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Dear Folks,

Last September I began a training program in Spiritual Direction at the Haden Institute in Hendersonville, North Carolina. To be honest, I didn’t quite know what I was getting myself into. As we went around the circle in our first small group session, my cohort members shared compelling stories of relationship stress, career changes, personal loss and growth. “Spiritual direction is a portal to what’s now and what’s next,” said one person. Our mentor added, “This work will strip you naked. It’s hard and it’s good. And the human being you discover is always so beautiful.” My group laughed when I admitted I thought I’d signed up for a long weekend instead of a two-year course— “I wondered how we were going to get all that work done in four days!” But whatever had brought us to each other, I was thankful for the company and the challenges ahead.

Spiritual direction involves deep listening. The “answer” to whatever question one might bring is waiting to be discovered within the directee, by the directee. Because our lives are often chockablock full of distractions or appointments, what one is seeking can be obscured by words and old habits, or by the judgments we carry about the feelings we feel or the thoughts that we think. Deep listening, on the other hand, honors the individual’s soul and trusts its capacity to embrace whatever it finds. It begins with the assumption that the human is precious, that the divine is present with her and within her, and that this Soul is eager to be found.

For thousands of years mystics have discovered and refined practices that develop a relationship to God (or Spirit or Presence) and that deepen this connection within an individual. Spiritual direction, then, is an ancient path for seekers, religious and otherwise, who long to find themselves, or meaning, or purpose by searching for the divine. The practice might include periods of silence, intentional breathing, keeping a journal, walking as prayer, or inviting an image to speak.

The spiritual director acts as a mid-wife—not causing the new birth or even bringing it—but present to the directee’s labor and encouraging it, knowing when to wait and when to push, creating as much safety as possible in an inherently risky situation. Soul work, like being born, moves through the dark. Spiritual direction is to hold space and time for the one who is giving birth and for the one who is being born. The director resists the temptation to control or manage the work that the directee has brought, choosing instead to tend a space of compassion for the directee to do what only she can do.

The curriculum at the Haden Institute is grounded in the work and writing of Karl Jung, and so a significant dimension of spiritual direction is dreamwork. Here’s the frame: each human is made up of the conscious (waking reality), the personal unconscious (memories and experiences that for whatever reason are not available to the conscious mind), and the collective unconscious (the realm of archetypes, images, and the poetic which is older than time and shared by all human beings). Dreams are a gift from the dream maker (God, Spirit, Creation) and they intend our wholeness, seeking to integrate the unconscious with the conscious. Images are the language of dreams, and the individual dreamer is the only one who can know what the images mean for him or her, though dreams can be worked in a group setting. And because the collective unconscious is shared by all human beings, one can be trained to receive another’s dream and invite its images to speak to you, as well.

Would you like to know more about the divine spirit that lives and moves within you? Contact Thomasina Wharton at the Center for Wellbeing  or me.

Love,
David

Inscribed on a column of the Temple of Apollo in the ancient Greek city of Delphi was the philosophical axiom: know thyself. These words are attributed to Socrates when asked about the totality of ALL philosophical axioms.  He supposedly replied, “The unexamined life is not worth living. Know thyself.”  I am reminded of Our Lord’s response to the scribe who asked about the “greatest commandment.” Jesus replied with the Shema, Hear, O Israel: The Lord our God, the Lord is One.^[a]  Love the Lord your God with all your heart and with all your soul and with all your mind and with all your strength.’^[ The second is this: ‘Love your neighbor as yourself.’^[c] There is no commandment greater than these.”

Even though we know that Christianity was formed in the crucible of Greek philosophy, what could the words of an Aramaic-speaking Jewish man of the first century CE and a Greek-speaking man of the fourth century BCE have in common?

A hint lies in the second chapter of the Gospel of John, where we read how the people who encountered Jesus in Jerusalem during Passover were enamored of him and the signs he showed. Yet, the Scripture says that Jesus was not moved by their admiration and pleasure because he understood human beings’ fickle nature. (cf. vv24-25) In other words, they “believed” in him, but he did not “believe” in them.  The same Greek word, pisteuo, is used for “entrust” and “believe” in this verse:  Jesus knew that the likes and dislikes of unenlightened human nature shift like the sands of time.

It is important to know who we are at our core because that is all that remains of us.  We are each “one heartbeat away from physical death,” as one spiritual teacher puts it.  To know ourselves is to recognize our multi-dimensional nature, usually accessed only in dreams and visions, meditation, or deep prayer, and to identify with that nature instead of the one we usually attach ourselves to (roles in life, material possessions, people, places, or other things).

If G-D, the Creator of all things, is ONE, then all that is created is a manifestation of that creator’s Oneness in a variety of forms—animal, vegetable, or mineral. We humans are also of oneness—a spiritual, emotional, mental, and physical whole. Studying and learning to understand who we are enables us to understand why we are here, ordaining purpose for living in this place and at this time.

Do not be fooled; we are each as much a part of all (the good, the bad, and the ugly) that occurs on this planet as any person we could choose to point a finger at. We, members of the human collective, are ONE and manifestations of the Unity, the very fabric of all that IS.  Likewise, being expressions of the DIVINE ONE makes us, at our core, lovers, just like G-D.  It is the imago dei within us.  In this dual reality, we live betwixt and between love and hate, war and peace, joy and sorrow, life and death.  Our earthly learning is about balance and harmony of all we think, do, or say.

To know ourselves is to hold our loving, generous, kind, peaceful, patient, and whole (holy) natures as well as our anger, fears, insecurities, manipulations, avoidances, and feelings of inadequacy, worthlessness, and doubts simultaneously—with compassion.  No small work, but Jesus did it, and we can do it too.  The Spirit of G-D lives in that inner-dimensional space to help us when (if) we ask. We have our whole lives to become as Jesus was (is) because there is always more.

It is this possibility of more that can be our catalyst into the unknown and to seek to shift and change from what is to what can be.  In the book, Prayers of the Cosmos, we understood the ONE Jesus called “Father” as total all-encompassing POSSIBILITY.  This dynamism is so out of alignment with our feared need for stability and unchangeability that it shuts out the Mystery of what can be.  But, this may be the only place left to stand in at the end of this present darkness.

The season of Eastertide in the Christian church is a wide-open door to celebrate LIFE in its fullness, even after so-called “death.”  Like Christ Jesus, the stories we listen to during our current adult forums talk of rebirth and new, true life, where the old life is surrendered for something new and amazingly GOOD!  We can honor the feelings of fear, loss, and darkness with compassion for ourselves while expecting and looking forward to the Light of the new life to erupt within us and in the world around us, just like winter inevitably cycles into spring.  Know yourself.  You are SO LOVED!

Freda Marie+

When I was a little girl, my family hosted two women from the Philippines who were touring the U.S. as part of a choir. They stayed for only a few days, but I grew fond of them very quickly. When it was time to say goodbye, I was heartbroken. I still remember how sad I felt when I walked into the room where they’d stayed in our home, after they had gone. On the dresser sat a tiny, brown kitten figurine left behind for me as a gift, which I kept for many years.

Goodbyes are hard, even and especially when they are indeed good. Good, because what has been shared and experienced together has been good. Good, because the reasons for leaving are good. Good, because we have been changed for the better, having been in each other’s lives traveling side-by-side for a season. Good, because we know about the transition ahead of time, and have enough time to say goodbye, properly. Goodbyes are hard, even and especially when they are indeed good.

By now, most of you have read the message sent out this past Monday about our coming staff transitions (click HERE) and are now “digesting” and processing. I imagine you, like me, may find yourself navigating a sea of thoughts and emotions. Sadness for us, mixed with joy and anticipation for the new experiences that lie ahead for Freda Marie, Rebecca, Barb and Chuan (Retirement! England! Elliott learning to speak with a British accent!). Some of you may be feeling anxious and concerned about so many goodbyes happening, one right after the other. Others, who have been a part of churches and institutions for a long time, may feel less so, having lived through and experienced many iterations and seasons of change before. “The only constant in life is change” was one of the favorite sayings of a mentor of mine, the head of a school in Colorado where we worked together in my twenties; I understand and accept the truth of this saying much more now than I did back then!

During seasons of transition, change and goodbyes, like the one in which we find ourselves — in addition to honoring and tending to feelings of grief, loss and sadness — I also find strength and solace in practicing 3 “habits”:

• Gratitude — Naming and acknowledging all the gifts that have been given and shared …
• Curiosity — Wondering with a genuinely open mind-heart about who and what new people and experiences lie ahead, just around the bend …
• Presence — Being fully present in the Now, getting “out of my head” and fully experiencing each Present Moment as each moment unfolds, breath after breath after breath …

I will be practicing all of the above, in the coming weeks and months, and I invite you to practice them with me!

Even though Easter Sunday was 11 days ago, we are still in Eastertide and the early days of springtime, when all around us we are reminded that Resurrection and new life begin in the dark. And our modern English word “goodbye” originates from the phrase God be with you:

God is with you and with me
in the dark and in the light
in our comings and goings
our endings and beginnings
in our sorrow and joy
in our inbreath and outbreath
in the threshold and on the cliff
in the heartache and heartglow
in the absence and in the presence
in the past, present, future
God be with you and with me

Love,
Cristina

Dear all,

On Saturday evening, some members of the congregation gathered in the church as the day’s light fell. It wasn’t fully dark yet at 7 pm – more of a thick, expectant gloom. There were young children and older people; members of youth group, Confirmation class, and the Connections Choir. Everyone received a candle when they entered. In the quiet, we waited.

Then, fire.

David lit the Paschal flame, the new fire of Easter, resting in a bowl on the floor in front of the altar. From that flame he lit the Paschal Candle, the light that shines throughout the Easter season and during baptisms and funerals, reminding us of the resurrection that shines light and new life even through death. From the Paschal Candle we lit our own small candles, and shared the light with the congregation until the church was glowing with the light of Christ that shines in each of us.

In the glow, we listened to stories from scripture and the words of prayers that told our own story – of our salvation, our redemption, our new life in Christ. We renewed our vows to that life, committing again to all that God’s love calls forth from us, and vowed to support all those being baptized do the same. And then we welcomed five members of our parish youth, from second grade to twelfth grade, into that new life in Christ by water and the Spirit in Holy Baptism.

The Easter Vigil was and is a powerful illustration of Cristina’s sermon from Sunday morning. Resurrection starts in the dark – new life starts in the dark. There in the dim and glowing sanctuary, there in the darkening gloom, we sought that new life. We looked for the resurrection. Only after the time in the dark did we find it, first with the lighting of the Paschal flame, then with the lighting of the Paschal Candle, and the passing of light from person to person. And only after all our own lights were shining did light fully break in the church when we threw on lights with our cries of “Alleluia, Christ is risen!” “The Lord is risen indeed, Alleluia!” after the baptisms were concluded.

When I find myself in the gloom, down deep, where resurrection or redemption feel too far to hope for, it is the little lights I try to look for. There are times when the pain of this world – the human suffering we cause, the intentional and unintentional damage to one another and the planet, the systems of sin with which we are entangled, the personal griefs that weigh us down – feel so large and overwhelming that they appear insurmountable. The joyful noise and bright lights of the Easter proclamation seem far away. In those moments, I try to look for the little lights, the ones held by the people around me, warm and glowing. We each have one, whether we are at the Vigil or not. A kindness, a gesture, a friendship, a smile. They are reminders of the indwelling of the Spirit and God’s eternal love, here among us and within us, even in the gloom, even deep down. This Eastertide, may we carry with us those little lights, for ourselves and for the world.

Love,
Rebecca+

 

Dear Folks,

When you need space and time to talk with a spouse or a child or a friend, have you ever resorted to a long drive to give you a captive audience, buckled up together and travelling 60 miles an hour? Perhaps you were the one who had been strapped in? My wife had an aunt who planned a two-week trip through the Bavarian countryside with her husband of 37 years. Admiring their photos when they returned home, I asked how they had chosen Austria and Germany to visit, and my aunt didn’t miss a beat. “Honey, I just needed a country with highways and rental cars! We could have been anywhere. After four decades of marriage, I had a few things to say, and I needed my husband to just sit there and listen.” After a pause she continued, “Really it was this: Neither one of us had said often enough, ‘I care about you’ and ‘Thank you’ or ‘I’m sorry.’ We’d stopped asking ‘Where does it hurt?’ or sharing ‘I hurt sometimes, too.’ Before it was too late, I wanted to see what shape we were in.” Then smiling, she told me, “So I snapped myself into the driver’s seat, and didn’t let him out for 700 miles!”

A friend told me about a similar experience with his five-year-old son. The boy had misbehaved, so as he sat in his car seat in the back, the father delivered a speech on the way home from school. After the dad had finished, there was a period of silence, and then the boy said, “I hear you daddy, and I’m sorry.” And then he asked, “Daddy, how come you tell me all the things I don’t want to hear, but you never say the words I want you to say?” Amen. I think the kindergartener is telling the story of our lives: so often we get the news we don’t want, but seldom hear the words we long for: “I love you. Where does it hurt? I hurt sometimes, too.”

The news this week has been devastating: a ship losing control, an essential bridge collapsing in seconds, six men filling potholes on the graveyard shift falling to their death… battle lines drawn and redrawn in Israel and Haiti… elected officials fiddling while Kharkiv burns. How many of us put our fingers in our ears, just to keep moving in the morning? Are we forgetting what we need to say about justice and compassion? Do we practice hearing God’s still, small voice, which offers peace as a better, more lasting alternative to war? Do we remember how to do the hard work of listening to each other and ourselves? What do you need to hear?

Sometimes breaking our accustomed patterns helps, and that is what the trio of days from Maundy Thursday through Good Friday and Holy Saturday offer. If you are willing, jump in the car with parishioners and staff this evening, Friday, and Saturday, moving through each liturgy and experience planned for us, to see what Spirit is saying to you and doing for all of us. The trip won’t be the same without you.

Love,
David

Maundy Thursday, March 28 @ 6:30 p.m. Parish Hall – The Last Supper
Join us around a big table in the parish hall with your own brown bag supper, recreating the first Eucharist with bread and wine, sharing experiences of hope and healing from our Lenten journey. Then we’ll walk in silence to the church to strip the altar, an ancient preparation for Good Friday.

Good Friday, March 29
11:00 a.m. Walk Through Holy Week Designed for children ages 5-11, but appealing to anyone who learns best through stories. Participants will gather in the chapel (entering through the choir room); follow the person with the water jug; sit in on the Last Supper; and walk along with the cross, learning the stories of Holy Week as they go. Children younger than 5 are welcome if attended by an adult.

12:00 – 1:00 p.m. Good Friday Liturgy, a poignant service of prayers and silence.

1:15 – 2:30 p.m. History Committee Walk: Join members of our history committee as they lead a walking tour of our church and campus as a way to highlight some of their findings about Redeemer’s relationship with the institution of slavery and the era of Jim Crow. We will gather outside of the chapel to begin our walk. Please wear comfortable shoes!

2:30 – 3:15 p.m. Embodied Prayer & Stations of the Cross: Vivian Campagna & Cristina Paglinauan will lead us through a series of guided meditations, prayer postures and simple, gentle yoga — intertwined with the poetry of Pádraig Ó’Tuama — offering an intuitive and integrative experience of the stations of the cross. No prior yoga experience necessary. You can bring a yoga mat or blanket, or sit in the pews or in a chair.

**Our labyrinth will be set up in the Parish Hall, along with the traditional stations of the cross, for anyone to walk on Friday afternoon between 12-4 p.m.**

Easter Vigil, March 30 @ 7:00 p.m.
We will gather in the church to kindle the Paschal flame and move from darkness to light while telling the story of our salvation history. If you have any bells, tambourines, or noisemakers, please bring them.

Easter, March 31
7:30 a.m. Chapel – Holy Eucharist, Rite 1

9:00 a.m. Church – Holy Eucharist, Rite 2 with music by the Redeemer Choir, Choir School of Baltimore, brass, and timpani

Easter Egg Hunt follows the 9:00 a.m. service on the day school playground

11:00 a.m. Church – Holy Eucharist, Rite 2 with music by the Redeemer Choir, brass and timpani

As we move closer to Holy Week, I feel especially grateful to have undertaken the study of Prayers of the Cosmos, with a group of fellow Jesus-followers each Sunday of this Lenten season.  This book of commentary and translation by Dr. Neil Douglas-Klotz is subtitled “Reflections on the Original Meaning of Jesus’ Words.” I can truly say the author’s elucidation of the Aramaic words of Jesus has blown my mind in all kinds of ways.  It has given new breath, meaning, and energy to my praying “The Lord’s Prayer” from my past recitations. 

The Prayer is found in Matthew and Luke’s gospels, with the shorter version in Luke.  If you should ever have an opportunity to do a wiki search for the prayer, you might be as amazed as I was by the way the traditional language has been over-spiritualized in interpretation.  Aramaic, the first language of Jesus of Nazareth and those who would have been his early followers is a vastly nuanced language— earthy, sensual, and rich in meaning. It seems to carry a paradigm of human life as one of ripe or unripe fruitfulness.  This is a far cry from the concepts of morality or “moral living” that we typically interpret in life today. 

Still, everyone knows how the prayer is usually prayed these days.  Our Lord taught his disciples to pray this way, and we gallop through it like we’re off to the races, stumbling through the words we have come to say by rote.  I often wonder if we realize that it is a prayer and that we are praying to the Great Mystery of LIFE.  Studying the book has opened my eyes to the words I am saying and opened my heart to the joy and delight of saying them…even moving me into SILENCE.   

I am writing to share with you the culmination of my understanding of the words we have been given from the Aramaic in a way most meaningful to me.  Thank you for reading them. 

With Love,
Freda Marie+ 

Abwoon d’bwashmaya (Our Father which art in heaven)
Most Holy ONENESS of the Cosmos:  Source of LIGHT and SOUND and Breath; You birth me and ALL that is! 

Nethqadash shmakh (Hallowed be thy name)
Clear the space of my Heart so that YOU may LIVE within me. 

Teytey malkuthakh (Thy kingdom come)
Your “I CAN” O Holy ONE, is my “I can,” so birth this new image in and through me! 

Nehwey tzevyanach aykanna d’bwashmaya aph b’arha (Thy will be done in earth, as it is in heaven)
As YOUR desire is in heaven, make it so in all the earth…especially in the earth that is my body. 

Hawvlan lachma d’sunqana yaomana (Give us this day our daily bread)
Produce with life and soul, food for our eating, and an illuminated measure of insight and understanding for this day…moment by moment. 

Washboqlan khaubayn (wakhtahayn) aykanna daph khnan shbwoqan l’khayyabayn ( And forgive us our debts, awsw we forgive our debtors)
Return us to our original state of slender ties—releasing and letting go with every breath, the tangled threads that bind us—just as we release (and no longer hold on to) the tangled threads of others’ guilt. Help us to FLOW and let go! 

Wela tahln l’nesyuna Ela patzan min bisha (And lead us not into temptation, but deliver us from evil)
Do not let us enter into anything that causes us inner vacillation or agitation from our true purpose in life.  Give us freedom to act at the right time and produce good fruit. 

Metol dilakhie malkutha wahayla wateshbukhta l’ahlam almin.  Ameyn. (For thine is the kingdom, and the power, and the glory, for ever. Amen.)
For Your “I CAN” is the Life Force energy of the Cosmos, giving Light and Sound to ALL that IS; in harmony and balance from age to age (as in a Dance)!   Amen. 

 

Dear all,

We are approaching some of the richest, deepest, most dramatic, and hardest stories of our church year. Beginning on Palm Sunday, 3/24, we will enter Holy Week and through word and action tell the stories of Jesus’ final days in Jerusalem, the actions of his friends, his crucifixion, and his burial. We will speak out loud the words of betrayal, from Judas to Peter’s denial to the crowd’s condemnation; make our journey through the Stations of the Cross, grieve alongside Mary Magdalene, Mary mother of James and Joses, and Salome. Only then will we gather in the darkness of the Easter Vigil to tell the story of salvation history beginning at Creation. Only then will we throw on the lights and embrace the joy of the resurrection.

The stories of Holy Week are on my mind this week because we are reading through them in Youth Bible Study (second and fourth Wednesdays from 6:30-7:30 pm!). Two weeks ago we read through different narratives of Jesus’ entry into Jerusalem, which we mark on Palm Sunday. Yesterday we did the stories in Mark, Matthew, and John which we remember on Maundy Thursday (we ran out of time before getting to Luke!). Different questions come up with each new story and each version of it. When reading Palm Sunday stories we wondered together about what an analogous example in today’s world might be to Jesus’s arrival in Jerusalem, and the Roman military procession it contrasts:

“What does the world expect power and might to look like?” we asked. “How does Jesus turn that on its head?” As a showing of might and power (at least in the eyes of the world), the presidential motorcade was offered as an example, while Jesus’s more humble entrance on a donkey was compared to an old, beat up VW Bug surrounded by kids on bicycles. Having learned that Jesus had just raised Lazarus from the dead before he arrived in Jerusalem, we wondered what similar kind of unbelievable – but deeply longed for – action would get people out to see Jesus today? “I remember feeling that way about the COVID vaccine,” someone said.

Reflecting on the stories of the Last Supper and the way Jesus washed his disciples feet, we wondered about Judas. What caused him to betray Jesus? Was he afraid? Overwhelmed by the political turmoil around Jesus? Was he greedy? Did he want power for himself? Or, as John writes, did it have something to do with Satan – and what about Satan, anyway? And, speaking of John – what’s up with this foot washing thing? Wasn’t there a Super Bowl commercial about it? What might a similar action be today?

Though they may at times seem long ago and far away, the stories of the Bible are our stories – the stories that we are living in the world today. Investigating the image and truth of power – reflecting on the cause of betrayal – longing for something that seems unbelievable – being invited to serve others in the most basic way – of new life after death – these are the very real and present stories that I have seen and heard in our parish, city, country, and world.

So though this invitation may seem a bit premature – we still have another 10 days before Palm Sunday! Lent isn’t over yet! – I wanted to invite you to mark your calendars now to join us for Palm Sunday (3/24), Maundy Thursday (3/28), Good Friday (3/29), and the Easter Vigil (3/30) (and Easter Sunday, of course!). Come and live the stories of Holy Week with our community, not only in the words of scripture but in the liturgical actions that help us remember them in our bodies as well as our hearts and minds. I wonder what reflections you will have? I wonder where you will find the stories in your own life?

Love,
Rebecca+

This week is Community Week at our Redeemer Parish Day School. Yesterday morning students and their teachers — from our 2’s all the way up to our 3rd graders — worked together to assemble 200 breakfast bags to donate to Beans & Bread.

Afterwards the whole school gathered in the church, joined by several of our Redeemer staff members, for chapel led by school chaplain Rebecca Ogus, a.k.a. “Mother O.” Students of all ages were given the opportunity to speak and share out loud what “community” means to them.

One student talked about how teams require community, like in baseball, soccer and basketball. Another lifted up a necklace made of beads and told us how each bead in a necklace is like one member of a community, and we need them all to make a beautiful necklace. Others offered that our school community is like family.

A couple of Redeemer staff members also chimed in. Director of our Center for Well Being Thomasina Wharton sang a song about how community grows and grows, and used a colorful expandable “breathing ball” to illustrate what she meant. Another staff member invited everyone to turn and look at the stained glass window behind the altar; just like it is one great window made of lots of differently shaped and colored pieces of glass, so too our one big community is made of lots of different people, all caring for one another. (“Community and Caring start with the same letter!”)

I was still thinking about and reflecting on yesterday’s chapel time this morning, as a group of clergy and faith leaders from BUILD gathered for our monthly meeting, hosted for the first time at the Islamic Society of Baltimore in Windsor Mill. After our meeting, Shaykh Yaseen Shaikh gave several of us a tour, which included popping in on the young students at their Al-Ramah School. One of them led the call to prayer for the community; another chanted from memory a portion of the Qu’ran.

I thought of our students, and their students, and children all around our city, our nation, our world; all part of our one global community of human beings, all made in the image of our Creator.

So today, I continue to think about, reflect on, and pray for our One Beloved Community.

What does “community” mean to you?

Love,
Cristina

Dear Folks,

Community has to be built: one step, one person, one day at a time.

Things are buzzing in Reservoir Hill, the neighborhood that my family and I moved to last January. Dan Rodericks and Jacques Kelly have written about the renovation of an apartment house at Brookfield and Reservoir Streets, lovingly restored by Alex Aaron, a young graduate of Howard University who is raising his family nearby. David Bramble, another West Baltimore resident, is responsible for a $100 million project at the intersection of North Avenue and Park that combines over 100 market rate townhouses with subsidized apartments that will make a meaningful dent in housing affordability, and promises essential amenities like a grocery store and other retail. Connecting streets to Bolton Hill that were blocked sixty years ago are being re-opened. Dorothy I. Height Elementary School at the corner of Lennox and Linden streets was built during the pandemic and provides both school and community spaces to residents. A years-in-the-making renovation of Druid Hill Park is nearing completion. The St. Francis Community Center at Linden and Whitelock is expanding.

But the energy is not just about physical construction. Reservoir Hill is predominantly African-American and has been stably integrated for decades, with a mix of socio-economic classes and religions. Beth Am synagogue is an anchor on Eutaw Street and it is common to greet girls wearing a hijab on the way to school. Spirit is palpable in our corner of Baltimore—we are weary at times, but we are also a people of welcome and wonder. Recalling one of our family’s favorite children’s books, The Big Orange Splot, our neighborhood is us and we are it. “Our street is where we like to be, and it looks like all our dreams.” (Daniel Manus Pinkwater) What does your dream of community look like?

One of the gifts of my sabbatical is that I had several months to devote to the people who have become our neighbors. Sarah and I begin each day with our extraverted rescue poodle Darcy, walking at dawn. Angelo helps us cross North Avenue, with his miniature stop sign and whistle tooting. He is a semi-professional pool player when he’s not a crossing guard, and he and I embrace warmly most mornings. We’ve begun to know the folks who used to live in our house—a nurse mid-wife who has lately earned a doctorate to affect policy for the Black women she serves, and her social worker husband. Emmanuel is a fellow dog-walker who has a sweet spot for Darcy. Around the corner are young transportation engineers, one of whom has just taken a position at Morgan State. Next door is a fellow empty-nester, and we compare notes about daughters who are making their way in the world. Two doors down is a friend who brought me a sweet potato pie as a “thank-you” for my shoveling his walk when it snowed last month. And down the block is another Sarah whose “puppy” now outweighs her by 20 pounds! She and her husband, both in their 70’s, decided that a rambunctious new dog is exactly what they need “at their age!”

We’ve got struggles, too. Amtrak is constructing a new tunnel that traces an arc under the West side, from Reservoir Hill to Sandtown, and we are gathering with others to ensure that the residents are included in the plans going forward. A ventilation stack will be located yards from Dorothy I. Height School, and in a neighborhood where childhood asthma is quite common, we are understandably concerned. Not everyone is happy about the style of the new rowhouses being built. And my dog’s desire to make friends with everyone felt threatening to a man a couple of weeks ago. Making community is always two steps forward, one step back…

In the same way, if Redeemer and Baltimore are to be community, each of us has to set that as an intention and build it: one step, one person, one day at a time. What will you do, how will you be, this week?

Love,
David

This past weekend a group of women from Redeemer gathered in western Maryland for a weekend retreat. The theme of our retreat was “Fostering Joy in Transition & Stressful Times”. Our main presenter from Well for the Journey led us through an exploration of joy. What is joy? What is the difference between joy and happiness? And what habits or practices might allow us to experience more joy in our lives, especially during the times in which we are living? (And yes, for any who may be asking — even in this season of Lent!)

One of the resources shared during the course of our retreat was The Book of Joy, the fruit of a weeklong conversation between the Dalai Lama and Archbishop Desmond Tutu, co-authored and shared by Douglas Abrams. Together, these extraordinary human beings and spiritual leaders identify eight “pillars” on which to build a joy-filled life amidst — not separate from — the reality of suffering, pain and injustice in our world.

These eight pillars fall into two categories: habits of the mind and habits of the heart.

The 4 habits of mind are:

• Perspective – Practicing imagining what it is like to walk in another person’s shoes, or perhaps picturing our place in the whole cosmos. “For every event in life,” says the Dalai Lama, “there are many different angles.”
• Humility – Recalling that, in the spirit of Ash Wednesday, “we are but dust and to dust we shall return”, that we are literally fashioned from the earth. The Dalai Lama offers a Tibetan prayer—“Whenever I see someone, may I never feel superior.”
• Acceptance – Abrams writes about “the ability to accept our life in all its pain, imperfection, and beauty.” Acceptance is neither resignation, nor is it defeat, but rather aligning our consciousness with What Is so we can choose with intention (as opposed to wishing things were different than what they are, living in denial, depression or anxiety).
• Humor – Seeing our common humanity, or sometimes the ridiculousness of a situation. Not taking our own selves too seriously and being able to laugh at ourselves!

The 4 habits of heart are:

• Forgiveness – Allowing ourselves to be liberated from the prison of past grievances and wrongs, as well as from the violent, endless cycle of retribution. Forgiveness is not forgetting, nor does it mean that we do not respond to the wrongful acts, or that we allow ourselves to be harmed again.
• Gratitude – Allowing ourselves the gift of regularly acknowledging, naming and feeling thankful for both the little and the big blessings in our daily lives, and not taking any good thing, good act that makes us happy, or any person or kindness for granted.
• Compassion – Allowing ourselves to feel with and for another human being, and holding this space for ourselves as well. Jesus was often moved to act out of compassion for those he encountered, aligning himself with human suffering. Compassion moves us to towards connection and out of isolation.
• Generosity – Allowing ourselves to live and love from a place of awareness, consciousness and belief in the Abundance of God; God’s Providence and Grace.

We may have set aside our “Alleluias” for Lent but we need not set aside our joy. How might choosing to practice at least one of the habits above enrich your Lenten journey?

Love,
Cristina