Break Bread With Me

A friend of mine once referred to my often garish, colorful or humorous ties as a ministry, because strangers have often commented on how they liked my ties, and one even asked if he could take a picture of my tie. I believe that anything we might do, no matter how seemingly small, can be considered a ministry if it has a positive impact on others.

So I have embarked on a practice that I had enjoyed in the past, but was negatively impacted by the pandemic, but one I am finally re-instituting: Having lunch with people. In the years I have worked at Maryknoll, I have enjoyed in particular taking visiting missioners out for lunch over the years and also with coworkers. A perfect lunch for me is with one other person or a couple. Large company lunches can be fun, but not rewarding in the way a one-on-one lunch is. The latter lunch always holds the possibility of a curtain pulled aside: learning something interesting about someone you otherwise would never have known. At our office prayer group, we recently spent a session discussing the passage in Luke about the resurrected Jesus encountering two of his followers on the road to Emmaus. They don't recognize him at first.

 

As they came near the village to which they were going, Jesus acted as if he were going farther; but they held him back, saying, "Stay with us; the day is almost over and it is getting dark." So he went in to stay with them. He sat down to eat with them, took the bread, and said the blessing; then he broke the bread and gave it to them. Then their eyes were opened and they recognized him, but he disappeared from their sight. They said to each other, "Wasn't it like a fire burning in us when he talked to us on the road and explained the Scriptures to us?" --Luke 14:28-32

This passage resonated with me instantly. The fact that the two men's eyes are opened at the breaking of the bread only further demonstrates that meals together are an effective method of discovering the spirit within us. Then they have joy in remembering the conversation they had with Jesus on the road. If we are open to seeing it, we can find Jesus in each other simply by breaking bread together. As a contemplative, I believe that Jesus resides in all of us, and we can see him if we dare to look close enough. So the more people I have lunch with the more I see Jesus.

So while I started having regular lunches with people again merely because I enjoyed them, I suddenly realized that these lunches could potentially be another sort of ministry, albeit a selfish one. I began considering who would I like to have lunch with that I haven't ever before or in a long time. I took my priest of many years out to lunch, after having wanted to, but never quite putting it together. I had lunch with a person who worked at Maryknoll for many years, but not directly with me. I had lunch with one of the professors I felt close to when I got my masters at Pace University. I had lunch with a former coworker who I hadn't seen in months. Every lunch has been enjoyable and rewarding. And my meal partners seem to be enjoying them as well. One said that she would be willing to have lunch with me every month, and I just might take her up on it.

Some people even asked me to have lunch with them. One friend just happened to be in town and gave me a call. So perhaps God approves and is working to expand my ministry, if I can call it that.

I use to have lunch with my dear friend Joe about once a week in the years we worked together. He had a tremendous impact on me, spiritually and otherwise, and each lunch gave me another piece of him and a chance to share another piece of me with him. Now that he's passed, one of my favorite memories of him are the lunches we had together. Also my former priest Father Larry. We had many lunches and dinners together, sometimes with my Mary along, and the conversations we had were always far-reaching, intriguing and joyful. These continued after his retirement and only ended after his passing.

I am retiring in a year, and I plan on putting together as many lunches together as I can. Let me know if you are in the area and would like to have lunch with me. I would love to have lunch with you!

Reflections About a Camino

"May we become bearers of joy, we who are invited to share in the Cosmic Dance! May we walk in faith all the days of our life - confident in your Divine Presence, even in times of trouble, and with assurance for what is and all that is to be. May we have faith in the unfolding of our lives, and radical trust in the universe." Nan Merrill, Psalms for Praying. 

It was a week ago that I was at the 9:30 am Pilgrim's Mass at the Cathedral of Santiago de Compostela, Spain, after completing a six-day journey from Tui to Santiago. We returned to the US on Monday, and I have spent the past week reflecting and trying to pull some meaning out of the experience.

I have heard it said that "It's your Camino. Do it the way you want!" I certainly did that, but I also wanted to be cognizant of and faithful to the pilgrims who walked this way before me. Around 800 years ago, pilgrims started leaving their homes to walk to Santiago. After arriving and resting, they turned around and walked back home.

The Camino de Santiago has been designated a Plenary Indulgence in the Catholic church, meaning that if you complete the pilgrimage,  your sins are all forgiven. I am not Catholic, but my reading indicates that the early Church looked at indulgences as a way to encourage people to live according to God's precepts in their daily life. Indulgences eventually were twisted into things you could buy and sell. But as someone who strives to live a contemplative life, I like the idea of encouraging people to live their lives according to their faith. I believe that when your faith is a part of your daily life, you find joy.

That was the first gift I received on the Camino: a feeling of joy that I was actually there after three years of planning. I was taking part in this incredible ritual and at the same time discovering the beauty of Spain's landscape and its people.

 

The second gift was forgiveness for myself. It was much harder to walk the Camino than I had anticipated. On day 4 I had started to break down. On day 6 I told Debbie and Mary that I didn't think I could complete the journey. They both told me not to quit, and with Debbie's help I was able to complete it. I was able to forgive my weakness and accept that I did pretty well for a 69 year old with numerous health issues.

The third gift was all the Spanish people we met. They went out of their way to help us navigate the vagaries of staying in various cities along the Camino. I had made the arrangements, mostly through Booking.com before we left. I was expecting to find a sort of reception desk at each place, but the first three days, when Mary arrived ahead of us to hang out while Debbie and I hiked the trail, there was no one there and no indication of how to access our room. In each case, Mary, who speaks no Spanish, found a local shop owner or other local to contact management and get her in our room. By the time Debbie and I arrived, Mary would be relaxing on the balcony or in a nearby park or square waiting for us. I like to think God was watching out for her.

I was also impressed by the Spanish women running the restaurants we ate at.  More often then not, two women would be the only people behind the counter, one cooking and the other acting as host/wait person. No matter how busy they got, they reacted to us with patience, kindness and grace.

I remember in particular two occasions. The Spanish generally follow the practice of Siesta. Most restaurants are closed between 2 and 8 pm. Our preference was for dinner around 5:30 or 6:00 pm. We could usually find some sort of bar/bistro that was serving food, but in Caldas de Reis we seemed to have run dry. Then we found this little bar, operated by two women, of course. They said they had a very limited selection of food. We said we would "eat whatever you've got." A little later they brought out three big plates: one of a salad with onions and tomatoes, one of French fries, and one of fried chicken. They were each delicious, and we filled up with three chicken legs left over. We heaped our praise on the chef, who was obviously pleased at our enjoyment of her food.

The other special meal was when Debbie and I ordered gazpacho at a cafe in Santiago.  The host/chef told us about how she chose and prepared the tomatoes for the soup with real pride. I have never liked gazpacho, but after that description I had to try it. It was bliss. The tomato taste was incredible! I would say that it was the best bowl of soup I have ever had.

The Camino can be magical. I remember feeling worn out and struggling to keep going when a group of five or six women passed me and began singing in perfect harmony a folk song. It was like a dream. The next day a tiny elderly woman passed me. As she did she broke into a wide smile, looked directly into my eyes, and wished me a "Buen Camino!" Then she and her family broke into a rousing song as she hiked on.

I feel so blessed and fortunate to have finally made this pilgrimage. The pain has faded, but these memories live on. I believe that God's spirit resides inside each of us, and the Camino is filled with people exhibiting that spirit. It is a wonderful place to be.

The map on the inside of my Pilgrim credentials shows the various routes spreading across Europe away from Santiago, as if Santiago was the beating heart pumping God's grace and love across Europe. I would like to see that system grow, heading East into Asia and Southeast down to Austrailia and then shooting across the Atlantic to link up in the Americas, creating one circulatory system across the world, enfolding us in God's body. Then we could all feel together, not alone, as we strive to, as a Hindu prayer I love put it, "create heaven here on earth." Amen.

Special thanks: The following people deserve my special thanks.

My boss Ted and my former boss Leslie. Three years ago for St. James' feast day, Ted wrote a reflection in which he referred to the Camino.  I had never heard of it before. He had no idea what a spark he put in my life. Leslie always encouraged me in my spiritual development, and we talked of the Camino often while I waited out Covid.

Missioners and Camino veterans, Jim and Marilyn, Heidi, Richard and Sami. They answered my questions, they gave excellent advice, and provided all kinds of support to my pilgrimage. My spiritual director Jeanine, who always knows the right questions to ask.

Most of all, my companera Debbie and my life partner, Mary. I had planned on hiking alone, but God sent me Debbie, and She knew what I needed. Mary has played down any contribution to my journey, but just having her there at the end of each day meant everything to me.

Many others provided encouragement and support, and I am grateful to each of you.

We Will Meet Again

"I wanted to share the Camino experience with my younger brother. ...Almost every workday Adam and I would sent each other short e-mails, his from an office on the 104th floor of the World Trade Center in New York City. Regardless of the content of our messages, the subject lines always referenced Jack Daniels. On the morning of September 11, 2001, Adam's message was cryptically entitled, "JDJDJackJDJDDanielsJDJD" In it, Adam noted that the account he was in the office early to work on that day "will be the end of me." That fateful morning my brother and best friend, J. Adam Larson, became one of the casualties of the horrific terrorist attack on our country. Ten years later, I continue to be consoled by words of St. Ignatius, who considered all of life on earth a pilgrimage, with heaven as its destination: "... But being we are pilgrims on this earth, we should not consider it a great loss when those whom we love in our Lord depart a little before us, for we shall follow them before long to the place where Christ our Lord and Redeemer has prepared for us a most happy dwelling in His bliss."--Keeping Community with Saint Ignatius by Luke J. Larson. 

    I recently attended a funeral for a friend of mine's father. I was happy to be there, for it was a difficult time for her and I wanted to be part of the community supporting her. However, what struck me about the service itself was the priest, who in his homily explained to us exactly what was going to happen to our souls after death. I had to wonder, "How can he be so confident that he not only knows what's going to happen, but he is determined to share with us his knowledge, we being a group of people who are largely strangers to him?" I can't convince myself that I have any idea what is going to happen, let alone share that knowledge with anyone else, friend or stranger. The quote above comes from a book about the author and his pilgrimage along the Camino Frances with his wife. As I myself hope to hike the Camino Portuguese next fall, I have been reading as much spiritual literature I can find, and currently am enjoying this book. I read the passage above recently and was struck by the story about his brother and his hope to see him again, which resonates with me, particularly after the memorial service we had for my brother last month. My Christianity is--and always will be, I'm afraid--disturbed by my doubts. Yet I continue on describing myself as a Christian, I go to church almost every Sunday, engage in religious practices such as meditation every day. Although I can never be without doubt, my efforts do comfort me; I can't explain why, but they do. So when I read the passage above, I thought to myself, I can accept my brother Harry's passing, because I will see him again. 

Here at Maryknoll Lay Missioners, when we have candidates for mission for orientation, the organization invites the staff to participate with the missioners in morning prayer, and also to lead a session or two, if the person feels comfortable with that. When I have led prayer in the past, I have frequently done a sort of Litany of Saints, a practice where we call on the saints to pray for us as we face a new endeavor or challenge. Borrowing the idea from Downtown Monks by Br. Albert Holtz, I use a practice where we ask not just the "official" saints to pray for us, but we invite people who were important in our spiritual development and now have passed away to pray for us. Each person asks two or three personal saints to pray for him or her. I would like to share with you a few of my personal saints. 

First, I'd like to mention my brother Harry, the most recent addition to my group of saints. Harry was my younger brother, twenty months younger to be precise. We went to the same schools through high school just one year apart. I wouldn't say we were frequent companions; I think we each were strugging to create our own lives, distancing ourselves from each other and our older siblings. Pretty normal childhoods, until Harry developed Stage One Diabetes. The impact was immediately apparent, he sprang up in height to well over 6 feet tall, without gaining any weight, in what seemed to me a matter of weeks. His arms and legs were the thinnest I had ever seen. Yet somehow he kept running. Eventually his weight began to catch up with his height, and he continued to pursue his various interests. After I graduated college, I left the Pacific Northwest, first for California and finally for New York. So we saw and spoke to each other rarely, yet what conversations we had were somehow bringing us closer. He told me he admired my involvement with Maryknoll and the Episcopal Diocese of New York's antiracism committee and said it had motivated him to try to make a difference in his local community. We each have our own gifts: Harry’s were his talent as a certified public accountant and an engaging personality that enabled him to reach out to strangers and charm them with his humor and his interest in their lives.

So he started writing a column in an online newspaper about the local government. He felt that the governments of towns like his have a lot of power over its citizens’ lives, and the people concerned have little understanding of how it works. He decided to reach out and tell them what they should know through his column. Eventually he began hosting “Coffee with Harry” sessions at a local restaurant at which he would interview local city officials. His most inspiring column to me, however, concerned how he befriended a tired-looking woman whom he noticed drinking coffee by herself at one of his hangouts. She turned out to be a prostitute who had been abused as a child, lost her own children to child welfare and was struggling to get by as best she could. He talked to her and tried to help her with food, money and, perhaps most important, friendship. When she passed away from a drug overdose, he wrote a column about their relationship. This led to the paper being contacted by the adoptive parents of her two children, who had been searching for her. Harry agreed to meet with them and tell them about her, so that they could share this information with her children.

I could not be any prouder of my brother than I am now. His lifelong struggle with diabetes, which slowly diminished him physically, and his caring heart, which touched so many other people’s lives. I know he is looking down at me from heaven, wishing me well.

I have one other personal saint I would like to share with you today, Fr. Larry. When I decided to return to the church, the nearest Episcopal church was St. Stephen’s Woodlawn, just a few blocks from my home. The rector at the time was Larry. That first visit, I wrote a review, of sorts, for the website Ship of Fools, and as instructed, I left a piece of paper indicating “The Mystery Worshipper” (MW) had been present. I also signed the church registry. As it turned out, Larry was familiar with mystery worshipping, and he sent me a card asking if I was the MW, and if so, suggesting I be kind and also inviting me to return. Thus began a relationship that would continue for his remaining tenure at St. Stephen’s and after his retirement until his passing.

Since I hadn’t been attending church at all for 25 years, and never the Episcopal church after my baptism, I had lots of questions. Larry patiently answered each one as best he could, and prepared me for confirmation in my late 40s. This began a series of theological conversations which persisted throughout our relationship. He was also very fond of my partner Mary, and the three of us had a number of meals together, both at his home and at restaurants, which were spiced by lively conversations. One of the restaurants in the neighborhood was apparently a hangout of his, for as we sat down, the waitress would usually bring up a martini for him before he asked. He could be charming and brilliant. When he served at the altar, he gave thoughtful and intellectually challenging sermons. But what most impressed me about Larry as a priest was the way he seemed to live the liturgy. He seemed totally involved even though he was repeating words he had said hundreds, if not thousands of times. Each service it felt like he was living every word, saying them for the first time. When I told him about my impression, he responded by saying, “That’s because I am constantly praying throughout the whole service.”

He was also a generous friend to me. When my last car died and I couldn’t afford to replace it, he immediately offered me the use of his car. I told him I didn’t feel comfortable taking advantage of his generosity, he replied, “But I want to help.” So I did borrow his car, and as he became more ill, I also drove him around when he needed help. In fact, Larry was ill the entire time I knew him with AIDs. He had contracted the disease before he became a priest, and with medication he was able to live into his 70s. But as our Bishop said at his funeral, he spent most of his life in tremendous pain. He covered it well, but as he got older, it got harder for him. I think it made him erratic emotionally, prone to bursts of anger and feelings of abandonment. Through it all, he remained committed to his faith and his role as a priest. Even after he retired, he would fill in when our regular priest couldn’t make it, and sometimes he would just come and play the organ at the service. He loved to play the organ. 

After he retired, he moved out of the parish house to the apartment building next to mine. And now that he’s gone, I’m reminded of him each time I walk past the building. I miss him dearly. He played a large role in my spiritual development. I am counting on him to pray for me in difficult times.

So I recommend to you to think about those people who shaped your life, spiritual or otherwise. Take some time to remember them and thank them. If you’re a praying person, pray for them and ask them to pray for you. I am sure they will respond, if you ask.

Where Have You Seen God This Month?

 One of my favorite podcasts is Faith to Go, put together by some Episcopal priests in the Diocese of San Diego. Each week they look at the gospel reading for the week and share their interpretations of the text. But before they do that, one of them always reports on where they saw God in the previous week. By seeing God I don't mean literally, but rather, when you have an experience that you feel particularly blessed by, and when you feel the experience is an expression of God's grace and bounty, that is what I think is meant by "seeing God." It kind of makes you feel like the smiling angel above.

Most weeks, I am not paying enough attention to recognize God when I see him/her. But thinking back over the past month, I can remember two such occasions. Both were meals shared with a friend after many months apart. These friends I number among those whose company I most enjoy, and, because of the pandemic, I have been unable to get together with them. Things have gotten better in New York, so at least I was able to sit at the same table with both of them this July.

First I had lunch al fresco with Brother Ray, a 92-year-old Maryknoll Brother who in the past few years I have become very close to. Before the pandemic, we would meet for lunch every two or three months, but the Maryknoll Fathers and Brothers (F&B) were particularly hard hit by the virus, and their building has remained shut to visitors and other non-staff people. But now that both Ray and I have been vaccinated, and the F&B have relaxed some restrictions on residents, we were able to get together. I scurried around to the back of their building, and Ray and I secured an outdoor table to share a meal. Ray is in excellent shape, physically, mentally and spiritually. His life was marked by a number of struggles, and he received no theological training (brothers were seen as servants to the priests, so the training a priest would receive was considered unnecessary), but now he is one of the most spiritually advanced people I know. I learn so much from him and about him whenever we together, and I am glad to say that he tells me that he feels happier now than he has ever felt before. I can't begin to express how much it means to me to spend time with such a thoughtful and loving person. I hope we have many more lunches in our future.

My second encounter with God was a dinner I was able to share with my friend Jean, one of my dearest and most valued friends. Jean and her late husband Joe played a large part in my Spiritual Autobiography (see the immediately previous post), but since she no longer works at Maryknoll, we have only rarely been able to get together in person. With the arrival of the pandemic, the opportunities shut down entirely. Jean is a chaplain at Columbia Presbyterian hospital, so with the impact of the virus and the needs of her family, she has been pushed to exhaustion with no free time. Yet there has been some easing, and it has been so long, we managed to squeeze in a couple of hours for a dinner and time to check up with each other. Materially, the meal was not particularly noteworthy, a salad and a frozen pizza, but being able to spend this time together was so rare and so rewarding, I'm sure God was at the table with us.

Any time I am able to spend with people I admire and love is a gift from God. I hope you are able to connect with those you love. Where have you seen God lately? I would love to hear about it.

May God bless you, and may you bless God!