Last week I had a great lunch and discussion at Seton Cove, a local center for spirituality and renewal. If you haven’t discovered it yet—and it’s not easy to find (and if you go, you need to go early to find a parking space)—check out some of the goings-on at setoncove.net.
The program focused on a question from Barbara Brown Taylor’s recent book, An Altar in the World: A Geography of Faith. Taylor, an Episcopal priest and seminary/college professor, is quite possibly the best Christian writer in the business today. Her theological instincts are impeccable and her style is so elegant and wise.
Some years back, Taylor was asked to speak at a church in Alabama. The topic was intriguing: come tell us what is saving your life now. Each chapter in the book is a tentative answer to that question. Taylor’s quest takes her beyond the usual spiritual practices into a world filled with altars and worshippers.
“I do not have to choose between the Sermon on the Mount and the magnolia trees. God can come to me by a still pool on the big island of Hawaii as well as at the altar of the Washington Cathedral. The House of God stretches from one corner of the universe to the other. Sea monsters and ostriches live in it, along with people who pray in languages I do not speak, whose names I will never know.”
Taylor’s reflections took me back to an altar that sustained me through my turbulent teenaged years. Our family summer cottage on Lake Simcoe. I’m not sure I saw it so at the time, but now as I look back, remembering days lost in wonder and play, I’m seeing a ladder and all of the divine traffic moving up and down.
Beyond church and church camps, where have you found an altar in the world? What is saving your life now?
Tuesday, November 23, 2010
Monday, November 15, 2010
Kids Say the Darndest Things
Last Sunday, in between services, I paused ever so briefly for coffee and a deep breath of cool autumn air in our courtyard. One of our young children was on the play-set and Dad was watching.
“Who is he today,” I asked, because his child was clearly in a world unto himself.
“These days, he mostly been a tortoise,” Dad offered.
A tortoise. All week, I’ve been a race car driver, a rocket ship pilot, a marathon runner in high gear. A tortoise. Slow down. Enjoy the view. Practice breathing. Don’t forget to exhale. Yes.
And then after leading ECC chapel on Monday, another child. Ingrid, our youth director, met me in the lower hall outside the courtyard door. One of the young ones from chapel was standing at the door.
“How was chapel?” Ingrid asked the little guy.
He got this big smile on his face and began jumping up and down. Didn’t say anything, just jumped, over and over again, grinning wider on each jump.
“Don’t you wish folks would react like that after Sunday services?” Ingrid laughed.
Indeed.
“Who is he today,” I asked, because his child was clearly in a world unto himself.
“These days, he mostly been a tortoise,” Dad offered.
A tortoise. All week, I’ve been a race car driver, a rocket ship pilot, a marathon runner in high gear. A tortoise. Slow down. Enjoy the view. Practice breathing. Don’t forget to exhale. Yes.
And then after leading ECC chapel on Monday, another child. Ingrid, our youth director, met me in the lower hall outside the courtyard door. One of the young ones from chapel was standing at the door.
“How was chapel?” Ingrid asked the little guy.
He got this big smile on his face and began jumping up and down. Didn’t say anything, just jumped, over and over again, grinning wider on each jump.
“Don’t you wish folks would react like that after Sunday services?” Ingrid laughed.
Indeed.
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