Canoeing Life's Mountains

Canoeing the Mountains

“Unless a grain of wheat falls into the earth and dies, it remains just a single grain; but if it dies, it bears much fruit.”—John 12:24.

The Alban Weekly from Duke Divinity School interviewed Tod Bolsinger, professor at Fuller Theological Seminary, about the meaning of his recent book, Canoeing the Mountains: Christian Leadership in Uncharted Territory (IVP Books, 2018).

Bolsinger provides a surprising metaphor for so many of our transition experiences in life. He tells the story of the journey of the explorers Lewis and Clark, who anticipated they would find a navigable river leading to the Pacific Ocean when they reached the Continental Divide. Instead, they met the Rocky Mountains. 

They didn’t survive by attempting to canoe the mountain. However, the explorers didn’t let this obstacle destroy their objective. They had to adapt, and their key to survival came from a source of wisdom that was not part of their hierarchy or privilege.

I think what Bolsinger is trying to tell our churches can apply to aspects of our lives. We have much to learn from people who know what it is like to reach the top of a mountain with a now-useless canoe in hand and still accomplish the insurmountable journey.

Survivors of previous calamities have a sense of a GPS calling them back home. Immigrants, people of color, and women especially have had to adapt to overwhelming situations. Their experiences have much to teach us. More and more, we are called to listen to their stories.

Lewis and Clark encountered the needed wisdom from a teenager, a nursing mother, and a Native American kidnapped as a child. “She wasn’t in unfamiliar terrain; she was going home.”  

Bolsinger reminds us that transformation often comes from loss, and those who do not have power may be the true experts in overcoming precarious situations. They may be the best trained in survival and wilderness experiences. Just as Lewis and Clark had to take direction from a young Indian mother, Bolsinger reminds us of the wisdom of giving up power so that something much greater can be birthed. This is also a basic premise in recovery programs and the Christian life in community. 

The canoe metaphor is an apt one for our individual life transitions. What mountains on our journey have we encountered, equipped with only a “canoe”: a valuable energy at one time in our life, but not the expertise we need now? What does it mean to listen more carefully to survivors—survivors in our own world and the survivor parts of our inner world that can guide us along the next pathway?

This is why we continue attending recovery meetings to hear stories from other survivors. This is why we meet with spiritual directors or share our dreams with others who have traveled this path less traveled. This is why we listen to the people we reach out to in need, the survivors who teach us how to serve best. This is why we learn that the skills we know in our work are not the same ones we will need at home with our children or spouses.

I also remember stories I read that were helpful at that time but were much more meaningful in the future.

Oh my, this story was so appropriate for us during and after the pandemic and today.

We had to adapt to new survival techniques that we had never used before, such as wearing a mask, being socially distanced, constantly hand washing, and getting vaccinated. These are simple tasks that saved our lives. We must admit that people who are much more intelligent than ourselves know about survival along this path, and some have even been part of other pandemics and know a thing or two.

 I am thinking of our enormous party when we reach our equivalent of the Pacific Ocean. Lewis and Clark only lost one person in their expedition, probably from a ruptured appendix. But we left behind so many lives as we traveled through that pandemic. Today, we immensely miss them.   

 “Tod Bolsinger: What Does It Mean to Stop Canoeing the Mountains?” Faith and Leadership, Alban at Duke Divinity School, alban@div.duke.edu, 8/13/2018.

Old and Tired, But Still Going

                                      “Old and Tired, But Still Going”

                                        Painting as a Spiritual Practice

Guest Writers: Ken Fellows

ken fellows

     I’ve never been a car-guy, ‘never had a genuine interest in contemporary vehicles other than for utilitarian uses. But antique autos are in a special category for me …objects of style and beauty, nostalgia and craft.

     This fascination started one summer when, as a teen, I helped my adolescent friend, Tommy McConnell, completely dismantle ..and then reassemble .. the engine of his Model T Coupe. It didn’t matter that 4 or 5 engine parts were left over. That old engine started immediately and ran perfectly. According to mechanics, a feature of Model T’s is that if 2 of them are completely dismantled, there are usually enough parts to reassemble three functional cars.

      That Ford Coupe was central to our neighborhood gangs’ summers on Big Whitefish Lake. We would all pile in weekly, three in the cab, a few on both running boards, several standing on the back bumper, and two to three in the rumble seat to swerve down the gravel roads meandering around the local Michigan inland lakes. Fortunately, our parents never learned about a crash one night into a gravel pile that miraculously injured no one. It didn’t even dent that sturdy Ford machine.

    My cars were solely conventional, working and raising a family during my middle adult life. As I neared retirement age, I acquired a home in Maine, and an interest in old vehicles resurfaced there. Briefly, I became the owner of a 1940s dump truck. Why is a mystery, but it did establish me as a ‘character’ in our Kittery Point neighborhood. After a short period, I traded the dump truck for a more reasonable 1938 Plymouth pick-up. It was much more stylish …. black in color with red striping. It sported huge, sculpturally rounded front and back fenders. It was distinctive enough to maintain my reputation as a bit eccentric.

     The highlight of that truck’s 15-year ownership was driving it in a parade commemorating the restoration of a local antique bridge –with my 7-year-old granddaughter, Ella, riding beside me and extending queenly ‘royal waves’ to an amused throng through the passenger-side window.

     With this background, imagine my delight some years hence at spying the Model A Ford in this painting, parked in a small Maine junkyard. As a subject for a painting’s composition, I’m always attracted to scenes where geometric shapes (as with houses, sheds, vehicles, docks) contrast with the adjacent randomness of nature. As in this picture, the defined lines and angles of the old car stand out against the background of rounded shrubs and overarching trees.

     Shadows play another vital part in my art. Without shadows in a painting, there’s no variability in ambient light, which leaves only color to create interest. Perhaps it’s my former life as a radiologist that’s responsible. One of my former medical colleagues, attending a gallery showing of my paintings, remarked: “Well, I see that in retirement, you are still dealing in shadows.”

     I also like this scene because it seems a metaphor for human aging –the Model A representing a bygone style preserved over time and still exhibiting signs of solidity and resilience.

     In the final analysis, of course, it’s just another watercolor painting in which viewers, I hope, may find some interest or pleasure.

Ken Fellows

Joanna  https://www.joannaseibert.com/

 

 

 

 

 

Sabbath-keeping

Sabbath

“Sabbath-keeping is a resistance movement, and it’s very counter-cultural. Sabbath-keeping is a resistance to the clutter, the noise, the advertising, the busyness, and the ‘virtual living’ that sucks the life out of our lives. Sabbath-keeping is a resistance to constant production, work, and accumulation. It may be the most difficult of the Ten Commandments to keep, and it may also be the most important.”—Br. Curtis Almquist, 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).

Keeping the Sabbath in our culture is more than problematic. I have one friend who rests entirely on the Sabbath. She does nothing work-related, trying to spend as much time as possible outdoors. I am reminded of my grandparents, who followed this rule. My grandmother would not even do a little sewing on Sunday. I often spent Sundays with them. We ate, rested, walked around my grandfather’s farm, and attended church. We watched the Ed Sullivan Show at night on television, after making Seven-Up floats. I would then spend the night in their guest double bed, which seemed unbelievably huge. I remember most of all the feeling of love and peace these days. I wonder how much was related to Sabbath-keeping.

They mentored me on how to keep the Sabbath, but I have forgotten. I am an important person. I will never make those deadlines unless I do a little work on Sunday. A little turns into several hours’ worth. Once I start, it is hard to stop. I will rest later.

I want to keep the Sabbath. It is not too late to start. Join me. Let us encourage one another. Maybe we need a Sabbath recovery group to share stories about what happens when we keep the Sabbath.

When I meet with people to offer spiritual direction, I ask them how they keep the Sabbath. I hope to learn from them and remind them of this spiritual gift, the third commandment. It may be the only spiritual gift that is a commandment.

The Ten Commandments honor God but were also given for our health and safety. Sometimes, viewing them as rules and guides to a healthy life is helpful—more important than diet and exercise.

Sabbath-keeping was even more problematic during this pandemic. Our usual practice to honor God was through a live-streamed service from an empty church, where we no longer could see or feel our community that once surrounded and supported each other. We only saw the faces of our faith community at formation meetings through a computer or phone on Zoom. Our clergy are masked and stay distanced. Our Rally Day and animal blessings were drive-through.

My experience is that our Sabbath-keeping, by necessity, has become more individual rather than community-based. As a result, we spent more time writing, reading, praying, meditating, listening, walking, or talking one-on-one to others. Suppose we can envisage this as a revival of old spiritual practices or starting new practices to spend time with our Creator. In that case, it can become a new adventure that may carry over into life if it ever becomes “normal” again.  

However, we must never forget what it was like to worship in person in community and kneel side by side as we receive the Eucharist, for this is where we will more often discern and taste the face of God.

Joanna. https://www.joannaseibert.com/