For some years the Holy Cross sermon blog has been publishing sermons by members of the community at West Park. I have been happy to be part of that enterprise. In time there will be sermons by the community for most if not all the Sundays and occasions of the 3-year lectionary cycle. It gives as well an interesting look at the thinking and expression of a spectrum of people preaching at West Park, though not quite all, since some of our best preachers don't always preach from a manuscript, and so their offerings are not able to be included.
I imagine some who might read this blog also check out the Holy Cross Monastery website and link to the sermon blog from there. You can also use the link above. But for those who don't, here are links to my sermons from the last 12 months or so, which I thought might be of interest to those who might follow me here, and also to show that I have not been completely off the reservation during my long absence from this blog.
Easter 3B April 22, 2012
Trinity Sunday, June 3, 2012
Holy Cross Day, September 14, 2012
All Saints Day, November 1, 2012
The Solemnity of Fr. Huntington, November 27, 2012
This was also published, with an introductory essay, in the Order's Holy Cross News edition for 2013, which focused on the topic of the desert.
Lent 3C, March 3, 2013
Easter 3C, April 14, 2013
Those who know me know that I love to preach. I hope that love comes through in these very different sermons.
Tuesday, April 16, 2013
Thursday, March 28, 2013
The Rest of Geneva
Four months, almost to the day, since I promised to blog again. I have an average of 7 hits a day on a blog that hasn't posted in four months. Talk about faithful! Or maybe (probably) they are set on automatic to see what might come up.
Today is Maundy Thursday, which, among other things, celebrates the community gathered around Jesus and continuing in fellowship ever since. Not a bad day to take up the communication again, sharing with the little community of this blog.
I promised to say something about the rest of my experience in Geneva. It was wonderful. I found more new friends and enjoyed the parish a lot. I had dinner out several times. I visited Lausanne and Bern. I spent four nights in Zurich at a great-priced Priceline hotel and visited St. Gall and Einsiedeln. I spent the better part of a day at the Fondation Martin Bodmer, one of the great collections of books and manuscripts in the world. The parish had its annual picnic at the house of a member family that had a huge lawn running down to the lake.
Particularly fun was the Sunday we celebrated the youth and children's ministries. The gospel that day was the story about the disciples out in a boat on the lake in a storm and Jesus asleep on a cushion in the front of the boat. We -- the kids and I -- acted out the story, forming a boat, putting Jesus -- our Jesus was nominated by the kids -- on a cushion in front. We swayed and moaned and pretended to barf out the side of the "boat" and generally had a good time of it. Then I asked the kids how they felt about Jesus sleeping through all of it, and one of them got up and kicked "Jesus" in the butt. It brought down the house! What fun that day was!
The last Saturday I was there I arranged to visit the ancestral village of some of my mother's relatives -- the Mohneys, my mother's mother's father's line. I am named for that gentleman, Adam Mohney. He was the male figure in my mother's early life, as her father had been killed (and the family left without pension) while he was working for the Pennsylvania Railroad a few months before she was born in 1919. In their Swiss days they were known as Manni. Busy family genealogists (online!) had traced them back to the village of Dotzigen, in the Canton of Bern, a little south of Biel, on the River Aar. Apparently they left around 1685 or so, moved to the Alsace and then around 1710 emigrated to Philadelphia. Parishioners of Emmanuel, Samuel and Helena Mbele-Mbong and their grandson, volunteered to drive and we had a perfectly wonderful day. Samuel is a retired official of the United Nations weather service in Geneva. I had contacted the pastor of the local Swiss Reformed parish, a combination of four villages with two church buildings, who could not spend much time with us (the mayor had just died and much pastoral work and planning needed to be done) but found us a terrific guide in the person of Manfred Baumgartner, retired from the Swiss telephone company and treasurer of the four-village parish. He was absolutely wonderful, and guided us around Dotzigen and the area, and even introduced us to a couple there who had us in for coffee. The husband grew up in Southern California, and had been to Mount Calvary as a teenager! Talk about a small world.
As Manfred explained it, Dotzigen and the three other villages are on the edges of a roughly circular plain that used to flood every few years. The soil there is rich, but the hardships on the farmers at flood time there were great. The river was finally re-channeled in the 1890s, but I think I have an idea why these ancestors of mine left. They were probably tired of the insecurity of it all.
What a wonderful time all of us had that day! I owe a great debt of thanks to the Mbele-Mbongs!
One other thing deserves mention. A member of the staff of the parish discovered that her Swiss visa was about to expire. The severity of the Swiss government response to her application to remain in the country where she had lived, studied and worked for a long time came as a surprise. Immigration is a huge issue in Switzerland, as in other Western European countries. They, being Swiss, have a different take on this sort of process than we have in the US. In my experience working in Hispanic ministry in Anaheim and East Harlem the US approach is draconian in theory but the INS is so slow in doing its work (I hesitate to use the word incompetent, but I only hesitate a bit) that often years go by and lives are established and processes have to be adjusted from time to time to accommodate the human realities of people's lives. Not so in Switzerland. One ignores deadlines at one's peril. One makes a mistake in one's application and one receives that interestingly detached look that Swiss bureaucrats cultivate. One receives a first response and then tries to change it and one discovers that rules are not meant to facilitate one's own life.
There is an upside to all this efficiency, of course. Everything is clean. Everything runs as it is supposed to run. There is an awesome honesty to Swiss public affairs, and a real righteousness in public dealings. I am not making fun of this. I really loved it. But. The downside of public efficiency is that when it concerns one personally, one discovers how very thorough it can be. My understanding is that she received a grace period and had to be gone last fall.
Today is Maundy Thursday, which, among other things, celebrates the community gathered around Jesus and continuing in fellowship ever since. Not a bad day to take up the communication again, sharing with the little community of this blog.
I promised to say something about the rest of my experience in Geneva. It was wonderful. I found more new friends and enjoyed the parish a lot. I had dinner out several times. I visited Lausanne and Bern. I spent four nights in Zurich at a great-priced Priceline hotel and visited St. Gall and Einsiedeln. I spent the better part of a day at the Fondation Martin Bodmer, one of the great collections of books and manuscripts in the world. The parish had its annual picnic at the house of a member family that had a huge lawn running down to the lake.
Particularly fun was the Sunday we celebrated the youth and children's ministries. The gospel that day was the story about the disciples out in a boat on the lake in a storm and Jesus asleep on a cushion in the front of the boat. We -- the kids and I -- acted out the story, forming a boat, putting Jesus -- our Jesus was nominated by the kids -- on a cushion in front. We swayed and moaned and pretended to barf out the side of the "boat" and generally had a good time of it. Then I asked the kids how they felt about Jesus sleeping through all of it, and one of them got up and kicked "Jesus" in the butt. It brought down the house! What fun that day was!
The last Saturday I was there I arranged to visit the ancestral village of some of my mother's relatives -- the Mohneys, my mother's mother's father's line. I am named for that gentleman, Adam Mohney. He was the male figure in my mother's early life, as her father had been killed (and the family left without pension) while he was working for the Pennsylvania Railroad a few months before she was born in 1919. In their Swiss days they were known as Manni. Busy family genealogists (online!) had traced them back to the village of Dotzigen, in the Canton of Bern, a little south of Biel, on the River Aar. Apparently they left around 1685 or so, moved to the Alsace and then around 1710 emigrated to Philadelphia. Parishioners of Emmanuel, Samuel and Helena Mbele-Mbong and their grandson, volunteered to drive and we had a perfectly wonderful day. Samuel is a retired official of the United Nations weather service in Geneva. I had contacted the pastor of the local Swiss Reformed parish, a combination of four villages with two church buildings, who could not spend much time with us (the mayor had just died and much pastoral work and planning needed to be done) but found us a terrific guide in the person of Manfred Baumgartner, retired from the Swiss telephone company and treasurer of the four-village parish. He was absolutely wonderful, and guided us around Dotzigen and the area, and even introduced us to a couple there who had us in for coffee. The husband grew up in Southern California, and had been to Mount Calvary as a teenager! Talk about a small world.
As Manfred explained it, Dotzigen and the three other villages are on the edges of a roughly circular plain that used to flood every few years. The soil there is rich, but the hardships on the farmers at flood time there were great. The river was finally re-channeled in the 1890s, but I think I have an idea why these ancestors of mine left. They were probably tired of the insecurity of it all.
What a wonderful time all of us had that day! I owe a great debt of thanks to the Mbele-Mbongs!
One other thing deserves mention. A member of the staff of the parish discovered that her Swiss visa was about to expire. The severity of the Swiss government response to her application to remain in the country where she had lived, studied and worked for a long time came as a surprise. Immigration is a huge issue in Switzerland, as in other Western European countries. They, being Swiss, have a different take on this sort of process than we have in the US. In my experience working in Hispanic ministry in Anaheim and East Harlem the US approach is draconian in theory but the INS is so slow in doing its work (I hesitate to use the word incompetent, but I only hesitate a bit) that often years go by and lives are established and processes have to be adjusted from time to time to accommodate the human realities of people's lives. Not so in Switzerland. One ignores deadlines at one's peril. One makes a mistake in one's application and one receives that interestingly detached look that Swiss bureaucrats cultivate. One receives a first response and then tries to change it and one discovers that rules are not meant to facilitate one's own life.
There is an upside to all this efficiency, of course. Everything is clean. Everything runs as it is supposed to run. There is an awesome honesty to Swiss public affairs, and a real righteousness in public dealings. I am not making fun of this. I really loved it. But. The downside of public efficiency is that when it concerns one personally, one discovers how very thorough it can be. My understanding is that she received a grace period and had to be gone last fall.
Wednesday, November 28, 2012
Back to Blogging
I've not shared anything on the blog since last June. Apologies. No excuses except the usual -- preoccupation and perfectionism leading to sloth. So I will try to catch up in the next bit of time.
Meanwhile, here is a link to my sermon on the occasion of the Order's annual celebration of the Feast of Fr. Huntington.
Meanwhile, here is a link to my sermon on the occasion of the Order's annual celebration of the Feast of Fr. Huntington.
Saturday, June 23, 2012
Week One in Geneva
Well, I've actually been here a bit more than a week. I arrived Thursday morning, after an ok overnight flight on a subsidiary (I think) of Lufthansa called Swiss International Airlines. The only nonstop flights from NYC or Newark to Geneva. Waiting to pick me up was Alan Wittrup, husband of the Senior Warden of Emmanuel Church, who kindly took some time off his work at the International Labor Organization to greet a nervous traveler.
Denise Bénéteau, wife of the Rector, welcomed me to their apartment. What a nice person! After organizing me, for which I am profoundly grateful, she left the next day for a week of cycling down one of the major rivers of France with her husband, who is on sabbatical. I spent the next few days orienting myself -- getting a transit pass (CHF 50 instead of 75 because I am now 65), etc.
I was full of plans. But I gradually realized I had no energy for plans. So I have spent the better part of the week doing little things and resting. I had no idea how tired I was, especially after the runup to Chapter, with Finance Committee and other obligations. Yesterday (Friday) I woke up from a nap and realized I had my energy back, and went out for a long walk. But a week to recover!
Last Sunday was the first at Emmanuel. What wonderful, welcoming people! And afterward the annual Choir Picnic, at the lovely suburban home of one of the choir families. My first social meal in Geneva, and it was hot dogs, hamburgers and perfectly divine ribs, with rhubarb pie for dessert! And ice cream sundaes, served up by the kids, who were dressed as waiters and perfectly charming as they took our orders. Though they were a little vague about all the topping options, the menu memory running basically to chocolate sauce. They were great!
During my weeklong slough of exhaustion I did manage several interesting things. A parishioner who lives on the floor above took me and her visiting daughters and their friends to a recital of vocal students held at the Auditoire Calvin, next to the Cathedral in the Old City. The Auditoire was one of the places where Calvin held forth. Fifteenth century gothic church, small, stripped of everything visually interesting. Used weekly now for services by the Scottish Presbyterians, and less frequently by the Dutch Calvinists and the Waldensians. The recital was interesting, and perhaps illustrative of a vocal teacher's life: several youngsters of varying promise, wildly cheered by their friends and families. Some older folk who seem to want to graduate from singing for their own benefit to something more public, again with varying promise. And several really, really good voices, professional or near professional quality. One of them was the reason we were there, Patty Solomon, youth coordinator at Emmanuel, possessed of a perfectly wonderful soprano voice. She sang Gershwin's "Summertime" better than I think I have ever heard it. The note at the end -- high and long, the signature of the piece -- was absolutely thrilling. One of the older guys, whose first piece was so-so, sang for his second "Bring him home" from Les Miserables. I love that song anyway (what does that say about a life as a monk -- the son I've never known, etc.). He did it with amazing expression. I was moved to tears. A late night walk back made it a perfect evening.
I returned to the Vielle Ville to see the Cathedrale de St. Pierre. The interior is what you would expect a fourteenth/fifteenth century gothic cathedral gone Calvinist to be -- essentially devoid of interest except for the architecture itself, which is standard issue medieval gothic. But underneath is the real story. There has been first class archaeological work underneath the cathedral, with walkways through the various zones of the site. This tour carries you all the way back to ca. 100 BCE, when the site was essentially created with the burial of some tribal worthy, likely an Allobrogian chieftain, whose skeleton (I am supposing it really is his skeleton, and not a display copy) is a little more than half exposed. Over him in succession were raised a sort of mausoleum, then a tribal temple to his genius (presumably), then a Roman temple, then a church, then another church, and then another and another, and so on. His burial essentially defined the space as holy.
I then visited the Musée de la Reforme, and was fortunate to latch onto the English language tour. It is housed in a very fine 18th century house built over the former cloister of the cathedral. Books, books and more books, lots of paintings, lots of letters. I located a copy of the revocation of the Edict of Nantes, but not the Edict itself. And something curious about the bookshop: tons of Calvin, of course, but not a single Bible in sight. The charming attendant told me there was a Bible store just down the hill. Curious. Not enough Bible business for two shops selling the scriptures? In Geneva??
The music director at Emmanuel is a seriously gifted woman named Shauna Beesley. She is a singer and composer. She recently composed an opera on Michael Servetus, the proto-Unitarian who was burned at the stake on Calvin's instructions. Le procés de Michel Servet. Major blot on Calvin's historical copy book, perhaps the biggest blot. The opera was produced in Geneva, but ran into various roadblocks. Apparently the City of Calvin is still quite protective of his memory. Shauna and her husband invited me to dinner, with the purpose of reading through Shauna's adaptation of a novel as a libretto. I won't say which novel so as not to step on her fame when and if it is composed and produced as an opera. Fascinating! There we were, reading as best we could, Shauna changing things on the spot, and all of us discussing how this or that worked. She is amazing.
Tomorrow, Sunday, is Youth Sunday. The kids are doing basically everything except the sermon (which I will key to the younger ones -- the calming of the storm, perfect for child participation) and the consecration of the elements. Then the Church picnic, held at a grand maison in the country belonging to one of the parishioners.
Denise Bénéteau, wife of the Rector, welcomed me to their apartment. What a nice person! After organizing me, for which I am profoundly grateful, she left the next day for a week of cycling down one of the major rivers of France with her husband, who is on sabbatical. I spent the next few days orienting myself -- getting a transit pass (CHF 50 instead of 75 because I am now 65), etc.
I was full of plans. But I gradually realized I had no energy for plans. So I have spent the better part of the week doing little things and resting. I had no idea how tired I was, especially after the runup to Chapter, with Finance Committee and other obligations. Yesterday (Friday) I woke up from a nap and realized I had my energy back, and went out for a long walk. But a week to recover!
Last Sunday was the first at Emmanuel. What wonderful, welcoming people! And afterward the annual Choir Picnic, at the lovely suburban home of one of the choir families. My first social meal in Geneva, and it was hot dogs, hamburgers and perfectly divine ribs, with rhubarb pie for dessert! And ice cream sundaes, served up by the kids, who were dressed as waiters and perfectly charming as they took our orders. Though they were a little vague about all the topping options, the menu memory running basically to chocolate sauce. They were great!
During my weeklong slough of exhaustion I did manage several interesting things. A parishioner who lives on the floor above took me and her visiting daughters and their friends to a recital of vocal students held at the Auditoire Calvin, next to the Cathedral in the Old City. The Auditoire was one of the places where Calvin held forth. Fifteenth century gothic church, small, stripped of everything visually interesting. Used weekly now for services by the Scottish Presbyterians, and less frequently by the Dutch Calvinists and the Waldensians. The recital was interesting, and perhaps illustrative of a vocal teacher's life: several youngsters of varying promise, wildly cheered by their friends and families. Some older folk who seem to want to graduate from singing for their own benefit to something more public, again with varying promise. And several really, really good voices, professional or near professional quality. One of them was the reason we were there, Patty Solomon, youth coordinator at Emmanuel, possessed of a perfectly wonderful soprano voice. She sang Gershwin's "Summertime" better than I think I have ever heard it. The note at the end -- high and long, the signature of the piece -- was absolutely thrilling. One of the older guys, whose first piece was so-so, sang for his second "Bring him home" from Les Miserables. I love that song anyway (what does that say about a life as a monk -- the son I've never known, etc.). He did it with amazing expression. I was moved to tears. A late night walk back made it a perfect evening.
I returned to the Vielle Ville to see the Cathedrale de St. Pierre. The interior is what you would expect a fourteenth/fifteenth century gothic cathedral gone Calvinist to be -- essentially devoid of interest except for the architecture itself, which is standard issue medieval gothic. But underneath is the real story. There has been first class archaeological work underneath the cathedral, with walkways through the various zones of the site. This tour carries you all the way back to ca. 100 BCE, when the site was essentially created with the burial of some tribal worthy, likely an Allobrogian chieftain, whose skeleton (I am supposing it really is his skeleton, and not a display copy) is a little more than half exposed. Over him in succession were raised a sort of mausoleum, then a tribal temple to his genius (presumably), then a Roman temple, then a church, then another church, and then another and another, and so on. His burial essentially defined the space as holy.
I then visited the Musée de la Reforme, and was fortunate to latch onto the English language tour. It is housed in a very fine 18th century house built over the former cloister of the cathedral. Books, books and more books, lots of paintings, lots of letters. I located a copy of the revocation of the Edict of Nantes, but not the Edict itself. And something curious about the bookshop: tons of Calvin, of course, but not a single Bible in sight. The charming attendant told me there was a Bible store just down the hill. Curious. Not enough Bible business for two shops selling the scriptures? In Geneva??
The music director at Emmanuel is a seriously gifted woman named Shauna Beesley. She is a singer and composer. She recently composed an opera on Michael Servetus, the proto-Unitarian who was burned at the stake on Calvin's instructions. Le procés de Michel Servet. Major blot on Calvin's historical copy book, perhaps the biggest blot. The opera was produced in Geneva, but ran into various roadblocks. Apparently the City of Calvin is still quite protective of his memory. Shauna and her husband invited me to dinner, with the purpose of reading through Shauna's adaptation of a novel as a libretto. I won't say which novel so as not to step on her fame when and if it is composed and produced as an opera. Fascinating! There we were, reading as best we could, Shauna changing things on the spot, and all of us discussing how this or that worked. She is amazing.
Tomorrow, Sunday, is Youth Sunday. The kids are doing basically everything except the sermon (which I will key to the younger ones -- the calming of the storm, perfect for child participation) and the consecration of the elements. Then the Church picnic, held at a grand maison in the country belonging to one of the parishioners.
Tuesday, June 5, 2012
Eastertide and Ministry
Holy Week and Easter have came and gone. It was glorious here at the Monastery. The community gave quite a lot of thought to what went well and what didn't go so well last year and made a few adjustments. Nothing major, but they worked pretty well.
For the last few years I have been asked to be the confessor for the clergy before the Holy Tuesday Mass of Collegiality at which the clergy renew their ordination vows at the Cathedral of St. John the Divine in New York City. I regard it as a great privilege, and think the Order is honored to have one of OHC's priests do so, and march in and sit up front and all that sort of glorification. Not that the whole clerical order is lined up for the sacrament of penance. But I am always moved by those who do.
The monastery's Library Volunteers were with us again at the beginning of May. This is a working retreat program that has grown in its three years or so into a real community of people. I can't express how wonderful it is to have their help in the never-ending work of improving our library collection.
The last two Sundays (May 27 and June 3) I took the service at the Spanish language congregation of La Virgén de Guadalupe, which meets at Christ Church, Poughkeepsie. I was cheered to find that I could still officiate and preach in Spanish after some years away from that ministry, which has been such an important part of my life. The service on June 3 began with a baptism and then 8 first communions, so it was a very family affair. There is a wonderful sort of background noise that babies and little ones make in church that I realized I have missed -- sort of like the waves of the sea at the shore, rising and falling, sometimes soft and sometimes not so soft, but continuous. I love it, and it was such a joy to be in it again. Those making their first communions ranged from about 6 or 7 to 22, all dressed in white, as is customary. The lay leader of the congregation, Dominga Jimenez, was marvelous leading me through a ceremony I had not performed in some years, and which is always a little different in each church.
June 3 was also Trinity Sunday, and I preached at the Monastery. The sermon is posted here.
This week is Chapter for the Order of the Holy Cross. The brethren are gathering. The Finance Committee, of which I am chair, meets today. I have spend days getting the information packets ready -- statements and budgets from all four monasteries (West Park; Santa Barbara; Toronto; Grahamstown, South Africa), the Holy Cross School, the OHC Corporation and our financial advisers, various grant requests, as well as matters relevant to this meeting of Chapter. It's a lot, and it will have to move along fairly briskly in order to do everything we need to do. I'll be glad when it is accomplished.
Next week, when Chapter is over, I will fly to Geneva, Switzerland, to be one of the priests who will take Sunday services at Emmanuel Episcopal Church there while the Rector, John Beach, is on sabbatical. It is a working vacation. I'll be there the Sundays of June 17 and 24 and July 1 and 8. I've never been to Switzerland, and hope to travel around a bit. Many adventures!
The monastery's Library Volunteers were with us again at the beginning of May. This is a working retreat program that has grown in its three years or so into a real community of people. I can't express how wonderful it is to have their help in the never-ending work of improving our library collection.
The last two Sundays (May 27 and June 3) I took the service at the Spanish language congregation of La Virgén de Guadalupe, which meets at Christ Church, Poughkeepsie. I was cheered to find that I could still officiate and preach in Spanish after some years away from that ministry, which has been such an important part of my life. The service on June 3 began with a baptism and then 8 first communions, so it was a very family affair. There is a wonderful sort of background noise that babies and little ones make in church that I realized I have missed -- sort of like the waves of the sea at the shore, rising and falling, sometimes soft and sometimes not so soft, but continuous. I love it, and it was such a joy to be in it again. Those making their first communions ranged from about 6 or 7 to 22, all dressed in white, as is customary. The lay leader of the congregation, Dominga Jimenez, was marvelous leading me through a ceremony I had not performed in some years, and which is always a little different in each church.
June 3 was also Trinity Sunday, and I preached at the Monastery. The sermon is posted here.
This week is Chapter for the Order of the Holy Cross. The brethren are gathering. The Finance Committee, of which I am chair, meets today. I have spend days getting the information packets ready -- statements and budgets from all four monasteries (West Park; Santa Barbara; Toronto; Grahamstown, South Africa), the Holy Cross School, the OHC Corporation and our financial advisers, various grant requests, as well as matters relevant to this meeting of Chapter. It's a lot, and it will have to move along fairly briskly in order to do everything we need to do. I'll be glad when it is accomplished.
Next week, when Chapter is over, I will fly to Geneva, Switzerland, to be one of the priests who will take Sunday services at Emmanuel Episcopal Church there while the Rector, John Beach, is on sabbatical. It is a working vacation. I'll be there the Sundays of June 17 and 24 and July 1 and 8. I've never been to Switzerland, and hope to travel around a bit. Many adventures!
Thursday, April 5, 2012
Have a Holy Triduum and Easter
The Monastery is in the midst of our preparations for Maundy Thursday, Good Friday, Holy Saturday and Easter. I presided at the Eucharist on Palm Sunday, and seem to be free to worship for the rest, except possibly for Easter Sunday, for which the duty list has not yet been published. What a privilege!
I spent 16 years organizing liturgies, presiding and preaching for this holy season at St. Michael's, Anaheim and at St. Edward the Martyr, East Harlem. It was a joy and a privilege each and every year to do so, but it is also a joy and privilege to be a simple worshiper.
May the Lord's Supper be our supper. May his passion inform our passion. May his death be with us as we die, and may his resurrection lead us on the way to new life.
I spent 16 years organizing liturgies, presiding and preaching for this holy season at St. Michael's, Anaheim and at St. Edward the Martyr, East Harlem. It was a joy and a privilege each and every year to do so, but it is also a joy and privilege to be a simple worshiper.
May the Lord's Supper be our supper. May his passion inform our passion. May his death be with us as we die, and may his resurrection lead us on the way to new life.
Sunday, March 25, 2012
At Holy Cross Priory, Toronto
I had a wonderful retreat at OHC's Holy Cross Priory in Toronto last month, and it is time to write about it.
I took Amtrak up to Toronto on Sat., Feb. 18, for an eight day individual retreat at OHC's Priory there. The train trip was quite restful, and while Amtrak is not the ne plus ultra of train travel, it was comfortable, the microwaved cheeseburger was more or less edible, the Canadian immigration people were polite, and we were only about an hour late getting in. Brothers David Bryan and Randy met me at Union Station.
I had started to develop a cold before I left and by Sunday morning it was in full flower. I actually spent the first three days of my retreat laying low, except for a planned visit to the Royal Ontario Museum with May Kong, a friend of OHC and an expert in Chinese art. The brothers were very kind, and I gradually began to emerge.
The prayer life at the Priory is simple but follows the full OHC schedule using our Monastic Breviary. David Bryan and Reginald work outside the house, Richard is engaged in scholarship at home, Randy is attending seminary at Wycliffe College, Christian is retired but still active, and Leonard was in Ghana teaching, as he has for some years. But everyone (except Leonard, of course) comes back for dinner every evening, and there is a warm family feeling to community life. I grew to love our Priory more and more every day.
My agenda for the retreat was to rest (which the cold forced me to do), learn a bit about Chinese and Canadian art, pray with the community, read a new theologian (this time Margaret Barker and her work on Old Testament temple theology) and have lots of time to pray quietly. All of which was exactly what I was able to do.
OHC's Fr. Turkington, who was resident at the Priory in Toronto for many years, was an unrelentingly positive person, and always said that whatever was being done just then by the community was the best he had ever seen. So I guess I am channeling him when I say, This was the best retreat I ever had!
I took Amtrak up to Toronto on Sat., Feb. 18, for an eight day individual retreat at OHC's Priory there. The train trip was quite restful, and while Amtrak is not the ne plus ultra of train travel, it was comfortable, the microwaved cheeseburger was more or less edible, the Canadian immigration people were polite, and we were only about an hour late getting in. Brothers David Bryan and Randy met me at Union Station.
I had started to develop a cold before I left and by Sunday morning it was in full flower. I actually spent the first three days of my retreat laying low, except for a planned visit to the Royal Ontario Museum with May Kong, a friend of OHC and an expert in Chinese art. The brothers were very kind, and I gradually began to emerge.
The prayer life at the Priory is simple but follows the full OHC schedule using our Monastic Breviary. David Bryan and Reginald work outside the house, Richard is engaged in scholarship at home, Randy is attending seminary at Wycliffe College, Christian is retired but still active, and Leonard was in Ghana teaching, as he has for some years. But everyone (except Leonard, of course) comes back for dinner every evening, and there is a warm family feeling to community life. I grew to love our Priory more and more every day.
My agenda for the retreat was to rest (which the cold forced me to do), learn a bit about Chinese and Canadian art, pray with the community, read a new theologian (this time Margaret Barker and her work on Old Testament temple theology) and have lots of time to pray quietly. All of which was exactly what I was able to do.
OHC's Fr. Turkington, who was resident at the Priory in Toronto for many years, was an unrelentingly positive person, and always said that whatever was being done just then by the community was the best he had ever seen. So I guess I am channeling him when I say, This was the best retreat I ever had!
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