Holy Places and Holy Stories

“Bethlehem and Nazareth and Jerusalem remind us that it is to possible to touch, and hold and see God, even in this life, in the guise of helpless infants, worried parents, broken bodies and empty tombs.” —Br. James Koester, SSJE, from “Brother, Give Us a Word,” a daily email sent to friends and followers of the Society of Saint John the Evangelist (SSJE.org).

Children’s Chapel . National Cathedral Washington DC

Many of you have visited the Holy Land and been to these “thin places.” For me, visiting these shrines has made the stories of what happened at each place more vivid. For those who have not traveled to these particular sites, the stories are still powerful and often can come alive in our own imagination or through art. There are also places that represent these holy shrines that can bring them alive. I am thinking of the National Cathedral’s Bethlehem Chapel, Children’s Chapel, Chapel of Joseph of Arimathea, and Chapel of the Resurrection.

Each holy site can also represent a part of our own lives.

Our Bethlehem is not only the location of our birth, but the place where we begin to feel alive, reborn—that we are becoming the person God created us to be. Our “Bethlehem” often is a retreat refuge where our life was changed. Our “Nazareth” can be not only the place where we were raised, but also the places where we are still cared for, nourished, and restored. For many, their Nazareth is their church or spiritual community.

Jerusalem is the holiest of places. It is the place where God most clearly lives. It is where we suffer, and also where parts of us have to die. But miraculously, out of this suffering, we find resurrection. I am mindful of Jerusalem most often in a grief recovery group called Walking the Mourner’s Path. It is with these people that I see great suffering transformed into new life. The work involves honoring loved ones who have died, and becoming wounded healers to others who have suffered.

In many ways, each city images a new life, a new birth, a resurrection. Renewal can be messier at some places and easier and gentler at others.

Today may we contemplate where these holy cities reside in our lives. Where are the places we go to be reborn, to be nourished, and to be resurrected out of suffering?

Joanna. Joannaseibert.com

The Art of Pilgrimage

“We shall not cease from exploration

And the end of all our exploring

Will be to arrive where we started

And know the place for the first time.” —T. S. Eliot, Little Gidding.

I find myself returning to Phil Cousineau’s book The Art of Pilgrimage: The Seeker’s Guide to Making Travel Sacred time and again, whenever I am preparing for a trip and hoping to make the journey a pilgrimage.

Cousineau’s family traveled a great deal in his childhood. He relates how his father thought travel was good for the mind, while his mother felt it was good for the soul. Cousineau reminds us that a traveler visits a place. A pilgrim allows a place to become a part of one’s inner self. As travelers we often plan trips, and then, upon getting to our destination, experience a sense of unfulfilled expectation. This disappointment results from the way we engage with the place, and is not due to shortcomings in the site itself.

The Celts would tell us to imagine the moment of our departure as the crossing of a threshold of a door.

Cousineau also asks us to imagine our first memorable journey. What images rise up in our soul? They may be a childhood trip to the family gravesite; a visit to relatives who live on a farm; or an outing to a religious site accompanied by our favorite aunt.

Do these feelings have any connection with our lives today? The author asks us if there are some places that are sacred to us and/or our family that we long to visit? He suggests that as we uncover what we long for, we will discover who we are.

Cousineau reminds us that we will reconnect to our soul, the part of God within us, by learning to be aware and to listen to our surroundings. On a pilgrimage we are to look—not overlook; and to listen intently to everything around us. We can practice listening to music in solitude in order to get back into the habit of listening to our surroundings. Keeping a journal may help us to look more closely as we seek to describe what we are seeing.

There is an old Nigerian saying that “the day on which one starts out is not the time to start one’s preparation.” We are to begin the Sacred Journey with our journal. We are encouraged to keep sacred a silent “alone” part of our day in order to write in our journal. Our journal can help us relive our pilgrimage; but we can also make it possible to relive the journey by bringing back pictures, stones, or shells, as Anne Morrow Lindbergh writes of in Gift from the Sea.

We are also to plan ahead how we will reenergize ourselves each day. It is important to be open to serendipity, coincidences, and even distractions that may take us off our planned path. I remember a time I spent at the College of Preachers at the National Cathedral. I was walking through the Cathedral near the entrance when a large group of elementary students of around ten years old hurried in. They were distracting my silent mediation. But then I most vividly remember one young boy tilting back his head and looking up at the high vaulted ceilings and immediately shouting out, “Wow!!” To this day, I can still see and hear that young prophet.

Joanna. Joannaseibert.com

Natural Disasters

“When evening came, his disciples went down to the sea, got into a boat, and started across the sea to Capernaum. It was not dark, and Jesus had not yet come to them. The sea became rough because a strong wind was blowing. When they had rowed about three or four miles, they saw Jesus walking on the sea and coming near the boat, and they were terrified. But he said to them, ‘It is I; do not be afraid.’ Then they wanted to take him into the boat, and immediately the boat reached the land toward which they were going.” —John 6:16-21.

Sixteen years ago, on September 16, Hurricane Ivan made a direct hit on the town of Orange Beach along the Alabama Gulf Coast near the Florida line. There were twenty-five deaths in the United States, including fourteen in Florida. This category-three storm caused major destruction to an area that had become our family’s beloved vacation spot for years.

My heart goes out to the people on the North Carolina and South Carolina coasts who later were visited by Hurricane Florence and so many more since then. I remember the days of looking at any picture that might show if our special place had been destroyed. It was weeks before we were able to return to our condo on the fourth floor and go inside to survey the damage.

We hardly recognized the building. Huge parts of the front facade were gone. Every condo on the first floor had been destroyed by wind and water. Two large glass doors had blown out of the condo, and furniture had been blown out of the gapping, exposed spaces. The elevators were, of course, not functioning; so it was a major trek up and down the stairs, once we figured out where they were. We made multiple trips to dispose of the rotting food left in the refrigerator.

My clearest memory is of the disorientation we experienced when so many of the familiar markers were gone. Besides the damage to the front of our condominium, street signs were gone, familiar buildings had disappeared, and parts of the roads were destroyed so that we had to take detours through even more unfamiliar places.

Such a natural disaster is a reminder of what happens when we face major emotional crises or significant changes in our personal lives—such as the death of a loved one, a life-threatening illness, a divorce, a move, or even a new job. At such times, all of our usual markers can disappear. We may become disoriented. Decisions can become agonizingly difficult to make. It is sometimes hard to find our way. Often it is as though we are in a foreign country, and the people around us are speaking a language we have never heard before.

It is important to recognize this state of mind, to take care of ourselves, and to be open to receiving help. If we try to white-knuckle it and get through the crisis alone, the burden often becomes intolerable. My experience is that recovery comes and normalcy returns with the blessed support and help of friends and community.

Joanna joannaseibert.com

Book Signing TODAY Wordsworth Books

Saturday, November 2, 2019 1 to 3 pm

Just in time for the holidays

A Spiritual Rx for Advent Christmas, and Epiphany

The Sequel to A Spiritual Rx for Lent and Easter

Both are $18. Money from sale of the books goes to Camp Mitchel Camp and Conference Center in Arkansas or Hurricane Relief in

The Diocese of the Central Gulf Coast