[This is actually the version that was to appear in the newsletter. I think I gave Sharon the draft copy. Well, it's not that different, I suppose. ]
My niece Amanda arrived today. She grew up with us and our relationship has always been more like that of parents and child than uncle, aunt and niece. Although we speak on the phone or “text” nearly every day, I haven’t seen her for over three months and I forget how much a young person can mature in so short a time. Her visits are always a bit of a tornado. Although she is the most travelled of her siblings, she has never learned the art of travelling light. Her arrival always reminds me a little of Hannibal crossing the Alps. For a 5 foot, 2 inch, 100 lb. woman, she carries what appears to be 8.5 times her body mass in luggage.
This is her first trip to Roxbury since she was 11 years old. Since I spent a decade at so many churches, and her visits to my places of work so rare, she remembers only bits and pieces of them. For example, she remembers the view from the bell tower at Trinity Church in Hartford, or the elevator at St. James’ in West Hartford. She always enjoyed driving through the covered bridge in West Cornwall on the way to another Trinity Church. She remembers the children of the summer Bible school at St. Paul’s in Huntington/Shelton. Of Christ Church, she remembers ringing the bell, marveling that it wasn’t electronic. She rang it again today, and I had one of those moments that come quietly. It’s a moment that parents, even surrogate parents, know well and hold close; a combination of pride, contentment, satisfaction, happiness and things I can’t yet articulate. Suffice it to say, I’m glad she’s here and looking over what will be her home away from home. And I’m glad for the quiet moments when I realize this particular type of happiness.
I’ve come to associate that feeling with the season of Lent, a church season that evokes the contentment often realized in quiet contemplation. Other seasons have more vibrant coloration and seem louder. While in contrast it may seem rather dour, Lent captures the moment just before sunrise; often the most fruitful time for prayer and meditation. The Incarnation and subsequent Epiphanal inspiration have occurred, now Jesus urges his immediate and subsequent followers to take time to pray and hold a close conversation with God, a process that enabled him to clearly articulate his message, radically organize his ministry, evade temptation, and find that place of communal contentment.
During this season, we will offer opportunities at Christ Church that will deepen the meaning of the season. On Ash Wednesday we will offer two services, one beginning just ten minutes after Noon, and the other at 7pm. A course in Biblical Archaeology, free and open to the public, will be offered on Thursday evenings beginning on February 25th. This class will look into the ways in which the past informs present practices and where great poetry meets the trials and triumphs of history. In addition, I’m looking for volunteers willing to open the church at 5:30 pm on weekdays, beginning on the 18th, to help me read Evening Prayer or simply have a few moments to sit in quiet and do nothing but abide. This way, our Celtic foundation will be evoked as we practice this one simple aspect of devotion.
Especially, we will cherish the quietude that is always a feature of Lent. While we often hope to hear God in the great events of our day or at moments of high drama, the Almighty is most often heard in those quiet moments, alone or with family and friends, speaking in that still, small voice that we hear only when we are prepared to listen.
[In the photo above, Amanda is posing with one of the stars of the MTV series "Jersey Shore". Yeah, I don't know either except the things that she does for Citibank...oy, let me tell you....]