As often happens, a new chapter has opened up in my life. Three times a month, I’ll be going to the Mansion early in the morning to host and conduct a prayer service; it seems I’m the acting pastor at the Mansion while the real one is tied up with other business.
On the fourth week, I’ll be teaching my meditation class. Sadly, I don’t have time to do both.
I volunteered for this role, and the first prayer meeting and spiritual reading was this morning when it was badly needed: the week before Christmas.
At 8:32 a.m. I was reading from The Book Of Hours, a collection of Thomas Merton’s prayers, poems, and essays.
My first reading was from a prayer Merton wrote: ” Oh, God, in accepting one another wholeheartedly, fully, completely, we accept You, and we thank You, and we adore You, and we love you with our whole being. Our being is your being; our spirit is rooted in Your spirit.”
This was a very new kind of experience for me. And a lovely one.
At times seven, my group of six of the residents identified themselves as Christians, so I respected that and chose appropriate readings and prayers and psalms for them. Zinnia came, greeted everyone, and then went to sleep as I began to read. (Why do my dogs always do that?)
I explained that I am not a Christian; I was born Jewish, converted to Quakerism when I was young, and have for some years embraced the teachings and values of Jesus Christ, even though I don’t worship him as a God or as the son of God.
My spirituality is very personal and usually not connected to one faith or dogma.
I sensed I could develop this spirituality – and peace – in this work. I wasn’t there to preach, comfort, and share. I could feel the warmth and gratitude of the residents. I wanted the group to be small and intimate. I sometimes wanted to share my intense search for a spiritual way to live.
I have no lectures or sermons to offer, and I could see that they just craved something like this in which they could pray and connect with their ideas of God and seek comfort and peace.
They all said they didn’t mind that I was not a Christian, pastor, priest, or a rabbi; there was a beautiful and powerful feeling in the room. I realized I was there as much for me as for them.
We talked about Christmas, and it turned out that everyone who came to the prayer service would be at the Mansion on Christmas day with no visitors or family.
They asked if I could go and visit them, and I agreed; I said I would invite Maria and Zinnia, which made them happy. I joked, “isn’t this what pastors do?”
Maria jumped at the idea. It is beautiful to be so much in sync with a partner.
I was pleased to see my old friend Ellen, a regular visitor to the BIngo Games we ran a couple of years ago, before the pandemic. Ellen came in a walker – she had a very bad fall – and collapsed in my arms crying. “I am so glad to see you,” she said. We hugged for a long time and as the service ended, she leaned over and asked if I might get a baby doll for her, she needed something to love besides herself. I said of course I would.
How strange that I would find myself conducting a religious service for some women and men -most are Evangelical Christians – in a Medicaid assisted care facility, most of whom I hardly know.
This was not something I ever did or expected to do, yet reading those poems and prayers, I felt as at home as I have ever felt and at peace.
“You are witnesses to the ultimate reality that is love Love has overcome. Love is victorious. Amen.”
That was one of the prayers from Merton that I read aloud. Heads nodded in approval, one or two were asleep, and two or three were in tears.
I closed this service with this prayer; it felt as if it were written for us, in this place, in this time:
“Let there be a place somewhere in which you can breathe naturally, quietly, and not have to take your breath in conscious short gasps. A place where your mind can be idle, and forget its concerns, descend into silence, and worship in secret.”
Let’s find that place together, I suggested, and we all held hands, and then I came home to work. I told them I would bring some cross necklaces next week for those who wanted one.
You never cease to amaze me.
That makes two of us, Steve, Merry Christmas to you
As someone who was fully indoctrinated into the Methodist faith as a child and teen, I left organized religion far behind when I was able to make my own decisions. However, now at the age of 70, I have recently found myself needing something more…not church, but something. I have begun reading Merton, after discovering him through your blog, Jon. And, your closing prayer above really speaks to me. Thank you.
Thank you, Dot D
This was a beautiful story to read about love and connection. Thankyou Jon -!once again.
Once again you have the bravery to reveal more fully another side of yourself. I am completely with you this time. I was raised a Catholic–had 2 bad miscarriages due to this faith. Remarried later an agnostic which completely fitted with my semi-beliefs. I had raised my children with guardian angels, but nothing else. I had left the church, as had my first husband, after Vatican II which had itself broken faith with previously demanded beliefs. (this was purely political done to keep liberal Dutch priests in the church) Meanwhile my mother had joined a Quaker Meting House.
To quote Bob Dylan, G-d don’t care what you call yourself.
I feel Jesus moving thru you. God bless.
You’re a good man, Johnny K.
Jon, your writing today left me in tears. You have touched a place inside of me. A place where I want to go, but find it so hard to reach. This journey we are all on can be difficult. Finding peace within has helped. You have helped. Thank you.