by Jennie Kiffmeyer
This past Friday afternoon I drove over to St. Luke’s Episcopal Church in Cincinnati to get together with some people from our diocese of Southern Ohio. We were a mixture of lay and ordained folks who are actively engaged with how to live a Christ-centered life in community outside of conventional ways of doing church. Some of us, like me, are working in campus ministry. Others have spent the past few years living in, or supporting, intentional communities in Cincinnati and Columbus area. It was a small group, eleven in all. Rev. Jane Gersden, who convened the group, called it a Praxis Think Tank, and it is connected with other Praxis initiatives that you can read about on their website.
We spent a good chunk of the afternoon and evening sharing about who we are and what communities we belong to. We continued our conversations as we concocted yummy make-it-yourself pizzas and salads and sipped a wickedly good stout one member of the group brought along. We then closed our time by gathering in a circle and responding to Jane’s query: what is the bee in your bonnet? Asked tongue-in-cheek, many of us responded by describing our most tender hopes and playful dreams of where we sense God stirring up our lives.
I will be thinking about the people I met and what was said that evening for some time, but I’d like to share one impression that is especially strong. After we first arrived and checked in with one another, we moved into the cozy Chapel of the Resurrection. After settling into a period of silence, Jane read the Parable of the Mustard Seed from Mark 4:30-32 as well as this quotation from 14th century English mystic, Julian of Norwich:
“In this vision he showed me a little thing, the size of a hazelnut, and it
was round as a ball. I looked at it with the eye of my understanding and
thought ‘What may this be?’ And it was generally answered thus: ‘It is all that is
made.’ I marveled how it might last, for it seemed it might suddenly have
sunk into nothing because of its littleness. And I was answered in my
understanding: ‘It lasts and ever shall, because God loves it….’
In this Little Thing I saw three properties.
The first is that God made it, the second is that God loves it, the third is that God keeps it.”
Rev. Jane then invited us to select an object from the small table in the center of our circle. Despite an intriguing array of rocks, crystals, and seeds, I immediately reached for a smooth buckeye the color of dark chocolate. OSU football and delicious peanut butter and chocolate candies notwithstanding, I love actual buckeyes! My kids and I will often collect them on our walks, and we keep a bowl of them on our kitchen table this time of year. The buckeye is also used at my children’s school during circle time as a “talking piece.” Whoever holds the buckeye has the honor of being the only one who may talk. The rest of the children along with their teachers must listen and wait to speak until the buckeye comes their way. It is a ritual the pre-kindergarteners and kindergarteners do every day. As you might imagine, sometimes that buckeye remains lodged in a pudgy, soft hand for several minutes as a kid joyfully shares “just one more thing.” However, over time the children know they will always have a time to speak just as they will always have a time to listen. It becomes easier to pass the buckeye.
Holding the buckeye that afternoon reminded me of them and the school community our family is part of and how precious they are to me. The simple ritual of taking turns is symbolized by the buckeye, as well as the not-always-so-simple task of listening to everyone within the circle. Maybe this is something that shouldn’t just be limited to the under-six-year-old set.
After we talked about the significance each item had for us, we closed our worship by singing a beautiful chant: “All we need is here.”
One woman, a singer-songwriter named Brianna, started us. Her voice, clear and beautiful, was soon joined by others until I became aware of multiple voices singing the same words over and over. I felt the melody nudge us forward and while it also became like a safety net beneath us. The five words carried their own momentum as if to say: Time to sweep aside the excuses, the fear, and cynicism. Let’s begin to answer the call that tugs at our hearts and trust that God has given us what we need for the journey. All we need is here.
I was touched to be singing the words among this group I had only just met. Their friendliness and passion were contagious. However, while singing the words, I also became aware of the voices not present. Voices of those older and younger than the ones in our group, those of a variety of economic classes and ethnicities, of differing abilities, orientations and experiences. What might cradle Episcopalians say as well as those who attended an Episcopal church for the first time last month when talking about what it means to be a Christian today? What does someone who identifies herself as spiritual-but-not-religious think about God along with someone whose spiritual life is in tatters despite doing all the things he was taught as a child that a Christian should do?
In this way the song is a paradox: God has provided for us abundantly in this very moment and in this very place. All we need ishere. But absence is part of that reality, too. What are things we can do to make sure there is always room for others whose gifts will help shape the work we can do together? How can we make sure we leave ample space for the unexpected ways the Holy Spirit is moving among us? Maybe it is good to step back and sing a song dedicated to being like a broken vessel, an empty pocket, or a spare bedroom–each waiting to be filled.
Maybe it is time to pass the buckeye, eh?
Back home in Richmond, I see piles of acorns and buckeyes that have collected in the yard and think of Julian of Norwich’s hazelnut. It is a seed that at first seems so small and inconsequential. All she knows for sure is that God made it, God loves it, God keeps it.
The same can be said for our own efforts at keeping the faith in the face of so much paradox. As Friday showed me, there are many making their way along the same path, and they are looking for company.
At Holy Trinity, we are also setting aside time for conversation. One such gathering will be at Kofenya, 38 W. High Street on Friday, Oct. 25 from 11am-1pm. I hope you can come and share your ideas, concerns and joys with the group over a bagel and coffee.
One of the themes that is emerging from our conversations so far is that of hospitality. I am excited to see how that is beginning to play out in what we do and our plans for the year. Whatever small seed may be taking root at Holy Trinity right now, may God make it, love it, and keep it. And may there be room for many voices helping shape whatever grows in our midst.
The buckeye is coming your way. What do you want to say?
Photo: Northwest Ohio Nature website, http://www.ohio-nature.com/buckeye-tree.html, accessed 10-15-13.
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