, and hoses share water among neighbors. Everywhere the old women are sweeping, burning rubbish, sitting alongside the road to sell betel nut and cigarettes. But where is the money for housing and public works to come from? Citizens pay a sales tax, but no income tax. Most land is under customary ownership. The government seems to depend on aid from overseas: I spotted a sign saying a park had been built by the Chinese government, a hospital supported by the Australian government. No big tax base. With mining, timber and fisheries, the contracts are often with overseas companies, or the income from these industries does not provide sufficient national income to repair the infrastructure.

Some people have obviously made it. Large Land Cruisers roar along the pitted roads, swirling the dust. A handful of tall buildings rise out of the downtown area, armed guards glaring at the barefoot people who mill around in the streets. The national newspaper has advertisments for luxury housing, promising high fences and security guards, and praising the joys of swimming pools and airconditioning to a reading public most of whom squat on the sidewalks. I asked the brothers and their friends: "Where do all the rich people live?" One fellow laughed and said, "I've lived in Moresby for three years and never seen where the rich people live. Its all shit wherever you look." Good news for anonymous rich folks who don't want hungry hordes pulling the barbed wire down. Probably they all live in Australia. I got my haircut and as the barber and I were chatting, I asked if he owned the shop. "Oh no!" he laughed. "The owner lives in Cairns and just flies up once in a while to check on the business."

The brothers get one TV station with their rabbit ear antenna. It is the national TV station called EMTV. Every few minutes a pair of ads crops up, one for Coca Cola and the other for Digicel, a cell phone company. You'd think Papua New Guinea invented Coke, and if you drink enough of it you will get the car, the girl, the house and the laptop. I think advertising is ridiculous in America, but with a larger middle class the promises of the ads seems less shocking than here in PNG. Buy Coke and live the "Coca Cola" lifestyle. Judging from the millions of coke cans and plastic bottles everywhere on beaches and along the roadsides, the message is getting through--the promised joys must be in the NEXT can. At least cholera hasn't fizzed out of the cans yet as it has the taps in some of the poorest neighborhoods. Digicel has everybody "topping up" and staying connected. Everyday people buy these tiny sums of "time" for their cell phones. People love their cell phones as much here as anywhere. But all that connectivity seems like fools gold, the only ones seeming to profit is Digicel. It is possible to get rich here, you just have to get a large number of people to believe that what you have will benefit them somehow. So now brothers can call home to their villages or catch up with relatives in town. This is a great good; but the effort of keeping the phone going chisels away at the food budget. Its a balancing act. People do their best.

It is easy to carp about the terrible conditions: I could go on for pages about the calamitous condition of the local school: floor boards, walls, ceilings missing, no running water or electricity, no paths or stairs to help students scramble from building to builing on the precipitous site. It makes me angry that students here have to suffer such conditions. It is not just here: I have seen similar conditions in South Africa and Solomon Islands. I have read about places all over the globe where there is desperate poverty. I am not naive about the dereliction in USA; I haven't worked with the homeless in America for nearly 25 years and preserved my illusions from a privileged upbringing.

The thing that enrages me is that it is possible to sell a product to steal a fortune from a country a penny at a time. It is possible to create a beautiful lifestyle wherever: all you need are guns to keep it safe. And somehow it is all okay. We sweep around the wrecks, we press school uniforms, doing our best with what we can control. Here in PNG the government erects large bill boards promising a crackdown on corruption: probably an indication of thoroughgoing governmental corruption from top to bottom. Somehow we need to go beyond bill boards and mobilize the sweepers not just to tidy up but to clean out the whole system.

Cell phones are subversive in Iran. It's surprising the use you can put things to if you think about it.

I've seen the impact of collective action in holding corrupt officials accountable. I've watched things happen around the world in the last 25 years because people stood up to tanks, walls, violent oppression. Somehow enough people caught a glimpse of something better and were willing to pay the cost to move things forward. Some political leaders have suffered house arrest for decades because of their stand against oppression. The Buddhist monks of Burma have taken to the streets.

Next week I will be in the Solomon Islands with a small group of Society of St. Francis brothers and sisters from around the world and we will consider how to be peacemakers in the world, oppression shakers, violence disturbers. And we will bring it home to PNG, Solomon Islands, Sri Lanka, Zimbabwe, South Korea, USA, Britain, Brazil, Australia and New Zealand. At the same time plans are progressing for a November program to train over 200 brothers in sisters in the Solomon Islands on how to develop a social justice ministry. Perhaps the word will go out. Burmese monks and Anglican friars and sisters!

We have to do the best we can with what we have: each other. We have to do our best with the dreams inspired by the Holy Spirit for justice, peace, shalom.

Life Profession in Papua New Guinea

2010-07-04T19:50:00.000-07:00

Two weeks ago I was in Yorkshire, England. Now I am in Papua New Guinea. Yesterday, phoning my credit card company to make a phone payment, the account manager who helped me asked: "Can I hear jungle noises in the background?" It's a small world some days.

But cell phones don't always work. It didn't work in Bienga, the small village on the Ope River where a group of us went to celebrate the Life Profession of Brother Charles Iada on June 29, St. Peter's Day. The world seemed a big and scary place as we plowed up the river in our small boats. The banks were choked with foliage. The brothers had been warning me about crocodiles--Br. Charles' father had been eaten by one a few years back. As the story goes, the crocodile flipped the canoe and ate him. It was reassuring, as we arrived in the dark to hear the high pitched shouts: "Oro! Oro!" Welcome! Welcome!

We couldn't see a soul until some enterprising youths hooked up a flourescent tube light fixture to a portable generator. The roar of the gas powered engine couldn't compete with the vigorous singing by men in loin cloths, women in tapa cloth skirts and face paint. Modern technology illuminating some ancient rites of hospitality.

Village life is sort of familiar to me; but every time I find myself in these situations I feel like I've been sucked through a knot hole. We gathered in a thatched shelter to eat our dinner. In my mind I grappled with the things which set Westerners to jabbering: mud, mosquitoes (malaria!), crocodiles and sore bums from long hours on unpadded seats. I tried to act cool as I took in the latrine, spoon-sharing, the common cup at dinner--not enough to go around, so use your neighbor's! Meanwhile my hosts admired my sandals, urged me to eat more of--what was it? They asked "Where is America? So are you English or Australian?" I wonder did Lewis Carroll ever visit a small tropical village?

I awoke the next morning to a rain drenched scene, in a hut high on a hill top. Below was the village and we could see the makeshift church built of tarps and palm branches. The regular chapel was not deemed big enough for the expected crowd. A long line of young women was snaking from the river bank to the church. Each had a basin on her head. "What'er they doin'?" I asked. Rain had flooded the sanctuary and they were filling the low places with sand. Mud caked the hem of my habit and squelched between my toes as we processed into the church for the great day. Not only was it Charles' Life Profession, but it was the village church's patronal festival and the Archbishop's first visit. At breakfast they'd asked me to be the preacher on this great day.

Daunted, we nevertheless proceeded: thurifer, crucifer, torchbearers, Archbishop and friars in high church Anglican regalia. Everyone else in feathers and leaves and bits of bark, including two young women attendants for the Archbishop. Br. Charles wore a magnificent crown fashioned from the beaks of the Horned-Bill (?? that's what they told me--some kind of big bird) and feathers from a casuary bird. "It's probably the only moment of glory you'll ever get," the Archbishop quipped. "Enjoy it." He was escorted up to the Archbishop by his father's youngest brother. I spoke, trying not to make too many parenthetical remarks and unnecessary stories which is my default mode when I am trying to think of something to say. Not much needed to be said, as everybody was goggle-eyed at the thought of a man making a life profession of vows of poverty, chastity and obedience--no different from a crowd of teary aunts and cousins in New York, I thought. Nobody is too sure it is really the best idea but everybody wants to be in the spirit of the day. I hit joy, love and gratitude really hard.

The deed was done and we departed the by now steamy structure, rain having given way to full sun. I was not prepared for what greeted us at the door of the church: a pig trussed on a pole, laid on the ground; I was walking with the bishop and before I knew it an axe was buried in the pigs head, blood spraying everywhere. The people shouted and danced with joy. Swallowing hard, I walked along. It happened two more times. That was the moment I felt light years from home.

And yet the only reason I was there was because the same Gospel inspired me as it has Charles. The same stories of St. Francis, and friendship with a band of brown-robed men of every race and language and people and nation.

Won't you come and join our happy crew?

A Visit to Walsingham

2010-06-19T12:05:00.000-07:00

I have been curious about Walsingham for a long time. In 1982 I was introduced to Our Lady of Walsingham in a New York City parish. Urban decline had robbed her of her fleur-de-lys staff and she had a sheen of city grime, and I felt the whole business of an English Nazareth pretty far away and irrelevant. In those days, the parish was championing the cause of those opposed to the ordination of women so I rather lumped Our Lady of Walsingham into that camp, never kissing her image as some enthusiasts did.

But then I met some people who were as liberal as me (!) and held deep affection for all that Walsingham is about. So I have had a desire to get there and see for myself. A year or so ago SSF established a tiny friary there, and this year, during my visit to the European Province I made a point of going to Walsingham. Below are Brothers Paschal and Maximilian in front of the Shrine of Our Lady of Walsingham.

It is picture perfect, and early summer is the best time to see the beautiful gardens. I stayed in the bedroom used by the founder of the modern Shrine Fr. Hope Patten (upstairs in this house).

Yes, there are lots of people opposed to the ordination of women in Walsingham. But there were some women priests there, though not celebrating Mass. There were lots of school children and people of various races and social backgrounds. I had a chance to talk with the Warden, Bishop Lindsey, and he was quite emphatic in refuting my prejudices about Walsingham.

So, yet again I had to re-consider things. My spiritual journey has a well established pattern of adamantly held opinions gradually eroded away through exposure and prayer. I have an Anglican fault in that I make snap aesthetic judgments, and I can get quite worked up about "good taste." I didn't like the paintings in the Shrine so was ready to dismiss the whole thing. But then a small voice advised me to pray not criticize.

Sometimes I got a bit of a headache from all the prayer as thing after thing bothered me. Until I decided to live and let live. "Don't let it bother you, so!" I could friends' voices in my head.

In spite of myself I enjoyed the procession around the Shrine gardens during the evening, carrying candles aloft. Everytime we sang "Hail Mary" we hoisted the candles above our heads. I remembered our torchlit labyrinth walks at Little Portion Friary, and all the people from every faith and background who joined us on those pilgrimages round and round the labyrinth.

One of the themes that kept getting emphasized: "What has Our Lady given you in your pilgrimage visit?"

I wanted to disclaim: "I'm just here to visit the brothers! Not a pilgrimage!" But my journal is full of notes from a book I was reading at the time called "Reshaping Ecumenical Theology." I was especially intrigued with the idea of "reception." And the magazine on top of the shifting mound of papers in the brothers' common room in the friary had a long and helpful article about reception by Dame Mary Tanner--a theologian I respect. So I decided that this is what Our Lady had to teach me. Reception is the process by which the church welcomes change: slowly, and marked by integrity, humility and spiritual maturity. I read about the hundreds of years it took the Church to accept the Nicene Creed. Obviously it is about not jumping to conclusions, making snap judgments, adopting either/or, black/white positions. I thank God I am not an ecumencial officer of any denomination; but I am every day asked to give an account of the faith that is in me. If I hurt others, or diminish them, or write them off I am only demonstrating the insufficiency of my love and intellectual and spiritual stamina. To give up on other people is a sin.

Thank you Mary.

Visiting Alnmouth

2010-06-13T03:29:00.000-07:00

Alnmouth is a tiny village in the far north of England, not far from Scotland. The brothers have lived here, in a rehabilitated house for a long time. I say "rehabilitated" because after it's salad days as a luxury home it became a night club ("and worse" as late Brother Edward might have said). You can just speculate about that...

As a friary it has been the staging area for missions throughout the North of England. Brothers are always coming and going out from this place, and it has hosted thousands of people seeking peace and quiet to sort through their life and vocation. Perched over the sea side it is a perfect place for mulling over the meaning of life.

But the friars don't let much moss grow on their feet. They are a busy lot, five of them hosting a steady stream of guests--cooking, cleaning, offering beautiful worship and attentive hospitality. The Franciscan flavor of it all is that there is no separation between guests and brothers. No separate guest house, no separate dining room, everyone included in the prayers and chapel life. Sometimes of course it can be a bit much, but as elegant as the surroundings are, it is all about poverty: no control over much of life, having to accept and thrive in the circumstances where we find ourselves, offering to God our longing to run away from it all and finding grace to be gracious--yet again and again. I admire all that they do.

Today, Sunday, we are getting ready for the annual Garden Open Day sponsored by the Rotary Club in the village. Rotarians are everywhere erecting tents and different games. It is a money making day to support various local charities. It's raining but everybody still expects a good turnout, as the English never let a bit of rain spoil their fun! The friars collaborate with the Rotary Club by offering the beautiful gardens as the site. So I have spent the week gardening: mowing the lawn, weeding, sweeping. I find these kinds of activities deeply healing, transporting me back to my adolescence when I worked as a lawn boy and all around jack-of-all-trades for various people. I lose myself in a dreamy state of mind, moving to rhythms of lawn mower and broom, bending, lifting, praying and giving thanks. Sometimes people express concern for my "busy life" not knowing it is only busy on paper. The actual living of it is slower than most peoples' lives. The only sacrifice is stability.

But what mendicant wants THAT?

Praise the Lord!

2010-06-06T10:19:00.000-07:00

This morning we heard a rousing homily from a brother from Belfast on the need to praise God. It certainly captured my mood. There is much to be thankful for: a terrific week of meetings here at Hilfield Friary in Dorset, England, not forgetting beautiful weather (always remarkable here in England). The people, the setting, the sense of new things happening has inspired me.

The week began with a pilgrimage from the local nearby parish in Cerne Abbas to the friary. It is a yearly event, and very neighborly. About 40 people walked through the stunning countryside. Great fun, and a chance to show off their dogs,
the event is truly a pilgrimage, a visit to a holy place. The walk is punctuated with scripture reflections, and upon reaching the friary, a huge "cream tea" is set out, a collaborative effort between the parish and friary community featuring cakes and sandwiches. The event culminates in a lovely Evensong.

The theme of pilgrimage continued into the meetings during the week. The brothers had an historic meeting here, in which they decided to have an annual all brothers' Chapter. There was a strong sense that it was time for such a development in the province, and the brothers are eager to see this happen. As one brother pointed out, the community has traveled a long way, andenjoyed the guidance of the Holy Spirit. There is a high level of enthusiasm for sharing the responsibilities in the province. I was deeply moved by the seeming transformation among the group as they met in small groups and then came back to the plenary sessions eager to move forward. I was braced for cynicism, but there was none of it. The facilitator listened particularly well, and skillfully named the deepest longings of the group and framed the discussion. A very heartening process.

But it hasn't been only about the meetings. The community at Hilfield has also continued to develop and proceed on it's pilgrimage together. Both friars and other people have been living together at the friary, and it is great to see the things that were talked about before actually happening! The sheep are lambing, chickens are laying, the garden is growing. Patches of lawn are given over to wildflowers, encourage different insects. It really is about a conversion, learning to see and value things differently. I love neatly tended lawns but they are not always the most helpful to the ecosystem.

The Community of St. Francis, our First Order Sisters, are moving out of Compton Drville, their huge old manor house in Somerset. They are moving to much smaller premises. During a break in our Joint Chapter we moved some furniture out. The tone deaf piano enjoyed a last hurrah curbside.

2010-05-22T18:24:00.000-07:00

We have had quite a busy few days: and Chaper is not even half over. Here we are all pictured with the Bishop of Long Island after Mass on Friday

One of the first things we did was to welcome our new novice, Br. James-Paul

Sister Jean, Minister Provincial of CSF spent a couple hours knotting the new ropes for the four brothers who were professed today.

At noon today, Br. Jude, the Minister Provincial of the Province of the Americas opened the liturgy where we professed four brothers; it has been many years since we professed four men at once.

From right to left, we professed Brother James, Brother Maximilian Kolbe, Brother Ambrose Cristobal, and Brother Simon. Pictured at the far left of the photo is Brother Jacob, one of our first year novices.

Here the Brothers are signing the documentation of the vows they have made.

Following the Profession (with an amazing sermon by Br. Richaard Jonathan the Novice Guardian, we all went upstairs for a terrific Mexican lunch of soup, salad and tamales! There was a huge cake.

And then it was back to work in the Chapter room; what an exceptional day it has been.

Thanks be to God!

Pay Attention!

2010-05-19T06:31:00.000-07:00

One of the keys to a happy life is to pay attention to people and circumstances. Tripping obliviously along does not bode well for the spiritual life either.

But I don't always pay attention. Sometimes it is because I am tired. Other times I don't pay attention because what needs attending to is beyond my ken and unavailable to me.

For instance, Saturday I was returning from a short run and, relishing the golden sun on Mt. Sinai harbor, I decided it would be the perfect evening to inaugurate the canoe for this season. Br. Max was willing, so we wrestled the craft upside down onto our shoulders, hiding our heads, and bumbled like an enormous sow bug down the hill from Little Portion to the little bit of marsh which is our "beach." Cars slowed way down when they saw the four-legged green thing alongside the road.

We opted for the shortcut to the harbor, and blundered through sticker bushes, over fallen logs and through sharp bladed grass. Finally we reached the harbor.

"Uh-oh," said Max.

"What's wrong?" I asked peering from beneath the canoe.

"Tide's out."

"The tide?!" I stammered. "I never thought of that."

Being naturally impatient I tried to slog through the mud and grass to reach the water. Max held back, laughing. I sank up to my knees in viscous, odoriferous muck, only saving my shoes by clenching my toes tightly. I admitted defeat.

"But I am not carrying this thing back up the hill until we get out on the water," I vowed.

So we stashed the canoe in a bramble thicket, deciding that nobody would be inclined to grapple with it and the menacing vegetation. And if they were, they would be welcome to the boat.

Sunday Br. Derek announced: "High tide at 12:45." We were learning to pay attention to new things.

Unsurprisingly, the canoe was still there. We slid it easily into the water and glided out across the grasses to the open water--several feet above the muddy sea floor. There is a line in Kenneth Grahame's "Wind in the Willows" at the very beginning, when Water Rat says to Mole as they set out in a boat: "Believe me, my young friend, there is nothing--absolutely nothing--half so much worth doing as simply messing about in boats. Simply messing," he went on dreamily: "messing--about--in--boats; messing--" So begin their adventures and misadventures together. Reading them today I am reminded of the friars sometimes. But that line of Water Rat's has stayed with me from childhood. It expresses the epitome of pleasurable leisure.

So we paddled lazily, sometimes bumping into things, watching egrets, herons, ducks, geese and swans. Max saw a school of fish. We marveled at a jelly fish. We speculated on the happiness of the people who lived in the huge water-side mansions compared with ourselves in our canoe. Surprisingly (but why should it have been?), we knew some folks on one of the lobster boats and shouted greetings.

"Look at that!"

"Look at that over there!" we told each other. There was much to see and pay attention to.

Sometimes being told to "pay attention" can be threatening or chastening. But as we prepare for Pentecost this Sunday, it can be an invitation too. Consider yourself invited to take note of the breath-taking beauty around you, unimagined riches right in our back yards.

Alleluia. The Spirit of God fills the whole earth; holy widsom, herself unchanging, in Christ makes all things new. Alleluia.

Little Portion Friary

2010-05-09T11:22:00.000-07:00

Home again, home again!

When I arrived late Monday evening, I pushed open the door of my room, to discover the unmade bed just as I left it in a rush in January. The half-full coffee cup on the bedside stand. The bathtowel at the foot of the bed.

No photos of that!!

A bit Dickensian: Miss Havisham came to mind. Since I left in winter the room had been left shut up tight, and the stale air reinforced the sense of possible spiders and dust everywhere. The only change was the presence of five huge packing boxes in the middle of the room: my drum, a favorite painting, a few books, and a suitcase of sweater and liturgical garments.

So Tuesday was devoted to unpacking, changing linens, getting organized.

Wednesday I washed windows: always try to reintegrate in friary life as quickly as possible!

The rest of the week has been bits of this and that. The highlight was the Confirmation of my friend Terry (she is the secretary at Little Portion).
It was great fun going off to the Cathedral and standing next to her as the Bishop anointed her and said a prayer. I was full of memories of my confirmation. Was it 1971? My word. A former curate from our parish was my sponsor. I was extremely nervous and keyed up. In those days Confirmation was also First Communion. We'd gotten some pretty heavey duty instruction on the significance of it all. So when the moment came to receive Communion I was holding my breath. Trying to drink from the Chalice I coughed explosively, spraying myself and everyone else with wine. Which made me laugh with mortification, and earned me a lecture to take the Sacrament seriously from the Rector. What a memory. Terry survived the day with great aplomb.

Later we had a delicious red velvet cake!!

Entertaining Angels Unaware

2010-05-01T15:08:00.000-07:00

Every Friday night the brothers go out with a team from St. John's parish in Sao Paulo to distribute food, water, dry socks and blankets to the homeless. Nine of us squeezed into a VW van, which was loaded with huge vats of soup, plastic bottles of
water. we sat on folded blankets. They follow basically the same route in and around the neighborhood near the Anglican/Episcopal parish of St. John, stopping at every heap of refuse or muddle of blankets to shout "Good Evening!" Soon enough a beaming face would appear, and the team busily gave them basic survival supplies. Twice we were warned off with an expletive; but nobody blamed them--sleep is precious enough in a noisy place like Sao Paulo. The amazing thing to me was how delighted most of the people were to see us. One man wanted his picture taken with us. By 2:30 a.m. we'd given away all we had. We learned that other outreach teams have been visiting the same people; welcome news in one way, but it will mean a revised strategy.

Brothers are involved in direct service to the homeless in every SSF province around the world. Some are also involved in citizen's organizations that work to end poverty. In New Zealand I was asked if my vow of poverty meant I liked poor people
to be poor. Far from it. Degrading poverty is a sin. Religious poverty is about radical sharing. At every meal I pray: "...and make us mindful of the needs of each other and the poor." Some people have challenged us about enabling addicts; we
should be getting them to face the consequences of their actions and pushing them towards sobriety. Yes; but if they are dead from exposure or starvation, what is the good in that? In my own work with homeless people since 1983 I have learned that for
every "hopeless case" there is another ready to do the necessary hard work to get out of the bind of homelessness. But you just can't tell which is the one when you first meet.

We got up at noon, and I was feeling drained by the crazy sleep schedule. Then the door bell rang and three of Br. James' friends from across the street swept us off for a meal. Laughing, teasing, joking.
I felt I could have been in New York or
San Francisco--just got to crack the code of their lingo. But the bond of friendship, the joy of giving and receiving brightened the day.

As it did the night.

Peace and Love

2010-04-30T08:47:00.000-07:00

"What is America like?" "Are there many guns?" "Do you have adult education classes?" "Do all students have computers?" The questions came fast, reflecting popular ideas of America as a rich but violent nation. Br. James (pictured on the right, with some of his teaching colleagues and Br. Elton) translated the questions and my replies. Trying to nuance the discussion when I don't speak Portuguese was difficult. Br. James had invited me to tour the school where he is Assistant Principal, and we stopped to speak with the Grade Seven Adult Education students, most of whom were in their twenties and thirties, and lived in the nearby favela, or slum. A place too dangerous for us to visit, James said. I tried to let them know most Americans don't get shot at, but it is a lively fear for some in poor urban neighborhoods. And hard to believe if all you see of America is CSI and other crime shows. The US Constitution gives citizens the right to bear arms, so many people have guns in their homes. But as a Franciscan I am horrified by it all, implacably opposed to guns. The same with the materialistic U.S. society. Yes we are a rich nation, but I wonder if it isn't too much so. Franciscan poverty is not the most popular cultural discussion. But the most important thing during the visit to that classroom was goodwill, the chance to share a moment of connection, me saying "obrigado" and them saying "Good evening" and all of us laughing with embarrassment and pleasure at the chance to meet.

Later we ate dinner with the students and the lunchroom rocked with pulsing salsa music. The school provides free meal and a snack to every student. We got rice, beans, shredded beef (or was it pork? Mystery meat--school lunches are the same in USA and Brazil!) and a chunk of papaya. "Hello! How are you?!" I was greeted over and over by students who'd obviously just been coached. What a great evening.

The next day I visited Templo Zu Lai with a friend. The temple is in Sao Paulo, but over half an hour from the center of town, in a leafy garden suburb. As we munched on vegetarian food we speculated on the popularity of Buddhism among so many middle class Brazilians and Americans. Despite a sign warning against public displays of affection (especially kissing, the sign said), there is a definite interest. Perhaps the emphasis on meditation rather than listening to sermons? The cultivation of a personal meditation practice that can be done either alone or together? The strong emphasis on compassion and awareness? We are both Anglican/Episcopal priests and not inclined to become Buddhists, but our hearts are warmed by what we know of it. And the longing for spirituality we recognize among the Western seekers, we decided, invites us to look again at the things we talk about, to consider how we nurture people in their spiritual journey. The internecine conflicts in Christianity sometimes smother the flame of joy, generosity and compassion we believe God lit in the world with the Resurrection of Jesus from the dead.

Welcome to Brazil

2010-04-26T15:29:00.000-07:00

Sao Paulo is a vast city, organized on the chaos theory of urban planning. At least that is how it seems to me. Maybe I've just been spending too much time in small Melanesian villages... Yet not being able to read or speak Portuguese, getting lost is a nagging anxiety. But the Resurrection message is not to be defined by our
fears, so I am exploring the city. Fortunately the brothers here, Brother James and Brother Elton, have the same fear for me and they always accompany me. And I am getting the insider's perspective.

Sao Paulo was founded by the Portuguese, and has a decidedly Non-Brit mentality of how to be, at least that is how I understand Br. James when he tells me: you must remember Sao Paulo is not an English city. "We like it this way!" he said
with a laugh. "It is our culture." Everywhere it seems to be "downtown" and at the same time on the fringe. How can both be true? I don't know. Major buildings and teeming avenues don't all cluster in one place. You just come upon them after
traveling on narrow winding streets.

Discovering a city of tremendous history (founded in 16th Century) and vitality is pretty exciting.

The brothers live in a tiny apartment that they also share with Br. James sister. Here Elton is in the tiny kitchen. Fortunately everybody is fanatically neat. The team from "Queer Eye" television show would approve. We pray at the table which you can see Br James must use as his computer room and dining table in turn, the brothers have doubled up to give me a room of my own, which makes me feel very awkward and grateful. My jetlag has been worse this time than I remember from recent trips, and I have been awake all night, tossing and turning. Thank goodness I haven't had to worry about bothering somebody else.

The brothers have made some good connections in the city over the years, and last night we ate dinner with the OFM Friars.

There are other meetings planned with other people during the week ahead.

But mostly we are getting to know each other. I've only spent time with James at Chapter meetings, I've never met Elton before. Sitting next to each other at a Chapter meeting has a degree of intimacy (maybe 10 degrees). Nothing like sharing a
tiny apartment for 10 days.

My favorite tourist activity so far has been to visit the Central Market. One vendor let us taste six or seven kinds of fruit I've never seen before. I have no idea what they were, but it was truly amazing.

The Rain Falls on the Just and the Unjust

2010-04-20T19:51:00.001-07:00

I was thinking of the psalm phrase, "the rain falls on the just and the unjust," as I was caught in a rainstorm yesterday afternoon while I was jogging. It was a real "gully washer" as we say back home in Snohomish, and yet as I slogged along, I began to feel exhilarated. Another man out jogging caught my eye and started laughing loudly: "Hooray!" he shouted. Yet another man shouted "Twenty bucks for an umbrella!" I find Australians to be very friendly. And getting wet in Brisbane is like taking a warm shower: no chill at all. There was a brief sense of solidarity among us caught in the autumn freshet.

The television has shown pictures of people caught in airports due to the volcano in Iceland. It doesn't matter if you are the Governor General of Australia trying to get to a state funeral in Poland or a tourist or business traveler in Europe, or even just wanting to get to Europe. Everybody shares the same fate: you gotta wait! It seems to bring out the creative impulse in some. A young couple exchanged vows, witnessed by family via skype; they missed the reception back in Britain. Others are just glum, some are teary. With the ash streaming out of the earth and up into the jet stream, the whole globe will continue to be affected for a while more. The depths of the earth and heights of heaven impinge upon each other.

It is a graphic example of our interconnectedness on the earth. You can never escape being part of the Earth and being one of her creatures. Volcanos are natural; imagine if all that mess was radioactive! It is interesting that we are having nuclear reduction talks at the same time that the volcano blows, as if to say: this is what it might be like, this is a bit of a foretaste or maybe a dress rehearsal.

The choice is ours. Can we really pretend much longer that we are NOT connected? If we foul the earth in one place, soon many people feel the impact. This reality of our fragility and interconnectedness is one of our core Franciscan insights, and it is both a source of inspiration and a missional challenge. One of the interesting programs SSF offers for our brothers is a spirituality program, part of ongoing Franciscan formation, originally intended to help the brothers in the Solomon Islands and Papua New Guinea. It grew out of the idea that we are all one community, interconnected and resources to each other. Here Brothers Hilton and Isom from the Solomon Islands stand outside the Friary Chapel at Stroud.

But we can't forget interconnectedness works both ways: we experience the negative impact as well as the helpful assist. We are never alone. As I have traveled around the Australia/New Zealand Province of SSF I have met brothers from Solomon Islands, others originally from England, Italy, Sri Lanka: a web of families and cultures that can quickly provide strength and needed vitality as we share what we've got. The spiritual, intellectual, and cultural resources among us are enormous.

Some pictures from PNG and NZ

2010-04-19T18:33:00.000-07:00

Br. Philip Etobae, the parish priest at St. Francis, Koki, in Port Moresby, welcomes the Ministers on our arrival in Papua New Guinea, Feb 28.

We were greeted at Haruro, St. Mary of the Angels Friary,Popondetta, Oro Province for the Ministers Meeting. It was a huge, elaborate ceremony. This warrior was the first to greet us.

Nothing says welcome like a swig of coconut water. Here Br. Laurence is preparing a nut for us to taste. Its a real trick with the machete. The knife can bounce around if you don't know what you are doing (which includes most of the visiting Ministers!)

One dark and stormy night a tree fell. It missed all important structures, including the station Cross: "God is still with us!" the Brothers exclaimed. But cleaning up the mess was a very labor intensive business. Here two brothers use a cross cut saw. I'd only seen one of these in photos of logging in the Pacific Northwest USA. They were popular over 100 years ago! I kept to picking up the smaller branches, not willing to risk amputating a digit!

After the Ministers left, I stayed on, and the brothers asked me to teach a class on prayer. We had a week or so talking about prayer in a lovely palm leaf classroom!

From PNG to New Zealand. This is a picture of me and Brother Simone at St. Peter's School in Cambridge, NZ where we spoke to the student chapel services. Happy flash backs for me from the days I was Chaplain at The Annie Wright School in Tacoma, WA, USA

A Sacred Rhythm

2010-04-14T15:59:00.000-07:00

One of the realities of my life is the intermittent access to the internet! I've been in Papua New Guinea for all of March, participating the the Ministers' Meeting and then on to New Zealand for two weeks, conducting a Holy Week mission at a parish and a church school in Cambridge, NZ. Easter Week I was feted and fed beautifully, but often having to give a short talk or presentation about our life in SSF; it culminated with a Quiet Day on Saturday of Easter Week. I flew to Sydney on Sunday and came to Stroud on Monday.

I think my favorite part of my work is getting to stay around after the other visitors go home. Life goes back to normal for the 16 novices and brothers in the friary where I was staying. In Papua New Guinea it meant no more chicken and fish and meat at every meal. We ate piles of bananas--boiled, baked, roasted, fried and raw, and lots of crook neck squash, breakfast, lunch and dinner. Many days nothing else, and we were happy to eat them. Their days are broken up into "periods" and the afternoon is always "work." What this meant for us during my visit was clambering all over a tree which fell in a heavy rain storm, hacking at it with machetes and hand saws. I am a danger to myself and others with a meter long knife, so I contented myself with hauling the branches away. I cursed my choice when I began to get bitten by myriad ferocious ants in very private places! We all suffered so I couldn't quit. The next day the ants had decamped for some other tree in the forest and we labored in tranquility. Plunging into a waterfall after such heavy work is heavenly--soothing to skin pulped by ants, mosquitoes and thorns.

I taught two short courses for them, one on prayer, and another on how to tell your spiritual autobiography. We had some really moving evenings as we began to tell each other how God has moved in our lives. What impressed me most was the way so many of us have experienced God's Spirit working in our lives. Our stories are testimonials to the working of God in the lives of ordinary people. I found the rhythm of the days very restorative: up at 5:30, praying with the brothers by 6:00. Breakfast at 8:00 then classes at 9:00. Midday prayer and lunch, then "solitude" which always meant "nap" for me! Then the hard labor under the tropical sun after which I often went running. Evening prayer at 5:00 so we'd have enough daylight to read by. Dinner then the evening class. Drop dead in bed by 9:30. You think I am crazy to say it is restorative! But the pattern of prayer, study and work, living in community, even bathing together in the river and eating foods we gather from the garden feels like pure gift. A tremendous amount of work gets done even though we only do manual labor about 3.5 hours a day. Bees work just about 5 hours a day...so why do I sometimes put in long days and nights over a hot keyboard? I am trying to keep to the balance.

One of the things the folks in PNG take really seriously is welcoming visitors. When the Ministers arrived, it was huge: a crowd of men and women singing, giving us flowers. But when I went to visit places for lunch or drop by for tea, there was always an elaborate (to my sensibilities at least) welcome. I tried to get the brothers to ask the people not to do this, just let me come by and visit, I whined. They were adamant. Never. This is about honoring our customs and it is who we are as a people. If we didn't welcome you we would feel ashamed. So I had to learn again the pleasure of being welcomed and of eating from every dish offered to me. Lovely bananas! Again!

In New Zealand, I stayed with the three brothers at Hamilton, two of whom I know and love. I met our new novice there, Br. Simone. He was born in Italy not so long ago, so we had some very interesting intercultural, inter-generational conversations, with me high from the Papua New Guinea rain forest experience, but from America, and curious about New Zealand. He and I shared the preaching load during Holy Week. He had never preached before, but by Easter Sunday he'd given 13 sermons! Really good ones too. But it wasn't all work and sermonizing. We went with a friend to Rotorua and gaped at the geysers and boiling mud. Then we went to a spa and jumped in steamy pools of mineral water--the best way to get psyched up for the Triduum I've found yet! Easter week, one day we went spelunking in the Waitamo Caves. Like me, Simone enjoys running, and he curbed his pace to adjust to mine, and we had some really lovely runs. All of this framed by the daily office and friary life. And a richer diet. The brothers hosted a pizza party for friends to come meet me (It was the only night it rained my whole stay). Easter is in early autumn, so we enjoyed corn on the cob, fresh tomatoes, fresh broccoli and crookneck squash (but only at dinner). By the time I left Simone was truly a brother to me!

Over the years the brothers have done extraordinary ministry in New Zealand, and for many years there were several more brothers in the country. Franciscans are very popular, and we enjoy some really good relationships with church folk there. The Archbishop comes by for coffee and to join in the prayers. He organized a luncheon to give some clergy in the diocese who might not otherwise have a chance to meet and talk with me. We spoke about the environment, prayer and community life: we shared some very interesting perspectives.

During the Quiet Day which I conducted for about 21 people my last day in New Zealand, I spoke about being interconnected. St. Francis talks about these relationships in his Canticle of the Creatures: Brother Sun, Sister Moon. Everything is kin to us, we all come from the same source, God. The reality of being interconnected and the invitation to live this as fully and responsibly as possible is part of the core Franciscan message. The ins and outs of relationships and daily activities is the sacred rhythm of our lives.

Welcome to SSF, Korean Brothers!

2010-04-14T15:49:00.000-07:00

Today was an historic day. We welcomed the Korean Franciscan Brotherhood into the Society of St. Francis and elected two of them, Br. Stephen and Brother Lawrence to Life Profession. They have been mentored by SSF since 1993, and agreed two years ago that their special covenant relationship would come to its end ad fulfillment at this chapter meeting today. A third member of their group, Br. Raphael, was welcomed as a novice in SSF.

But it was also the first time we'd ever conducted a chapter meeting in SSF with several members joining us via skype. It wasn't without its traumas, it took nearly an hour for all parties to get connected, then a bit longer to get all of us sitting so we could see each other (almost). But now we've broken the ice. I'm wondering about further possibilities. Much depends on facilities available in the Solomon Islands and Papua New Guinea for video conferencing.

Blurry images couldn't obscure the joy we all felt. Many of us have got to know the brothers over the years. I stayed in the friary in Gangchon in 2008

Stephen and Lawrence had an interpreter with them, Sister Catherine, SHC. She has known the brotherhood the whole of it's existence and played a part in many of its key moments, so it was a very fitting role for her to play.

Remembering while waiting for the next flight

2010-02-23T19:16:00.000-08:00

I am at Sea-Tac airport after nearly three weeks at home: of late mornings spent sipping rich brewed coffee, contemplating the mist shrouded garden; of struggling to decide did I want chicken or beef or seafood for dinner tonight (Mother's love is voiced in her desire to satisfy any food craving I might have). The arid, airport lounge atmosphere which is so familiar to me makes me already long for home. Instead of listening to airport noises, I would maybe pass the late morning supine on my favorite couch hovering between sleep and a novel then heading out for a run along the country highways lacing the hills around my parents' home in Snohomish, WA. Afternoons often found me sipping coffee or tea, catching up with dear friends, or volunteering to make the evening salad. Evenings we'd watch the Olympics.

Home seemed so precious to me this visit. So many family friends are getting older, my parents are getting older. I am getting older. My brother-in-law's father passed away last week and we attended the funeral yesterday.I felt so sorry for him, and tried to breathe into the family future. Yet the preciousness did not dispel the old aggravations and patterns of behavior I have adopted at home since age 10. I might be 52 but I still have a long way to go to some days.

Some friends have asked why I choose to go home for such long periods of time. I go because it helps me to remember who I am. A close friend preached about remembering on Sunday, and it really struck home with me. I remember I am a son, I come from Snohomish, nothing too la-de-da. I am not self sufficient, but count on the love and care of family and friends. And I need the help of God to get out of my head, to unplug the "hard wiring" that makes me reactive and childish.

It is good to be mindful of these things heading to Papua New Guinea for the Ministers Meeting of the First Order Brothers and Sisters of the order. There is so much about famly life and home that permeate our Franciscan life. We call each other brother and sister for a reason.

I think the order is in a good place. We'll see what everybody else thinks soon. I feel better having sunk my roots down into home soil. We have to remember who we are, it will give direction and focus to our talks. Please keep us in your prayers!.

Making Space

2010-01-30T09:57:00.000-08:00

No, I haven't given up on the blog. After the dazzling plunge into Long Island Sound, nothing else seemed quite so remarkable. Day to day life has been the domestic round, and nitty gritty administrative work. And I forced myself to take naps, cueing off Kitty who seemed to know how to survive the bitter days of January.

The month that followed that freezing dip was nearly as quick as my time in Long Island Sound, or at least it seemed to be just two big leaps and I was out, back on a plane from JFK to San Francisco. A clear sign to me I was very happy.

Those two metaphorical leaps bear mentioning though; they were pretty splashy!

I baptized the children of some wonderful friends: Grace Freas and Brian Licitra. The chapel was jam packed with their families and friends. People kept arriving right up to the sermon time and the brothers carried in more chairs (we practically manhandled folks into the front row seats!). Everyone was eager and happy to witness this big event in the life of the families involved. It gave me a chance to think about the meaning of Baptism. Obviously it is a very attractive thing, and the first job for those of us in the Church is to make room for everybody who comes. Baptism is about welcoming people, expanding the circle, putting aside anxieties about liturgical "appropriateness" to deal plainly and generously with people; these can be hard lessons for us Episcopalians!

I've read somewhere that the word "salvation" is etymologically related to the the idea of "making space." By making space for each other in the tiny chapel we were experiencing a parable of salvation. As the church welcomes new members it needs to make space for them and embrace the gifts they bring with them. Brian laughed and cried during the liturgy, the music of new life among us.

The next leap was into some really energizing conversations with the brothers at Little Portion about how we eat, and changing the way we live to more environmentally sensitive priorities. The Guardian, Br. Tom, got the conversation going by announcing that after January 1 he would be a vegetarian, only eating grass-fed beef (!) That was putting the cat among the pigeons as we struggled to understand his comment...he's a poet and has a knack of saying really important things in sometimes inscrutable ways. Something I really love about him.

But he got us to think hard and talk to each other. We watched the film "Food, Inc." and had several meetings about our reactions to it. Fresh from Copenhagen, I was in what one writer in the New York Times described as the "high priestly" phase of ecological justice and living sustainably. I was in favor of planting a garden, grinding our own wheat, drying homegrown fruit, building windmills. We finally agreed some smaller intermediate steps were needed, like reading food labels, trying to eat food in season and locally grown if possible. Some brothers volunteered to do market research. We agreed to keep talking about it. Concerned people who heard distorted messages asked us about our "vegetarian agenda" and we learned our first lesson about how we share the story. Sound bytes don't work too well. It is equally important to make space for all the voices in the friary to be heard. We recognized that well meant enthusiasm can silence the legitimate concerns and questions of others. If we don't make space for each other it becomes an exercise in polemics and you get caught up in different "agendas." And it stops being good news.

So then I was on the plane, off to Berkeley. Walking up Shattuck Avenue I came to Chez Panisse, the iconic restaurant run by the organic food actist Alice Waters: a reminder that we are surrounded by people who are eager to engage these same issues. And a pledge we can flourish! Actually seeing the restaurant reminded me that all we really need to do is start asking for help and ideas, and we will learn new ways of growing, shopping and eating food. If we change the way we do things people might say we are faddists, but I think we should do it anyway. Mother Teresa of Calcutta had a great prayer reported taped to the wall of her room, which I read at the Baptismal service. In effect it says if you are nice people will take advantage of you, but be nice anyway. If you build, people may tear it down, but build anyway...because it isn't between you and them, but between you and God. How we live and relate is a contract between us and God.

If we make space for others, people might complain it is getting too crowded, but make space anyway.

If we change the way we eat, people may accuse us of following a fad. But change the way we eat anyway.

Because it isn't between us and our detractors, but between us and God.

Pazzo! Pazzo! Pazzo!

2010-01-01T11:03:00.000-08:00

Happy New Year!

We have had a stupendous celebration here at Little Portion. Continuing a tradition I started 10 years ago (I didn't start it as a tradition, but a Millennium Celebration has morphed into a tradition, praised be!) the brothers put on a big meal and chapel celebration to observe the change of years. We have found a willing crowd of folks looking for a sober party in a cozy environment, with a happy spiritual emphasis. 55 people came for vegetarian lasagna, ham (something for everybody), salad and cream puffs with chocolate sauce. We drank liters of Martinelli's sparkling cider til the sugar rush had some of us ready to dance.

Our friend Jack Lictra of Jack's Waterfall was waiting for the mood to come together, and about he 9:30 he and Br. Tom got us into the chapel, singing, dancing, drumming, telling stories. At midnight I got to play Father Time and rang the chapel bell. But nobody noticed, the cacophony in the chapel was deafening. We couldn't hear the bell at all. I hope the neighbors enjoyed it. I cannot think of a better way to say goodbye to a year than to be together with friends, share delicious food and make music together.

Yes, it was a bit wacky. One guy asked where Dionysus was; that's pretty remarkable for an alcohol free evening. But opening our hearts and bodies in rhythm and music, listening to stories sung and spoken can unleash a sense of joy in the human spirit that I am sure warms God's heart. Dancing around the fully lit Advent wreath I thought of King David dancing before the Ark of God. I treasure an idea of Francis as God's Troubadour. He sang beautifully and touched people's hearts. Jack sang like an angel. Actually he called all the angels and exhorted us to widen the circle of our love and understanding. Tom sang of the mystery of love and asked us to open ourselves up. Ken Corsbie gave some classic calypso storytelling, and I shared a humbler campfire-type tale of my family's vicissitudes with a goat for sale. Br. Ambrose reminded us of mythical continents and held up the vision of joy and adventure. And then we drummed. And hummed. And gave God glory and thanks. Then Max sang an exquisite blessing and we welcomed 2010.

Here's me and Jack, wearing our Kangas. Cool dudes.

This morning we kept another reckless act that has become a tradition. Five years ago I decided instead of reading about people swimming on New Year's Day, I'd do it myself. Taking a brother along with me with a camera (who would believe I did it otherwise?) I broke through the icy edge of Long Island Sound and dove in and out in about a nano second. It was an extraordinary baptismal experience. It coalesced for me my efforts to live New Year's Day the way I wanted to spend the rest of the year.

So it came to pass: let go of the old ideas about what might be fun, the constriction or reluctance to be uncomfortable, take a risk and do something off the wall. The benefits are immediate. I've never felt so alive (or glad to be alive) after an icy dip. I bragged about it to some friends, and the next year there was a hardy gang of about 10. This morning I think 40 people were on Cedar Beach with cameras, and about 24 of us ran across the snow-crusted pebbles and dove into the water (all ages, men and women). In and out! No dilly dallying!! I find it helpful to shout and chant in order not to think, trying to whip myself into a state of whoopee. Driving back to the friary for hot chocolate a friend looked at his watch in astonishment. We'd only been at the beach 6 minutes! "It felt like an hour!" he said. That's living in the moment, full of derring-do. Sipping hot chocolate, the swimmers were high spirited. Nobody could believe they'd done it. We were all really glad we had.

I pray I can stay in the moment this year, seek out chances to be with friends, take a risk on living outside conventionality, and to remember to sing and laugh when I am tempted to hide out and avoid whatever life has got to offer.

New Year's Eve 2009

2009-12-31T09:54:00.000-08:00

I have finally recovered from a computer crash. What a hassle!

Getting back to Little Portion after being away since July 18 was a relief. I left Copenhagen and went to Yorkshire, schlepping across Denmark in a snowstorm and missing the connecting boat at Esberg. Through a series of phone calls we got connected with a Lutheran pastor there who put us up over night. The next morning we decided to fly back to UK. In Yorkshire I preached at a combined Christmas Carol and parish memorial service (For once the liturgy expressed the ambivalence so many people talk about at Christmastime!)

Christmas has been lovely. It was the first snowy Christmas I can remember in a long time. We started off Christmas Eve with a really nice Eucharist in the middle of the night. The best part of Christmas Day was giving some young friends presents. Br. Tom's Yorkshire pudding crowned the evening with glory.

So now it is New Year's Eve, and I am thinking about the year past. In light of the recent Northwest Airlines bombing attempt I feel extremely grateful to have traveled safely. I don't like to think too hard about what might go wrong when I strap myself into yet another airline seat. It is a classic case of denial: "We'll be fine!" I tell myself. As a traveler I have trusted the airline security people to keep me safe, and I have complied cheerfully with every check they have invented. But now I need to add my voice to the pubic forum demanding that government departments and agencies share information. It is a shame that a near disaster is required to highlight the ineptitude at the highest levels. But the ships, railways and PMV's in Africa and the South Pacific have been more terrifying than any plane ride: skidding around hairpin turns in an overloaded bus; plunging through waves in a tiny boat, water sluicing the deck where I was trying to sleep; standing in stalled, darkened trains watching moisture seep through the concrete tunnel walls; walking narrow paths and pausing to let the snakes slither away.

But the travel has only been a means to an end: to share the real life experiences of my brothers, the way they must get around, the foods they eat, the houses they live in, meeting the friends who help them and make our Franciscan life possible, finding out about the ministries they have around the world. Perhaps because I am so aware of the fragility of life, I find all that goes on to be amazing. There is a Franciscan genius in finding ways to be with people. Brothers serve hot drinks to day laborers standing on cold street corners, we visit the sick in hospitals, sometimes at 4:00 a.m. in order to be sure the patients are seen before medical procedures. We lead Quiet Days, speak in school chapels, march in demonstrations for peace and justice. Many of us engage in subsistence farming; all of us have to make small financial resources stretch. The hardest thing of all, since it is the least glamorous, we welcome people into our homes, sit with guests, cook endless meals, change bed linens. In some places these linens must then be washed in a river and dried on a clothes line. Others take the sheets to the laundry! I think many brothers would willingly risk a plane crash over cleaning a guest house. And yet we do the daily work; different kinds of adventures lurk in unlikely intersections of life. God is definitely with us, helping us to grow more and more into the image and likeness of Christ, and to find ways of connecting with people.

As I unpacked some old journals this week, I read a few entries. One was a description of an accident in March 1996 in the Solomon Islands. we could have all been killed, and one brother was permanently brain damaged. But moments before it happened we were singing in the back of the truck. It seems to me that this is the only option we really have. To take calculated risks, sing God's praises, and do our best when and if disaster strikes. As we remember at Christmas, the only guarantee we have in life is that God is with us in it.

Farewell to Copenhagen

2009-12-17T01:43:00.000-08:00

I leave Copenhagen today.

The talks are ”on a knife edge” according to the BBC. We watched the footage showing protesters clashing with the police. Everywhere people are feeling highly agitated. Some leaders are saying a deal is still possible, but the NGO’s question if a deal struck behind closed doors, excluding the world’s citizens, conforms to UN ideals of transparency and participation. Mr. Brown, the prime minister of Britain, was sounding cautiously optimistic on the T.V. No telling how he feels now.

Being here in Copenhagen has been like pitching a tent in a rumor mill. Everybody seems to be ”in the know,” but few predictions have come to pass. We will have to wait and see.

I feel as if we have done all that we could from our place at the periphery of the talks. We spoke with dozens of people, appeared on television, participated in huge liturgies. Most importantly we kept praying; and we will keep on praying!

I have many other wonderful memories of Copenhagen. Our delicious candle lit breakfasts and suppers (the Danes love candles, and they really make a difference in the permanent gloom!) with our hosts at the Swedish Church, the walks through the streets and my frequent runs through the park. St. Alban’s Anglican Church has been a beautiful place to pray and meet people, and to pull back from the hurley-burley of the Klimaforum. We got snow last night, and the city is transformed by the beautiful white blanket.

Now it is back to the train to the bus to the boat, then another series of trains before I rest at Doncaster for the weekend.

Praying for the summit

2009-12-16T01:48:00.000-08:00

Yesterday Joyce and I had a chance to meet with a couple of hunger strikers, Anna and Mathieu. She is from Australia and he is from France. They are fasting in order to influence the Summit talks. They have been on a fast for several months, originally it was a fruit juice fast, now it is water only. While they do not claim religious affiliations, they speak forcefully about creating positive energy and moral power through their fast. I quite like that.

Fasting is one of the classic means of prayer, and has been used to terrific effect to bring about siginificant social changes. Gandhi fasted, so did MLK. Among my own circle of friends, the members of the Coalition of Immokalee Workers fasted in their fight against Taco Bell: and they won!

Anna and Mathieu invite us to join them Thursday on a 24 hour fast.

But we had a very interesting discussion with a man who is a UK based ”climate steward” with A Rocha. Brendan Bolles spoke about how best to get the message about our need to change across to the world. Part of his responsibilities include posting ”Prayer points” on the internet. One of the things he pointed out is that fierce rhetoric alienates more people than it attracts. He reminded me that it is better to get many people interested in doing something rather than making people feel guilty and disempowered because they are ”only making token gestures.” That attitude can be very damaging. All efforts to engage in the effort to live more sustainably are heartily welcomed. Few of us are able to engage in hunger strikes or are able to cut out all air travel, or live without automobiles. But we can change a few light bulbs, we can walk more, we can cut back on meat consumption a bit. We can find ways to pick up litter.

Fast if you can, cut back where it is possible, and in all things, pray. Pray for the world, pray for all that live on the earth. Remember the poorest and most vulnerable. Your prayer will make a world of difference here at Copenhagen.

Certainly the summit is coming to a ”crunch” time. All of the NGO representatives have had to get re-credentialed and the allotment of passes has been reduced to 10 per delegation. There are some frustrated reps hanging about.

Last night the Østerport traqin station was closed because of a bomb scare. Fortunately there was no explosion, the things was defused. But it meant we had to walk three times the distance to our dinner (after having just met the hunger strikers…).

TV Spot

2009-12-16T01:17:00.000-08:00

I was featured in a brief TV spot this week. Check it out! www.odysseynetworks.org
Look for Faith at the Summit.

The producer, Mark Dowd had read my blog entry about my conversation with the young athiest.

Do Not Be Afraid

2009-12-14T06:22:00.000-08:00

Yesterday was a big day.

We began with Mass at St. Alban´s Church celebrated by the Archbishop of Canterbury. He preached a brief, pointed homily about the prophets and our need to look at the world differently. We need to begin seeing the world as God’s. We are called to consider the whole of creation as we ”prepare the way of the Lord.” Even in the face of the great challenges facing us we are called to be people of joy. (If he didn’t say those things in exactly that way, those were the messages I got! Preaching, I’ve discovered, is more about what one hears than what is said).

Then we bundled ourselves off to a local restaurant for pickled herring and berry flavored yoghurt drink (among many other Danish delicacies).

It was a ”pinch me hard, am I really eating lunch with the Archbishop of Canterbury” moment.

And then to the Cathedral in the center of town. At two o’clock the Queen of Denmark marched in, followed in due course by a tremendous procession of world representatives. Archbishop Emeritus Desmond Tutu came in, still glowing I imagine, from his tremendous outdoor appearance where he was greeted as a superstar. (His message was direct: ’Hello rich countries—wake up! It’s cheap to finance climate debt. 150 billion dollars a year would do it,’ he cried. Amen!! I say). But it wasn’t a triumphal procession. Thirty choristers came in bearing the central symbols of COP15: withered corn from Malawi, symbolizing crop failures in Africa and through out the world: untold misery and death; large dead corals reminding us of the destruction of the South Pacific islands and threats to global marine life; and ten people from Greenland, each bearing a stone exposed by melting glaciers: proof of global warming, disappearing water sources, spoiled habitats and suffering for many species and peoples. These corn cobs, dead corals and black stones were heaped up at the ramparts to the choir. We must never forget what is happening. We were gathered to dedicate ourselves as people of faith to doing all that we can to help the earth and to remind the world that the people most directly affected by climate change are the world’s poorest. The Archbishop of Canterbury again preached, this time calling the world to resist fear, yet to respond with loving alacrity to plea of the earth and all that live upon it.

The four of us Franciscans helped light candles. Everybody in the cathedral has a candle and they were lit and we carried them out into the world.

Signs of hope.

Welcome to Hopenhagen we said.

Walking the Talk

2009-12-13T09:15:00.001-08:00

Yesterday Br. Hugh and I participated in an interfaith walkabout. I managed to get to two places, a Jewish synagogue and a Tibetan Buddist temple. The theme at the synagogue was "Sabbath" and the rabbi spoke movingly about the meaning of the Jewish Sabbath; it underscores the core conviction that human beings don't control the world. By taking a regular Sabbath, no matter what is going on, the believer is forced to acknowledge they are not in control. This is God's world.

The rabbi's talk was follwed by an virtuoso performance by a young woman who gently struck a series of gongs and made bird calls. The effect was profoundly moving as the resonant sound of the gongs was embroidered in a way by the different bird calls. I was reminded of a conversation I had with a Solomon Island brother about music. Deeply impressed by the very foriegn sound of the singing in Melanesia I asked him about the source or inspiration of the tunes. "The birds," he answered. So we listened to nature's hymns sung in a Danish synagogue with amazing precision by a young woman: the enormous gilt room was alive with bird calls. How often do I pay such close attention to birds outside? As we left the synagogue I was determined to pay closer attention to God's music in nature.

Our next stop was the Tibetan Buddhist temple. There a nun spoke about karma. If I understood what she was saying correctly, karma means our past actions caused current conditions, and our present behavior will determine the future. This is true both personally and socially (or maybe that is just a connection I made in my mind?) She invited us to think about our ignorant, greedy or agressive behaviors and led us through a meditation, releasing these things with the intention of amendment of life. So much of our climate chaos has been caused by human ignorance, greed and aggression! If we can come to terms with these behaviors in ourselves and our world...

Indeed.

Obviously there are enormous areas of convergence among the world religions and the faith perspective on the climate turmoil in the world.

What was clear to me on the walkabout is that we are all here in Copenhagen to bring moral pressure to bear on the discussions, to help coalesce a consensus about what is wrong and the need to address the situation urgently. I do not know how isolated the delegates are in the Bela Center who are actually working on the documents of the conference, but certainly the rest of us can go back from here with fresh insights, renewed commitment and a deeper understanding of our interconnectedness on the planet.

Today an enormous crowd of people joined in a march. It was freezing cold. There were reports of violence, but I saw nothing of it. The crowd was huge. I was surrounded by a group very happy and friendly Christian Aid youth from Great Britain. But presumably the people "inside" heard about our march, they heard the estimates of the crowd size. They are not working in a vacuum. The world cares. We want them to come up with a binding agreement.

"Christians preach against the environment"

2009-12-11T02:54:00.000-08:00

I had a provoking conversation with a young woman who calls herself an atheist at the Klimaforum. I was taking my turn at the Green Church booth, handing out leaflets and engaging our visitors in conversation. Most were curious about the churches'
response to global warming, and made encouraging comments. One young woman however, demanded to know if I was a Christian (fully habited friar; I suppose it is a fair question). "Why are you here?" she wanted to know. "Christians preach against the environment and are responsible for the destruction of the climate."

I was reminded of a comment printed at the bottom of one of my seminary Church History exams: "This is a jumble of things true, untrue, half true and almost true." (Yeah it stung a bit.)

I decided to be non-polemical. "Well we're here, doing our best to create moral pressure to reexamine some of those old Scriptural assumptions about the environment and human participation in it that have cause some problems."

She wasn't taking the bait. "I hate Christians."

"Bless your heart," I replied. Giving into my irritation, I said: "Have a nice day."

It really is an extraordinary convergence of people here in Copenhagen. People who may have never thought of working together or recognized the claims we have on each other as members of the human race and creatures on the planet, are being forced
into dialogue. Some of it is bruising. Some is very encouraging and heart warming. But you can't have it only one way. Every where there are stories of different encounters, rumors of things that might happen. My heart sinks at the prospect of
violence, but I still plan to be fully present and participate in everything. These are of course the kind of encounters I used to fantasize about when I resented the hum drum daily routine of cleaning house and making beds.

We must find ways to work together. If we permit our divisions to sour the effort, the goal of creating a global consensus on climate change and the imperatives to save the earth from our own destructiveness will be fatally flawed.

There are other rumors of course. We hear of incredible courage and powerful demonstrations of commitment from the developing nations' representatives in the COP 15 talks. We fan the flames of hope whenever we can. We are bringing out our greatest advocates for social justice and a renewed understanding of what it means to be a Christian and a part of the human family.

I am so proud to belong to the Church of Desmond Tutu and Rowan Williams.

Waiting at Copenhagen

2009-12-10T06:35:00.000-08:00

Last night the evening program at St. Alban's was an Advent study group talking about the theme "The Meaning is in the waiting." Apparently it is the title of a book, but I didn't get a good look at that. Our conversation quickly brought the theme of waiting to bear on our experience at Copenhagen.

Some residents are waiting with a sense of dread, placing sandbags in front of doors to minimize damage in case of riots.

Some are waiting with a tremendous sense of hope and anticipation.

We spend time each day waiting in silence, holding up the fearful, the outspoken, the leaders and those who are getting swept up in the events happening around us. Yesterday we visited the Klimaforum, the non-governmental organizations' parallel event to the official COP15 talks. The Klimaforum filled my heart with joy as we walked among the exhibitors. Obviously there is technology for living more harmoniously on the earth: we learned how to make biogas, learned the benefits of different agricultural techniques, looked at different ways people deal with waste, energy, and housing challenges. It is possible to live differently and have a beautiful life.

We also met an array of people from different religious traditions: Jewish, Buddhist, Hindu and Christian. There are many more. They are spiritual activists. Citing the different traditions, they create a moral voice, integrating the spiritual paths of the world's people with the survival of the world. Spirituality is concerned with living day to day, inculcating daily spiritual practices to keep our conscious contact with God strong. Finding the connection between what we believe and how we behave moment by moment is the call to integrated living. It is the blessing of shalom.

So we are waiting so see what will happen. Will the talks be successful? More immediately, will the voices of youth, minorities, the poor get heard?

Will there be violence? We can wait with anxiety or we can wait with acceptance. I find it
is important to recognize their are many aspects of this experience I have no control over. But I can make myself and the people around me miserable in the way I live moment by moment. So I keep on jogging, keep on praying, trying to stay fit for
all that is happening in the present moment.

This is my prayer: Maranatha! Come Lord Jesus, Prince of Peace.

Copenhagen Summit: Arrival

2009-12-09T04:51:00.000-08:00

I arrived in Copenhagen Sunday about 6:00 p.m. after nearly 18 hours travel. The experts keep saying that living more sensitively to the earth will mean accepting some sacrifices...travel will be slower, that's for sure. What a relief to get to bed.

We are located during the day in St. Alban's Anglican Church, part of the Anglican Church in Europe, and at night our group is billeted with the Swedish Lutheran Church. The pastor is a member of our Third Order. Sister Joyce has a luxurious bedroom of her own, the three brothers are piled into a "flat" that has cots and air mattresses.

The Anglican Chaplain Jonathan Lloyd had the bright idea of getting the Franciscans to come to Copenhagen to be a "presence." The first day was a bit fraying, but we survived. There was a general sense that we did not know what we were doing, and we had the expectation that we should be doing something, given the incredible importance of the conference! The lack of television, internet or eeven English language radio meant we had no sense of what was happening, at the Conference. But we learned later our sense of frustration was nothing compared to the delegates who had come to Copenhagen. Nearly double the number of expected delegates arrived and spent hours standing on line in the cold December weather. We heard that most people experience that same liminal feeling of "What's Going On?!"

As I write this, on Wednesday, the internet is being connect at St. Alban's so we expect to be able to follow developments of the conference.

Not only are we providing a presence at the Conference by praying at St. Alban's, we are beginning to get the sense of where the NGO's are meeting and how to get to visit them. Journalists have begun to show up to meet us (asking the all important question, "What will you be doing here in Copenhagen?") As we tell our story we begin to fumble toward greater clarity for ourselves. Father Jonathan has organized a nightly series of presentations for his congregation, providing an opportunity for "regular" people to meet and interact with some of the people who have traveled to Copenhagen.

Last night was the first such discussion, by Martyn Goss from the Diocese of Exeter in England, on "Water." Listening to him, I realized I have had my own experience of climate change and water, which makes for fruitful material for prayer and meditation. Working backwards, I recently had an ear infection, which the doctor says was from swimming in polluted water (Which I did inadvertently in the Solomons). The waters were polluted because of the logging activities upstream and recent flooding. Once deep rivers have become shallow murky ones. The brothers had a bore hole well drilled, but the price of diesel made it difficult for them to keep the tanks near the friary filled. Rising fuel prices, forest clear cutting, heavy rains bring disease and diminished quality of life. Not for me, particularly, because I was a short term visitor, and had quick access to good medical care in Australia. However, the notion we are all separated by just six degrees makes the issues of the developing world my issues. For many of the rural people in the Solomons and other developing countries, medical care is not universal, many people suffer terribly from easily cured problems. Climate change, human greed and lack of adequate resources make the issues being iscussed here at Copenhagen incredibly urgent.

Water is one way into the climate debate. There are many interrelated issues. Every one of which has a host of advocates here at Copenhagen. Add to this the celebrity factor of many of the participants. For us, it is the arrival of the Archbishop of Canterbury. Sadly he he and others are the focus of many people who wish to disrupt the conference. So we are not just dealing with climate change, but with all the issues of such a big conference. KEEP PRAYING!

Martyn Goss not only talked about water, he left us with a hymn he composed. It is not copyrighted, and he hopes many people will sing it (with proper attribution, of course!):

A Hymn for COP15 (Sung to the tune in the English Hymnal "Thy Hand O God has Guided")

The whole earthly Creation
reflects God's heavenly Grace,
since life has now developed
upon this globe in space;
and now our human industry
is threatening all its worth,
with unchecked global warming;
one hope, one chance, one earth.

Our scientists and leaders
now recognize this trend.
Unless we change our habits,
our lives themselves might end.
So now they make decisions
to implement our voice,
to shrink our carbon footprint;
one God, one world, once choice.

The task at Copenhagen's
to cut back greenhouse gas,
that humankind in future
will not face death and loss;
the targets of our rulers
must demonstrate resolve,
to save our children's children;
one globe, one God, one Love.

We call out to our God now
that we united be,
and our destructive lifestyles
be lost to history.
We move ahead together
agreeing a new accord
to limit our emissions;
in faith, in Christ, our Lord.

Objects for meditation at the Chaplaincy: dead coral, dried corn and a stone left behind from a melted glacier

Getting Ready To Go To Copenhagen

2009-12-04T03:10:00.000-08:00

Advent is here. Happy New Year for Christians. In the southern hemisphere, it is spring turning to summer, flowers bursting, people shaking off the last of the chilly weather to revel in glorious heat and long summer days, anticipating the Christmas barbecue or trip to the beach: nothing like taking your shirt off, getting out into the garden, to feel you are getting a new lease on life! In the northern hemisphere, it is the darkest and coldest time of the year, we light candles to remind ourselves that the darkness will not overcome the light, we bundle up, marvel at the first frosts, take time to be a bit introspective, huddled around the fire!

Or maybe not; it is my fantasy at any rate.

Climatic considerations color our experience of the Church year. With a growing global awareness of climatic chaos, the words of the Biblical prophets sound particularly apt. They call us to repent, and prepare the way of the Lord, to live in peace and with justice and equal consideration for the whole of creation which awaits with eager longing the coming of the Lord. But we must DO something about it. For too long we have simply relished the poetry and redoubled our consuming frenzy preparing for the commercial Christmas. "Seasons Greetings!" the cash register receipts read under "Amount Paid."

Tomorrow, Saturday December 5, hundreds of thousands of people are expected in London. We are all going there to participate in "The Wave." Wearing blue or sporting blue scarves and banners, we will circle around the British parliament in Westminster. At three o'clock when Big Ben tolls, we will wave our blue. Blue is the color of the earth seen from outer space. Blue is the color of the clear skies, of the clean waters, a fitting symbol for a whole and rejuvenated ecology and bioshpere. We will be waving at the British members of parliament, reminding them we are there, offering support and encouragement, asking for accountability.

Blue is also the color of Advent in some liturgical circles (always my preference--it is called "Sarum usage" or the Sarum rite...) I am very happy to be able to share the prophetic work, to be a voice among many calling for changed attitudes, different ways of living on the earth:

"Someone is shouting in the desert [and London Embankment]; 'Get the road ready for the Lord; make a straight path for him to travel!"

The message came through loud and clear in the Chapel this week:

"Wolves and sheep will live together in peace, and leopards will lie down with young goats. Calves and lion cubs will feed together, and little children will take care of them. Cows and bears will eat together and their calves and cubs will lie down in peace. Lions will eat straw as cattle do. Even a baby will not be harmed if it plays near a poisonous snake. On Zion, God's sacred hill, there will be nothing harmful or evil. The land will be as full of knowledge of the Lord as the seas are full of water. (TEV Isaiah 11:6-9)

What Are You Doing In Copenhagen?

2009-12-01T03:08:00.000-08:00

I've had lots of questions about the chaplaincy work I'll be involved with in Copenhagen next week. I checked out the website of the Anglican church in Copenhagen (www.st-albans.dk) where we will be based, and here is the program:

St Alban’s Church Welcomes the World to COP15!

The church will be open every day during COP15 as a place of welcome, hospitality, prayer, stillness and engagement with the issues… all in a friendly English-language setting.

A team of Franciscan brothers, sister and Anglican clergy will be based at St Alban’s during COP15, and we look forward to meeting you. We will be joined by members of the local St Alban’s Church community.

We are:

* Brother Clark Berge SSF (San Francisco, Minister General SSF)
* Brother Colin Wilfred SSF (Canterbury)
* Sister Joyce CSF (London, Minister General CSF)
* Brother Hugh SSF (Hilfield, Dorset)
* The Revd Tony Rutherford (Kent)
* The Revd Jonathan LLoyd (Archdeacon-designate of Germany & Northern Europe)

We will also have Leslie-Ann Calliste and Janet Rutherford (both experienced counsellors) available as confidential listeners, if you need some quiet space to share and talk.
Opening Times and Facilities

The church will be open every day between 0815 and 1930 (and later on the weekend of 11/12/13 Dec).

We offer coffee, wireless broadband connection, toilets, stillness and prayer, conversation and a warm welcome. We also have maps and advice, and a place to warm up and dry off! Please call in.
Weekday Programme

Our daily weekday programme at St Alban’s Church (using the Franciscan prayer tradition), to which all are invited to call in for a short or a longer time, will be:

* 0830 Morning Prayer
* 1200 Holy Eucharist
* 1700 Music
* 1730 Evening Prayer
* 1800 “A Time for Climate Justice” – an open seminar about an aspect of COP15, followed by discussion
* 1900 Coffee
* 2100 Compline at The Swedish Church (next to Osterport Station – only 10 minute walk from St Alban’s)

Whether you are a COP15 delegate, a campaigner, a journalist, a tourist or just a fellow traveller, you are most welcome here at St Alban’s Church!
A Meeting Place

We will be a meeting place for campaigners from ECEN, WCC, Christian Aid, TearFund, Operation Noah, Arocha, CAFOD and other faith organisations and churches from across the world. St Alban’s will be a hub for networking and sharing our stories, and making new friends.
Services

On Saturday 12 December at 1800 there will be a quiet Evening Service/Vespers at Trinity Church (the church with the large round tower near Norreport Station) with The Archbishop of Canterbury, Dr Rowan Williams, giving a reflection (the capacity of the church is 500).

Dr Rowan Williams will also preside and preach at the Parish Eucharist at St Alban’s Church on Sunday 13 December at 1000 (the capacity of the church is 235).
Where We Are and How to Contact Us

The St Alban’s COP15 Chaplaincy Team can be contacted on [00 45] 29 79 40 36.

St Alban’s Church
Churchill Parken 6
Langelinie
DK 1263 Copenhagen

Not sure where we are? Read about how to get to us.
Related Links

* Society of Saint Francis
* Archbishop of Canterbury
* Christian Aid
* TearFund
* Operation Noah
* ECEN European Christian Environment Network
* WCC World Council of Churches
* Stop Climate Chaos
* Green Church / Grønkirke

COP15 Logo

COP15 Logo
Brother Clark Berge

Brother Clark Berge

* Opening Times & Facilities
* Weekday Programme
* A Meeting Place
* Services
* Location & Contact Info
* Related Links

Happy Thanksgiving

2009-11-27T03:23:00.000-08:00

We had a beautiful Thanksgiving feast in England last night. Turkey,vegetarian nut loaf, stuffing, mashed "root veg" (basically anything that grows under ground boiled and mashed), lashings of gravy, red cabbage with apple, and sausages (a British innovation). Nothing green but nobody cared because the meal was fairly "green" with the veggies coming from the friary garden or nearby. I baked some pies. I was presented with a whole pumpkin and asked to make pumpkin pie! It was a bit of a palaver, roasting it, draining the flesh, pureeing it, and then trying to transpose the USA and UK measurements. Nobody seemed to have any idea about the oven and how it related to Fahrenheit, but miraculously the pie was delicious!

The turkey was a source of contention and a man and wife boycotted the meal because it wasn't organic. I sympathize with their commitment but felt badly they couldn't even bring themselves to be with the rest of us. Poverty isn't just not having money, it is mostly about living with our limitations and the limitations of others. We are none of us perfect, and the effort to live organically can sometimes fall into the trap of "all or nothing" which is unhelpful. Certainly in my own life it has been a big source of grief. I distinctly remember an occasion in my 40's when a friend looked at me strangely and observed: "I think you are beginning to mellow in your old age!" Ha. But we have got past the turkey incident for now and the conversation will continue with the drafting of "standards and regulations."

These contretemps about organic living are a part of everyday life here at Hilfield. The community here includes Franciscan brothers, married and single volunteers and longer term residents. They are committed to creating a sustainable, "green" life. They raise as much of their vegetables as possible, have plans for sheep and dream of a cow. Chickens provide eggs, and in the future some will be eaten I gather, but so far I have not been confronted with the need to pluck the chickens. I've done that in Melanesia, and on one memorable occasion when I was a boy and my parents got hold of 27 "moulting" chickens. It is not just about food, but about the land, how to care for it and use it to the highest potential, allowing for the claims of humans and all creatures for a place to live. One of the most intriguing initiatives is planting different plants together to attract different insects. The idea is not to get rid of the bugs, but encourage them to eat each other. Presumably they are so busy fighting each other they leave the cabbages alone. The peaceable kingdom is not about the absence of struggle and strife, but more about how we embrace it and contain it. I said to Br. Sam about the organic turkey tensions: "Disagreements like this beat the alternative: nobody gives a damn!" We agreed we'd rather have the important discussions than live with people who couldn't care less. The other part of the project here at Hilfield is about peace making and learning to bridge differences, transform conflict. Lots of opportunities for that living in community

I spent part of the day before Thanksgiving weed whacking a weedy pasture so that the chickens could be let loose on it. They are expected to tear up the ground, which will allow the grass to come up green and tender in the spring, to feed the new flock of sheep. Everything is interconnected. Unfortunately the weed wacker has a ferocious bite; the vibrations nearly tore the thing out of my hands, so after a couple of hours I was ready to pitch it into the pond, my hands blistered, bleeding and tingling. Pleading physical delicacy I traded that job for hyacinth planting.

Fortunately there is always more than one thing that needs to be done in a place like this!

Franciscan Response to Global Warming

2009-11-16T22:03:00.000-08:00

Monday evening November 16 I was invited to give a speech about the Franciscan response to global warming. The speech was given at St. Martin in-the-Fields, London. There were about 300 people present. First we watched an incredibly powerful presentation by Mark Edwards, called Hard Rain. It is his photographic illustration of the song by Bob Dylan of the same name. To learn more about that, check out www.hardraiproject.com

Good evening. In his invitation to me, Richard Carter wrote: "In your talk I would like you to focus on what the response of the faith community is, should be and needs to be to the devastation of our ecology and the need to change and the choices we have to make as those called to be caretakers of creation... In The Archbishop of Canterbury’s words: 'The call to live on this planet without killing it and killing each other.'”

In the short time available to me I want to do a couple of things. First to hold up and celebrate what the faith community is doing about the challenge facing our planet earth. And I want to agitate us as we consider the choices we have to make as those called to be caretakers of creation. I will do that by amplifying the voice and example of a man I find incredibly agitating and inspiring, St. Francis of Assisi. There are some writers who are doing the same thing, and I'd like to acknowledge especially Sister Ilia Delio, OSF, a Franciscan sister of Washington DC. She is a professor at Washington Theological Union. She is perhaps one of the most prominent Franciscan writers on creation and the environment that I know of. I've never met her, but she is a sister in the struggle. I acknowledge her teachings and example tonight as we take note of the response of the faith community to our ecological crisis.

What is the response of the faith community? I did a web search and tried to make a list of different things, but soon became swamped in a huge amount of material. Religious people care about the environment. There have been and will continue to be innumerable mentions in worship services and specially-themed liturgies. The faith community is praying for the Earth. We promote efforts to save her and change our destructive ways of living on her. Just do a quick internet search and you will see for yourself! People of faith are active in litter clean up campaigns, recycling efforts, protesting toxic waste and challenging the ways we get rid of garbage. Many churches and religious organizations hold symposiums and special awareness campaigns. I have signed petitions in churches and participated in letter writing campaigns to elected officials. I think it is important to say "Well done" and "Keep up the good work."

In light of all this faith activity, one of the messages we need to keep putting out there, as simply and powerfully as we can, is that prayer works. It has the power to change hearts, open eyes and unleash creativity in the world. We see it happening at the local level, in Copenhagen I pray we'll see it happening on a global scale. "Prayer is at the heart of this," Delio says. "...It's God's wisdom and God's love in creation that we're called to live in and share" (US Catholic June 2009). Prayer, or openness to God, is what the earth and our ecological crisis most desperately needs.

Praying can motivate us to action. There are practical steps that you and I can take in the face of something that seems so incredibly large and overwhelming. One of the most important things for us as religious people to do is to affirm the power that each of us has to make a difference. We live in a world that recognizes the power of a butterfly to make an impact on global weather patterns; nothing we do is inconsequential. The power of art to move us deeply and propel us forward is unquestioned. The impact of Mark Edwards' photographs is palpable in this room tonight. Part of what I hope is happening for you is that you are beginning to see yourself as a member of a movement or network of concerned and committed people.

This is the first choice that confronts us: choose to be part of a community of people addressing the ecological crisis with creativity, compassion and thoughtfulness. I believe we are called by the Spirit to be part of a global movement for change. Keeping this sense of solidarity alive will be our greatest resource. we must pray and work together, struggling against the forces which would separate us, belittle our efforts and give us pause. "They" only need to distract us briefly to seize more rainforest, dump more waste, sign more contracts for wasteful cars.

Solidarity with other people and creation is a modern way of approaching the teachings of St. Francis of Assisi. St. Francis' life example teaches some basic Christian understandings about creation that haven't always been taken seriously. We can't ignore these things any longer. Creation is the work of God, and God is in and of it all. And God isn't done yet. God is still creating. God is using us as creative instruments to heal the planet. Every part of creation points to God's love, and must be reverenced. Francis preached passionately that we all come from the same source. He sang of it in an important theological statement, his Canticle of the Creatures. In a deep and integral way We are kin to each other: human, animal, vegetable and mineral, the stars and planets, the errant breezes and rolling streams, Brother Sun, Sister Moon, Brother Wolf, Sister Water, Mother Earth. Because Francis recognized the claim we creatures have on each other, he worked to overcome enmity and division. He creates a bond for us between ecology and peace-making. We need to strengthen that link! I think his understanding of what it meant to be a human being was in part to recognize this elemental relationship with everything else. You can't be fully human in isolation from the rest of the world.

This Franciscan insight of interrelatedness has moved my sisters and brothers to do what they can to save the planet. Everywhere we recycle, farm worms and do things like that. One of my Society of St. Francis brothers in the Solomon Islands, Lent Fugui,
has been planting trees and writing about what he sees when he looks at the world. I quote from his degree thesis for Bishop Patteson Theological College in the Solomon Islands. It is a nuanced vision: "[R]ecent years [have shown that we] are not at ease with the natural world[.] [We] have shown considerable...opposition towards the natural world and have attempted to create the illusion that we are not part of nature..." But at the same time he describes the beauty of an ecosystem re-claimed and revitalized in a project begun by Br. Gilles, SSf, 15 years ago. It is exciting to see today, with Lent's leadership and careful work planting hundreds of trees, what has happened at Hautabu, our friary on the western tip of Guadalcanal--formerly bald grassland created by cutting timber and burning underbrush. It is a pledge of the hope that inspires us tonight: "[Because of our re-forestation work] Hautabu is now a home for wild growth...of different species...trees, weeds, animals, wild pigs[;] [you can now find] dogs growling, barking and dancing the night away...insects...snakes crawling and hissing, finding a place to rest...birds flapping and flying [and] singing sweet songs...Earth worms finding their way in and out of the soil and in doing so taking up their duty to nurse the land and [encourage] the living organisms to function well..." As Br. Lent has so eloquently described, we share this fragile home with many other creatures, all of whom have a perfect right and a rightful place in the wholeness of the earth. The loss of any human life to war, poverty, famine is an aching wound in human society. Every species we lose to the devastation of the natural habitats is a serious loss for us all. And yet, as you can understand with tree planting and many other activities, we can take a role in the work of creation and bring healing to our distressed globe.

Right here in England, the brothers of the Society of St. Francis have founded an interfaith environmental project, the Hilfield Project in Dorset. The goals of the project are the same as the brothers' in the Solomon Islands: raise awareness of our interconnectedness, educate people about ecology, gardening and good forestry practices, expose humans to the earth and each other, foster the political and spiritual will to save the planet. Come to Dorset and check it out!

Thus, another choice facing us this evening is to develop a real relationship with the environment around us, listen to the birds, admire the trees. The Franciscans around the world are inviting you to an embodied experience and response to the world. It is a very good way to remember what is at stake in our current crisis.

However, I cannot underscore the urgency of the situation enough. Because of what Br. Lent calls "our considerable opposition to the natural world" we are beginning to lose our homes and countries. The natural habitat we call the earth is deteriorating. Br. Lent and I have other brothers--men from Ontong Java, or the Lord Howe Atoll in the Solomon Islands--where the government of the Islands and the Anglican Church of Melanesia are beginning to create strategies for moving the population because of rising sea levels. It is a shock to me that I know people who are already suffering a direct consequence of global warming as dramatic as this. Real people fleeing ancestral lands which are disappearing for ever.

Lets just take a moment and think about the perpetrators of the global crisis. To a degree we are all implicated...I hate that, but I know I am as an American citizen (we consume more of the earth's resources than anybody else). It is a corollary of the belief that we are all interrelated. I have another brother writing a degree thesis. This one is for Newton College, Popondetta, in Papua New Guinea. Br. Oswald Dumbari writes very critically about the major players in the ecological crisis. Citing cronyism and bribery among government officials, he chronicles the destruction of the natural ecology in Papua New Guinea through irresponsible mining, timber cutting and oil palm plantations. As a result of political corruption which ennables unregulated extractive industries to spoil the environment, Br. Oswald states: "the environment has been damaged so badly [it has] [resulted] in climate change." The basest human motives for personal profit without regard for others is at the heart of our ecological crisis, he says. Throughout the world, unscrupulous politicians and their greediness for money have unleashed destructive powers that are easy to identify: unregulated factories, petroleum dependent automobiles, politically connected (and armed) ranchers lighting forest fires in environmentally delicate and important areas like Papua New Guinea and Brazil. You know the list as well as I do.

However the only way we can make an impact on the large-scale polluters is through government intervention and global governmental collaboration and cooperation. While corrupt government officials are deeply implicated in the cause of our problems, we can thank God for many leaders of integrity. They just need encouragement. we must find a way to engage them in critical self appraisal and learning to operate differently. Guess who will be in Copenhagen? Our very own governmental officials. Changing the way government works will only happen through direct and continuous pressure by many people. St. Francis is a model for us here, too. He wrote "A Letter to the Rulers of the Peoples" in 1220. It is an oddball sort of letter, but he understood that if you wanted change you had to engage the leaders. "Reflect and see that the day of death is approaching," he wrote. He had an strong message! And a timely one for us, too. He wanted the civil authorities to be mindful of Gospel truths. We pray for a commitment to honesty and integrity among our civil leaders and a deep awareness of our interconnection. We have to see letter writing, and encouraging our leaders to embrace earth-friendly values, as part of our faith practice. We must engage the decision makers and tell our story as vividly as possible. What we are talking about is creating political will. As Mr. Obama once said to America: "We invented solar power, we've got to learn to use it." As St. Francis recognized, we have a sacred obligation to address our leaders, correcting them when they are in error, and thanking them when they speak out. As governments prepare for the summit in Copenhagen, we must do whatever we can to make our opinions heard: dial in, log on, speak out.

Thus a third choice for us tonight is to become active or deepen our political involvement. We can write letters, shoot videos and post them on You-tube, start an e-mail campaign or simply sign onto the initiatves of others, the list is endless, limited by our creativity. Thank God for Mark Edwards and his camera!

To sum up: inspired by St. Francis, I offer four urgent imperatives:

Keep praying! Pray to God, live lightly on the earth and mindfully of the Gospels. I suppose that is St. Francis' message in a nutshell.

Choose to be part of a community! Seek solutions to our problems in solidarity, working together. It is essential for us.

Develop a real relationship with the world! Love it! As angry or fearful as you might be, love is the only power that makes any lasting changes. Get outside in the rain and the sun and live with gratitude for the beauty of all that is around you. Fall in love with the dogs dancing the night away, birds singing sweet songs, children playing in the park. Plant trees.

Get political! Dont be shy of politics. It's your spiritual obligation to do so. Memorandums, resolutions, treaties: these are the mechanisms, the documents, that force reluctant (or corrupt or wicked) people to become accountable to the rest of us.

Packing

2009-11-08T21:35:00.000-08:00

Off on a mission! It can be a beguiling call for friars. Last week one of my brothers was off on a mission, and I could hear him packing, rummaging through his closets in the room next to mine. It made me think about my attitudes towards packing. I clicked on the Lonely Planet website and found there a long correspondence about packing. I've certainly had to struggle with the all-or-nothing syndrome. Fortunately I have had plenty of opportunity to work out what I might need for a typical 6 month trip.

Today, ruthless is my byword for packing. How many clothes can I wear in a day? How many climate zones will I be traveling through?

The first things into my suitcase are my Franciscan habit, sandals, Bible, Prayer Book, Big Book, running shoes, shorts and athletic socks. Then I try to determine how many climate zones I'll be traveling through. Tropics only is easy: swim trunks, flip-flops, a pair of shorts, three t-shirts, three boxer shorts. If the trip includes time in cold weather climates (including Papua New Guinea Highlands or African mountainous regions) I throw in a pair of long pants, a light wool sweater and a windbreaker (or set them aside to wear on the plane). If I'm crossing too many climate zones, I simply rely on the kindness of brothers, who are usually only too happy to loan me a sweater, scarf, gloves and boots. Admittedly I probably look like a refugee, but perhaps that's a virtue in a friar.

Next I take a tiny gray nylon pouch and put into it my stash of anti-malaria meds, a small tube of antibiotic ointment and a dozen band-aids, anti-fungal cream, Pepto-bismal tablets, a small bottle of Aleve, a matchbox size sewing kit with a needle and several snarls of cotton thread (I'm always making spastic attempts to fix buttons, buckles, tears in my clothing and luggage), a pair of finger and toe nail clippers, tweezers and a nail file. Some water purifying tablets (Which make the water TASTE like poison). In another small bag I put a cake of soap in a plastic box, toothbrush, hairbrush, tooth paste, three disposable razors, two small bottles of shampoo, deodorant stick, and a small stick of shaving soap--no aerosol or gels, which have made sticky messes in my suitcase before. Perhaps my most idiosyncratic thing is a long back brush, which I take with me everywhere. It always causes comments, too. I'm sure they'd really like to say something about the naked whiteman in the river, but instead make a joke about my back brush. Go figure.

In my backpack I put my cell phone and charger, camera, Mini laptop computer, a set of adapters, a plastic check file which I use for all essential information I might need if my computer crashed or got stolen--address lists, bank account information, ticket stubs and receipts which I collect for accounting purposes. I have a flashlight, travel clock, sunscreen, sunglasses and hat, a pair of cotton work gloves (weeding, pruning, working with machete, grating coconuts---I wear them often!). I hate things that stick in my ears, and I never really got reliant on music, so no i-pod or anything like that.

I carry a novel at all times, to prevent madness. I leave them wherever I go, taking up a new one as soon as possible.

The goal is to be able to hump my own luggage long distances over rough trails if necessary. Most of the time I can wheel it around easily (hence my reluctance to use a backpack exclusively), but there is always the time when everything must be carried. The temptation then of course is to pitch everything overboard like the early settlers of the American West, heaving things from the back of their rickety Conestoga wagons. If it is a side trip, and I know I'll be coming back through "town," I do leave almost everything behind--who needs a computer when there is no electricity?

I suppose I could go with the Biblical guidelines: "do not carry any gold or silver or copper money in your pockets; do not carry a beggar's bag for the journey or a spare shirt or shoes or a walking stick. (Matt. 10:9-10)" But that would be uncharacteristically literalistic of me. Or perhaps I haven't fully "let go and let God;" but I fear to travel with less would be, for me, spiritual pride. I won't get into heaven on the size of my suitcase.

Triple crown

2009-11-01T17:38:00.000-08:00

A big part of being a brother is just being around. Sometimes it feels like nothing happens, then I find myself in a stretch when it seems every day has a major event. Last week turned out to be a big one, with three big events.

The first event was the consecration of the Anglican Cathedral in Brisbane.It was a fairly traditional affair with miters and copes everywhere, but featured some fabulous aspects that were reward enough for "showing the flag" as some of us call it--turning up at large church events partly as a reminder to the larger church that we Franciscans exist! These highlights were occasioned by the participation of the aboriginal people. First was the welcome by Uncle Des Sandy of the Yuggera nation. He was marvelously colloquial and low key in the midst of all that Anglican splendor. The different aboriginal sense of things was again celebrated by the lovely, haunting didgeridoo music played by Adrian Burragubba of the Wangan nation, with his cheeks distended, eyes roaming over the congregation, taking it all in. The music seemed to go on and on, and I found myself thinking of the little bit I know and understand about Aboriginal "songlines" and "dreaming." (Actually I only know that these are categories in Aboriginal thought and spirituality! I read a novel once called Songlines...) The music was compelling and a blessed part of the rich musical offerings. At the Gospel procession a beautiful woman from the Torres Straits entered, surrounded by a seeming honor guard of young men brandishing bow and arrows, all wearing grass skirts and flowers and feathers. They were joined by a throng of others who came out of their pews with guitars, singing a hymn. We were indeed in Australia! God bless the Cathedral and all who pray in it.

The next night, Friday, we joined the Kerala community in welcoming the Church of Mar Thoma Archbishop from south India. "kerala" we learned means "God's country!" Many Keralians worship at the brothers' parish in Annerley, Brisbane, so it was a natural thing to have the initial event of his first arch-episcopal visit at St. Philips. After his talk with the congregation, everybody was invited to come forward for a blessing, which he gave us on the nose: bopping every one gently with a silver cross. Blessed and braced to bear witness to the Gospel in Australia without forgetting where we come from, we adjourned to the brothers back garden where a huge pot of curry was waiting. The food was ladled over wonder bread...I wonder if that is traditional Keral cuisine or a diaspora innovation? I was pulled from the curry line to sit at a table with the other brothers and the Archbishop. We ate the curry on rice, with many other delectable dishes, goodness knows what they were!

Saturday we celebrated Br. Nathan James Life Profession. I was active behind the scenes: I mowed the grass around the church and swept the parish hall. Liturgically it was an ANZ event. And the friars pulled out all the stops: a bagpiper piped the procession in, Solomon Islanders walked Nathan forward to the Bishop Protector, Roger Herft, Archbishop of Perth; there was a stringed quartet, organ music, acolytes imported from two Anglican schools where Nathan has been active. His family was there and many, many friends of his and longtime friends of SSF. I got to put names and faces together. I found myself remembering my Life Profession and all the water that has gone under the bridge since then...some of it a bit muddy. But I am so glad I took the plunge! Nathan looked a bit dazed after he said (loud and clear) "I, brother Nathan-James do hereby dedicate myself for my whole life..." But he left the fainting to one poor soul in the back of the church who dropped during the sermon. All in all one couldn't ask for more: a terrific day! Pictured: Br. Daniel (MC for the Profession service) putting the Archbishop and sub deacon through a quick rehearsal.

All Saints Day I observed my second anniversary in this job. So I made time to tot up all my air miles (in preparation for the Nov. 17 Central Fund trustees meeting when I will submit the miles to the trustees). They have agreed to pay one British pound per thousand miles to off set my carbon foot print. 155 pounds (!!!) will be divided between two projects: one, in Cameroon where the small Brotherhood of St. Michael community there is trying to plant trees to help rehabilitate the water table in order to provide water for their new monastery and three neighboring villages as well which currenty have no water. The other project is in the Solomon Islands where the SSF brothers have been involved in reforesting the friary property and using their ecological efforts as an educational tool to teach the neighboring villagers about how to care for the environment.

G'day from Darwin

2009-10-26T17:19:00.000-07:00

I flew up to Darwin to visit Br. James Andrew who is a doctor working in the hospital here. It has been a very pleasant time of getting acquainted with each other and for me to explore a new part of the world. Saturday James took time off from the hospital and we went exploring Litchfield Park, a national wilderness park.

Here you can see James standing next to one of the great curiosities of Australia, a termite mound. Termites build these enormous structures, all carefully placed for air conditioning! Apparently they maintain a comfortable temperature inside all year round--a challenge in the blazing heat. Termites fill the ecological niche of grass eaters. There are not naturally many ruminants, so the termites eat the grass.

After several hours of driving around the park, we took a short hike to this amazing water hole--crocodile free! Had a great swim, then lazed in the shallows watching the turtles and fish swim over my feet.

Long awaited photos!

2009-10-21T23:58:00.000-07:00

Sunday July 26 hundreds of people gathered at St. Mary of the Angels Friary at Haruro, Popondetta, PNG to celebrate Society of St. Francis' 50 years ministry in the Pacific. The men and women of Hauro village welcomed the brothers with a traditional ceremony. They also danced during the liturgy and the feasting afterwards.

The Brothers' procession on the day of our celebration.

SSF Companions and young friends in PNG.

Celebrating St. Clare's Day in Siomoromoro Village, in the Papua New Guinea highlands.

Come and join our happy crew! During my visit to the Solomon Islands, we're off to visit a volcanoe in Temotu Province, about a two hour canoe ride.

Tinakula volcano, our destination for a day trip during my stay in Temotu with the brothers at Holy Martyr's Friary. The summit is obscured by steam and clouds. It is a VERY active volcano!

Fiery hot rocks cascading off the flanks of Tinakula volcano.

The brothers take me on a Sunday "stroll"--which means everybody climbing into the truck and going on visits to friends: we visited the Sisters of the Church and the Sisters of Melanesia

Br. George, Minister Provincial of Solomon Islands addresses the brothers after Mass on St. Francis Day.

The brothers meet with Archbishop David Vunagi on his first official visit to the Society of St. Francis.

Br. Sam Siho, new Guardian of Hautambu La Verna Friary enjoying his role as Master of Ceremonies for the St. Francis Day Feast. Nothing is quite so gratifying as a bullhorn!

Br. Polycarp enjoying his food at the farewell dinner at Patteson House in Honiara my last night in the Solomon Islands.

So long, Solomons!

2009-10-20T23:25:00.000-07:00

I arrived in Australia last Saturday. My last few weeks in the Solomons were busy. We celebrated St. Francis Day at Hautambu with the Archbishop of Melanesia who was very encouraging to us. He was especially impressed by the leadership SSF has shown
in opting for a "no alcohol" policy; one of his major complaints about the Church of Melanesia which he leads is the widespread alcohol abuse among clergy and religious. I was happy that we had addressed the issue on our own, without an intervention from the larger church. Apart from these sober discussions, St. Francis day was very high spirited (!). We picnicked on the beach (about 200 of us), and then danced and sang all afternoon. We'd just cleaned up and gone to our rooms to rest when the heavens opened and a heavy rain came pelting down. There is no joy greater than showering under a downspout! Everybody grabbed soap: almost as convenient as indoor plumbing.

The week after St. Francis Day I visited the brothers on Malaita Island. We had several tsunami scares. In Honiara, they evacuated the Central Hospital. Later I was talking with a nurse about that experience, and she told me that if it had been a
real emergency they'd have been able to save only half the patients. We seemed to have several close calls; the best part of the experience was that government officials had opportunity to put evacuation plans into practice, test early warning
schemes and then reflect on the experiences without having to cope with real damage. I was visiting a small friary in the bush in the hills in the interior of Malaita during all of this, and as we had no electricity, we knew nothing of the scare
until it was over. Interestingly enough the theme of my visit with the brothers there was "communication," but on a homely dimension, as we tried to sort out some of the real life issues of community life.

I find these visits to be so reassuring. It seems we all struggle with the same kinds of issues, and that men living together in Melanesia face the same daily challenges as their brothers in America or anywhere else. And we all think we are the only ones with such difficulties and that our troubles disqualify us in some basic way as brothers. I told them the opposite was the truth: our troubles and how we face them are our qualification for Franciscan life and ministry.

My last few days were spent saying thanks and farewell. I'd been in the province over two months. We had large meals which of course took days to prepare: brothers went diving for fish, teams dug cassava and collected coconuts. Land and sea provided for us a great feast. Of course there were speeches. I got a bit long winded Friday night October 16 at the last such meal, recalling for the brothers that it was my profession anniversary--16 years of profession, and 20 years in SSF. I was reminded of the time I tried to run away in 1992 only to be accosted by old Brother Leo who invited me to sit and talk, and he asked me to "wait one more day." We all have our ups and downs, but thank God there are brothers around to help us put our troubles into perspective.

Tomorrow I fly to Darwin to visit Brother James.

St. Francis Day in Asia Pacific

2009-10-02T16:16:00.000-07:00

Happy St. Francis Day!

I post these greetings while news of tsunamis, storms and earthquakes dominate the world headlines. All The Solomon Islands have escaped these storms, but we are watching the news and keeping our Pacific neighbors in our prayers. It is sobering to watch these terrible events, and know how fragile is our own safety. There are several places in the Solomon Islands where people have begun to move away from them permanently because of rising sea levels due to global warming. Weather patterns have changed such that formerly dry seasons are wet, and at other times we wonder where our water will come from (most of the friaries depend on rain water for drinking water). And changing weather means the crops are affected. So this weekend my prayers are for a deeper awareness of the earth and nature, and the demands for justice and healing which are laid upon us all. It is hard to watch my brothers grapple with these events, telling stories of dislocation, crop failures.

For too long we have not taken care of our Mother Earth. So let us dedicate ourselves anew as we celebrate the life and example of St. Francis to his radical understanding that every creature and the whole earth share the same source and we are all kin.

Last week I was in Kira Kira, and spent a week with the brothers there. I preached at the Cathedral, we had a party for some friends. But it wasn't all roses. A brother who no longer lives at that friary once tore up a floor board in order to spit betel nut juice. He chose for some reason to tear up a piece of flooring from the hallway! And the other brothers, though dismayed, did not fix the hole. I stepped in it and nearly broke my left leg. So I am black and blue from the knee down! But not so impaired I couldn't grab a piece of wood and fix the damn hole!!

I have had to follow my own advice about letting go, praying for others and trying not to carry burning resentments. The struggle continues...

Tinakula Volcanoe

2009-09-22T02:30:00.000-07:00

During my visit to Temotu Province last week, I was able to arrange for a visit an active volcano, Tinakula. A tall plume of steam and smoke streams from the top of a majestic cone rising direct from the sea. When I arrived at Lata Airport in Temotu last Saturday I noticed the volcano, and as Br. Jonas and I were crossing the beautiful bay I pointed it out and said I'd love to go. So for the price of a can of gasoline (Solomon Dollars $400.00--for six gallons. Divide by 13 to get USA equivalent.) First we visited a village on an island across from the volcano, populated by people who have fled the island. There we found two young men to guide us. Wednesday we set off. It was a two hour trip in driving rain. There are only two tiny beaches acccessible by canoe, the rest of the island is impregnable because of cliffs facing the sea. We took aim at the largest, about 100 yards of tumbling black stones. Our guide instructed us to make a tight circle with the canoe to position ourselves for a fully accelerated run at the beach between two huge submerged boulders. We waited for a big wave then with engine roaring at full speed we headed for the beach. He cut the motor when we seemed to hang over the beach, and we all jumped into the waves to catch the canoe and drag it above the water line. A most memorable landing. I was a bit shaky afterwards.

There is an old man, Hubert, who prefers to stay on the island. So his family comes out to visit him. Our guides were family and we were invited to stay for lunch. After an hour, a huge bowl of wild yams, steaming hot, was place on the floor of the hut. A Melanesian treat.

Lunch finished we threaded our way through heavy jungle to the beach and launched the canoe in reverse of our landing procedure: picking it up we dashed into the water, chasing a wave which carried us out beyond the submerged rocks, and we hauled ourselves panting into the canoe. We circled the island, which seemed lush and harmless until we rounded a point and saw the steep black face of stone. Boulders were detaching themselves and bounding down the cliff amid a shower of sparks. I quickly realized the stones were glowing red! No wonder the sensible portion of the population abandoned the island...

Most of my visit was less dangerous. I weeded the potatoe gardens at the friary, celebrated Eucharist, helped out in the kitchen. One night we stayed up late as I told stories in answer to their many questions about my travels. My stories began to sound like a luxury tour, though , when they shared about their recent travels. Four friars live at Holy Martyrs Friary. Their work is mostly pastoral, visiting both people locally on Santa Cruz Island, as well as going "on mission" to remoter places. The brothers undertook one such mission recently, leaving July 6 for a three week tour of some nearby islands. When the tour was complete, however, they had to wait a month for a boat to transport them back to Lata. When one finally arrived it was a cattle boat, and over 200 people camped on the exposed deck for a 10 day trip, suffering rain and sun and no privacy let alone seats or a bed! They arrived home September 17!! They were philosophical about the travel circumstances, rather recounted stories of people they met, the small kindnesses of passengers and crew, and how much they are looking forward to the next mission, and the chance to preach the Gospel.

Sharing the life of the brothers

2009-09-10T22:39:00.000-07:00

No electricity since July. Sorry for the huge gap in postings...Today's is long to catch you up!

I never made it in August to Jimi in Papua New Guinea to see the Br. Justus Friary the brothers are building there. Br. Reuben and I left Popondetta harbor near Katerada on the "Calvados Queen" August 7. When we arrived in Lae the next morning we were met by Brother Robert Eric. We immdeiately set out in a small bus for Mt. Hagen, going via Goroka. The drivers of these buses are fanatics. We careened around twisting mountain roads, tires screeching. The scenery was breath-taking, progressing from heavy tropical vegetation to cool upland pastures and huge cattle ranches in the Highlands. I felt like I might be in Montana or somewhere as I looked at the vast pastures ringed by beautiful mountains. We arrived in Goroka about 2:00 p.m., had lunch in a small chicken restaurant, then caught another bus for Mt. Hagen. Br. Robert arranged for the driver to leave us outside the gates of the rest house where we were going to stay because he said it was too dangerous to walk around after dark. There seems to be very little in the way of civil government or infrastructure in Mt. Hagen. Amazingly filthy and apparently teeming with thieves, it is also much colder than the coast, so I was freezing and glad to get into the guest house. There a bishop was also taking refuge, Bishop Nathan, regional bishop for the area that includes our friary in Jimi, his transport had ben cancelled due to bad weather. I'd met him at Lambeth, so we had a happy time catching up. The next morning Robert and I tried to go on to Jimi, but discovered after travelling for an hour, that there was no transportation for the last leg of the journey because the drivers were "Sunday Keepers." We hung around hoping for a Seventh Day Adventist driver, but nobody showed so we took a bus back to the rest house in Mt. Hagen. Bishop Nathan and Robert then began considering the possibility of reaching Jimi and getting back to Lae in time to catch the boat back to Popondetta. Not possible, they concluded. On their suggestion we investigated plane tickets but these proved too expensive and the next flights still meant several days wait. Finally I suggested we go back to Goroka, Robert's home town, and stay in the village of Siomoromoro. This proved to be a good idea.

We had a warm if somewhat surprised welcome, and were given places to stay in the men's guest house. I've visted Siomoromoro several times in the past so felt much at home. We spent Tuesday resting. The next day the local parish priest came for the celebration of St. Clare's Day; she is the patron saint of the village. It was a beautiful open air Mass. We sat on logs laid on the ground and a small altar was placed in front, covered by a cloth. Nearly every worshipper showed up with a bouquet of flowers, so the area was soon transformed by a riot of color, lit by brilliant sun and cooled by a breeze. Squatting there in the dust I reflected how pleased Clare would be. Here was perfect poverty. The priest preached about Clare defending Assisi from the Muslims by holding up the Blessed Sacrament, telling the people Holy Communion was the source of great strength and power in their lives. I found it very moving. After a bountiful parish lunch provided by the Mother's Union, Robert and I set off to visit Bishop Denis in Goroka. I left Robert in Goroka and teamed up with Reuben who had taken advantage of his free time to visit his family in the area. Then it was back on the wretched bus for Lae.

We arrived after dark and went looking for the Anglican rest house. No sooner had we started to walk though, when we were surrounded by people pulling at our baggage and yelling at us. I felt my stomach drop. Fortunately these were Good Samaritans warning us of the folly of walking after dark with back packs. However since I could not understand their language I was not sure what was happening as they bundled us onto an empty bus. I was very relieved to get to the rest house. Reuben and I were shoe horned into a cubicle ("How much are they charging us for this?" I asked Reuben in total dismay. "Franciscan brothers are free," he replied. It was a small but real consolation). The only open shop at that hour was the gas station Qwik Mart, so we ate a tin of corned beef on crackers for dinner.

Another overnight trip on a ship and I was back at Popondetta for a six hour lay over. (Shower and breakfast with the brothers at Katerada.) Then another two night journey to Alotau. The trips to Lae were fairly gruelling: over crowded, hot, ripe with odors. I was regretting my decision to go all the way to Alotau on the ship. But reminding myself that this is the way the ordinary friars travel, I scrambled for a seat on a bench, spreadng my luggage out so I might have space to sleep. It turned out to be a wonderful trip. Only 20 passengers, and the ship stopped often to drop off passengers or take on new ones, so we had a chance to get off the boat and buy food and drink. It was exquisite weather, and I soon made friends with several other passengers. It was August 15, the Feast of St. Mary the Virgin. I read my offices and found myself thinking about both the beauty and abundance of the earth and our voyage, plunging through the wind whipped, sun sparkled waters, and the poverty of the people and the copuntry. It seemed like an appropriate way to observe and remember Mary's life and obedience--poverty and beauty meeting together in the Incarnation. We sat together in the evenings on the wharf, eating whatever we had bought from the local women: fish, potatoes, sago pudding, cassava pudding, fresh bananas, coconuts, chestnuts (a tropical version thereof, heaven knows what they really are), and best of all, coffee. Arriving in Alotau at 8:00 a.m. we waited for three hours while a private yacht re-fueled. The yacht ignored our captain's repeated appeals to them to allow us to disembark, so we circled, peering in at the priviledged life of white North Americans: chef, waiters, ski jets, speed boats, young women in bikinis, and they peered down at us, a filthy ship, passengers raggedy, worn from three days travel, surrounded by frayed homemade luggage of palm leaf, betel nut stained mouths. I was so happy to be on the latter ship. Finally we were instructed to scramble off the ship onto a barge which was docked at the wharf, and cross over to land.

Br. Ham met me and we then got onto a flat bed truck that dropped us off at the end of the road leading to the friary. It was a joy to get there! First order of business was a bath in the river and then food. That evening we said good-bye and prayed our farewells with a young brother. I'd received his vows on Palm Sunday 2008, so it was with a real sense of ambivalence that I received his habit back. but he'd managed to become a father in the interim, so we had no choice. It was tearful.

The rest of my time was caught up with pastoral work with the brothers, meeting neighbors.

August 20 I flew (time was a-wastin') to Port Moresby and on the 21 of August I flew to the Solomon Islands.

Arrival in the Solomons is always a fairly easy ritual. They recognize my brown shirt and cross and wave me through saying "Welcome Brother!" After an overnight stay in Honiara, a whole truck load of brothers went to Hautambu for the first official Provincial Chapter since the creation of the Province of the Solomon Islands at our First Order Chapter last September. It was a good chapter and they enacted several changes, saying "Now we are a Province we must..." Most notable among these changes the Chapter adopted a zero tolerance no-alcohol policy. One drink and you are out. Alcohol abuse has wreaked real havoc on the friary buildings, spoiled the vocations of some wonderful men, compromised the reputation of the Franciscans within the Church of Melanesia. Brothers have stolen from the friary budgets to buy drink, diverted funds from their appeals. Completely fed up, I said "We need a policy that can be enforced! Enough preaching and moral exhorations!" I was surprised by how quickly they responded. A committee met and the next day the new policy was adopted. Most brothers expressed relief and gratitude. Some weren't quite so pleased but recognized the need for it. So far nobody has had to leave! When I visited the Archbishop later the next week he was delighted and hopes a similar policy will be adopted by the Melanesian Brotherhood.

After Chapter finished I offered my services to teach the novices and postulants, and so have spent a very happy 10 days doing that. I've been indulging my love of storytelling, recounting tales about St. Francis and then making connections between the stories and the brother's lives, helping them identify Franciscan values and giving an introduction to Franciscan spirituality. I took advantage of the free time to get back in shape, running every other day, and am now back to my usual form.

The most amazing and wonderful event during my stay in the Solomons so far has been the baptism of Clark Elcuwyn Kae Kae! His parents asked to name him after me since they asked me to pray that they would have a child during my last visit to the Solomons. His father Selwyn was a brother during my first visit to the Solomons in 1995-96, the mother Ellen Fox was a sister of the Sisters of Melanesia. He joins a sister Cuthberta (named by my predecessor as Minister General, Br. Daniel).

Tomorrow I go the most remote friary of the Province, in a place called Temotu. It is several hours by air, and then involves a canoe ride across a lagoon.

On the ride into town today I was thinking that today is September 11, and remembering the events of 2001. Thank God there have been no more attacks, I pray for a speedy end to the war in Iraq and Afghanistan and deepening relationships of trust and understanding with Muslims.

Going to Jimi

2009-08-03T19:49:00.000-07:00

Once the celebrations were over, the brothers had to quickly shift gears and prepare for Chapter. Fortunately Monday was a free day. Everybody slept. Some friends stayed on to help clean up and prepare a special lunch for us. I got in a satisfying six mile run into the Cathedral and back. Then, late in the afternoon we moved ourselves to Hetune Convent with the Commuity of the Visitation of Our Lady (the CVL Sisters). They'd bravely welcomed us even though their generator wasn't working so there was no electricity, and no running water. We couldn't have cared less!

Tuesday was a Quiet Day with addresses given by the retired Bishop of Dogura, Bishop Sanana. He talked about the adventure of our calling. I was all ears. Much of what he said rang true to me and echoed many of the things we'd heard in America during the Formator's conference. A very pleasant surprise.

Then there was Chapter: reports, discussions, votes. We elected Brother Charles Iada to Life Profession, Br. Samuel Pokia to First Profession. We welcomed back into the noviciate a man (Jerry Ross) who been a brother before (and shared the same date of Profession with me--I was professed in New York October 16, 1993 and he'd been professed that day in PNG). There were a few farewells: the Guardianship of Haruro changed because Wallace's term was up. We elected Selwyn Suma the new Guardian. Br. Gabriel was released from Vows.

As familiar as the process was to all of us, it had a sense of being extra important: the first provincial chapter of the new Province of Papua New Guinea.

We were bone tired by the time we got back to the Friary Friday, but there were still loose ends to tie up. So Saturday was spent waiting. Unfortuantely it took until Saturday night to get everybody together to dot the "i's" and cross the "t's".

Sunday I celebrated and preached: oofdah! But then it was bathing in the river, sleeping in a cool breeze, reading a novel.

Thursday of this week I head off on an adventure: going by ship overnight up the coast to Lae. Br. Robert Eric will meet me and we will leap onto one of the huge trucks cum rural bus called PMV's and travel most of a day to the point closest to the trail head which we will then hike to a village called Jimi and visit the place Br. Justus Van Houten died in 2006. The Brothers have built a friary there, named after Br. Justus. I am also going to meet with the people and assure them of SSF's love and gratitude to them for all that they did for Justus.

50 Years in the Pacific

2009-08-03T19:46:00.000-07:00

After my arrival in Papua New Guinea, I was housed, with Brothers Brian, Alfred, and Giles at a guest house in Port Moresby. The chief distinguishing characteristic of this guest house was the size of the cockroaches: the largest I've ever seen in my life! But they were a source of amusement when the conversation flagged to track them down. In many ways this gathering was like any family reunion: out of town guests sitting around motel rooms. Special meals and outings. Some of us had never met, some were very familiar. Finally it was time to go to the airport to fly to Popondetta for the manin event. After only a half hour flight we arrived and I could see out the window a small bevy of girls in traditional costume. Each of us was greeted with a flower lei. A new bench mark for airport arrivals! Then we got into a hired van and were driven to the friary.

Br. Brian was asked to knock at a temporary barricade set up across the road, and then a voice called out a challenge. I was nudged from behind and told to say "We are Franciscans!" We did this three times and then the barricade came down to reveal maybe 50 people in feathers and tapa cloth, with drums, spears and flowers, shouting "Oro! Oro! Oro!" (Welcome! Welcome! Welcome!). Led by a man I concluded must be the chief, they sang and danced all of the way to the friary central lawn. There we had speeches, more singing and handshaking, nearly every brother in the province was there to greet us. It was particularly moving to see some of the older people in the crowd fall on
Br. Brian with shouts of joy and tears. One of the men I noticed I later met as the man who built the friary 50 years ago.

The next day, Saturday, we spent being entertained in grand Papua New Guinean style. Meanwhile there was incredibly intense activity going on behind the friary and in the surrounding area. I could hear axes chopping wood, women singing, smoke spiralling into the air. At one point a pig, trussed and suspended on a pole was carried through the central lawn, accompanied by the same band of singers and dancers, singing much the same sorts of songs as when they greeted us. It was a way of rejoicing and giving thanks for the pig and its life. Poor pig. But the food was fabulous. The brothers organized a vocational school with catering classes to prepare the food for the weekend. It was all local food, but beautifully presented: bananas of many kinds and divers preparations, yams, taro, aibica, papaya, chicken, rice, cassava, kau-kau. Heavy on the starches, but absolutely delicious and just the right thing to serve on this occasion. SSF has become entirely Papua New Guinean.

Br. Oswald officiated at a beautiful Solemn Evensong Saturday evening. We'd intended to bless a plaque presented by the European Province brothers commemorating the first 4 SSF brothers to go to Papua New Ginea in 1959 (Geoffrey, Mark, Steven and Andrew). But during Evensong we could hear hammering and the sounds of cement being mixed in a barrel nearby. Obviously no plaque would be placed there that night. But by morning, the forms were gone, there was a beautiful pedestal and the plaque was there, covered by a piece of brown cloth.

The solemn procession began at the friary gate, with the Bishop Protector Joseph Kopapa (a novice in the Third Order SSF) shovelling incense on the thurible. The smell of incense mingled with the smell of roasting pork and vegetables from the four stone muu-muus (traditional stone ovens) ranged behind the friary. Several hundred people had stayed up all night long to prepare three pigs, tons of sweet potatoes and yams and other delicacies. Then they donned their costumes and escorted us into church through a large crowd of other people, pressing in and waving. The brothers had designed a terrific liturgy, with every local institution sending a group of dancers. We danced the Gloria, the Gospel procession, the Offertory, the Great Amen, and then danced our way out to bless the plaque in the memorial garden/graveyard behind the Chapel. Br. Brian's sermon recapped the adventure of the early days and the incredible generosity of the people who originally welcomed the Brothers. But he spoke to larger themes, illustrating Franciscan spirituality with all that he said. It was masterfully done.

Then came the feasting. More dancing. And then presentations to the brothers. Some were invited to give speeches, but there seemed to be several spontaneous ones. As always children featured prominently in the festivities, and provided some moments of hilarity as they toddled among their parents, all decked out as tiny warriors. I was particularly struck by the number of teenagers among the performers. I asked one parent who came to rest near me: "Do you have trouble convincing the teenagers to dress up in traditional costume and dance like that?" I was assured they loved it and were proud of their culture. The whole weekend was animated by a passionate sense of a living cultural tradition which has embraced the Gospel message and Franciscan way of life. I was particularly moved to see the brothers in their full Franciscan habits overlayed by feather and shell ornaments, their faces marked with painted designs.

I had wondered how we might assess the impact of 50 years of the Order in PNG. But there was no mystery to it. The presence of many bishops, hundreds of people, representatives of the government, children, cats, dogs and domesticated jungle creatures that one woman permitted to crawl all over her I knew that the Society of St. Francis had made a difference, and been changed forever in the bargain.

Thanks be to God.

PNG at Last

2009-07-22T17:33:00.000-07:00

After the "perfect storm" of exigencies and snafus I got may passport from a Fedex facilitiy in Ronkonkoma NY at 8:30 a.m. Monday morning. It was then pell mell back to Little Portion and I caught the 10:10 train to New York City. The call of the open skies. Nearly 23 hours of flying time plus a six hour lay over in Hong Kong later. I arribved in Port Moresby, Papua New GuineaNever have I been so glad to get somewhere. I even enjoyed the two hour delay in the Immigration line at the airport as they sifted through every article in the luggage of a plane load of Chinese business men who flew from Hong Kong with me.
The water at the St. Francis School has been turned off since the school admoinistration didn't pay the bill. So the brothers are without water too. With 6 guests from overseas they have bunked us in very pleasant quarters not far away--but with lots of water. Today we are being given the "grand tour" or Port Moresby, then tomorrow we fly over to Popondetta for the Big Weekend. The Society of St. Francis is celebrating the 50th Anniversary of the arrival of the first SSF brothers in the Pacific Region. From those early days the Holy Spirit has called many men to test their vocations, and today there are three separate provinces in the Pacific, with over a 100 brothers among them. We have much to celebrate.

Formator's Conference

2009-07-22T17:29:00.000-07:00

From the moment I arrived in the United States June 24 until I left again July 20 my time was consumed with the Formator's Conference. I worked on the plans for this conference for many months, pecking away in internet cafes and using my cell phone to make arrangements with different participants. It was an amazing experience. At the end of the three week program Sr. Joyce and I wrote an introduction to the new internaional curriculum, which I have excerpted here:

"It gives us great pleasure in introducing this curriculum to you. It is the result of the input, experience and hard work together of participants in this Formators’ Conference. Those who participated came to Little Portion, Long Island, from all Provinces of SSF and from CDC, Zimbabwe. This was an historic occasion!

The participants were: Clifton Henry and Samson Siho (Province of the Solomon Islands); Lester Meso and Philip Etobae (Papua New Guinea Province); Bhekimpilo (CDC, Zimbabwe); Donald Campbell, who could only attend for half the conference, and Nathan James (Australia/New Zealand Province); Pamela Clare and Eric Michael (Province of the Americas); Jenny Tee, Desmond Alban and John (European Province), together with us Ministers General.

The impetus for this meeting came out of the last Chapter of the First Order, September 2008, where there was much concern expressed about Formation, especially up to Life Profession. The goal was to produce a ‘road map’, something that would be flexible enough to cross the boundaries of our different cultures and contexts in order to build up confidence especially for those given the direct responsibility for Formation. As Don Bisson said, “if you are in Formation, you are in formation”. However, we also recognized that the formation of our newest members lies with all of us. Each new member who joins us is expected to change in the process of development, but unless the Community changes too there is the likelihood of slow strangulation or torture of the new member.

So we undertook some formative experiences around some core Franciscan values to hear some ‘parables of formation’, to open our understanding to what might be possible and how to do formation by listening to those who work for environmental justice, social justice, and ecumenical and inter-faith relations. First we met with Don Bisson, Marist Brother, about how to do Formation. Travelling by van, and some sleeping on church hall floors, we met in New York City with the West Harlem Environmental Initiative, the Poverty Initiative at Union Seminary and the parish of St. Mary’s in Harlem. We then went to Graymoor as the guests of the Brothers of the Society of the Atonement to discuss ecumenical relations. We visited the Chaung Yen Buddhist Monastery to experience inter-faith relations. We also had the opportunity to meet with the Sisters of the Atonement and the Franciscan Missionary Sisters at Peekskill (where the founder of CSF died as a member of that Roman Catholic congregation). We travelled on to Boston and the Society of St. John the Evangelist, Ecclesia Ministries, and a meeting with Dr. Kwok Pui-Lan at Episcopal Divinity School.

On returning to Little Portion, we received advice on curriculum development from Wendell Chu, Superintendent of Islip School District on Long Island, Lucas Benitez, founder of the Coalition of Immokalee Workers and Derrick McQueen of the Poverty Initiative who gave us very valuable help in facing some of the challenges in developing this curriculum..."

So it is finished; let the good times roll!

O to be a bird!

2009-06-16T13:35:00.000-07:00

Because I studied theatre (among other things) in England when I was in college, I always associate England with theatre. But I was in a student's paradise all those years ago, and have never been able to afford to see many plays on return visits to the UK. But while I was in Canterbury last week the brothers got a chance to go to a performance of Dario Fo's "Francis, the Holy Jester." We trooped off to Margate (a small town about 15 miles outside Canterbury, on the sea coast) to the ancient (okay, Eighteenth Century--I am an American after all) Theatre Royal. I was happy to be going to a play, and knew nothing of who Dario Fo was nor much about the play except it was about Francis. I really had a treat! The actor, Mario Pirovano was electric, and supplemented a manic text with pointed asides (i.e. "It is all allegory: the wolf of Gubbio was a rapacious politician!"). Fo aimed to liberate Francis from the birdbath and unleash some of the Good News in contemporary hearts. Here is a passage from the play:

"It is almost sunset and Francis's companions, exhausted as they are, drop to the ground and fall fast asleep. Francis stands under a huge tree--it's enormous, with a lot of branches, full of leavews, and little birds hopping and chirping, flying around looking for a good place to spend the night. Francis looks at them: 'oh, birds, how blissful you are, what a marvel! So light you are, and overflowing with joy, you don't have a care and you fly, flapping y0ur wings in the wind, in the air, so easily and in harmony. In the air which is so close to God that surely it is His very breath...perhaps the breeze itself is God...and the wind...and God raises you with His hands and makes you fly!' While Francis is speaking the words of this prayer, many other birds arrive from all around, birds of all kinds: finches, crows and hawks, even buzzards and eagles from the mountains and birds from the sea and the rivers. The tree fills up with birds--so many that you can't see a single leaf--and they all listen: 'Oh blissful birds, who are free and light, who live without possessions, with no burdens to weigh you down and no power to enslave you! Oh if men too could be so light, without any loads crushing us--men who brag, full of greed, and thirst for possessions, and desire for glory; crazed to the point of overpowering each other, clambering on other people's heads in order to appear bigger and taller than everybody else--lies! Rogueries! Wickedness and lack of love! Oh, if we could free ourselves from this burden, be stripped of this wretched passion, we could be so light as to levitate up into the sky, and the puff of a child would be enough to make us fly!' While still speaking, Francis turns slightly and notices that, on the wide road behind him, a crowd of people are listening to him. There are women crying, men holding their breath, unable to applaud. And Francis looks up at the sky and says: 'How strange this world is! To make people listen to you, you must speak to the birds!'

Francis the Holy Jester has inspired and agitated many people over the years. Here Matthew and Vaughan become novices at Hilfield May 30. During my time at Hilfield I spent some time reading Br. Bernard's autobiography "My God, My All: A friar's journey". I dog eared several pages of the book, impressed how he sometimes sounded a bit like me. Or perhaps how there is something universal in our vocation? At any rate, he wrote about his desire to be a

brother which reminded me of why I wanted to be a brother and perhaps why I loved Fo's play so much: "One afternoon in my third year at Cambridge, standing in the sitting rom of my digs, I quite suddenly felt in my deepest self that God was asking me to become a friar. I had very mixed feelings. Perhaps the first was horror: 'Oh no Lord!' I then moved onto self exploration...I was attracted by the itinerant mission of the brothers, the desire to serve the most needy, and the life of communal prayer and meditation'(page 108). I think my call was something like that. It has been an unfolding adventure, and even required me to do things I'd rather not, like deal with money and help make decisions about things like that, and help extend and maintain buildings which we use to roost in between our travels. At the Central Fund meeting in London after my time in Canterbury, the Solomon Islands province requestd some money to extend their chapel since the current one only seats 80, and so many come to listen to the brothers and share in their worship (inspired by birdsong a brother once told me). But it was a lovely soaring feeling to present their case to the trustees and get the funding. (I just learned today they are taking the Franciscan message to a new place, Vanuatu.)This is a picture of Brother Gerardo, one of our itinerant novices (from Mexico)

A new stop on my UK travels this visit has been the Poor Clares convent in Freeland, outside Oxford. I wonder if Fo knows them? They seem very free, ordering their life to protect their passion for prayer (and jam making, chicken farming, card making) and carrying out radical hospitality. I was surprised by the diversity of folks I met in the space of a few short days, and heard some of the stories of the sisters' ministry. Itinerancy is not always just about moving around physically; it includes a wide open attitude. Spiritual freedom recognizes no barriers, I think.

From Oxford I flew north on the Cross Country railroad to Alnmouth. Here too, the community practices radical hospitality. And I can run along the bluffs, and dip down and skim the tidal flats (some might say lumber like a water buffalo, but it is what I feel inside that counts).

All the brothers at the annual brothers meeting at Hilfield June 2

Home for Chapter

2009-05-26T18:00:00.000-07:00

I flew back to USA Wednesday, after staying in a slightly creepy (cheap, alas) B & B in Rome. It's only attraction was that it was close to the Termini, and thus made it possible to catch my early flight.

Long Island is reveling in a beautiful spring. The trees are leafed out, the grounds are GREEN. I felt a deep sense of relaxation, a deeply felt "shift" in my body: home. Honoring this, I asked if my "home base" could be shifted back to Long Island, and Chapter granted this. Come the new year, I'll go get my stuff in Berkeley and schlepp it to Long Island.

Other big events at Chapter included some sad farewells to brothers who are leaving the community, welcoming others who are coming to test their vocation, another who transferred to SSF from another order. The most significant piece of legislation was the adoption of a system of finances which created a central provincial fund and linked the friaries together for mutual support. Apart business of Chapter, we were observing and celebrating the 90th anniversary of the founding of the Province of the Americas. We were started by Fr. Joseph in Merrill, Wisconsin. Consequently, we spent a lot of time dreaming big dreams for our future and committing ourselves to specific, measurable steps we will take before next year's chapter.

The best part of it all was being together. We laughed together, wept at each others painful stories, we joked around and I got teased unmercifully the way only your brothers can tease. It was really sweet.

Today I went and picked up my tickets for my next trip (Friday to UK).

I'm looking forward to that too.

In the pictures, from top: Brothers Ivanildo and Max, Clark and Leo, and Ambrose at our Memorial Day picnic at the end of Chapter.

Pizza Ecumenism

2009-05-15T00:31:00.000-07:00

Last night Br. Thomas Anthony and I bought a stack of pizzas and went to have dinner with the brothers of the Society of the Atonement. They have been very friendly and generous to me during my stay in Italy, so I thought a celebration was in order. As we ate and drank, the conversation began to flow, crazy stories about our everyday lives, memories of events that happened in our past: the kind of conversation that happens whenever people are getting together to enjoy each other.

These kinds of gatherings are really important for my work, pleasant as they sound. Because at the heart of the Franciscan life is the effort to help people to learn how to live differently on the planet today. And part of that differentness is to create strong bonds across different divides. Pizza based friendships will very likely open to deeper levels of conversation and shared endeavors. Real friendships will never be satisfied with any kind of complacency about winners and losers in the Gospel life. In "Centro" a newsletter from the Anglican Centre in Rome Mary Reath writes: "Mary Tanner rightly says in the preparatory book for the conference [called Receptive Ecumenism and Ecclesial Learning held in Durham, England, in January 2009] that the personal and the relational is always prior, and that needs to be built up for all people, not just the theologians and leaders." Never was a pizza party so important!

Wednesday midday I was given a tour of some of the behind-the-scenes places in the Sacro Convento, the "friary" at the Basilica of St. Francis in Assisi. After admiring the Papal Apartments and marveling at the ancient books in the library we dashed down a colonnaded walkway to the refectory. My host was modest about it, apologizing for it's "unattractiveness." Staring around the cavernous baroque space I said, "For a guy from Snohomish, Washington, I think it is amazing!!" It is all in one's perspective. And when I was introduced to the brothers, a group of young men at the center table turned and stared and started to whisper to each other. After checking my fly I sat down and started talking to the brothers seated next to me. When lunch was over the young men all crowded around me. They are the postulants for the OFM Conventuals in this part of Italy. "We've heard of Anglican Franciscans," one said in English,"But never met one before!" They peppered me with questions in Italian and after translation I answered in English and hoped the translator got it right. They wanted to know about our rule, and origins, how many of us are there, where do we live. Some wanted to know about Anglicanism and how we came to be. I gave them the abridged version while they looked at me with fascination, making amazed comments to each other. How is it, I thought to myself, they know nothing about Anglicanism? Our "birth" was a pretty significant world event in the 1500's. We took a photo, shook hands. Mary Reath goes on to say: "We should be in each other's churches, explaining who we are, sharing ashes, singing Christmas carols, renewing Baptismal vows, and on and on."

Amen!

Up From the Grave He Arose!

2009-05-14T01:37:00.000-07:00

From time to time a hunch proves correct.

Over the weekend I sent an e-mail to the Communita di Sant' Egidio asking if I could come visit them during my brief day trip to Rome which was scheduled for Tuesday. I didn't hear Monday, and Tuesday, as I was riding a bus to visit the Catacombs of Priscilla I got a call on my cell phone inviting me over that afternoon.

I met with Fr. Roberto Cherubini in the beautiful private garden of their Roman house, located in the heart of the Trastevere. A friend had been very enthusiastic about this community, but I retained only a vague memory of what he told me. It was really delighted by what I learned. They were founded in 1968 by a young man (aged 16 I think) who wanted to live a Gospel life, as a secular lay person, not as a member of a traditional religious order. He and his friends started to read the Bible and pray after school. Inspired by St. Francis they began to look for ways of serving the poor. And then as often happens they were radicalized by this encounter with Jesus and the poor. And their lives haven't been the same since. Over the years other groups of people have contacted them about living a Gospel life of service with the poor, and the Community has become a world-wide family. It is not a religious order. It sounds as if there are very few structures, no Rule per se. Their President must be a lay person, and there are only 6 people in the world who serve the community as paid workers. Roberto works at a University in Rome and works as a parish priest as well. As we talked he kept stressing the centrality of the Gospels to their life and spirituality. He talked about the need for all of us who read the Gospels to be converted by our encounter, and that the Gospel life is for everybody: "we have groups of very old people," he told me. "And youths. Poor people and people who are better off. It is for everybody. We can all do something with and for the poor, we can all read the scriptures and pray together. It is simple." He said this with lovely Italian expressiveness, opening his hands and smiling at me.

I had spent the morning at the Catacombs of Pricillus, wandering around in the dank volcanic tunnels peering at the fragments of frescoes and bits of tiles. The early Christians were down there not escaping persecution, as the popular story goes, but praying at the graves of the martyrs. The catacombs (the guide told me) were not good as hiding places because the Roman authorities knew all about them, as they had to have permission to dig them in the first place, and then the smell would have been overwhelming. Basically, she said they came in and out as quickly as possible. Martyrdom was a very high ideal, and if you could be buried in proximity to a martyr or pray at the tomb of one your prayers were better, or more assure of being answered. At any rate the effort and stamina of praying in such circumstances might have been reward enough. But the radical witness and deep commitment of the early Christians was still palpable. The frescoes were of Baptism, Eucharist, the Resurrection and symbols reminding them of God's forgiveness. It was a perfect preparation for my visit to Sant' Egidio.

In their own way the members of Sant' Egidio are continuing that radical witness of the Early Church. It is good to be reminded that the Gospel life is about prayer, Scripture, service with the poor and being in communion and community with the living and the dead. I felt a bit chastened by my own preoccupations with other things. I want to spend more time with the Scriptures; I want to spend more time with the poor; I must give thanks always for the community I have (and not be hankering after somebody else's!). There is nothing stopping me or any of us from embracing this call to conversion and a deeper walk with Jesus Christ.

As I travel around the Anglican Communion and talk with the brothers who are confronted by the realities of the stresses and challenges facing Anglicans I am reminded that I have no control over what any Bishop says or does, almost no opportunity to make a contribution to the conversation, yet I am responsible for being as open, generous and attentive as I can be. The Gospel life is for everybody, persecutions and troubles will wrack the Church from within and without. But my first job must be to pray, serve without discrimination and be thankful.

La Dolce Vita

2009-05-09T04:01:00.000-07:00

Last week I was in Florence for the weekend. I did a lot of touring the sites,with Richard Quaintance and Peter Casparian balanced with some much needed time for conversation with a dear friend, Barbara Crafton. Barbara is the interim rector at St. James Episcopal Church in Florence, which is why I went to Florence in the first place. She has been a friend for a long time (she preached at my installation as Minister General).

All the brothers of the Province of the Americas have received a form from our Minister asking that we find somebody to talk to about our life in SSF. He gave us some specific questions to wrestle with. Barbara and I sat in the rectory of St. James (built by J. Pierpont Morgan in the 20's). "Would you do it all again?" she asked, reading from the list. Yes, absolutely. Of course I wonder what another path might have led me to in my life, but judging by the sense of joy I feel, I am not really committed to searching out another path.

Perhaps it would be nice to abridge the journey and go from height to height, skipping the messy, painful bits.

I returned to Assisi with the idea of my life journey very much on my mind. I got a chance to think about it even more when I was invited to go along the Franciscan pilgrimage route with Sr. Maureen, CSF, who has been in Assisi on a long planned two week visit. We have taken two incredibly long walks: on Tuesday from Valfabbrica to Assisi (about 14 kilometers, I think) and then a whopping long walk Friday from Spello to Assisi (24 Kilometers). Tuesday evening we joined other pilgrims for a blessing at the Basilica of St. Mary of the Angels inside the tiny original Little Portion. After that we joined the guiding light of the Franciscan pilgrimage route, Angela Maria Seracchioli, in a community meal. She cooks huge dinners every night for the pilgrims staying in the hostel. We were Americans, English, Dutch, French, Italian and Spanish. My life journey has brought me into company with a great diversity of people and presented me with challenges and great blessings.

I highly recommend the walks. Angela has written a book called "Di qui passo Francesco." Neither Maureen nor I read Italian, but we used the maps and made guesses about the information in the text. We didn't really need the book. The scenery was amazing, and we were like two big bumble bees going from flower to flower, exclaiming over the beauty of all the species we saw, stopping to listen to the birds, and in-between telling long rambling stories about our life in community. Tired and footsore when we got home each day, we asked the question: "Want to do it again?" Definitely. It was easy to imagine Francis walking along these paths, looking for somewhere to be alone and pray, or talking with Br. Leo, fretting about what was going on in the brotherhood.

Assisi is in the grip of its annual May Festival called the Festa di Calendimaggio. It is a chance to wear medieval costumes, dance and sing in competition with other groups in town. It is very colorful. People of every age participate. It is an interesting blend of old and new: colorful costumes, trumpets and archery, Ray Bann sunglasses and cell phones, cigarettes and motorcycles. I really like Italy!

Franciscans International

2009-05-02T07:21:00.000-07:00

I spent this past week in Geneva, Switzerland. I had a terrific train and bus trip through the Alps and arrived in the early evening on Monday. I went to Geneva to meet with Franciscans International, the Franciscan NGO at the United Nations (pictured above). I have worked with them in the past through their New York and Bangkok offices. This was my first time to visit the Geneva office.

Everything about my time in Geneva was excellent. I was met at the station by Sr. Denise Boyle, the Executive Director. She took me to my accommodations (a room at the John Knox Center that was a dead ringer for my 70's era fraternity house in college), and then we went to dinner with some of the staff members of Franciscans International. The next two days were full of meetings; the visit culminated in a bowling trip with the staff. They were saying good-by to a colleague/intern, and I got to go along for the fun.

The purpose of my visit was to learn more about how Franciscans International works and to introduce myself to the staff and to develop a closer working relationship between SSF and Franciscans International. Over the two days it became clear to me that we have much to offer each other, and that in fact the brothers and sisters in the Anglican Franciscan family will be a great resource to FI. I was very excited to learn about the Universal Periodic Review documents done in conjunction with the Human Rights Council. Through Franciscans International we can make direct input into these reports. Our daily experience in every country where we live and work could be a rich contribution: caring for the environment, participating in work with people living with HIV AIDS, immigration issues, domestic abuse; the list of things the brothers and sisters care about goes on and on and these are precisely the sorts of testimony FI needs to feed into the system. Specific stories of real people and situations carry tremendous weight. Even if information is not included in the official Human Rights Council Periodic Review, it gets fed into the UN system in other ways.

The other exciting possibility with Franciscans International is their training sessions on human rights and other topics. They train Franciscans to be effective advocates in their countries.

For my part I gave them a thumb nail sketch of our Anglican Franciscan family, and shared some of the realities of life in the Anglican Communion.

Bowling! I'd forgotten how much fun it is! I bowled a couple of strikes even. The electronic monitor/scoring device gave lots of encouragement, flashing: "Way to go dude!"

In Geneva, no less.

A Visit to Bose

2009-04-28T12:05:00.000-07:00

With a little time to spare after the Chapter of Mats, before the next meeting in Assisi beginning May 16 I decided to explore a bit of Italy and renew some friendships.

Friday I boarded a train in Assisi at 9:30 in the morning. At 5:00 p.m. I arrived in the north of Italy at Biella, where Br. Guido was waiting to take me to Monasterio di Bose.

Br. Guido had been an observer at Lambeth Conference in July and we gravitated to each other sharing stories about our communities.

Bose is an extraordinary place! Nestled in a spectacular Alpine valley, it is a community for both men and women. It is an ecumenical community, founded at the close of Vatican II. In 44 years it has grown to over 70 members, living under the vows of poverty, chastity and obedience. They are completely self supporting and have fantastic ministries: writing icons, translating and publishing books, making jams and jellies, raising honey bees, and extensive vegetable gardens, building furniture welcoming pilgrims of every kind. They have close ties with Orthodox religious communities, Anglicans as well as Taize and Roman Catholic Communities.

It is odd for a verbal person like me to not understand a syllable of what is happening around me. I indulged in a bit of trial and error. Like a person who has lost a crucial sense, I had to rely on my other senses to communicate. Smiles and gestures became very important. Since I couldn't read the instructions, breakfast the first morning was an adventure with an Italian coffee machine with steam and jets of liquid shooting out oddly placed nozzles. My first attempt to get a cup of coffee ended in a mess on me and the floor (the bowls were to drink out of, not for cereal, which wasn't served anyhow). Except for breakfast I ate with Guido and English speaking brothers. In my enthusiasm to talk I flailed my hands around, sending lettuce and bread crumbs flying. They were very patient.

I joined them for prayer and sat in on a lecture about St. Francis. But everything was in Italian and even an ardent admirer like me can only fake it so long. I used much of the time for private prayer and the opportunity for reflection on the events of the past couple of months.

Certainly being itinerant is a challenging way to live. I found myself counting up airports, beds and different kinds of food. All of these things are just externals, but they are tangible ways of thinking about where I have been. When I can remember specific details I find myself catching hold of other memories and ideas. Not understanding language is a common theme: much of the conversation around me in Zimbabwe was in Shona. Yet rarely have I felt isolated. "Shalom" has become very important to me, the sense of well being, wholeness, peace, right relationships. Several people have greeted me in my travels this spring saying "Shalom" and in Italy they then kiss me on both cheeks. (People should kiss more!) My need for prayer has sharpened. When I feel momentarily lonely or our of sorts I find a place to pray, or just begin to say the little prayers that help stitch my psyche back to the basics of acceptance, gratitude and joy. People are so beautiful. I have been deeply impressed by the generosity, the vulnerability of us human beings: we want to help and give so much but at the same time capable of monumental resentments. I found myself going over old hurts, vendettas and fantasies only to be shocked by my thoughts and forced into that place of prayer. The beauty of the present moment.

I never saw much of the mountains that surround Bose. Clouds and rain obscured them. The brothers were apologetic, but I was glad. Sometimes we perceive best when we are forced to rely on other senses, rely on God to provide the beauty and brightness.

800 Years of Franciscan Movement

2009-04-21T07:04:00.000-07:00

I arrived in Assisi on Tuesday of Easter Week, having flown over night from Harare, via Zurich and Rome. I came in order to represent the Society of St. Francis at the Chapter of Mats held to honor the Pope's approval of St. Francis' Gospel way of life in 1209.

1800 brothers from all over the world came to Assisi at the invitation of the Ministers General of the Order of Friars Minor, the OFM Cappuchins, the Conventuals and the Third Order Regular. There were seven of us Ministers General there, and when I was introduced as the Minister General "Anglicani" I got a huge round of applause.

I stayed with the Society of the Atonement friars in Assisi. During my travels I had not read all my e-mails carefully and thus missed the important detail of where all this was taking place...I had a fuzzy idea of "Rome and Assisi". So I 'd not made any plans for a place to stay, praying the Lord would provide. I was richly provided for, and got to spend a terrific time getting to know the Atonement brothers and their extremely generous and friendly Minister General, Jim Puglisi, SA. Their novitiate is as international as SSF's, but they live together in Assisi: young men from Congo, Philippines and India.

I had a lovely time and enjoyed being a bit of an objet fascinans among the Roman Catholics. The English translation was difficult, the young friars in the booth would breathe heavily into the microphone and then say, "um...he is using a lot of Italian words...it is difficult...um. (more heavy breathing)" But the majority found the talks very edifying. Occasionally our English translators would have a burst of lucidity, and we heard terrific stories of Franciscan work around the world, and a call to go out into the world.

Although I anticipated it, I felt sad at the historic divisions between Anglicans and Roman Catholics, and our lack of communion. So I fasted from the Eucharist during Easter Week. But it forced me to practice what I call Spiritual Communion: remembering it is about THANKSGIVING. I had so much to be grateful for; the time of communion was rich with memories and prayers. Plus it was so fabulous to be in the Basilica of St. Mary of the Angels, imagining Francis there, the brothers gathering there, and finally Francis' death practically on the spot I was sitting on.

Although there was no full communion I was always invited to sit with the other Minister Generals during the programs. At Morning Prayer at the Basilica of St. Clare I was hauled from my spot in the back of the transept to sit next to the Bishop of Assisi ("Salve" he said as he shook my hand). The other time of greatest connection was during the penitential procession from St. Mary of the Angels to the Basilica of St. Francis. The seven Generals carried the cross and the 1800+ friars practically pushed us along, singing chants. Here I am with Br. Jose Carballo the Minister General of the OFM.

The Chapter of Mats is so named because the only other one was held by St. Francis and there was insufficient accommodation so the brothers had to live in shelters made of mats. The first Chapter of Mats and this, the second, concluded with a meeting with the Pope. We traveled by bus to Castel Gandolfo. Once there we had mass before going to the Papal Audience. At the Mass we were introduced to a special guest, the warden of the Ecclesiastical Penitentiary, and I wondered which poor theologians are languishing there. I later learned it is an old title but does not involve jails per se...it is not a Gospel ministry I aspire to.

The Audience was like a football rally. The friars were roaring "Benedetto!" and singing "Alleluia!" We were clinging to the walls. Many were eager to wave their national flags, but this was VERY unpopular with the people standing behind the different delegations. Finally Pope Benedict came in waving his hands, and the brothers roared and stamped and whistled. An American friar later asked me what I thought of it all, and I said I had made up my mind before it happened that it was a privilege to be there, he was THEIR leader, not mine. And he only made encouraging remarks, which I appreciated. Being an ecumenical guest means being non critical at the hosts' party. But if he ever wants to talk about the validity of Anglican Orders I'd be happy to talk.

"Brothers, my brothers, the Lord has called me to walk the road of simplicity and has shown me the way. I do not want therefore that you mention other Rules to me [...]. The Lord has revealed to me his will that I should be a step in the world: this is the science to which he wishes us to dedicate ourselves." (St. Francis to the five thousand friars participating in the Chapter of Mats in 1219)

Easter in Zimbabwe

2009-04-21T05:25:00.000-07:00

It has been a while since I posted because getting to an internet cafe required a two hour ride on a decrepit bus. A trip to Mutare was an all day task, and in the light of the many things we were trying to accomplish, we couldn't justify the time.

Difficulty in travel is one of the ways we experienced the realities of life in Zimbabwe today. We also did without running water for most of my visit, due to unavailability of new pipes, and a "work slow down" by the workers who are not getting paid. We had daily power cuts. The students we support were asking the brothers for almost doubled school fees. People have high hopes for the Unity Government, and we prayed for peace in the country every day, as reports of killings and farm evictions continued to be reported.

I never felt at risk of violence, and I came to really love not only the Dr. Seuss-like landscape of wild boulder strewn mountains, but the people I met. Especially my brothers.

Looking back over the first few weeks of April I am astonished at how much we accomplished! We met for hours every day sorting through various issues facing the community. What emerged as our first task was to restructure the daily time table to reflect the reality of the brothers' life; mostly we created the opportunity for more negotiation and accountability. A little more time in bed as well, starting the day at 7:00 instead of 6:00. The biggest gift to come out of this revision of the timetable was accidental, the decision to have a community meal for the brothers, workers and other residents of the Angler's Rest. The brothers decided to do the cooking. These meals were an immediate hit with everybody. One young resident, a young man who grew up in an orphanage and now lives with the brothers thought they were in honor of me and said how he would always remember my visit because of these happy meals together. "This is a new development," the brothers replied. Every Sunday we can remember Br. Clark at our family dinner.

Another big decision was to move the chapel from a small musty room the size of a brother's cell to an exquisite thatched hut they'd built on a hill on the corner of the property for another purpose. The original plans didn't come off, and the building was languishing. We began by marching up there during the Palm Sunday Liturgy. The next few days were full as we waxed the floor, set up the tabernacle, created a holy water font, and experimented with the best way to have liturgies. The all night vigil on Maundy Thursday was there, the rafters reflecting the candlelight, flowers crowded around the Blessed Sacrament. The Chapel quickly became a spiritual home, bringing together the familiar shape of their cultural homes with the needs of a praying community. In the picture here you can see the Paschal Candle made by Br. Bhekimpilo from $3.00 worth of pure beeswax bought from the neighboring honey processing plant.

As the community has grown and changed over the years, they have struggled to adapt jobs needing to be done with the skills and interests of the brothers. Some of them felt under utilized. In our talks about this we decided to list all of the tasks that need to get done on a weekly basis, no job too humble to mention. They listed sixty or seventy things they felt should be done regularly. Next we clumped these tasks together and wrote eight job descriptions. Lastly we looked around the room and divvied the jobs among the brothers. I've never seen men happier to get jobs! With the clarity of the job descriptions they immediately began to function as a team. Things which had been long over looked were getting addressed. The Guardian with his new job description as "facilitator and coordinator" had to suffer a bit as things were done differently from the way he would have done them, but after a week or so he admitted things were getting done in a much more amicable and efficient way.

One of the hopes the brothers had for my visit was to do some educational sessions with them, over and above the practical problem solving. They wanted to hear about the vows. So we gathered by candlelight in the new chapel Monday, Tuesday and Wednesday of Holy Week to talk about the vows of obedience, chastity and poverty. After I spoke we would consider the vows from their cultural perspectives. Religious vows are just as counter cultural to a Shona man from Bolaweyo, Zimbabwe as they are to an American from Snohomish, Washington! We all had an unexpected sense of the challenge and holiness of our vocation.

Thursday morning of Holy Week, we had a special Chapter. It was called by the Guardian to capture the good work that had begun in the community, ratify it and record it. As we went through our accomplishments item by item, I had a strong feeling a miracle had taken place in the commitments and processes of this small Franciscan community.

My visit culminated in the Triduum. We installed the brothers in their new positions and blessed them and then they in turn washed the feet of the community: workers and orphans. The foot washing ceremony became incredibly lively as we sang choruses. It was something about being touched, feeling bound together in service, the Liturgy presenting the themes and hopes of our conversations and decisions in a powerful way.

Good Friday we spent in quiet, with the most newly professed brother, Brian, leading us in a reflection on the meaning of the Cross in his life.

The Great Easter Vigil at 4:00 a.m. Sunday began with a roaring fire in the fireplace next to the Chapel, then each brother took a lesson from Scripture, and after reading it lead the rest in a response: reading a psalm, telling a story, teaching a dance or a song. Br. Peter had us go outside the chapel into the strong moonlight after he'd read the Valley of Dry Bones "to listen." "To what?" we asked. "Your hearts," he replied. I heard a great knocking, and saw sinews coming over the bones and a new spirit breathed into my brothers. Deo gratias!

I always cry when I leave a friary after a long visit. Usually it is just stinging eyes, and I cover it with a laugh and a quick wave. This time I wept. I felt I was saying good bye to the brothers of my heart. So much had been at stake, so much claimed through the power of the Spirit.

A Feast for Br. Admire

2009-03-27T01:57:00.000-07:00

On Wednesday March 25, the Feast of the Annunciation, we welcomed a young man, Admire, as a novice. We had a beautiful Mass in the morning, then during the course of the morning decided that we wanted to fix a feast for him. We told the paid cook to take the day off and be our guest along with the other 15 workers and residents who live with the Brothers at Angler's Rest. Br. Bhekimpilo is a terrific cook, and I have aspirations in that way too, so we planned a menu and I set off to the stores with two helpers to carry the provisions while the rest stayed behind to set tables and clean the kitchen. Of course we had to change the menu after we got to the market since our fantasies and reality did not correlate.

I made beef soup with peas, pasta and tomatoes for the first course, Br. Bheki made roast chicken and a cake. Others fried potaoes, cooked rice, sliced tomatoes and African cucumbers (seedy, tangy things with huge spikey knobs in their flesh), and greens for stewing. It was holy chaos, dear to my heart. Working on a huge wood burning stove, under a dim flickering light and without running water, I felt it was an heroic effort.

When we finally sat down, brothers, workers, and other residents of the friary--18 of us--a marvelous transformation began to happen. At first we were quiet and ate our soup. But they LIKED the soup and began to talk. When we got to the chicken and rice and potatoes (Zimbabwe is the land of 2 starches minumum if you have them) everyone was talking at once. After the miraculous cake and a shot of cane liquor people were high fiving each other and laughing uproariously.

It remined me of Babette's Feast, a terrific film from the 1980's. The brothers have been struggling, and during my visit we have worked very hard on many issues affecting their life. In addition there has been the struggle to simply live. The message of the angel to Mary called us all to say "YES" to our life, yes to each other. Since the party we have all noticed a remarkable lightness and hope among us. There is still much to do, but we are working in a new way.

In many ways, I think of Angler's Rest friary as a bit of Fawlty Towers in Zimbabwe. There are so many people around, trying to be involved. It is a real balancing act for the brothers. Yet there are manic moments of sheer hilarity.

In addition to the feast, we spent a day this past week harvesting beans. I got burned to a crisp in the sun. We picked 150 kilos of dried beans! They hope it will keep them alive if the markets dry up again. We hiked to the top of a nearby mountain, forded rivers, and visited neighbors.

The only remindeer that we are in a very distressed society was the reaction when I pulled out as book about Robert Mugabe I brought with me from South Africa. Everyone wanted to read it immediately. But first it was covered in brown paper, and I was told to get rid of it if a policeman came around...

Safe in Zimbabwe

2009-03-20T06:01:00.000-07:00

Thanks for all your prayers! I rrived safely in Zimbabwe on Monday evening and after paying the $80.00 visa fee sailed through customs and was met by Br. Brian, Br. Bhekimpilo and Francis, a friend of theirs who has a car. Br. Brian and Br. Behkimpilo are members of the Community of the Divine Compassion, an Anglican Franciscan Commuity in covenant with SSF through our European \province. The community was founded by my predecessor as Minister General, Br. Geoffrey in the eighties.

We drove 4 hours over dark roads to Nyanga. The brothers live in an old hotel called The Angler's REst. It is still rather impressive. They assured me the pool "has all its parts" except water--the chemicals to keep it safe are too expensive. Speaking of water, it is PURE in Nyanga!

We have had some serious meetings as well as good recreational time. A young man named Admire is a runner and he has taken me along on his 5:00 a.m. runs. We have explored Nyanga, a small town, and we have spent the mornings washing windows, and doing normal friary stuff.

Today I went into Matare, the provincial capital to meet Bishop Peter Hatembe. He is the bishop of the Church of the Province of Central Africa. It is a difficult positon in the current troubles facing the Anglican Communion. But he is a steadfast friend of the brothers, so I took him out to lunch. We at a huge plate of corn meal mush that is eaten at every meal (with fingers), and stewed chicken. Really lovely!

My time is up at the internet cafe...

Capetown

2009-03-13T00:10:00.000-07:00

What an amazingly beautiful city! I arrived in Capetown without mishap (just about 18 hours of travel) from Douala, Cameroon. I was met by my hosts and taken to their home: first world comforts again. A special bonus was learning that my seminary roommate had followed up on a suggestion and arranged to come to Capetown too; he is in Grahamstown, S. Africa on a sabbatical from his parish. We have had an excellent time, meeting church dignitaries and tertiaries. Yesterday we were on our own to do "tourist attractions" so we ascended Table Mountain in a cable car and then took a boat out to Robbins Island. The view from the top of the mountain is extraordinary.

The emotional highlight of my visit to Capetown was the visit to Robben Island to see where Nelson Mandela and the other South African leaders were incarcerated under the Nationalist Party regime. Their treatment was horrifying, yet they managed to not only survive but to overcome the temptation to bitterness or retaliation. I was astonished to read a statement from Ahmed Kathrada who was imprisoned 26 years:

"While we will not forget the brutality of apartheid, we will not want Robben Island to be a monument of our hardship and suffering. We would want it to be a triumph of the human spirit against the forces of evil. A triumph of wisdom and largeness of spirit against small minds and pettiness; a triumph of courage and determination over human frailty and weakness; a triumph of the new South Africa over the old."

Today I begin the Third Order Retreat, then Monday travel on to Zimbabwe. Please keep me and the Franciscan brothers of the Community of the Divine Compassion in your prayers. They are Anglican Franciscans in covenant with the Society of St. Francis.

Photos of Cameroon

2009-03-09T12:04:00.000-07:00

Today I am in Capetown, I left Cameroon about 11:30 last night and traveled overnight and until late in the afternoon. But without mishap, and that is all that counts.

But here are the photos of my time in Cameroon.

This is a photo of me, Br. Martin of the Community of St. Michael, and Br. Emmanuel of another Franciscan community in Cameroon.

This is where Br. Martin is building his new monastery

Shopping in Cameroon can be quite an adventure: a butcher shop

And a local version of a dollar store: a roadside cart!

Here I am with the Fon (King) who was visiting his farm:

During my visit to Kumbo the Queen Mother died, so a Ju-ju performed as part of the funeral ceremonies:

It was hard to say good-bye to the Community of St. Michael. Here we were after celebrating the Holy Eucharist Thursday evening:

It was hard to leave; I am lookingforward to my next visit!

Visit to Cameroon

2009-03-06T10:09:00.000-08:00

I am in Cameroon. I have come to visit the community of St. Michael, a community-in-formation. The brothers live in Kumbo, in the English speaking part of Cameroon in the northwest region of the country. It is the tail end of the dry season, and the dust is killing. Also the roads in the English speaking part are atrocious: political payback by the French speaking head of government, I understand.

But these are not important.

I arrived in Douala and immediately lost $30.00 to a couple of shysters who said it was necessary to get through customs. Okay,I wasn't born yesterday, but I fell for this one. Because it is too dangerous to drive long distances at night (highwaymen prey on lonely vehicles)Br. Martin had arranged for us and his blood brother (and brother in religion) Paul, to stay in a Roman Catholic guest house. We were joined by Br. Emmanuel of another anglican Franciscan Comunity, but he didn't speak a work of English and my French was too rusty to overcome the handicap of jetlag. The next day we worshiped at the Cathedral and greeted Bishop Dibo of the Anglican Diocese of Cameroon. then we set off on the two day trek to Kumbo.

We stayed in a house in his family's compound. There were problems with electricity and water, but we managed to say our prayers and bathe. The climate there is very cool, so I needed a blanket at night and a sweater in the mornings.

The community's founder, Br. Martin, has got a piece of land about 200 acres in total. He had started the foundation of his monastery by selling cattle and getting donations from friends. The local king (Fon) is very supportive, giving Martin half the land as a gift.

We spent a whole day traipsing around the property, hearing Martin's stories abut the purchase or donation of every parcel, is vision for the house, the cattle raising, sheep ranching, fish ponds, windmills and guest house. The amazing view embraces deep valleys and high mountains. I had no idea what to expect, but it wasn't this!

Wednesday, we went to visit the Fon (the King). His Royal Highness Mbinglo I of the Fondom of Banso received us on a makeshift throne at his farm. A collapsible chair was covered with a blanket and a page in farm clothes came in to announce the King. We stood. I stood on the right side of what appeared to be a garage, the others on the left. Clapping twice and holding our clasped hands over our lips we bowed and greeted the Fon. Nobody sat til he looked at us and waved impatiently. Br Martin scuttled over to me to whisper directions, then I gave a little speech thanking His Highness for his hospitality, his support for the Brothers of St. Michael and briefed him on the Society of St. Francis. I explained I was on a mission of friendship. The community of St. Michael is not part of the Society of St. Francis. But having met Br.Martinin New York and knowing how important it is to nurture friendships in the small world of Anglican religious life, I very much want to befriend the brothers.

There were photos and a visit to the farm where about 200 people were cultivating the fon's fields--a once a season community effort to show their gratitude. Later we had cold drinks back in the farm house garage and i was given a pail of potatoes in reciprocation for the chicken we'd presented a page on our arrival.

back in Kumbo we visited the royal Palace, and i learned that many of the borhters have relatives among the nobility, and we met Sheiks and Princes who were fathers, uncles of the brothers. we wandered into the second courtyard and found half a dozen men sitting on sement platforms. They were sitting and drinking beer, but they were sitting on THEIR platforms, and I was introduced to them one by one: "This is the second most important man in the Fondom..." (He was sitting on the second platform...). One of the Fon's major preoccupations is building proper housing for his predecessors' wives. We looked down into their compound, and it was indeed a shambles of adobe bricks and dust.

Yesterday we met various roman Catholic sisters. They run hospitals and schools, and are very friendsly and welcoming of Br. Martin.

Today I am sitting in Dschan, at Br. Martin's eldest brother's house. the power\ just went out so I am going to post. Photos next time!

January gardening

2009-01-30T14:06:00.001-08:00

It is such a pleasure to be at my folk's home. I am in Snohomish, WA for my holiday. Dad and I were out in the garden yesterday harvesting leeks. Mom made potato and leek soup! Delicious. The cool damp air, clotting mud and awkward heavy winter work clothes: all a welcome change for me. I think it is a great blessing being in touch with these gentle rhythms of nature: a winter harvest and slow cooked food. Also having time with my parents. Not many people my age can return to the house where they were raised and spend lazy weeks with parents!

Rest and sabbath time are essential parts of the spiritual life. Many think they are luxuries; others long for it but cannot squeeze the time from work schedules. But whenever it is possible I encourage the brothers to keep their free/sabbath day sacred and not to fritter it away with things that can easily be scheduled for another day. We all need time to do the things we love to do, from sleeping in to digging leeks, walking along the river, reading a novel. It is not selfish. It is spiritual health: ask any artist, their most creative ideas come when they are messing around. The same is true with the spiritual life: our greatest connection with God often comes when we are most at ease with ourselves and feel connected to the earth and the people around us.

My vacation is a whopping three plus weeks of down time (except for a few speaking engagements: the local youth group, third order fellowship and a friendly group at St. Mark's Cathedral last week). But speaking engagements are no burden. I "forgot" to take a holiday last year, all the travel distracted me, and I can really feel it now.

Man Up!

2009-01-30T14:00:00.000-08:00

I received a letter, forwarded to me yesterday, from a man who is incarcerated in the Collins Correctional Facility in New York. I’d asked him earlier about his feelings about the election of Mr. Obama. He replied: “Yes, great thing about Mr. Obama! The reaction here was nutz (good). We are using the slogan “change” and Man Up because WE can do it. I was thrilled!! I just pray God will help me change in every single way.”

From the jailhouses to statehouses Mr. Obama is bringing hope and inspiration to many, many people. The message of personal responsibility was not lost on my friend.

I too pray God will change me, remove from me all defects of character and make me an instrument of peace.

I am 90% recovered from laryngitis and a terrible sore throat that grabbed me on the flight up to Seattle from San Francisco on Friday. It was a subdued beginning to my holiday, yet the enforced quiet permitted me to spend some time reflecting on how grateful I am to have time to rest, the joy of being with my family (both parents still living in the house I grew up in).

Glory, Glory, Hallelujah!

2009-01-19T09:56:00.000-08:00

I’ll never forget the day after Barack Obama’s election. I was driving to Tacoma, WA and running mantra-like through my brain was the refrain from “The Battle Hymn of the Republic.” I’d not felt so exhilarated in a long, long time! Now, finally we are at the eve of Mr. Obama’s Inauguration. The balls and fetes and concerts are all happening way back in Washington DC. My friends from Codepink are there all done up in pink dresses singing and dancing about the Constitution (no kidding—they are amazing). My friend Bishop Gene Robinson gave a great prayer yesterday. I plan to get up and watch the Inauguration live early tomorrow morning.

It seems everything dear to my heart is coming together. Rick Warren notwithstanding, Bishop Robinson’s voice at this time sings out, signaling that times indeed have changed with this new Administration. Bishop Robinson was not a “safe” choice for a cautious politician, but a daring choice for a bold politician. After the election I read columnists saying the African American vote elected Barack Obama and defeated gay marriage. Maybe; but no bridges appear to have been burned yet. Dearest of all is the sense that not only has Dr. King’s dream come true, but as one Methodist bishop wrote, we’ve moved beyond it. We’ve not eradicated racism, but we have raised the expectations of every person who works for that goal. I’ll bet Dr. King is dancing for joy, and the entire heavenly chorus is singing “Glory, glory hallelujah!”

Now to take up the War on Poverty again.

In church yesterday a man prayed “for reasonable expectations” and there were some murmurs of assent (there was actually spontaneous verbal assent in an Episcopal Church service!). We have not elected a messiah, but a president. He is a politician and has to do the work of a politician, which means he can’t please all the people all the time. But I also pray that Mr. Obama will make a forthright and honest case for the decisions he makes, listening respectfully to the citizens of this country. No deceit, no glib assurances. What I really want is nuance in our political discourse; give me gray, not black and white. After reading “Dreams from My Father” and “The Audacity of Hope” I know Mr. Obama is an excellent writer, in touch with the ambiguity of life. His campaign showed that his sense of self-awareness and cool disposition will help him broaden the scope of our national and international debates.

The economy, the war, issues of health care and education: these are enormous challenges. Victory is not assured, but today I feel an optimism I have never felt about an American President ever before.

Happy Birthday Dr. King!

God bless us, each and every one.

A Retreat—At Last!

2009-01-15T13:27:00.000-08:00

I’ve been away on retreat. Just after New Years I went with some of my brothers to Santa Barbara where we stayed at St. Mary’s Retreat House run by the Sisters of the Holy Nativity. The monks of the Order of the Holy Cross have taken refuge there since the burning of their retreat house and monastery last month; we were supposed to be staying with them, so they played “host” during our stay. Sad to say, it had been a very long time since I’d gone on retreat. Being neither holiday nor “work” per se, this was a welcome experience.

During the past year, I’ve given plenty of retreats, and hung around friaries without too much to do, but that is not what being on a retreat is really about. For me, it is partly planning to go on retreat and claiming the time as retreat time: this way I can leave behind the computer, and pull away from any sense of obligation to be available. Sometimes I joined the corporate worship with the brothers, other times I said the offices privately. The other thing about being on retreat is that my focus is God, deepening my relationship with the Trinity. I did not allow myself to think too much about travel plans or upcoming programs, nor did I go window shopping or watch television or any other kind of distraction—and Santa Barbara is full of distractions, let me tell you! Rather I read, wrote (long hand, no less) and rested. Being a bit of a book worm I refused to read novels until after 9:00 p.m.—it is too easy to lose myself in another world and then wonder where all the time went. I chose one of the OHC brothers as a kind of guide or mentor, and we had a really good talk.

It was a week of very gentle disciplines. The upshot of the week is that I feel loved and cared for—by the monks and by God. I feel grateful for my life and ministry. I learned that perhaps I have a tendency to squander opportunities for creativity. During my travels I stare off into space or read fiction; these are not bad things, but time passes without a trace. More and more I am going to use these times for writing.

Famous last words! But who knows?

It was a terrific week. I highly recommend a retreat for anybody.

Christmas Eve

2008-12-24T15:13:00.000-08:00

We were too late to get a tree. Br. Max and I stood outside the chain link fence looking at a heap of greens in the far back of the lot. It was not clear if they were whole trees or just the bottoms of trees. Trees purchased by people who plan ahead and don’t have any hang ups about decorating for Christmas before Christmas Eve. We asked some homeless guys if they knew of any other places to get trees. “Nope,” they said, looking at us with puzzled faces. We stuck our noses into some thrift shops and other cheapo places to see if we could maybe get a fake tree. My heart wasn’t really into that idea, but I thought we should look just to say we had. “This is getting to be kinda like a children’s story I remember about some woodland creatures looking for a Christmas tree on Christmas Eve,” I told Max. He remembered some thing about a story like that too; he is also an educated man. But neither of us could think of the name of it. “Barrington Bunny?” I suggested. He didn’t think it was that. By this time we were very wet and bedraggled and looking more like woodland creatures than I like to, so I suggested we forget the tree idea. “How about we go get some boughs and poinsettias and call it Christmas?” He agreed, so we went and got $28.28 worth of fir, holly pine and dogwood branches (they are red—I never heard of decorating for Christmas with dogwood branches—this is California after all.) It is a small bunch, maybe we got ripped off; but we are in North Berkeley, and the woman selling them was very pleasant.

Walking along and thinking of Christmas Bunnies (hey, I know for a fact there is a Christmas story about a bunny), homeless people, being too late, yet reveling in the Christmas atmosphere, watching people come and go from the chic coffee bars (in red and white outfits, going to perfectly decorated homes, I’m sure), I suddenly thought: “Well, Christmas is going to happen ready or not.” And the only thing keeping me from being ready is a story I keep telling myself about how it should be. At the heart of all the stories that are worth it at Christmas is the simple affirmation of love. It is what God was sharing with the world, it is the only thing of value we have to give and get. If the world took the message of Christmas love more to heart there would be an increase of peace, a bounty of cheer and enough to eat the world over.

Last Sunday of Advent

2008-12-21T14:57:00.000-08:00

Today is the last Sunday of Advent, and I have been evaluating my Christmas preparations.

Hallmark and Macy’s might say I squandered 4 good weeks: I bought nearly nothing, sent out 3 cards to my siblings.

But the Advent call for preparation is not meant solely—if at all—in such materialistic terms. Once I put aside the niggling feelings of guilt when I look at my address book and sort through the stack of pretty cards I’ve received, I find myself thinking of my preparations for the celebration of Christmas, and in a larger sense the return of Jesus at the Second Coming.

There are four classic themes for Advent, clustering around the word/concepts of heaven, hell, death and judgment: not on balance greeting card sentiments. I generally just take a vaguer notion of “preparation” when thinking of Advent. But this year the older ideas give me a framework for a variety of experiences that seem important to my spiritual preparation for Christmas.

I spent the first two Sundays of Advent in Iran. In Shi’ite Islam they expect the imminent return of the 12th Imam, and even have organizations to welcome him, the Bright Future Association. His arrival is about social justice, fulfillment, and peace. It all sounds pretty familiar. I suppose my own eschatology partly inspired my trip, laboring in the proleptic kingdom. I was working for justice and peace, exploring what it means to be a human being on this earth at the start of the 21st Century.

About the classic theme of Advent judgment: what have I done for the least among us? What have I contributed to the betterment of humanity? How have I shared the good news of God’s reign with my fellow humans? My trip to Iran was the first time I’ve ever been able to participate in such a trip. It really was a pilgrimage of peace and trust, seeking out the signs of hope and beauty in Iran—among a people the USA fears. Yesterday I was able to join a colleague from the trip in giving a “report-back” to people from Code Pink and some of my Franciscan brothers and sisters.

Bringing the work for justice closer to home, on the third Sunday of Advent I was at Little Portion Friary. I cooked for the Advent retreat for persons living with HIV and AIDS. One of our Franciscan contributions to fighting the pandemic is to offer a place of quiet healing, friendship (and good food!) to help renew and strengthen people living with the virus. Many of our guests have come for this retreat for many years and they anticipate it, sending in reservations in September and October.

Another one of the themes of Advent is death. This week one of the novices of Society of St. Francis, Br. Daniel Komota, died. He died from an asthma attack. He was at one of our formation houses in Oro Province in Papua New Guinea. He was a young man in his twenties. I only met him once, yet his passing fills me with sadness. Life is so fragile.

Yet when I consider his death in the context of Heaven, I have to fumble toward gratitude. I am grateful he was able to live out his calling, to be a brother. I am grateful for his witness to the Gospel, dedicating his life to it. None of us know how long we have. Somehow heaven is the place where all life’s perplexities are held in love. I wonder, do they get fully explained? Heaven is the place where our puny human lives are accounted as more precious than gold; am I able to account for this in my earthly interactions? Do I think of all the people I meet as of great value? Surely the story of Jesus’ birth in a stable points to the value and worth of everyone in the heavenly perspective. Daniel’s brief time as a friar makes me think of one of the Kingdom parables Jesus told when he talked about the hired hands getting their wages at the end of the day. The steward is instructed to give the workers who were hired at the end of the day the same as those who were hired in the morning. That is how it is with heaven: we are never too late, too young, the wrong sex or sexual orientation, the wrong race, just a novice, or way past our prime. All are welcome.

I didn’t think I’d have much to say about Hell. But we live in an age of war. I think war is hell, and what is going on in Zimbabwe comes very close to it (I’ve attached a letter from Zimbabwe below. Also sometimes the space between my ears can be really miserable, and I have to reach out to others: calling Papua New Guinea, go shopping for tiny gifts for my parents, volunteering to cook food. The sense of isolation or inadequacy or futility can undermine my confidence and erode my joy. Hell, indeed; and I need Jesus’ Gospel to keep me firmly grounded in hope and gratitude.

Which brings me back to the theme of preparation.

I have begun preparations for my next trip, something I really enjoy doing. This time I’ll be going to Africa in March and April. The requirements for the travel include yellow fever shots, more anti-malarial medications. Tomorrow I take my yellow fever shot. I’ve been making phone calls to my contacts in Cameroon, South Africa and Zimbabwe. I have no idea what I’ll find or what I’ll be able to do. I hope I will be able to share life with the brothers, eat their food, tell stories, knit together a sense of fraternity and friendship, mobilize awareness about the conditions especially in Zimbabwe, to do my part. Part of Advent then is doing what I can do today in preparation for the future. But I have no control over that. It will happen on its own terms, there are so many things I cannot know. Life is so fragile; which makes it ravishingly beautiful, and fills me with wonder and joy and determined to do all in my power to preserve, protect and enhance it. Prepare to do more peace work, prepare for the Prince of Peace.

Here is a recent letter from Zimbabwe. Please pray for them and my visit.

Letter from Zimbabwe sent in by John Winter

I reckon that these are the last days of TKM and ZPF. The darkest hour is always before dawn.

We are all terrified at what they are going to destroy next........I mean they are actually ploughing down brick and mortar houses and one family with twin boys of 10 had no chance of salvaging anything when 100 riot police came in with AK47's and bulldozers and demolished their beautiful house - 5 bedrooms and pine ceilings - because it was 'too close to the airport', so we are feeling extremely insecure right now.

You know - I am aware that this does not help you sleep at night, but if you do not know - how can you help? Even if you put us in your own mental ring of light and send your guardian angels to be with us - that is a help -but I feel so cut off from you all knowing I cannot tell you what's going on here simply because you will feel uncomfortable. There is no ways we can leave here so that is not an option.

I ask that you all pray for us in the way that you know how, and let me know that you are thinking of us and sending out positive vibes... that's all. You can't just be in denial and pretend/believe it's not going on.

To be frank with you, it's genocide in the making and if you do not believe me, read the Genocide Report by Amnesty International which says we are - IN level 7 - (level 8 is after it's happened and everyone is in denial).

If you don't want me to tell you these things-how bad it is-then it means you have not dealt with your own fear, but it does not help me to think you are turning your back on our situation. We need you, please, to get the news OUT that we are all in a fearfully dangerous situation here. Too many people turn their backs and say - oh well, that's what happens in Africa

This Government has GONE MAD and you need to help us publicize our plight---or how can we be rescued? It's a reality! The petrol queues are a reality, the pall of smoke all around our city is a reality, the thousands of homeless people sleeping outside in 0 Celsius with no food, water, shelter and bedding are a reality. Today a family approached me, brother of the gardener's wife with two small children. Their home was trashed and they will have to sleep outside. We already support 8 adult people and a child on this property, and electricity is going up next month by 250% as is water.

How can I take on another family of 4 -----and yet how can I turn them away to sleep out in the open?

I am not asking you for money or a ticket out of here - I am asking you to FACE the fact that we are in deep and terrible danger and want you please to pass on our news and pictures. So PLEASE don't just press the delete button! Help best in the way that you know how.

Do face the reality of what is going on here and help us SEND OUT THE WORD.. The more people who know about it, the more chance we have of the United Nations coming to our aid. Please don't ignore or deny what's happening.
Some would like to be protected from the truth BUT then, if we are eliminated, how would you feel? 'If only we knew how bad it really was we could have helped in some way'.

[I know we chose to stay here and that some feel we deserve what's coming to us]

For now,--- we ourselves have food, shelter, a little fuel and a bit of money for the next meal - but what is going to happen next? Will they start on our houses? All property is going to belong to the State now. I want to send out my Title Deeds to one of you because if they get a hold of those, I can't fight for my rights.

Censorship!----We no longer have SW radio [which told us everything that was happening] because the Government jammed it out of existence - we don't have any reporters, and no one is allowed to photograph. If we had reporters here, they would have an absolute field day. Even the pro-Government Herald has written that people are shocked, stunned, bewildered and blown mindless by the wanton destruction of many folks homes, which are supposed to be 'illegal' but for which a huge percentage actually do have licenses.

Please! - do have some compassion and HELP by sending out the articles and personal reports so that something can/may be done.

'I am one. I cannot do everything, ---but I can do something.. And because I cannot do everything, I will not refuse to do the something that I can do. What I can do, I should do. And what I should do, by the grace of God,
I will do.'
Edward Everett Hale

Building Dialogue Among Civilizations

2008-12-17T10:53:00.000-08:00

Creating Global Commitment to the Earth

One of the critical issues facing persons engaged in dialogue with other civilizations is creating awareness that no matter how different we might be we all inhabit the same globe. For instance, there is no such thing as a limited nuclear war. What we are talking about vis-à-vis nuclear arms is assured mutual destruction. Also, what one nation does to harm the environment has global ramifications: poisoning rivers and oceans, destroying coral reefs, polluting the atmosphere; all these things contribute to global warming and denigrate our common human habitat. If we disagree on religious beliefs, political systems, even cultural attitudes towards women, homosexuals, and other minorities, a compelling case for dialogue can be made for the preservation of this fragile earth, our island home in the universe.

Building on shared self-interest in survival, my next thought would be to frame discussions about the environment as peace-keeping accords; commitment to peace and commitment to the environment being two sides of the same survival coin. Respect for the environment breeds reverence for life in all its forms, which is necessary if we are create a new global consciousness through dialogue. Respect and reverence preclude violence.

Developing a Personal Practice for Peace

The hasty thought or bitter retort conceived in anger can do incalculable damage to relationships. They are a form of violence. Words have the power to unleash bullets and poisons on the earth. Thus it is important that every person look at those places in him or herself where anger lurks. Most of us are fairly scrupulous about dealing with anger in our most intimate relationships, though we could most of us still do better. Many enlightened people however allow prejudice to flourish when thinking about people who are different from us, or from whom we have received a national insult or injury. One of the best ways to transform personal anger and prejudice against other peoples and cultures is to visit them: meet the people, eat their food, admire their cultural monuments, read their literature. Words also have the power to heal, unleash creativity, and bring strangers together. Admiration for beauty must give way to respect for the creators of it. I would strongly recommend an in-depth, appreciative (non-competitive) education about the different cultures of the world as a basis for permanent peace, and a basis for civilian diplomacy and dialogue. The great peacemakers of the world have all been great lovers of culture.

Creating an historical perspective

Without a deeper understanding of history, we can only engage in shallow conversation, not truly transformative dialogue.

We need to create broader understandings and an historical perspective when dealing with the peoples most different from us. In preparation for my trip to Iran I read Steven Kinzer’s book about the U.S. engineered coup toppling Mossadeq’s regime and replacing him with the Shah. No wonder many Iranians don’t trust the US! But I never knew of these events before. Another historical grievance I never considered was the downing of the airbus by the US Navy in which nearly 300 civilians were killed; and the US only regretted it, while decorating the Navy commander as a hero. Not knowing these key events in the Twentieth Century, who wouldn’t be mystified by the Iranians’ distrust of the US?

We must push for greater honesty and a diversity of voices when we teach about foreign affairs and our relations with other cultures. Too often the assumptions underlying the work of authors of text books go unexamined. Lack of knowledge breeds false insights and fosters violence.