Grace Soul School

I hate to admit it but sometimes life in the church leads to disappointment. Three weeks ago I had been feeling just this way.  I assure you, this happens to everyone who spends a lot of time with church folk. It’s a story as old as the Church itself. We know from his writings in the New Testament that Paul was frequently frustrated and feeling let down by the saints of the early church. When it happens to me I always try to pray and to break out my psychological toolkit of positive affirmation and reality testing.

It was in this backdrop of frustration and doubt that I had a moment of panic Tuesday the 28th, the first night of the Lenten Series. I wondered about all the things that could go wrong. We could be soupless. There could be noone to set up tables. What if no kids showed up for the art class Debbie and I were leading. What if … well you can see where I am going with this. Not pretty.

So it happened during this ungodly wave of doubt and fear that overtook me, that a car pulled up near the kitchen. Two actually. And they began to unload soup and bread. More volunteers arrived and the group set up the tables for soup.

By 6:15 it was clear we had a robust crowd getting to know each other over a simple delicious meal.  At 6:40 when we broke into classes, I came entered the arts classroom where kids were already getting coached on how to paint their ceramic bowls by a representative of Dancing Brush. I heard the delight of kids picking their colors. At the grown-up table, two women and I got our hands dirty painting our own bowls while we shared our faith stories and discussed the history and theology of the Episcopal Church. When we were finished, the art class and three other groups (Literary Lent, Opening to Wisdom, and the Easter Choir) gathered together in the Sanctuary. We offered simple quiet prayers before being sent into the night. 

There is just something about gathering together on cold rainy nights that renews the Spirit within us. It might have something to do with eating food and talking. It might have something to do with quiet meditation, or reading stories and talking, or singing God’s praise, or getting your hands dirty and laughing.  Or it might just be seeing children make gifts for God and wise elders gathered in a circle to share. The days that are dark and my soul is troubled are the days I need these things most of all.

Tuesday March 13 and Tuesday March 20. I’ll be at Grace at 6pm. I hope to see you there.

A couple days ago, the Internet Strategist for the Diocese of Olympia called me with a request. “We are planning some public guerrilla theatre and your name came up.” I pressed for more information. “I don’t know if you’ve heard of this thing: Ashes to Go. It’s offering Ashes in public places. We are doing some stations around the diocese and thought it might be cool to have a station at the Bainbridge Island Ferry Terminal.”

There were two birdies on my shoulder. The first said: “All you have been preaching about lately is public displays of faith. This is a no-brainer.” The other one said: “You just saw a sign on a bus that read ‘1 in 4 Washingtonians is an Atheist’ and every one of them is gonna look at you mean. Also, no one is going to want your ashes.” Trusting in the better angel, I said I would do it.

Lately, I have been thinking a lot about Luke 10:1-9. Among the more important nuggets of wisdom found within it: Jesus sent people in pairs out into the world to do his work.  I felt a pang of guilt when a coworker asked: “Wait, you are going alone? A bunch of us are going together in Olympia.” Later, I sat on the ferry dock in Seattle, bidding God look favorably on my attempt to catch the next ferry and make it to Shrove Tuesday pancakes.  In the few minutes before the cars began loading, I emailed the rector of Saint Barnabas. “I know it might be too late for your schedule, but are you interested in…” By the time I landed on Bainbridge, Dennis had responded that he would love to join me. So we two Episcopal priests, from different congregations on little Bainbridge Island, set about with our plans to meet at the terminal.

I believe that God created the heavens and the earth – if not literally in seven days at least figuratively.  However, I remain highly skeptical that there is such a thing as five o’clock in the morning.  I awoke at the aforementioned fictional hour and put on my favorite Decemberists T-shirt, whose reverse quotes a lyric from the song “Rox in the Box”: “of dirt you’re made and to dirt you will return.” I then added a cassock and purple stole to the ensemble, poured some hot coffee into my mug and wandered out to my car in the dark.

My initial plan was to station myself across from the car loading area on the sidewalk. I arrived just before 6:00 am in the hopes of catching the 6:20 ferry commuters.  I positioned my sign and stood next to it as a cold drizzle obscured my eyeglasses.  I felt awkward. As more commuters began streaming by, I noticed many averting their eyes.  Some had an odd spark of recognition as they greeted the sandwich board then looked away scowling.  One man did a double-take. “It’s Ash Wednesday! It’s Lent.” I offered him ashes, but he wasn’t interested. I was satisfied that at least I had reminded someone it was Lent. One point for public Christianity.

My cell phone rang. It was Dennis. After we figured out where the other was, he came to me and assessed the location.  “There are a lot of people up at the walk-on terminal and it’s not in the rain…” We agreed to move. I hadn’t seen Dennis in a while and it was good to chat as we walked and waited for the next wave of commuters.  Then they came.

“Are you really offering ashes to go?” one woman asked. 

A man apologized, “I’m Roman Catholic so… (I can’t) but thank you for being here.” Another, “I’m Roman Catholic, but I’m sure it still counts.”

“I wasn’t going to be able to make it to services today with work and dragging two kids. Thank you so much!” one woman shared before walking hurriedly to her destination.

The Rev. Dr. Dennis Tierney (St. Barnabas) and The Rev. Arienne Davison (Grace)

We saw parishioners and people neither of us knew. We offered smiles, warm greetings, ashes and blessings as folks made their way to work. It was a little after seven when we picked up the sign and headed to our respective congregations to prepare for Ash Wednesday liturgies.   I discovered this morning that the Episcopal Church on Bainbridge Island isn’t only on Wyatt Way or Day Road. Turns out, it can be anywhere people could use some warm Christian hospitality on a cold rainy day.

“Grace Church coalesced as a community worshipping in the homes of members. The Tribe Home Eucharist is one way we honor this history. I was humbled on Sunday as I recalled this tradition and situated myself within it – one of a long line of Christians breaking and sharing bread with God’s beloved. The beauty of connecting to this history lies in the realization that Christ is alive. We do not practice a sterile tradition. We do not celebrate one long funeral for a man named Jesus. Christ laughed with us as we stumbled over words. A Son fed a father. We became the body of the living Christ as we fed one another.

This gift is not one we passively receive. We are called to invite others to share in it. We are called to feed people. On Tuesday as a culmination of the Worship in Grace Series, I arrived at the church around 6:30 and arranged chairs in a circle around the Altar. As the small group gathered we fell into silence. We sat waiting in a way that felt like we were bidding God’s presence. We talked and prayed: focused on the Gospel of Mark’s story of Jesus’ last supper with his friends. When the bread was broken, we stopped and talked about what taking Communion had meant to us. For some, Communion is being broken open to a new reality of God’s presence. For some, Communion profoundly transforms and heals our feelings of brokenness. After this we passed the bread around, over and over. We practiced the words. We tore fleshy crumbs and pressed them gently into each other’s hands.”

This month, Soul School has focused on our experience of worship. By building altars, interpreting Scripture aloud, and making Eucharist, we explored how each of us understands the ministry of the Table.

What is your experience of the Eucharist?