Awakenings

Believe…

Awakenings

December 26, 2011

There I was in Starbucks, a block up from Union Square in San Francisco. It was Christmas Day. We had just finished an amazing morning of bringing Christmas to the residents of the tenderloin district. After eating Christmas lunch with some good friends of ours, we were stopping for a coffee.

While waiting for our coffee, in walks a homeless man. He approaches me and asks if I have $2 for a coffee. Looking up from updating my facebook account through my iphone, I informed him that I didn’t have any change on me. I asked Steve if he did, and he pulled out his last dollar bill. I went back to my online world and the man went on asking for money from some of the patrons. About 3 minutes later I looked up to notice a Starbucks employee shooing the man out, annoyed that he was there. The man looked me in the eye as he slumped out the door. That look was haunting, but it took awhile for it to sink into my soul. The look crept deeper and deeper inside me, past my iphone-distracted-mind, past my tired bones, and it landed heavily on my heart. The look – desperate, embarrassed, emtpy…lonely. On this Christmas day all he wanted was a cup of coffee. He had looked into my soul – one lone real-life human being alone on Christmas day. Unseen as human. Mistaken as trash, an annoyance, a nuisance. All he wanted was a cup of coffee – just one more dollar. And it was Christmas.

I was suddenly distraught. Where had he gone? We get coffee all the time, he could have mine. I interrupted my husband from his iphonic online world and asked him to go grab the guy and buy a coffee for him. At that moment my name was called that my drink was ready. I suddenly didn’t want it anymore but maybe I could give it to the man. I grabbed it, and rushed outside to find him…but he was gone. I looked up and down the street. All I could see were people dressed in their Christmas garb, the sun waning in the winter afternoon sky, and the pigeons flying away. My heart sank.

I had just been updating my facebook status, talking about my morning in the tenderloin, and ironically had ended my post with these prophetic words “(don’t save it all for Christmas day…)” (in other words, live every moment with love in your heart towards others), and not even 30 seconds later, my own words tested me as the man had approached me. His look lay heavier and heavier on my soul. Even though his presence was gone, I couldn’t shake his soul from mine. We walked into Union Square and sat for a minute drinking our coffee. I scanned the crowds everywhere, but he was gone – lost in the humdrum of the city. I wanted to cry. His desperate, ashamed look kept sinking heavier and heavier upon me. I looked up from the Square and noticed this sign that said “Believe.”

Believe what? The heaviness of the entire day settled upon me, and I felt like I could see past the facade of the city – the irony that 2 blocks away from this gorgeous tourist attraction were the outcasts, the homeless, the forgotten: the tenderloin. As I sat there I could feel the pain, the souls desperate for light, life, an easier path, or maybe just a cup of coffee or even just to be seen as human. To be seen as divine. My coffee grew cold in my hand. I felt like a hypocrite, yet I felt alive and like I could see. It was like the Switchfoot song says – it was a “Beautiful Letdown”….

Steve noticed I was quiet and asked what was wrong. I told him – but how to put into words what I was feeling and sensing. The revelation of it all cascading so fast into the depths of my being, and so sacred that words were hard to try to express. All this man wanted was a cup of coffee on a Christmas Day…and maybe to be seen as an equal with his flesh-and-blood brothers and sisters of the city. And we had been so plugged into our online world, and not present, that we missed being that love for him. A Christmas miracle lost.

Steve suggested we go try to find him. So we began walking back up towards Starbucks. As we crossed the street, I thought maybe I could spot him on the other corner. Could it be? I asked Steve if that was him. He thought it maybe could be. Suddenly I wondered why I hadn’t noticed him more that first time around. Steve told me to wait at the corner and he would run up and buy coffee and a sandwich. So there I waited, watching from the other side of the street. I looked back at Union Square, and saw that word again: “Believe.”

Believe. It seemed like a mockery at the moment. What about all the people here that do believe and hope and try, only to find nothing in return. And on this Christmas Day there it was, taunting those who had nothing left to believe in. And to make matters worse, I was a bit angry and annoyed that it was on the Macy’s building. How stupid is that? What does “believe” have to do with Macy’s? It seemed like such a dichotomy. “Believe” is such a deep philosophical word and to have it associated with a commercial for mere “stuff” seemed sacrilegious to me. Not to mention all the people who can’t even step foot into that store much less afford it. Believe?

Yet it was also somehow poetic to me as I stood here waiting for Steve to return with the coffee for this man standing across the street. People rushing past me, cable cars roaring by, and Christmas lights twinkling on the giant Christmas tree. Never in my life had it seemed like forever for coffee to be ready. My heart beat as I waited, hoping the man wouldn’t leave before we could bring his coffee to him. And I kept seeing that word: “Believe.” Believe. Believe…

(…To be Continued..)

What is Church – Part 5

Awakenings

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December 21, 2011

The neighborhood was darkening as dusk crept its soft fingers into the alleys and driveways. My car followed its way to my last and final stop of the day. Pausing to grab some java at a corner cafe, I sat for a few minutes pondering what the day had been. I sat there in the tiny shop with 5 other souls, soft jazz playing in the background. All lone islands in this sea of humanity called a city, we were all there to stop for a moment. Some were working on homework, others talking with a friend, or, like me, just sitting and breathing. Suddenly, the funniest thing happened. This spider began descending from the ceiling right in front of the two who were working on homework. Down, down, down it went, as if it were a stunt guy repelling into a giant’s world. About 4 of us saw it happening at first – and we all kinda chuckled and pointed it out to the studying pair, who also watched its descent towards them. For a brief moment, total strangers were linked by this spider – as if it’s web had some magical powers to bond us together, as well as cascade from the ceiling. We talked about the spider, and then watched it climb back up its tiny rope and disappear into the cafe colors. For a moment – one tiny creature broke through the barriers we as humans like to put up – one tiny powerful, courageous creature broke our walls and brought us together as a common sea of humanity – all with our different skin colors, our different backgrounds, our own baggage; there we were laughing over a spider.

Looking at the clock I knew I still had that one last stop. So I got into my car and made my way to the honky-tonk I had been before when I had met up with my brother. I wasn’t meeting up with anyone; just wanted to poke my head in. I walked into the place. It was packed by this time. I looked for a table or booth to sit at, and before I could finish scanning the room, my brother’s friend who I had met the other night, spotted me, and waving frantically, she moved towards me and said “here, you sit with me!” Wow. So much warmth and love and recognition for me, someone she had hung out with for only 2 hours of her life. Yet it seemed like she had been waiting for me – watching for me, even though she had no clue I was coming in. With all my thoughts and writing on the topic of “church”, and the experiments I had faced all day, this reception was in such contrast with anything I had experienced previously, that it was as if it were being blared through a megaphone…

I sat there for the next hour or so, sipping Pepsi, chatting with her on one side, and chatting with an old gentleman on my other side who used to be a rancher. ( He reminded me of an old version of Johnny Cash.) We experienced community together – the 3 of us. Talking about life, the dance, heartache, jobs, and how to keep going when life knocks you down. After about an hour, I got what I was looking for…and more. I said goodbye to my new friends, and walked out of the place, the country music drifting into the night sky. As I got into my car, I knew once again, I had just experienced church for the umpteenth-time that day. I had once again seen that church is not a place per-say; it’s an experience – it’s a way of life…a way of looking at the world. It’s a way of being present for the moments of the divine in any place, at any time and with anyone. You can experience it in a sanctuary, a coffee shop, a cathedral, or a bar. Like a t-shirt once said: “Don’t just go to church – BE the Church.” It’s the practice of being present for the God-encounters at every miniscule moment.

What is Church – Interlude

Awakenings

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December 16, 2011

So I saw this post from one of my students on facebook and with permission, I’ve included it here. It brought a smile to my face, but also made me think. Check it out:

“Today in church I was going through the motions. Searching for a way to connect with Jesus (especially after realizing that everyone was already transitioning into that oh so jolly Christmas spirit.) Even though many of us try, we can never manufacture the true meaning of church, But after saying a prayer and collecting myself, I was determined. A particular face grabbed my attention, after examining the church congregation. quite honestly, it humored me. I just had take a picture with him. I know its not Jesus, but it definitely made my sabbath a lot better. haha.”

This facebook post and picture got me thinking: What if Jesus literally walked into church today – Would we recognize Him? Would we greet Him? Would we feel awkward? Would we convince ourselves it’s not Him? Would we wonder why He came? Would He even look like “Jesus” (the Jesus-image we’ve conjured up in our minds)? Would He have a backpack on? Jeans or a suit? But then, wait: Jesus does come into our churches – and our homes, and our spaces of time. He comes into our crazy schedule, both the boring parts, exciting parts, the crazy parts and the routine-rut parts. He’s on the commute to work; in the mall; standing in line at the DMV; on that street corner holding that sign up; and the list could go on… If Jesus is in “the least of these”, if we, as humans, carry His persona within our beings, if He is represented in every flesh-and-blood human canister, then I “see” Him every day…or do I? Do I make space to be present enough to recognize the miracle of every-moment-living? How many times have I missed moments of the divine due to my schedule; my calendar; my to-do list; my social, political or religious agenda; my own little world of what I deem important at the time. Jesus is present; the real question is, are we?

What is Church – Part 4

Awakenings

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December 12, 2011

It was an awesome old building, and the smell of incense and old wood was somehow spiritual in and of itself. I thought it ironic that here I am, for the 3rd time that day in another church – yet I was kinda excited as I realized I had become my own experiment for the weekend – and told myself to just be open to what had landed in my lap. The bishop of this Catholic cathedral was making his way up the aisle greeting people. Surely he wouldn’t greet me, with me being a stranger and all. As he made his way closer, I was intrigued with his genuine smile and concern for those he greeted. He finally got to my row, and actually did speak – “are you taking notes?” he asked jovially. I said “yes I enjoy writing” and he made a small joke, shook my hand while looking me in the eye. There was a realness about him, as if the cloth he wore was a distraction from his true self – but it was cool somehow. He didn’t wear it for the prestige of title it would give him, but you could tell he wore it because it happened to come with the job. He cared greatly about the people present, more than about who he was or what he wore. I was intrigued. He joined the procession that began at the back of the cathedral, and made it’s way to the platform. The singing was different, but the chant-like rythym made for great writing. The Bible reading was straight-forward and simple, and when the prayer was offered, it brought tears to my eyes: a voice would read, “for those in danger or peril” and we would answer, ” Lord hear our prayer; for those who are suffering with a loss of job, or a health issue – Lord hear our prayer; for those who are being persecuted or mistreated – Lord hear our prayer;… ”

Lord, hear our prayer…I was touched with the straight-forward request, and our reply of agreement. As the smell of incense burned, and the chanting rose and fell, and the pews creaked with every human movement, I felt at peace. Lord, hear our prayer – the irony of strangers coming together to plea with a Being greater than ourselves…strangers from all different walks of life, with different strengths, weaknesses, stresses, loves, habits, and even religious beliefs – all together in one place on a Saturday afternoon. Indeed, Lord hear our prayer. I crept out of the cathedral as the Lord’s supper was being served, the silence in the parking lot and the surrounding neighborhoods was an abrupt jolt back to reality. The sun had set, the day was done, but I had to make one more stop…

What is Church – Part 3

Awakenings

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December 6, 2011

So I got in my car and drove some miles up the road to a smaller town. My friend, through a text, invited me to come up there. So I drive up to the new building location – it looks like any older church. I park the car and make my way into the service, which had just started. The place is packed, and the vibe is warm, real, and a sort of anticipation of compassionate action just birthed afresh. There seems to be an electric feel on the air, as if a heartbeat of something bigger than just the human bodies present, pulses out. The place felt spiritual. Right away I see some old friends I used to work at summer camp with. Hugs follow. I sit in the back row, but, even though I am a lone stranger, I feel a warmth that is unexplainable. I feel as if I am a kindred spirit among other sojourners…here, all stopping for a pit stop – a breath before the next leg of our journey. It feels real. There’s nothing fancy about the building, but the body of persons pulsates with something greater than themselves, and I can feel it. I enjoy the service, (it was here that I hear the quote I put in an earlier blog post: “Be who God meant you to be and you will set the world on fire.” -Catherine of Siena), meet up with my friend afterward, see some other people I hadn’t seen in a few years, and as I got in the car, I left feeling revived and rejuved. Interesting how this weekend was shaping up to be…

Later that afternoon, I wanted to do some writing, so I drove around looking for a quiet spot to do some contemplation and journaling. I hear about this cool old Catholic Cathedral, and think, “what a great place to write!” (the cool thing about Catholic Churches is they are usually open during the day, where one can come in and pray or sit, (or if you watch too much tv or movies, a place to get shot or killed). So I finally get to the place, with the help of my trusty gps. I pull into the parking lot, and wonder why I see other people parking and walking into the same building. As I enter the large double solid-wooden doors, I realize I’ve arrived just in time for Mass. “Great,” I think to myself…I really wanted the place to myself. But instead of turning around and leaving, I decide to trust the timing and see what I can discover. I pull out my journal, sit in the pack pew, and begin to be actively present…