Community

Saturday September 24, 2016

Edinburgh. 

Today was the first day in a while where I didn't really meet anyone. I am staying in a hostel in Edinburgh for a few days, and roommates are hit and miss. Today I've only seen them in passing. It felt very strange in someways. And yet totally normal in others. But it did get me reflecting on community. 

The most unexpected part of waking the West Highland Way was the community that developed. The first night I stayed in a bunkhouse with 8 other people as well as two couples in the b and b. And everyday I would see some or all of them. We quickly began to look out for one another. Checking in, "have you seen so and so yet today?" And at the end of the day when we frequently ran into one another again at the restaurants or places we were staying it was like meeting up with old friends. 

There were others I met on the trail, and would invariably see at some point every day. 

This slowed a bit once we passed the halfway point and people took a day break or took longer days and stopped on different locations. But still, I saw someone I had previously met every day. 

And when I got to Fort Williams, I celebrated with folks I had met on the way. And as I was there for a few days, continues to celebrate with the folks who arrived after me. 

 

It was a new community that had formed. Conversations on the trail ranged from small talk to deep conversations about life and spirituality and purpose. Some of that is due or my vocation I suppose, but some of it is simply due to the nature of the walk. 

My time on Iona was intentional community. And it worked well in someways. And in others the community formed while walking is the one I'll miss most. 

 

So what is community really about? When we talk about discipleship, it is a bit more than the small talk.  The early Methodists had a practice of gathering in small groups. Part of their purpose was to check in with one another. Beyond how is your health it was asked, "how is it with your soul?"  The best of our communities do this. Ask us the deep and hard questions. Encourage us to explore our relationship with God, to wonder, to pray, to worship, to serve. To be better disciples. The best of community both supports and challenges. It is there to help one another to walk more fully in The Way. It is this type of community we all so desperately need. 

 

How is it with your soul?

Leaving

Friday September 23, 2016

Today was the day to depart from Iona. Everyone was very emotional. There were a lot of good byes for newly formed friendships. The staff and volunteers were both saying goodbye and beginning preparations for the next group to arrive. 

As I had been meeting new people and saying goodbye to them for weeks now I was caught a bit off guard by the difficulty some fold were having in saying goodbye. 

As we boarded the ferry we looked back to the shore and there the staff and volunteers at the Abbey had lined up and were waving and dancing and bidding us all farewell in action.

It was beautiful. 

It got me wondering, how do we say goodbye?  All the little moments and big ones. To family and friends as they leave for a little while or to those we won't see again for months. To those we've known for a short time, and those we've known forever. How do we let the people in our lives know they're important to us and we've valued our time together? What is in our farewell? 

How do we say goodbye?

 

When there is no path

Thursday September 22, 2016

Today was my last day on Iona, and with the afternoon off I decided to go exploring. To find the old marble quarry that used to be in service but no longer was. I had a map. Sort of. And directions. More or less. So I set out. 

The island is not that big. And the first part went very well, covering ground I had walked across already as a part of the pilgrimage. From there I was supposed to take another path. I looked for the path. And made it to the bay before deciding I hadn't seen it. So I went back to the lake looking again. Still no path. So once more towards the bay. Nope. No path. This time on my way back to the lake I decided to climb the hill towards where I though that quarry was to see if I could see the path. 

Across the bog and up the hill. Still no sign of the path. But, I could see the next hill. So there I went. Sometimes thinking I found a path. It wasn't. It was a sheep trail or a stream or a particularly boggy area that had tamped down the grass. So I got very muddy and rather wet. And never managed to find the path. 

But I did find the quarry. Down between two hills towards the south end of the island. It was beautiful and striking to see all the rock left laying about waiting but never processed.  

 

When I started back towards the Abbey - still not on any discernible path I began to think about what we do when there is not path forwards.

Do we just turn around and go back? Do we give up? Do we find the nearest high point and look ahead? Do we forge our own trail? Do we stop and ask for directions? At what point is turning around the best option? 

Far too often in life, and our faith lives, it feels like there is no path in front of us. The direction is uncertain. And in many ways, these are the moments that define us. Where we place our trust. 

So, what do you do when there is no path?

 

Covenant

Wednesday September 21, 2016

Today because we rescheduled the Staffa trip due to the weather forecast I had a mostly free day. I spent some time exploring the island. Going to the North shore and the Monk's strand. Beaches I hadn't made it to yet. 

 

In the evening was the guest concert. A short show out on by the folks staying there. We were invited to take part. I agrees to be an enthusiastic audience member. The concert was to be held in the Mac (the other residence operated by the Iona community. A short walk away). When I stepped out of the Abbey I saw a beautiful rainbow arching over the Abbey. 

 

It was a breathtaking view. And quickly word spread. People stopped washing dishes and rushed out to see the rainbow before it disappeared. Folks were excited, and then struck silent by the beauty. 

And when we turned around the sunset had lit up the sky behind us. It almost looked like the sky was on fire. 

 

All of it got me thinking about God's covenant. We are a people of the covenant. Promised to be God's beloved. Cherished.  

And we are God's people. Invited to live into the covenant. 

So I wondered. Do we? How do we? What does it mean to us to be people of the convent today?

 

Pyhiinvaellus

Tuesday September 20, 2016

Today was the day of the pilgrimage around the island. I was looking forward to it. After walking the West Highland Way and then not doing any serious hiking I was missing it. I was ready to get back out on the trails. 

I hadn't really thought about the fact that this was a guided pilgrimage. With other people. It really changed things. The pace. The rhythm of when to go and when to stop. Where to pause to soak up the surroundings. 

I was finding it rather frustrating. And was a having a hard time letting myself really engage in the experience. 

Until I started to chat with a woman from Finland. At first it was mostly idle chit chat but then she mentioned the Finnish word for pilgrimage. Pyhiinvaellus (pronounced puhenviles). It translates roughly into trekking with the saints. 

 

I was struck by the phrase. I love it. And it totally changed my attitude. What did it mean to we trekking with the saints of old, and the saints in the making around me? 

And it got me wondering about the rest of our faith lives. How often do we think of our lives as pilgrimages in and of themselves? Not nearly enough. And how often do we stop and realize we are all trekking with the saints. Journeying together with a cloud of witnesses, and fellow travelers on The Way.  

Trekking with the saints. Beautiful isn't it? 

 

 

Unexpected

Monday September 19, 2016

Staffa

Today, the plans changed. The folks working at the Abbey had made a schedule and part of that schedule included a trip to the island of Staffa for those who were interested. The plan had been to go on Wednesday but the forecast is for a very windy rainy day.  So the folks in charge arranged for us to be able to go today. 

Not knowing anything about Staffa I was unsure if I wanted to go, in the end I decided I would, mostly because I wasn't sure what else I would do! 

I am so glad I did. 

The rock formations on Staffa are amazing. (The same type of rock formation as the Giant's Causeway.) And Fingal's cave is something you really need to see in person. We saw seals and even a whale. 

 

The whole day was a unexpected joy. 

When I was climbing along the rocks  I found myself singing / humming the old hymn "How Great Thou Art."

The unexpectedness of the sights and sounds of the days still haven't completely caught up with me. 

It did get me thinking about allowing ourselves to be open to the unexpected. Do we plan everything? Or wait to see what comes? Or are we somewhere in the middle?  

Life of faith can't be completely planned. The Holy Spirit has a way of getting involved in the best made plans. And instead, in the midst of everything else that is going on, whispers to our souls. Reminding us to look around. To soak up the unexpected. To sing the ancient hymns and let the words roll through us. 

"Then songs my soul, my God, how great thou art."