Rhythm of worship

For all your preacher types out there and those of you who know a preacher type, we have 24 worship services a week here on Iona. Seven morning worship services, seven evening services and five services offering prayers for peace and justice. Communion is served at least once a week, often twice. There are two church musicians, a sacristan, an assistance sacristan, and they are all laity. One clergy type hangs around, but is there largely to preside at communion. Each service is led by a resident or volunteer staff member, and communion is led by a clergy person that is present or invited to preside. Prayers for peace and justice are at 2 p.m. each Monday – Thursday, and Saturday. This is a very brief service, with occasional music, and often it is interrupted by touring groups. Morning worship Monday through Thursday is the same. It is a service of affirmation and prayers which prepares us for our day. As we offer prayers for countries and people by name, we don’t say amen when we reach the conclusion, but leave the church to begin our day of work. On Sunday morning it is our large worship service complete with a sermon and communion. Friday mornings worship is a leaving service, as that is our guest’s final service with us and we offer them prayers for safe travel and continued journey of faith. The evening services all vary. They are: Saturday evening – Service of Hospitality (new guests arrive) Sunday evening – Quiet service Monday evening – world space (reflecting on the needs of the world) Tuesday evening – Healing service (prayers for healing and wellness) Wednesday evening – Creative space (led by guests) Thursday evening – Table space (communion or agape service) Friday evening – Inner space (reflective service) Each evening they are led by a different member of resident staff, and it is so interesting to see how each approaches the service. While the worship book – the green Iona Worship book – offers a liturgical outline, the gist of the service may depend on the topic of the week or the personal interests of the staff member. Recently we had services on refugees, immigration and the uneasiness of 24/7 living. One of the most difficult services for me to attend in terms of personal experience is the Tuesday evening service of Healing. During that service the names of those who have requested prayer for specific things are read aloud. Then a circle is created and those wishing to have hands laid upon them come forward and kneel. We offer the prayer - “Spirit of the living God, present with us now, enter you body, mind and spirit, and heal you of all that harms you, In Jesus name Amen.” Tuesday evening last I was asked to assist with the laying on of hands and I did. In God’s small world one of the people I laid hands on had been on the plane from Newark to Glasgow with me. But by far my favourite service is the Wednesday evening service. It is led by the guests of the Abbey and MacLeod Centre. As a general rule, this service is pretty great, but I imagine this week it will be amazing as we have a very talented group of young people in the Mac. Two of them played violin and flute earlier this week and two people in the service actually thought it was recorded music. The most wonderful thing is that this is primarily lay led worship, and it is profound. This is a thin place.

Coffee

If you know me at all you are aware of my great appreciation of coffee. Coffee needs to be fresh and well made. It can be hot or cold, but finely roasted and brewed to perfection. Bad coffee is just bad. Instant coffee maybe worse. One of my sheer delights in Cambodia was their delight in preparing coffee. One of my major disappointments in Israel was the lack of appreciation for fine coffee. So you may think it odd in a country largely devoted to tea, that my coffee horizon has been expanded yet again. On Friday evenings we have staff session. The guests are gone and we enjoy some time together in a learning situation. This past week a young male volunteer shared with us his experiences from having lived on a coffee plantation in Peru for a semester. While explaining to us the intricacies and the politics of coffee, of the poor regions that produce it and of the wealthy regions that consume it, he actually roasted coffee. In a pan on the stove top. Before our eyes it went from green beans to a dark rich oily ready for brewing brown, which we then ground and brewed. There is apparently a small movement of people who are “home roasters” of their coffee. (Probably a slightly more excitable group than those that do home beer brewing.) He also explained the differences between sustainable coffee, organic coffee and fair trade coffee farming. Each has its own distracters and merits with organic being the most expensive to produce and purchase with little gain for the farmer. Sustainable is the most ecological means of growth and fair trade being the most profitable in the long run. For example, when we by a three dollar coffee at St. Arbucks, about 3 -5 cents makes its way back to the grower. In fair trade, the return to the coffee farmer may be as much as 20 cents (depending on the number of people between the farmer and the consumer). If you purchase coffee from a cooperative, such as Equal exchange, the farmer gets the most return for their efforts. So in our struggles to personally determine those things we can do to actually make an impact to help our neighbour, here is a rather simple one; purchase fair trade coffee. At a minimum. This creates a thin place.

From worship Monday evening

from the purple Church hymnary we use in worship Then I will love the world you make, And I will love the gift you give, And I will drink its heart in, And I will make my home in it and praise the Maker.

Below are two images, my favourite and least favourite things. One is the image of the sea just off the White Strand of the Monks on the North end of the island, Mull is across the sound. The second is oats weighed out for porridge. That’s porridge for 40.

Recycle, Reuse, Redoing

I just wanted to comment publicly about the absence or near absence of recycling in most US cities. And I realize some places do well but we could all do more. My home city does not have curb side pick up for recycling, but I do believe there is a place where you might be able to drop off some things. I say might, because I heard about it thru someone else, but have never confirmed it. I live in one of the ten largest cities in the state, and there is no obvious effort to recycle. I say that because I am currently on a very small island off the West Coast of Scotland which you cannot accidently get to. It is two islands away from the largest land mass and metropolitan area. It is serviced by a ferry that operates from 7 a.m. to 7 p.m. There is no bank on the island, it comes (by ferry) on Wednesday afternoons. And the entire island recycles everything. All veggie waste and some paper go into compost. Every piece of paper is used twice, once on the front and once on the back. Our plastic, glass and cans are all sorted, either to be recycled or reused for storage, cleaning or crafts. And it is not simply the Iona community, but the whole of the island that participates. Everyone has two to three bins that will be emptied by the proper truck, when it comes to the island by ferry. Each morning we open worship with – the world belongs to God, the earth and all its people. Perhaps we need to live into that.

Red coat

I must share with you the story of the red coat as it spans two of my recent adventures. Upon learning that I was heading to Cambodia last year my brother began reading up on Cambodian history including the entire nasty ordeal involving the Khmer Rouge (Red Cambodians). He warned me to watch out for the Khmer Rouge, and I assured him, sort of, that they were gone and there was really nothing to fear. In preparation for my departure to Cambodia I was having a pedicure and talking with my Vietnamese friend. And she told me in very heavily accented English “be sure to take a ‘red coat’”. While I thought I had sufficiently prepared for the trip I did not have a ‘red coat’. So I asked why? And she said umbrella no good, need ‘red coat’. Check. Rain coat. When I told my brother he just shook his head and said “Khmer Rouge.” In preparation for coming to Iona I purchased an interesting hoodie with built in ear buds, so that you can plug your IPod into the pocket and hear it through the hoodie strings. It was a great price on sale, and it could be left behind on Iona, thus freeing up valuable luggage space and weight. Most of all it was distinctive enough, or so I thought, that I might stand out. You see, the hoodie is bright red. Not unique to Iona, apparently every third person has a red coat, including every one of the Swedish guests we had last week. So in a vain effort to stand out in the end I am not distinctive at all. Maybe that’s a thin place.

Playing together

As you might well expect if we live together and work together, then it can only stand to reason that we play together. We are obligated to work 7.5 hours a day with 1.5 days off a week. And although it is a tiny island, we folk can come up with some various ways to play. Some are quite energetic. A few of the young folk have gathered some bicycles and they use them as a quick means of getting around on the island, and while their have been some crashes it doesn’t deter them. This week three of the young people, two of my kitchen buddies, road to the south end of the island and explored the caves while the tide was out. In celebration of the summer solstice a bonfire was planned on the North beach and several of the young people were out a good bit of the evening. A few nights ago we had the Sacristans Olympics which consisted of a competition about arranging chairs, worship books and hymnals and cleaning candles. It was great fun, and my team came in second place. After the Olympics, the young people were having a dance. I was invited, but since the start time was midnight, I politely declined. But it was nice to be asked. My favourite pastime is to go for walks. Being an island there is an abundance of beaches and all seem different. Some are sandy, another is white sand, one seems to be made up of crushed shells, another is a pebbly beach and still another is a rocky beach. I am carefully trying NOT to collect stones from all over the place, and have moved to picking up bits of sea glass and sea pottery (although I have a sneaky suspicion someone on Mull breaks glass and pottery and throws them into the sea so they wash up on Iona). My plan is to perhaps gather enough to make a cross for my wall at home. But here is the thing; regardless of what you set out to do someone else wants to know what you are doing and if they might come along. Everyone on staff includes everyone else on staff, so that no one is ever left out. While I feel certain the young folk may have been a bit appalled if I had actually gone to the dance, I am as equally certain that they would have fully included me. It is as if we have extended the inclusive communion table of Iona to our entire lives. What would our lives look like if we lived, worked and played that way? That would certainly be a thin place.

working together

My job is in the kitchen. And I love working in the kitchen. The chief cook is a young woman who darts about from place to place like an over caffeinated bumble bee. She appears from nowhere by your side and asks you if you might be interested in working on this task. It is her job to select the menu, and herd four volunteers through the task of preparing meals, cakes and cookies for various gatherings, bread for breakfast and communion. She has to manage meals for those with special diets and prepare orders so that we have all the ingredients necessary to carry out her plans. And it is no small administrative task… consider that this past week I made hummus from scratch for 60 and guacamole using a recipe that began, “take 12 ripe avocados.” It is not uncommon for you to peel and chop 30 carrots for one soup. Today I made shortbread for the welcome gathering of new guests; the recipe begins with blend 750 kg of butter and 750 kg of sugar. I filled two commercial ovens with baking shortbread. The menus vary from week to week and it is not at all limited to traditional “Scottish food” (although there are turnips, parsnips and bangers [sausage] occasionally). The food is primarily vegetarian, although we have meat 2 – 3 times a week. We have soup at least once a day, all freshly made in the kitchen. The soups wildly vary, and I am convinced if it can be peeled, boiled and blended, we can make it into a soup. Fridays are my favourite/least favourite (auto spell check on a Scottish computer) days in the kitchen. It is my least favourite because we clean the entire kitchen, but it is my most favourite because we also have staff lunch when the whole of the volunteer and resident staff gather for a common meal. We share the leftovers of the week and the richness of our time together. We share stories of the week we have had and look forward to the week that is to come. It is a wonderful way to pass the time and It is a thin place.

Living together

Part of the experience of coming to Iona as a volunteer is the opportunity to live in community with others. You will live in a house with 14 – 15 other volunteers from all over the world. Together you share living, eating, relaxing, bathing and sleeping space. So, 15 of us share 1 kitchen, 1 common room, 2 showers, and four toilets. We have three bedrooms that each sleeps five. In my sleeping quarters I share with two young women under 22, one young woman who will celebrate her 30th birthday in a couple of weeks and there are two of us on the other side of 50. We all have comings and goings, and while there is some similarity of time, our schedules vary. I have only actually seen one of my roommates twice, she tends to work the very early shift and come in very early in the morning. So today I had the luxury of a day off, and was in bed until 9, while all my other roommates quietly got up and went about their preparations for going to work. You learn to move swiftly and purposely to get out of the room. By the same token you get quite good at coming in quietly, many of the young people stay out well past my bed time (which is difficult to gauge, since the sun sets at 11 p.m.), and rarely do I hear them come in. We share responsibilities for cleaning our spaces, rotating between bath/shower, kitchen and common room, in addition to cleaning our rooms. And we do it together at a scheduled time on Tuesday evening. On Friday mornings we have a scheduled time to gather and discuss the problems that we are experiencing living together. We talk about having to clean up after ourselves, picking up things we leave behind and washing our own dishes. There is no screaming or complaining, simply the acknowledgement from each of us that if we did our parts our life together is so much easier. Fifteen people from six different countries agree that we can improve our common life by working together. What would it mean if we each worked with 15 other people to make our little place in the world; work, home, play a little better place? That would be a thin place.

Sunday worship

Oddly enough, it is Sunday and also my day off, which is so odd, because I can’t recall the last time I had a Sunday off. The day began in a wonderful way on Saturday night. I went to the Staff sing on Saturday evening, yes, I know me singing. But they needed more deep voices, and I certainly qualify. So it was a good bit of fun, until that is I was informed that we were singing in the Abbey for Saturday evening service. Let me simply say the acoustics in an ancient Abbey can do wonders for the not so melodious voice. It was an excellent bit of fun. Worship is at 10:45 Sunday morning, so I felt a bit like a lazy slugabout not getting on the move early but it was grand sleeping in a bit. And the morning assisted as it was gray and dreary. Our guests in the Mac don’t arrive until Monday, so there is a shortage of people to volunteer to assist in worship, therefore, I was able to assist with communion this morning. Essentially I ushered in the Abbey, doing both the collection and offering bread. A wonderful tradition of the Abbey is that on Sundays you are given an oatcake as you leave the church, and asked to give it to someone that you have just met, hence continuing the communion table into the world. What a deacon like thing to do! Sunday lunch is a very important meal, it is typically the first big meal that our new guests received. All the Mac staff are eating in the Abbey until our guests arrived, and it was a banquet. We had pork meatballs with apricot sauce, broccoli, beets and roasted tatties (potatoes). And for pudding (desert) we had pastry puffs with cream cheese and chocolate sauce. Certainly a nap would seem in order. But I gathered up my energy and walked to the Machair, to sit on the stony beach and gaze out at the Bay at the back of the ocean, which oddly enough faces North America (more Nova Scotia than the U.S.). It had turned into such a lovely day. The oyster crackers, a small black sea bird with a long orange beak designed to crack oysters, were screaming that I was too close to their nest. Eventually they calmed down. Evening worship on Sunday is a quiet service, literally. There is a brief introduction, a prayer is begun and then you are to pray in silence in this ancient place, with all these new friends. It is moving. And holy. And last night someone was offering snores to God. This is a thin place.

Cast into the dark ages

We were without power this morning. Plunged into the dark ages. Not really. Seriously the electricity was out, but it was a bright day, although a bit rainy. So there was this interesting movement from the convenience of electricity to the practicality of gas. Tea wasn’t instantly created by using water from the hot pot, but we practiced patience while waiting for (and not watching for) water to boil on the stove. The housekeepers built a fire in the fireplace to warm the common room while they folded sheets and linens. There was no panic, well maybe a little, when several of us realized our “bed head” was worse than anticipated and there was no gas powered straighteners available. But hats quickly covered that situation. There was no option of not working or adapting. With or without power we had to make the house ready for guests that we are expecting. So here on a remote island off the west coast of Scotland, in the shadow of a Medieval Abbey, we prepared for guests without electricity, but plenty of power. There was a sense of unreal reality to the situation. And there was no cheer at 10:30 a.m. when power was restored, we simply continued the day. About an hour later one of the housekeepers came into the kitchen and asked, “when did we get power back?” This was a (cold) thin place

Leftovers

Some of my most favourite meals on the Island are staff meals, when the guests are gone. We don’t ever serve guests leftovers, only our very best. But all the leftovers are kept and we serve them at our staff meals. There is a very real sense that we are eating what others wouldn’t or couldn’t eat. Both houses also eat together. We serve ourselves buffet style, in usually random order. Typically meat dishes are in short supply, and often go first, but the group is good enough to take only a little so that all may have some. Even those with special dietary needs, have enough. God provides. And staff meals are one of the few times we get to carry on a continuous conversation. When we dine with guests there are so many new people that you want to meet that rarely do you dine with the same person or couple. Each meal seems to be a mini-interrogation, where are you from, what do you do, how did you hear about Iona? At staff meals you can develop a sense of family and we can have conversations that are longer than 20 minutes. So at staff meals we enjoy our left overs and no one is left out. This is a thin place.

Settling into a new routine

Which remains for only a short time. It has been a joy to return to the island, there are so many new faces and a few familiar ones. Most of the practices, rituals if will are the same, but some have changed. There is a large presence of college aged volunteers from the U.S. at present, because European universities have not released yet. There is such an exciting spirit overall in the place even with all the coming and goings. Even in those who have been here for six weeks, they carry a spirit of renewal. The work is hard, perhaps even tedious and maybe that is what feeds the spirit. In our routine and mundane world we often push aside, forego or even delegate to others the difficult and dirty tasks. Maybe there is blessing in actually putting our hands to the plow (and in my case that is my hand in a bucket of warm soapy water. There seems to be a real sense that we are all in this together, taking care of the routine, so that others may come and join us for a time. It clearly creates in my mind the link between what we do for God and what we do in the world, and the tiny gap that must be bridged. How and where do we build that bridge? This is a thin place.

Catching up

I haven arrived back on Iona, and the weather was amazing. It was my just trip across Mull on a beautiful day. So that was wonderful.my delay in posting has been due to having my niece and cousin with me. So the tourist stuff took additional time, but also more fun, to see things with those who are seeing them for the first time. Did manage a climb up to McCaig's Folly, which over looks the town of Oban. Understand it sits on a hill above the town of Oban. The climb is largely straight up. I was calling for oxygen about half way up. It was meant to be a means to honor the town and employ men who were not able to get jobs. But he died and the money dried up, so it was never finished. So it is an expensive and interesting conversation piece. On top of a big hill. We came to Iona Wednesday the 13th and I started work today. I am only in the kitchen, and playing tour guide. More to come worship approaches.

Pilgrims and Pilgrimages

Yet the Lord pleads with you still. Ask where the good road is, the godly paths you used to walk in, in the days of long ago. Travel there, and you will find rest for your souls. Jeremiah 6:16 As of late I have become enamored of pilgrimages and pilgrims. When coming to Iona they ask that guests not consider it a retreat, because you are not here to get away from it all, you are here to immerse yourself in the depths of it all. You are to consider it a pilgrimage, a journey of inner examination, be that spiritual, religious or existential. And while I am North American enough to see images of men in tall black hats and brogue shoes when I hear the word pilgrim, I know there is so much more to it than that. A purposeful journey of exploration, where the purpose may or may not be revealed to the traveler that is a pilgrimage. Often the pilgrim is one who goes to some sacred site for the revelation that awaits them, but a pilgrimage may also be within a book, or movie, or image or within yourself. I put some recommendations in the book space on the blog for those interested in pilgrimages, near or far, in or out. The road is for the journey, not the destination.

Searching again

While the calendar may say June 20 this year is the first day of summer, we actually measure the start of summer in many different ways. Some say it’s when the kids get out of school, some say it is Memorial day weekend. For me, two things typically mark the beginning of my summer. One, the spring semester is over. All my end of the semester reports are done, and summer time begins. This year the spring semester was completed on May 13. The other way I measure the onset of summer is by temperature, and in Northwest Louisiana when the temperature gets to 90 F and the humidity matches it, that’s summer. Occurred about May 10th this year. Regardless of what measure I use, summer time is my searching time, and it is now time for another search. I embark again on a search for thin places, by returning to a familiar local – Scotland and the Isle of Iona. As a reminder, the name of the blog “searching for thin places” is a reference to finding those places where heaven and earth are not separated. The Celts believed that a “thin place” was just such a place. The Isle of Iona is celebrated as a thin place. I want to believe that there is no separation between the spaces, but our preoccupation with life as we experience it, causes the gap. When we take the time and are mindful, we locate these places. For me, I am striving to make the search a daily occurrence and not a summer time activity. But for now… I remove myself from the typical daily existence and enter into a new rhythm of life on a tiny island off the west coast of Scotland, where I don’t have to travel to see the world, because the world comes to rest there. Join me.