From my time at St. Gregory Episcopal in San Francisco…

What does our architecture say about the way we worship and practice corporate liturgy? Saint Gregory of Nyssa Church in San Francisco met in a traditional church when it was founded in 1978 until it built its own church in 1995. Despite being in a traditional setting with pews facing forward, they were able to adapt their liturgy to accommodate singing and dancing and moving about during the liturgy. Being in this setting taught them that they wanted their own space to be adapted to their liturgy and not the other way around. In other words, they made a conscious choice to allow the liturgy to define the space. I suppose this has always been the case with churches, especially older churches that were built during a time period when the priest was the authority and the people sat silently in the pew looking forward. Yet, as liturgy has adapted to local customs, changes in tradition, and lay leader involvement, it seems to be the case that many churches still use the same architectural structure of long spaces with rows of pews facing toward an altar. This may suit the liturgical style of some churches, but my sense is that many congregations could benefit from an architectural structure that is more in tune with liturgical decisions of their community.

 

I’m not advocating that all churches need to be structured like St. Gregory but I merely use St. Gregory as an example because they have made a conscious decision to fit their space to their liturgy and because this is where I spent my time this summer studying and learning from this community. St. Gregory’s building consists of two adjoining spaces: an octagonal space that flows into a rectangular space. The octagonal space, referred to as the rotunda, holds the altar in the center providing a sort of cradle for the focal point of the church. The beautiful red carved front doors open onto the rotunda where one is greeted by the altar, the focal point of the space. The rectangular space is split in two by the bema and contains chairs on each side of the bema that all face the bema such that people sitting on opposite sides of the bema face each other not the altar. Thus the focus of the liturgy of the word becomes the people and the Holy Scriptures. On one end of the bema is the bishop’s seat where the preacher sits and on the other end of the bema is the table that contains the Holy Book and the incense container.

 

This rectangular space is based on the ancient synagogue structure, which was modeled after the Jerusalem Temple architecture. The synagogue was traditionally the place where the rabbi, the teacher, taught his students the Torah. In his 1967 book called Liturgy and Architecture, Louis Boyer describes this Temple-inspired structure and its attributes. For St. Gregory, this synagogue-like space configuration allows the participants to give their full attention to each other (facing one another), to the Holy Scriptures (at one end of the bema), and on the preacher and sermon (at the other end of the bema), and is fully the place where teaching and learning happens. At the later service, the choir, which is unaccompanied by instruments other than occasional percussion, is congregated together in the rotunda at the start of the service, but as people move to the rectangular space to sit for liturgy of the word, the choir moves with them and intersperse itself among the participants. I found that this boost of singing among the people encouraged people to sing loudly and use their voices to form a cohesive sung prayer as the entire liturgy is sung.

 

According to Bouyer, Syrian Churches, discovered through archeological findings, were the most ancient type of Christian churches, and some of this traditional architecture is preserved in the Nestorian churches, Jacobite Syrian Churches and Syrian Catholic Churches. Ancient Syrian churches appear to be Christian versions of synagogues that include:

• Readings and prayers performed on bema, which occupies the center of the nave
• The ark with veil and candle are on one end of the bema
• The seat of the bishop (formerly the seat of Moses) at the opposite end of bema from the ark
• The Christian presiders sit around the seat of the bishop (just as the Jewish elders sat around the rabbi)
• The altar facing east at the end of the space in the apse where the sun rises

(Bouyer, page 25-28)

 

As the architecture in Christian churches evolved away from synagogues the apse that held the ark became an apse that held the altar, and whereas in synagogues the apse faced Jerusalem, the apse in Christian churches faced east where the sun rose.

 

As I was walking to Morning Prayer at St. Gregory I noticed that the doors to St. Teresa of Avila, the local Catholic Church, were open so I walked on in to see how their space was configured. Interestingly it was a large rectangular space with the altar in the middle and the pews situated all around it in a giant circle of seating. Unfortunately there wasn’t anyone around that I could speak with so I was not able to get more information about how this decision was made or how it worked for their community.

 

St. Gregory incorporates movement into their liturgy and the architecture makes that possible. The early service starts with participants sitting in the bema area but the later service starts around the altar (see previous blog post about later service) and the participants move to the seating area after the initial greeting, blessing, and song. After the liturgy of the word, both the services participants move from the bema area to the altar for the Eucharist prayer and communion they hold onto each other’s shoulders with one hand while dancing a simple step right, step left, step back, step together, and repeat. When at the altar, the gathered community continues to move around circling the altar until everyone is present. At the end of the service a chorus (song with dance) is sung and danced with a simple grapevine step around the altar.

 

In a document that Richard Fabian, co-founder of St. Gregory, wrote he describes the thoughtful process of the architecture formation of St. Gregory’s in this way:

 

As we advocate for shaping liturgical practice so people can make affective theological discoveries from one another’s faces, breathing and movement, practice and theology, we should pause to acknowledge the questions of conservative liturgical writers who ask of us where we expect people will direct their attention during the liturgy and what kind of attention we’re hoping to teach them to offer each other. The liturgy we could offer our architect when we asked him to design us a new church was a genuinely new ceremony.

 

The words that both Rick and Donald, co-founders, use to describe this “new ceremony” are “context of affection.”  Context of affection can be applied to both the architecture and the liturgy. The architecture, with its natural light, its open feel, its beautiful art, and its focus on the altar, invites one to enter the building and to interact with one another and with the space. When I entered St. Gregory’s the first thing I noticed was the altar sitting alone in the middle of the rotunda. It seemed both majestic and lonely all at the same time and invited me to draw near and touch it but with reverent hands and a humble heart. Shortly after people arrive and gather around the altar the liturgical leaders walk among the people and greet and shake everyone’s hand—the fact that we are all standing in an open space makes this possible. The liturgy with its movement and dancing are also possible in this open space, which invites the fidgeting of children, the rolling of wheelchairs into positions of inclusion, and adults that do work by singing, reading, and moving to the rhythm of the liturgy.

 

Rick describes the process this way:

 

Journeying through the liturgy in a dynamically structured sacred space formed our congregation for collaborative leadership, participation of the whole company, giving

ordained and lay leaders genuine authority to lead, and congregants invitation and authority to act and the means to act together.

 

I started with the question: What does our architecture say about the way we worship and practice corporate liturgy? And end with acknowledging affirmatively that St. Gregory’s architecture and liturgy are intertwined in a way it is hard to see where one ends and the other begins. So, yes, our architecture says volumes about our liturgy and vice a versa, and this is something I’ve learned that I need to consider as I contemplate liturgy and context. More to digest…

August 22, 2016 (although I started writing this in San Francisco)

 

At first glance, Saint Gregory of Nyssa (SGN), with its colorful artwork, sung liturgy, and open architecture may not feel like an Episcopal Church or service to the average Episcopal Sunday worshiper. What makes any church Episcopal? I’ve been asking myself that question this past month while participating in the life and worship of St. Gregory Church, especially since I’ve talked with many people that described themselves in many ways other than Episcopalian such as Buddhist, Christian, agnostic, un-churched, and non-Christian. Not that one needs to be Episcopalian to attend an Episcopal Church and in fact that is one of the things I love about being in any Episcopal Church—everyone is welcome. But being at St. Gregory did beg the question—what is our identity that shapes our worship and how does that identity create a foundation on which we practice our faith and build our church community? I tried to convince myself that it wasn’t important that St. Gregory defined itself as Episcopal and that we could have churches such as this that are non-denominational and Christian/non-Christian, but I couldn’t formulate a convincing enough argument to justify this position. I believe that identity is really important and it defines the formation of liturgy and gives shape to the community formation. And although I do tend to rebel against authority (working on those authority issues) I believe in the broader Episcopal Church structure and its polity and its belonging to the Anglican Communion as a way of insuring accountability and a way of maintaining identity and a way of helping the broader church and the polity to keep itself in check and help itself grow and change as needed.

 

Yes, as Episcopalians, we all have the Book of Common Prayer (BCP) that is adapted to our culture, but at St. Gregory’s I was hard pressed to find a BCP when I wanted to compare the service to that which is in the BCP. But, when I did, I found that the service at St. Gregory does indeed follow the order of service in the BCP. (I wrote about the service in a previous blog.) The one exception to following the BCP is that the creed is not recited at the Sunday services. When I asked about this, the responses were as varied as the people I asked. Susan, a liturgical leader and vestry member, told me that the Bishop tolerates St. Gregory and gives a special dispensation for the SGN liturgy. Other people were unaware of what the creed is and others, like Susan, said the Bishop agreed that it was OK. In other words, people at SGN think they have special dispensation from the Bishop and in general as Paul told me, “The biggest sin of St. Gregory’s is pride because we think we are so special.”

 

In a conversation with Paul he expressed that a creed says something about who God is and about God’s actions and that a creed was present at SGN but was expressed in many different ways. Paul said, “Every week we say something about who God is and about God’s actions such as the Jewish prayer the Sha’ma Israel or we read a Rumi poem that expresses the same ideas about God. This is our creed and the Eucharistic prayer is a creedal statement because it reiterates what ancient creeds say. The recitation of the creed was not a liturgical act in the beginning of the church; it was inserted at a later date.”

 

 

At first glance a confession of sin does not appear to be present in the SGN liturgy and in my conversations with members it was not a concern. According to Paul, a confession of sin is present in the Lord’s Prayer and in the concluding prayers of the people when SGN prays “For those we have wronged, for our enemies and all who wrong us, let us pray to the Lord; and for forgiveness, generosity, and love among all people everywhere, and for the coming kingdom of peace, let us pray to the Lord.” Paul also emphasized the desire of SGN to teach that sins are already forgiven and we need to learn to forgive others just as much as we seek forgiveness.

 

For the full liturgical scripts of all SGN services see: http://www.saintgregorys.org/worship/resources_section/231/

 

Going back to my original question, “What makes it Episcopalian?” I consulted the Episcopal Church web site (http://www.episcopalchurch.org) and found this description:

 

As Episcopalians, we are followers of Jesus Christ, and both our worship and our mission are in Christ’s name. In Jesus, we find that the nature of God is love, and through baptism, we share in his victory over sin and death.  

(http://www.episcopalchurch.org/page/christ-focused)

 

According to the Episcopal Church web site, Episcopalians, among other things, also:

• Commit to a Baptismal Covenant that expresses a statement of faith that is the Apostles’ Creed and adds five questions regarding how we, as Christians, are called to live out our faith (http://www.episcopalchurch.org/page/baptismal-covenant)
• Believe the Bible is our foundation, understood through tradition and reason, containing all things necessary for salvation. Our worship is filled with Scripture from beginning to end (http://www.episcopalchurch.org/page/bible)
• Confess who God is through two primary creeds. The web sites states, “We will always have questions, but in the two foundational statements of faith – the Apostles’ Creed used at baptism, and the Nicene Creed used at communion – we join Christians throughout the ages in affirming our faith in the one God who created us, redeemed us, and sanctifies us” (http://www.episcopalchurch.org/page/creeds)
• Teach about God, Christ, the Holy Spirit, and Episcopalian beliefs in a Catechism found in the back of the Book of Common Prayer (pp. 845-862), that helps expound the foundational truths of the Christian faith (http://www.episcopalchurch.org/page/catechism)

 

It is important that I share this quote from the Episcopal Church web site about the Catechism: “It is a commentary on the creeds, but is not meant to be a complete statement of belief and practices; rather, it is a point of departure for the teacher” (Book of Common Prayer, p. 844).  This is important because it sets the tone for evolving practice and belief, which is a hallmark of a living church—one that adapts and changes as the culture changes and as the church becomes one of many options in a secular age. The Episcopal Church has a legacy of adaption as evidence in the many versions of the Book of Common Prayer based on location and context, the never-ending adaptations of the Book of Common Prayer, and the acceptance of Bishop-approved changes in liturgy to fit a particular context.

 

In a conversation with Donald Schell, he talked about the ability of the Episcopal Church to adapt to context. Donald said, “In on other church except the Episcopal church could we at St. Gregory done what we have done. The Episcopal tradition has always borrowed from other traditions and adapted practices to make them our own. And in many parts of the world, the Anglican Church dances and sings its liturgy so in the broader picture, this is not unusual.” And Paul says, “By expressing its desire to offer meaningful liturgy, St. Gregory is buying into the ethic of change and adaptation in the Episcopal Church. The genius of the Anglican liturgy is that it borrows from other traditions and most generously from Eastern Christian practices, which is what we do at St. Gregory. Like any Episcopal Church, we pray our way to understanding.”

 

Paul goes on to describe how in the colonial period the colonized were taught a traditional Anglican theology devoid of cultural context. As the African church adapts the Anglican traditions in its own cultural contexts that include local languages, dance, song, and other customs, it creates a liturgy appropriate for its cultural context. In some small way, St. Gregory, with its prevalence of world art and world song sees itself as adapting to the globalized church rather than asking the global church to adapt to Anglican customs.

 

Given all these considerations, I believe that, yes, St. Gregory of Nyssa in St. Francisco is a thriving Episcopal Church practicing under the umbrella of the Anglican Communion. It is definitely on the cutting edge, yet it is still Episcopalian. And yet, despite it being on the cutting edge, it reaches back to the ancient Eastern Church for its tradition of singing and dancing it liturgy and its incorporation of the visual arts especially icons. Paul said that in many ways going back to ancient traditions allows more flexibility because the church was still adapting traditions and was not rigidly following prescribed traditions set out by an institutionalized political-religious system set up by the Roman Empire. In the early church, organizers and participants could follow the teaching of Jesus that called for no racism, classism, sexism, etc. This is the church that St. Gregory’s strives to create—a church rooted in ancient traditions expressed in an Episcopal liturgy and honoring the traditions of world music and dance. This is an Episcopal Church!

 

August 22, 2016

 

I’m home! I’m home! I’m home! I’m really happy to be home!   I arrived at the Minneapolis airport on August 10, 2016 to a big, warm welcome greeting by Ernesto. At home the kids surprised me with a barbeque dinner with our dear friends Kristin, Jeff, and Livia, that I missed almost as much as my family. It was a great welcome home. I love my family!

 

Despite big plans to finish my blogs, read, and write a paper, I haven’t had the time to do much schoolwork since being home. I’m busy getting Elena and Benjamin ready for school—orientation, doctor appointments, and school shopping—but it is so good to hang out with them!

 

Until returning home, I didn’t realize how much time I had in San Francisco to not only work at St. Gregory’s but also to write, read, and reflect on my experiences (and visit as many museums as I wanted!). I loved being able to sit down at almost any time when I was inspired to write a blog post or read a chapter in a book or research something on the web. It was a gift. Yet, I’m still happy to be home!

 

I knew this would happen, yet I was still overwhelmed with the amount of stuff that needed to be done at home when I returned—laundry, gardening, cooking, grocery shopping, cleaning, dog walking, etc. Ernesto, the kids, and I share many of the household responsibilities, yet it is still overwhelming. I try hard to carve out time each day to write, read, study, but it is a challenge.

 

I have a few more things to write about, which I hope to finish before I go back to school in two weeks. Keep checking my blog if you’d like to read more.

July 31, 2016

I went to St. Gregory Church thinking that their style of worship could be emulated and I needed to learn what was done so I could modify and imitate. What I learned is that what St. Gregory’s does is unique to its culture, context, and members. The most important thing I learned is that what makes St. Gregory’s successful is that its members are invested in their liturgy and they work to make liturgy happen. The lesson I take away is that liturgy, the work of the people, needs to be just that—a community working together to make liturgy. According to Paul Fromberg, Rector, much of the liturgical philosophy of St. Gregory is based on Gordon W. Lathrop’s book Holy Things: A Liturgical Theology (Fortress Press, 1998), which I read in preparation for my time at St. Gregory of Nyssa.

 

The choir sings as the 10:45 service goers enter the rotunda where the service begins. Those coming in off the busy street are greeted with beautiful a cappella music. Two children are sitting on the far end of the building conferring over a cup of juice and chatting away until they run around the sanctuary and outside onto the patio. Most families go to the earlier 8:30 service, which usually has a dozen or so children present, but on this particular morning, several families come to the 10:45 service, and children are making themselves at home. At the 8:30 service this morning, we had two new deacons—Matilda, age 8, and Soren, age 10—who were vested, read parts of the service, and helped distribute communion. They did a great job! I’ve become quite close with Matilda, her sisters Aska and Rumi, and her mom Naomi who all volunteer at the Food Pantry with me on Fridays. When I showed up this morning at 8:00 for Morning Prayer Naomi was there with the girls and Aska sat with me and drew me pictures while Matilda was vesting and preparing. She asked me if I’d watched Rwby yet, a show they want me to see on Netflix and I haven’t watched, but better because they won’t stop bugging me until I do.

 

Before the 10:45 service, I sat quietly and watched the beautiful dance of liturgy unfold as people entered, greeted one another and settled in for singing, dancing, and sharing a Eucharist feast. A dad shows up with his baby strapped to his chest in a baby carrier and his wife meets him inside. Kerri, the Youth Director greets all the children and pulls them in to perform tasks like ringing the bell, lighting the candles, holding a chalice, or ringing the gong. For the younger kids, she finds play dough and trays for them to play on or books to read. The presider and the lay liturgical leaders are all robed in colorful African-inspired vestments and they stand around greeting people as they enter the rotunda where saints dance above our heads and shower us with blessings of joy, courage, and love.

 

A child rings the bells to signal the start of the service as we stand around the altar and listen to the initial prayer, which is sung, just like the entire service, which is found in the St. Gregory Music for Liturgy book, compiled by members of the church and contains many compositions by founding member Richard Fabian. Yesterday we celebrated the 101^st birthday of Esther K., a composer whose song, …. We sang from St. Gregory Music for Liturgy book. There is also music from all over the world keeping with the overall inclusive nature of the worship space that includes a Japanese shrine, Ethiopian icons and crosses, Russian icons, Persian rugs, African textiles, and Tibetan singing bowls and chimes.

 

While at St. Gregory I learned a lot about music from Marissa Glynias, a musicology doctorate student from Yale who was studying the world music of St. Gregory’s. My conversations with Marissa raised interesting questions about our role in appropriating music, liturgy, liturgical objects,

 

After the after which all the vested people greet each one of us and welcome us into the space.   One of the founders, Donald Schell told me that his wife Ellen, a nurse, read a study years ago about the influence of touch on helping people feel welcome and satisfied. The study was done at a library where the librarian, while helping patrons check out books, safely and non-invasively brushed her hand against a random sample of people. Those that were touched by the librarian expressed more satisfaction with their visit and felt more welcome in the library. Donald said, “People don’t expect to be affectionate in church but over the years we have increased our level of affection towards one another and people express they appreciate and enjoy the level of intimacy that brings them closer to one another.”

 

As Sanford, the Music Director, sings the psalm we sing one of the many alleluia chants in the St. Gregory Music for Liturgy book, and move to the seating area where we sing, hear the collect, sing, and listen to an Epistle reading. Readers are plucked out of the seating area as the liturgical leaders head for the lectern. After every reading there is a period of silent reflection ushered in by the ringing of Tibetan singing bowls and gently ended by the ringing of Tibetan meditation chimes. The readings are done on one end of the bema, a long raised platform that separates the seating area into two sections with the chairs facing each other, and the bishop’s seat on the other end of the bema. This design is based on the synagogue structure after the destruction of the second Jerusalem Temple (70 CE) when the diaspora increased and necessitated the need for synagogues. The synagogue structure was originally based on the Temple architecture and this traditional structure is the inspiration for St. Gregory’s seating area. (For further explanation see Liturgy and Architecture by Louis Bouyer, University of Notre Dame Press, 1967.)

 

Next we sing again as the candle bearer, the gospel book bearer, and the reader approach the lectern for the gospel reading. Due to the design of the space, we face each other as we sing and the choir is conveniently dispersed throughout us singers so they can carry us along and set the tone and pitch for us. I’ve noticed that this encourages me to sing and try to stay in tune and I’ve been less self-conscious of my singing since I’ve been attending all the services—I’ve had lots of practice! There is more silence after the gospel reading followed by a sermon, more silence, and then a short time of sharing by anyone that wants to add a word, story, or insight from the gospel reading.

 

After the gospel reading and sharing, we all sing another alleluia song and greet the gospel book by touching it or kissing it as it is walked through the room by all the liturgical leaders. This is an Eastern Orthodox custom, and although the elements of an Episcopal service are present, the service is heavily influenced by the Eastern Orthodox Church. Other Orthodox practices include the singing of the liturgy, no instrumentation other than percussion, dancing around the altar to celebrate Eucharist, the prevalence of icons throughout the worship space, and the architectural layout of the church. Founders of St. Gregory of Nyssa Church, Donald Schell and Richard Fabian, were both influenced by Eastern Orthodox theology while seminary students and then later as Chaplains at Yale University they developed the liturgy that is still used at St. Gregory today. It is a living liturgy that changes over time as the church changes and as the members change, but the structure and influence have remained constant.

 

When I asked why use an ancient tradition as a foundation, Paul Fromberg, Rector of St. Gregory of Nyssa, told me, “In some ways this ancient liturgy is more flexible and tolerant of difference and is more open to change as the church changes. When Christianity became a religion governed by the state, it became more systematized but prior to that it was being formed according to context and local culture and customs.” This is definitely true of St. Gregory’s—it is very much formed based on the culture of San Francisco. One of the things I discovered about the liturgy, the worship space, the art, the vestments, and the Eastern Orthodox influence is that they work because they are so tailored to the culture and context of San Francisco. San Francisco is home to many Buddhist communities and many of St. Gregory’s members have practiced Buddhism and are attracted to St. Gregory’s contemplative practices such as silences throughout the worship and chanting. San Francisco is also home to one of the most diverse populations in the country, which is reflected in the art and décor of the church.

 

After the gospel reading and veneration of the gospel book, the preacher gave a sermon. On Sundays I would attend all the services and I noticed that over the course of the morning only a random selection of the daily readings were read.   After paying attention for several weeks, I couldn’t find a pattern so I asked Paul about it and he responded, “Sometimes less is more. The readings are chosen from the lectionary according to what the preacher wants his/her sermon to be about.” The gospel was always read at the later service along with another reading but only one reading was read at the early service. After each reading and after the sermon there was a period of silence for contemplative reflection.

 

A unique aspect of St. Gregory’s sermon is a time at the end of the preacher’s sermon for any participant to add his/her own reflection or story or thoughts on the gospel reading. Time was allotted for one or two people to speak. This same ethic of participation was present in the prayers of the people as all spoken prayers were those of the people gathered together in worship. At the early service, the prayers of the people were woven into the Eucharistic prayer and at the later service the prayers of the people were woven into the Lord’s Prayer. After praying together, members sang and moved in step to the altar where they circled it in preparation for the Eucharist. After reaching the altar, the peace was exchanged, the Eucharistic pray was sung and then members along with the liturgical leaders shared communion, which is open to all people present at the liturgy. After a post communion prayer, offertory, blessing, and announcements, the participants sang and danced around the altar ending with a final blessing.

 

Dancing at St. Gregory consisted of a simple four-step walking sequence leading away from the seating area to the altar and then a simple eight-step grapevine dance for the final choral song. There are no bulletins and no written directions to read and follow as everything that a participant needs to know is explained as part of the service. In other words, instruction is woven into the service, which makes it very approachable to new-comers that only need to follow verbal instructions and don’t feel left out because they don’t know what is going on.

 

August 9, 2016

 

Now faith is the assurance of things hoped for, the conviction of things not seen. Indeed, by faith our ancestors received approval. By faith we understand that the worlds were prepared by the word of God, so that what is seen was made from things that are not visible.

By faith Abraham obeyed when he was called to set out for a place that he was to receive as an inheritance; and he set out, not knowing where he was going. By faith he stayed for a time in the land he had been promised, as in a foreign land, living in tents, as did Isaac and Jacob, who were heirs with him of the same promise. For he looked forward to the city that has foundations, whose architect and builder is God. By faith he received power of procreation, even though he was too old– and Sarah herself was barren– because he considered him faithful who had promised. Therefore from one person, and this one as good as dead, descendants were born, “as many as the stars of heaven and as the innumerable grains of sand by the seashore.”

All of these died in faith without having received the promises, but from a distance they saw and greeted them. They confessed that they were strangers and foreigners on the earth, for people who speak in this way make it clear that they are seeking a homeland. If they had been thinking of the land that they had left behind, they would have had opportunity to return. But as it is, they desire a better country, that is, a heavenly one. Therefore God is not ashamed to be called their God; indeed, he has prepared a city for them. (Hebrews 11:1-3, 8-16)

 

I have a feeling that I haven’t posted in a week or so. Last week I helped with the logistics of the icon painting workshop at St. Gregory, mostly getting food, making copies, and helping participants feel comfortable, but I did sit in on the teacher’s, Dimitri, lectures about the theology, history, and spirituality of icon painting—it was really interesting. I like how when I volunteer to just show up and help out that I meet interesting people, learn a ton, and have fun. On Sunday, Paul preached about showing up to those things that are present in our lives and I’ve been thinking a lot about that—how do I (or do I not) show up and how can I be present.

 

Yesterday, my last full day in San Francisco I was a tourist, something I rarely did when I lived there and it was usually only when people were in town visiting. As a result, I lived in the Bay Area for 15 years but never rode on a cable car, which I had always wanted to do. Yesterday I was determined to make it happen, I did, and it was fun. Then the most amazing thing happened—I ran into friends from my church in Minnesota. But I’ll back up.

 

It all started early in the morning when I cut my finger taping up a box to ship home. After going to the Parcel Post store I backtracked 2 blocks to a little neighborhood market (with great murals btw) to buy bandages for my finger, then I needed coffee and had to drop something off at St. Gregory’s. My first destination was Grace Cathedral where I looked around and attended the noon Eucharist service before heading to Peet’s to buy coffee for Ernesto. Peet’s was a surreal experience. Every Peet’s I’ve ever been in was always a quaint little coffee shop, kind of dark like the study of an old professor and filled with people talking in hushed tones about all things important and intellectual, but this particular Peet’s was inside a bank and there were ATMs everywhere and long tables with power strips where people sat on their laptops too busy to look at the person across from them. I don’t know what they were doing, but I’m pretty sure they weren’t looking for Pokemon. And yes, there was a counter to order coffee but that didn’t seem to be the main reason that people were at Peet’s—they were there to stare at their computers. I got a complimentary cup of coffee with my purchase of beans so I decided to sit and take in the scene for a bit, but honestly it was pretty boring watching people type on their laptops. Normally I like to watch people and I can spot the couple on their first date or watch an old person interact with a child or guess what books people are reading or overhear interesting conversations. None of that was happening—boring!

 

But, if I hadn’t cut my finger, rode the cable car, and stopped at Peet’s, I never would have stopped by the small beach near the end of the cable car line, closed my eyes, decided it was time to go, look up and see Gretchen and John from church. That was so weird and random—what are the chances of running into someone from Minnesota on a tiny beach in San Francisco? Amazing—those are the chances.

 

Seeing Gretchen and John was like a beacon calling me home. Although I’ve had a more than awesome experience in San Francisco, I’ve been homesick ever since Ernesto, Elena, Benjamin, and Dreamer drove off without me to head back home, but this was different. I’ve always known that my family will be there when I get back, but seeing friends I realized that there is a whole community of people calling me home to a place I belong and to a place where I belong to people I love and hold dear—a homeland.

 

My first blog post before I left for my San Francisco adventure was about homeland, so it was fitting that he Epistle reading from Hebrews on Sunday mentioned homeland: They confessed that they were strangers and foreigners on the earth, for people who speak in this way make it clear that they are seeking a homeland. It was even more fitting that Mark, the worship leader, asked me right before the service to read the Epistle reading, which I did not fully comprehend until I was standing and reading and realized that homeland was one theme of the reading. And of course, faith is a huge theme of this reading and it could be interpreted in many different ways, but for me I was stuck on having faith that my homeland is promised to me and that I will know my homeland. Being apart from my family has taught me that my homeland is not a geographic place but a way of being in the world—being comfortable where ever I am and having faith that God has promised me a home and that home is where my family is. I’m so happy to returning to my family, my homeland.