Values that Endure

Canterbury Cathedral

I spent a lot of hours in cathedrals this summer: Canterbury, Chartres, Nortre Dame de Paris, St. Peter's, and Albi. Built between the 12th and 18th centuries these massive structures took hundreds of years to complete. Thousands of artisans over several generations cut block, colored glass, carved marble, crafted gems and finally combined all of the elements to create these lavish and ornate churches.  They were constructed at the center of villages, adjacent to rivers, filled with natural light filtered through stained glass windows, and with spires towering above the tallest buildings of the community.  They remain witnesses to the deep faith of their builders: God is central and all things hold together in him; God quenches the thirst of the parched soul; God gives light to those in darkness; God forgives sins; God welcomes the penitent and hears the prayers of the people. 

Most of Europe's Cathedrals are old, weathered and deteriorating. And yet, they host millions of tourists each year. For some visitors these monoliths are mere museums or remnants of a time long past.  For others they are simply one more photo op, the place to get a "selfie" for posting on Facebook or Instagram. For a still smaller group these ancient churches remain touchstones to God's word and sacraments where friends and members of their community gather weekly to worship and pray.    

For me the ancient cathedrals embody something more: values that endure.  For me the ancient core values which gave rise to the cathedral remain strong and spirited in our modern churches. Whether large or small, hosting altars or simple stage platforms, using pipe organs or electronic guitars, the church continues to exhibit deep faith, walk in the footsteps of Jesus, live more fully into the way of justice, kindness and humility and serve rather than be served. 

These are the values that endure.

At the same time, I often find these ancient values at odds with the prevailing values of the culture and the practices which increasingly replace the "God-centered" life with "something-else" centered life. 

These "something-else" practices are everywhere evident.

• Government offices, financial institutions, and costly high-rise apartments dominate the skyline rising from the ashes of once grand churches.

• Sports figures and financial executives receive the highest salaries and bonuses while the gap between the wealthy and those at the margins grows wider.

• Large denominational congregations report thousands of people worshiping with them on a given weekend while ten times that  many people crowd the local arenas, bars and restaurants for entertainment during that same seventy-two hours.

• The amount that households spend on entertainment continues to rise; charitable giving increases too but at a slower rate.

• Our lists of heroes seldom include elementary school teachers, nursing assistants, clerical and social workers, custodians, those who clean our hotel rooms, level 4 lab techs, missionaries, specialists who write code for our electronic devices, music coaches, sanitation engineers, parents or grandparents.

• Dialogues on issues dear to all members of the community have been replaced by monologues delivered only to those who share the same point of view.  Sound bites and talking points dominate our conversations and turn them into arguments. 

• "MY" and "ME" have replaced "our" and "we."  "MY way ... MY point of view, neighborhood, religion, school, friend, country, candidate, party ... MY way or the highway!"   

What to do?

Pilgrimage marker Canterbury to Rome

Building new high rise cathedrals at the center of our cities is not the way forward.  

However ...  

• laying a foundation of cathedral values and building our own lives upon them 
• living a God-centered life 
• seeking daily to do justice, love kindness and walk humbly

... these "better practices" will move us in the right direction.

Rome's Colosseum

Colosseum's seating with lower chambers exposed

Throughout the first three centuries of the common era Rome's citizens swarmed into the Colosseum to enjoy elaborate games and entertainment the likes of which they had never before experienced. The party atmosphere must have been something like a present day blending of World Cup, Superbowl, Olympics, Barnum and Bailey Circus, Rock Concert and Cirque de Soleil. 

The producers of "The Gladiator" starring Russell Crowe captured the drama and the excitement of these games.  The undefeated champion, bloodied and dirtied by battle, stands at the center of the Colosseum.  He raises his arms and his sword.  The crowd jumps to its feet and erupts in chant:  "Maximus"  "Maximus" "Maximus."

Trajan's Arch depicts Jewish prisoners and Menorah  en route to Rome 

    
Emperor Vespasian began construction of the massive amphitheater in 70 AD.  He funded the project using the treasures of Jerusalem confiscated during Rome's conquest of the city and the destruction of its temple in 70 AD  (Rome's victory over Jerusalem is also commemorated on Trajan's arch, located near the Colosseum in the Roman Forum).  Vespasian used the "spoils of war" rather than additional taxes to fund the project and selected a building site he knew would thrill the people who, in turn, would grant him honor. 

Emperor Vespasian erected the Colosseum at the very place which, a decade earlier, had belonged to the people.  This area, future site of the Colosseum had once been largely residential.  This had been a vast neighborhood where people lived and raised their children.  But during the time of Emperor Nero a great fire consumed everything in its path.  The fire destroyed all of the housing.  After the fire? Emperor Nero elected not to rebuild homes.  Everyone had to find homes elsewhere.  Instead, he decided to use this area to honor himself.  The area became a large park dedicated to Nero.  And at it's center, Nero commissioned and placed a colossal statue bearing his own likeness. The area previously populated by Rome's citizens became Nero's personal domain.  Hail Caesar! Immanent Domain!
    
Emperor Vespasian did not follow in the footsteps of Nero.  Rather, he returned this place to the people, not as housing, but as the new entertainment center for Rome's citizens:  the Colosseum. This colossal amphitheater, completed in just ten years (80 AD), seated more than 50,000 people.  Here the people gathered to cheer gladiators, relive Rome's naval victories, gawk at never before seen animals returned from Africa with Rome's conquering armies. Here politicians and Senators sponsored special events  just prior to elections hoping to gain votes and influence.  Here enemies of the state fought lions and professional fighters ... and died. Here at the Colosseum Rome's citizens appeared one people even as they sat sectioned by class, rank, gender and wealth. Here Rome celebrated the empire's accomplishments.

Rome's world dominance did not last.  It's glory faded as did that of the Colosseum. After Rome fell to its enemies the arena became host to Rome's homeless, powerless and nameless.    

Today tourists crowd the Colosseum's stairwells and walkways snapping pictures with their cameras, Smartphones and pads.  And this summer I was among them.

As I stood for several minutes trying to take it all in I had four thoughts:  

1. what a magnificent and incredible place, tribute to Rome's greatness 
2. all glory is fleeting; like the laurel wreath given the victor it quickly withers 
3. enjoy every grand moment and savor it 
4. give thanks for the "invisible people" who (behind the scenes) make you look great; without them the crowd will never be shouting your name

   

Light a Candle

I love candles.  They bring to mind cherished people and places.

The Christmas tree of my childhood held on its branches ... yes ... lighted candles (This is still hard for me to believe but I have black and white photos as evidence of our tradition).  Our parents always did the lighting.  Adults were ALWAYS present and in charge when the candles burned.  And it was glorious, especially on Christmas Eve.  We gathered near the tree to sing Christmas carols.  The room glowed in amber. Our silhouettes danced on the walls. Our harmonies blended with the prayers we offered, "Peace on Earth."

In late October our kitchen table became the pumpkin carving center. Mom covered the table in newspaper. Dad sharpened the knives.  Together the family carved scary and ghoulish faces into the orange orbs, oooooooooooooo.  Then, at sunset on Halloween, our parents set the pumpkins on the porch, inserted a candle into each one, and lighted the candles. Flickering shadows greeted "tricker-treaters" as they made their way to the door in their quest for candy.  At evening's end we blew out the candles and pushed our finger tips into the warm wax residue. With identities erased, hands raised and fingers flexed we growled and howled pretending to be witches and werewolves. 
 
The summer recreation program was "not to be missed,"  My fourth grade friends and I played chess, carrom, and dodge ball.  We made key chain lanyards and "God's eye" weavings. And late in the week we worked with candles. One by one we lighted a variety of colored candles.  We tipped them 45 degrees. The wax drip ... drip ... drip ... dripped down and over a wide base wine bottle. Our creations were amazingly beautiful.  I kept and used my candle holder for almost a decade finally discarding it during my transition from high school to college.  I can't believe that the layers of dust never caught fire.

I wasn't expecting to purchase anything at the college's annual art show.  So I was a bit surprised to leave the exhibit with an eight ounce clear tumbler covered in colored glass, blue with splashes of purple, orange, and yellow, a white votive candle nestled within. For more than twenty years I used this glass candle in private meditation and with friends at dinner parties.
 
Recently I lighted candles at Canterbury Cathedral, Chartres Cathedral, Montserrat Monastery, Sagrada Familia and Christ in the Desert Monastery.  As flames took hold of wicks and wisps of smoke ascended I offered prayers. I prayed for loved ones, friends recovering from surgery, refugee children, world leaders, grieving women whose men did not return from war, parishioners undergoing chemo therapy, and challenged teenagers.  As I prayed I often repeated the words of Psalm 141, "Let my prayer come before you as incense, and the lifting up of my hands as an evening sacrifice."

I love candles.  They bring to mind cherished people and places. 
        

Please cover your mouth ...

Travel often brings with it an inconvenience or two.  Our recent trip to Europe was no exception.  We had our share of surprises:  landing at Charles De Gaulle airport two hours late due to thunderstorms; exiting the plane via a ramp onto the tarmac only to discover we had to walk fifty yards in a torrential downpour to the bus that would transport us to the terminal; crawling at a snail's pace in a taxi from London's West end to the British Museum when "underground" workers decided to strike; carrying luggage up a three flight spiral staircase when the lift wasn't working; delayed departures (many of them) to the next destinations when people on our bus tour failed to return on time from their personal excursions; receiving the main course five minutes before other members of the dinner party; a nearly sleepless night in the Paris hotel room located just above the jazz club ... a strong beat and loud music ... 'til 2am.

And then there was ... well ...

She was in many ways a good traveling companion during our 15 day bus tour:  friendly, engaging, interested in conversation with others, inquisitive, and on time for departures (very important). 

But she was sick. 

Within minutes of boarding the bus she coughed, a deep cough, a cough that said, "You probably don't want to get too close," or asked the question, "Do you really think I should be on this bus with all of you?" But she was not listening to that voice.  Instead she leaned towards others to whisper comments.  She touched arm rests and seat backs.  She brushed people's forearms and hands when trying to get their attention.  She passed dishes, food trays, and water glasses to others at lunch and dinner.  She coughed without covering her mouth.

Within days others started to sniffle, wheeze and make vain attempts to suppress their own coughs.

And then, day ten, it was my turn.  Cough, cough, cough. My immune system could no longer resist the onslaught of germs.  I found myself often saying to others, "You probably don't want to get too close" as I chose an alternative path.  I avoided contact with fellow travelers as much as possible.  I took medications to reduce drainage and lozenges to reduce my throat's tickle.  I rested whenever possible.  I kept my hands to myself and, hoping not to contaminate fellow travelers, I stopped passing eating utensils.  I covered my mouth.

I knew that my actions and my behaviors would have a significant impact on the health and well-being of every other person on that bus.  And I wanted my impact to be as positive as possible.  If only she had employed some of my "best practices" and, most importantly, covered her mouth!

It seems to me that covering one's mouth is wise counsel in other situations as well.  A hand over the mouth can stifle demeaning comments, hateful speech and slurs.  A hand over the mouth will hide the sarcastic smile.  A hand over the mouth might keep some thoughts where they belong ... on the inside.
 
If you want a more healthy and joyful journey ... please cover your mouth. 

No "buts" about it

The monks at Christ in the Desert Monastery, near Chama, New Mexico, invite all of their overnight guests to join them in worship, table fellowship and work that will benefit the community. As their guest for a week in early June I said "yes" to all of it and became a part of this faith-filled community.  I chanted Psalms with the brothers, sat and ate quietly during lunch and dinner while listening to the daily readings, and for four consecutive days, showed up at 9am for work.

On day one and day two brother Christian invited me to work in the garden.  I watered trees, flower beds and shrubs.  I soaked the soil for hours.  And under a cloudless canopy the plants began to lift their weary arms.  Daisies opened their petals and turned their faces towards the sun.  And John's description of Jesus came to mind ... Living Water ... refreshing thirsty souls,  reviving weary travelers.

Brother Benedict took charge of me on day three. He guided me into a walled garden hosting eight trees, each tree surrounded by a stone lined tree well.  Each tree well was full of weeds.  "Lee, how 'bout spending the morning weeding the wells?  A few of the wells have plants as well. Leave the plants.  Remove the weeds." 

I immediately went to work pulling weeds, doing my best to leave in place what appeared to be flowering plants.  The first few weeds broke off just under the soil.  "No root."  I dug deeper with the gardening tools brother Benedict provided.  Then from somewhere deep I heard the voice of Mrs. Davis.  When I was a teenager I worked for her each summer mowing her lawn, trimming her hedge and weeding her garden. "I'll give you 1 penny for every three weeds you pull.  But you've gotta get the root too.  No roots, no pay."  As her voice faded I remembered how good I could be at pulling weeds!

At 12:15 I stepped back to examine my work.  One well had nothing in it.  Everything extracted.  Everything in that well had been weeds, now gone.  Good job!  The other tree wells each retained a few leafy green plants.  As brother Benedict requested:  "Leave the plants.  Remove the weeds."

At 1pm just prior to lunch brother Benedict greeted me with a big smile, "I stopped by the garden. Nice work today.  Thanks."  I savored brother Benedict's appreciation as much as the flavorful lunch.

Brother Benedict met me again at 9am on Thursday.  "Lee, how would you like to do some more weeding today?"  "Sounds good to me.  Whatever I can do to be of help."  He turned, waved his hand indicating I should follow, and within moments I found myself in yesterday's garden standing in front of yesterday's tree well that "had nothing in it but the tree."  Brother Benedict pointed to the nude well and said, "That's the model.  All of the tree wells should look like that.  When you are finished removing the weeds from the wells I have a tree that I'd like you to plant.  I'll see you later."

I was stunned.  "That's the model."  Yesterday I had carefully differentiated between the plants and the weeds determining that every tree well but the one in front of me had plants in it.  According to Benedict the greens I thought were plants were actually weeds.  How foolish of me.

And so I began again ... "Always We Begin Again" ...  pulling weeds (including the roots) and smiling.

First, Brother Benedict unconditionally affirmed my work on the prior day.  He had simply said, "Nice work today. Thanks."  He didn't say, "Nice work today. Thanks, BUT ..."  He didn't hint even one little bit that I had not completed the task as requested.  He simply affirmed what I had done.  I don't always do that when affirming others.  I often find myself affirming conditionally ... "That was good, yes, BUT...."  "I appreciate the effort, yes, BUT ...."  And when I've experienced conditional affirmation I tend to hear the last part of the sentence, not the first part.  I hear the "but" and miss the affirmation.  Brother Benedict the wise taught me an invaluable lesson that first day in the garden.  Affirm without conditions ... no buts about it.

Second, I found myself thinking about Jesus' parable about gardening.  He told his disciples to let the weeds and the wheat grow together.  Someone else will do the sorting. 

I will be spending more time with this parable and its application to my life.  Determining who belongs in God's family and who should be excluded is not my job.  That's the responsibility of another.  And that's a good thing, because I'm just not that good at distinguishing between weeds and plants.  

Seventh Inning Stretch

In just a few days I will begin my sabbatical leave, a period in which I will set aside pastoral duties and daily routines to travel, work in a monastery, play golf, fish rivers hoping to catch and then release the big one, hike, read, write, and visit with friends I have not seen in many years. 

I will light candles in cathedrals, walk dirt paths through parks and gardens, absorb the fragrances of a thousand flowers, taste wines perfectly paired with colorful foods, sit in the shade of hundred year old trees, listen to fast moving water, and watch the sun set as great cities begin to glow.

   

I will carry luggage, guide books, sport equipment, camera, pen and journal, curiosity, openness to new experiences, and the book I have found to be increasingly helpful to my spirituality, “Always we Begin Again.”

Some of my friends refer to this time away as a vacation.  But for me sabbatical time feels more like the seventh inning stretch.  

My work as a public servant is not nearly over. But this brief pause in a life time of ministry will bring me back to the playing field invigorated and ready for a few more innings, maybe, as sometimes happens, even extra innings.  

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Time to Journal

I began my sabbatical journal a little over a week ago, on Palm Sunday.  I write for a few minutes each day describing meals, activities, encounters, thoughts, feelings and observations.  I've already noticed that in anticipation of the writing that I will do each evening I am a little more attentive to things and people I experience during the day.  

I last kept a daily journal in 2002.  In January and February of that year I was privileged to serve as a chaplain at the Winter Olympic Games in Salt Lake City.  A few days before my departure for SLC I decided to keep a journal. During my five week stay I wrote in the journal every day for at least a half hour.  I described the food I ate and the people who joined me, worship activities at the chapel, conversations with other volunteers, the pins I purchased and exchanged with those attending the games, reflections on news articles and media coverage, the quick wave from President Bush as his motorcade made its way towards the Olympic Village to greet USA athletes, the arrival of the flag that once flew above the World Trade Center prior to the tragic events of September 11th, snow shoeing with friends in a valley prone to avalanche, walking the streets of Park City with my brother who worked security during the games.

When the games ended I decided to wait one year before again reading the journal entries.  And that's what I did.  I didn't read the journal again until April of 2003.  

I was amazed.  As I turned the pages and read the entries of a year earlier it seemed impossible that I had already forgotten some of the activities and conversations about which I had written.  And many of my journal entries didn't match my memory of them. I was amazed and a bit disturbed.

I was also enlightened.  Contrary to the claim, "I have a great memory for details," I do not, at least not over the long haul.   

So, amazed and enlightened and a bit disturbed, I began my sabbatical journal a little over a week ago.  I hope my commitment to write each day for the next three months will make me more attentive to things and people during the day. I also hope that fifteen months from now the journal will help me appreciate the things and people of my sabbatical as they once were rather than the way my distorted memory might want them to be. 

Your memory might be better than mine when it comes to important experiences in the months and years prior.  But, if not, why not join me in keeping a journal for the next three months.  Then we can talk about both our experiences as written and our remembrances of them. Somewhere in between the text and the talk we will discover what is real and what is true.  

Better vision

I have trouble with my vision.  I don’t see as well as I once did and certainly not as well as I’d like.  So, in the hope that (at worst) I can maintain what I have and (at best) make some improvement I make frequent visits to an eye specialist, an ophthalmologist.  

I read lines of letters projected on charts. I stare at a yellow lit bulb while recording random blips of light generated by a sophisticated computer. I open my eyes as wide as I can for pictures and pressure tests.  My eyes burn briefly as the tech drops solution into each eye.  While waiting for the arrival of the doc I read tracts about conditions and diseases of the eye.  Then after hearing three gentle knocks on the door, my doc enters the room.  After a brief greeting and some small talk he sits at his computer reviewing the data.  Using a prism and a blue light he checks each eye.  He smiles.  “You are doing well.  Keep doing what you are doing. See you in six months.”  He renews a prescription, gives me a thumbs up and is gone.   I stop by the front desk to cover my co-pay.  I put on dark glasses and with eyes still dilated, stagger to my car under a sun that appears much brighter than when I arrived an hour earlier.  I complete the new prescription with my provider and continue to do what the doctor says to do.

Frequent visits with Dr. D. and his staff help me maintain healthy eyes and good vision. 

Spiritual health requires attention as well and a qualified specialist.

The consultant?  Jesus.  The tools?  Conversation with faithful friends, prayer, silence, walks while naming things for which and people for whom I am grateful, and time spent with Jesus’ parables of the Kingdom.  Each practice helps me “see” the creation and its creatures a little more like Jesus might see them.  They bring into focus those places where I can work for justice and do acts of kindness in a spirit of humility.

In addition to these tools I have collected one more for use in the months ahead. It’s really a list of words, words to help me notice people and things that I would otherwise overlook.   You might find the list helpful as well as you work at sharpening your spiritual acuity.   

Topic	Date	Reflection
conversations
insights
jokes
photos
disturbing
tastes
surprises
sights
experiences
sounds
spiritual moments
smells
thought provoking
stories
places
meals
observations
prayers
people
music
questions
dreams
walks/hikes

When I return from sabbatical we can compare lists and share our discoveries.  What did you see? What did you notice?  What captured your heart?  To what did you attend?        

Always We Begin Again

On Ash Wednesday all worshipers at Holy Trinity received a free copy of the book, “Always We Begin Again,” along with a study guide and an “identity tag” necklace.  The metal tag displayed the words “Walking the Way” and Micah 6:8.

In place of a prepared message I introduced “Always” asking those present to open their books, follow along, and make some notes.  I introduced Benedict, McQuiston, the First Rule, prayer methods and McQuiston’s suggested daily schedule designed to help us balance prayer and work.  We moved so quickly it felt as though an electric fan was gently blowing and turning the pages. I asked everyone (along with me) to take a breath before I concluded, “This is not a ‘have to’ or ‘must do’ kind of book.  Rather, these readings will guide us into “a way of being in the world” where gratitude and loving-kindness are increasingly evident.”

Upon leaving the building at least a dozen people wanted to know how they could get hold of additional copies.  “Thanks for the overview of the work and some suggestions about how to use it.  I have a friend at work who I know could use it too.”  “I want to give a copy to every one of my adult children.”  “I will be leaving in April to return to my home in the mid-west.  I’d like to use it for a study I lead each summer.” 

On Thursday more people called to request copies of the book.  “I showed it to my co-worker today.  She’s been having a really hard time and has been looking for something just like this to help her make it through.”  Another person stopped by the office.  “I spent a lot of time today thinking about the first rule, the part you introduced and asked us to memorize, the part about living this life with an emphasis on loving-kindness.  This book is amazing.  Do you have additional copies?  I want them as gifts for a couple of friends."

If you are already spending time with “Always We Begin Again” I encourage you to stay with it.   Meditate on the words and phrases that call to you.  Use it for the next 40 days and you will begin to see changes in your “way of being in the world."

If you have the book but haven’t yet opened it, now is the time.

If you don’t have "Always" but would like it (or more copies for your friends) you can order copies from various book stores, Cokesbury (at a reduced price on the Internet) and Amazon (new paper, used paper, and e-book).  And, of course, I have a few more copies at the office if you stop by.  The one you get from me is free to you.  

My thanks to Lilly and CTS for furnishing these free copies of "Always" as part of the their Clergy Renewal Grant to Holy Trinity Lutheran. More about Lilly and CTS in the 2013 September Blog post.

Between the first gasp and the final release

In just a few days hundreds of people will gather at Holy Trinity Church for Ash Wednesday worship. Early in the service the worship leader will invite us forward to have ashes placed on our foreheads.  With heads bowed and perhaps kneeling we will receive the ashes and hear the words, “Remember that you are dust and to dust you shall return” (Genesis 3). The action and the words are humbling.  They remind us that we are not gods.  We are neither self-made nor self-sufficient.  We are human.

We are human. We are dependent.  We begin our lives as infants depending on others to survive.  We move through life as consumers and producers depending on others to provide for our needs and consume what we make.  We move through life as members of the community depending on the abilities of many to work with us in creating places of comfort and safety.  We end our lives depending on family and friends to care for us as we prepare to draw our last breath. We are not gods.  We are neither self-made nor self-sufficient.  We will return to dust. So true. So humbling.  We are human.
 
We are human. Yet, between the first birth-breath and the last, between the first gasp and the final release there is a world of possibilities and choices to be made.  What shall we do?  How shall we live? How will we use our time, energy and resources between the two fixed points?
  
For me, these questions find their answer in the verse that will guide my Lenten journey and my sabbatical:  “And what does the Lord require of you but to do justice, love kindness and walk humbly” (Micah 6:8).

Of course, there are other options, other verses and other paths.  But for me, in this season of life, recognizing that I have nearly unlimited choices about how I can spend my life and my resources, and having weighed the benefits and pitfalls of many, I choose the work of justice and kindness.  At the same time, knowing that I lack within my self the ability to do what the Lord requires, in humility, I have sought and found a guide and companion to assist me in the work ahead. Actually … two guides.

The first is named Benedict.  Saint Benedict.
  
Saint Benedict was born around the year 480 in central Italy. As a young man, Benedict studied in Rome but left after a short stay, desiring to dedicate his life to God. At Subiaco, about fifty miles from Rome, Benedict lived a life of solitude and prayer with support from a monk named Romanus.

Benedict's simple life and devotion to God attracted disciples and, in time, twelve small monasteries were established around Subiaco, with Benedict as the spiritual father of them all.

Around 530 Benedict left Subiaco with some of his disciples for Monte Cassino, halfway between Rome and Naples, where he began a single, close-knit community on a mountain top. He remained there until his death around the year 547. While at Monte Cassino, Benedict completed his "Rule for Monks." In it he instructed those under his guidance in the ways of humility, gratitude, mercy, joy, silence, and obligation to God and brothers in the community. Today, the "Rule of Saint Benedict," as it is commonly called, is considered one of the most important factors in the development of Christian Europe.

Benedict's disciples, both men and women, can be found on every inhabited continent of the world, leading lives dedicated to "Prayer and Work," as Benedict taught in his rule and by his life.  (see Christ in the Desert Monastery, New Mexico, for more information)

John McQuiston II will serve as my second guide and companion.  McQuiston, an attorney by vocation discovered Benedict and “The Rule” more than twenty years ago.  He began to use “The Rule” to guide his daily devotional life.  It helped him find balance in his faith and work life.  It helped him deepen his prayer life.  It helped him cultivate gratitude, patience, humility, and joy throughout his work week.  And, in hope that others would discover “The Rule’s” treasures, he re-wrote it under the title “Always We Begin Again.”
 
Like “The Rule,” “Always We Begin Again” is not a “must” “should” nor “have to” kind of book.  It isn’t a set of rules to be followed and obeyed.  Rather, it is a series of readings, reflections and suggested pause points throughout the day.  Open your eyes and experience the morning light.  Listen to the first sounds of the day. Pause briefly from 10:30am to 10:31am and ponder those things for which you are grateful.  Each evening spend a brief time with people you love without the computer, smartphone or television.  Make your last thought of the day one of gratitude.
  
Those who worship at Holy Trinity Church on Ash Wednesday will receive a copy of McQuiston’s book.  The gift brings with it my hope that others will choose Benedict and McQuiston as guides and companions during the Lenten journey.  It is my hope that others will join me in THE WAY of Micah 6:8: justice/kindness/humility.

Remember … dust … human … dependent … between the first gasp and the final release there is a world of possibilities and a choice.