I am writing this entry in the Tampa airport, after a visit with my father and sister. My father's health has declined in the past year and this was a good time for a visit.
I report back to work on Friday at the Cathedral on the first day of diocesan convention -- certainly a busy time for re-entry. My first Sunday back will be November 1st. I will visit St. James', Zion Street this coming Sunday.
Not fully prepared to offer lasting comments on my collective sabbatical time at this point. Only that it has truly been a wonderful time of rest and study and travel and re-connection with family. A real gift: thank you Lilly Endowment. I return with a continued sense of calling to my pastoral work in Hartford and I look forward connecting to the folks at the Cathedral.
I waited 18 years for this time away: it was well worth it!
Tuesday, October 20, 2009
Monday, October 5, 2009
A Week Among Monks
It was bread that brought me to the pine forests of Louisiana just north of Lake Pontchartrain. I had heard of the ministry Pennies for Bread from another baker/monk in Illinois, Fr. Dominic of PBS cooking show fame, and thought it was the right place to couple a return to New Orleans with my search for the connection between food, recipes, and cooking with the building and healing of community life. But if it was bread that purportedly brought me here, it is the silence that I most needed to feed on.
The bulk of my sabbatical leave has been spent in the company of others: an incredible journey across our country by train with Leslie and the kids in July, a thrilling trip to England with the Cathedral choir to be in residence and sing evensong in the great Ely Cathedral, and even my days sitting with my mother in her nursing home in West Hartford. All good things, but not the emptying quiet found in the company of monks who know a few things or two about silence.
Silence during meals is the most jarring for this visitor. Mealtime in our home is usually registered in decibels. In Benedictine monasteries, meals on days except Sundays are eaten without conversation. A monk is chosen to read aloud to the community.
It is a wonderful to be just a few paces from the abbey church to take in the services of the day: Lauds at 7 a.m., Eucharist at 11:15, Vespers at 5:30 p.m. and Compline at 7:15 p.m. I am a mere participant with no responsibilities to prepare, officiate, be “on” and shake hands at the door. My mind can wander, I can lose my place, I can look up and gaze. The Abbey liturgy is familiar to me as an Episcopalian and its monastic call to hospitality offers me an acceptance into Eucharistic fellowship that is often denied to non-Roman Catholics in parish churches under diocesan oversight. Here I am a pilgrim and a soul looking for some time away and have been warmly welcomed.
Monks are people that still make us marvel at how and why they do what they do. For a community to still be following the Rule of Saint Benedict that dates from the 6th century is a witness that the call of a life of prayer and study in community is timeless. What it is that so many modern people and believers wrestle with:? that they seem to be alone in this world to navigate times of pain, loss and doubt. Our American individualism, our “do it by yourself, up from the book strap” mentality can ring hollow in today’s complex and interconnected world. What a visitor sees and feels in today’s monastery – this Abbey in the rural South – it that the Spirit grows stronger in community. We are never fully alone. We are left alone for a while to work out particular way in this world, confront our demons, and to cultivate what is means to have a personal relationship with our God. But all in the company of fellow pilgrims.
My favorite part of the day is following behind the monks after vespers to dinner. They walk two by two, lead by Abbot Justin, from the church under covered walkways as the bells ring out. Visitors walk behind them. And then there is Compline. At the close of the service the monks walk down the aisle followed by visitors and as thy near the font, the abbot blesses them with water in great waves, reminding them and us of our common baptism.
The font at the entrance of the nave is a magnate for those who enter the church. It acts like one of the great infinity pools that are so popular -- making it feel as it the waters are falling off into nowhere. I have never been called by piety to dip my fingers into the small holy water receptacles affixed to inner doorways of many Roman Catholic and Anglo-Catholic churches. But to see the baptismal font full of water is something different. There it is. Our baptisms. That is what and why one can dip ones fingers in the water and retrace the sign the cross. We were made Christians in these waters. In and through the water we are reminded of our call to community, to worship God and to see Christ in face of humanity. It is a powerful symbol that makes the most sense liturgically and theologically. It just works.
The bulk of my sabbatical leave has been spent in the company of others: an incredible journey across our country by train with Leslie and the kids in July, a thrilling trip to England with the Cathedral choir to be in residence and sing evensong in the great Ely Cathedral, and even my days sitting with my mother in her nursing home in West Hartford. All good things, but not the emptying quiet found in the company of monks who know a few things or two about silence.
Silence during meals is the most jarring for this visitor. Mealtime in our home is usually registered in decibels. In Benedictine monasteries, meals on days except Sundays are eaten without conversation. A monk is chosen to read aloud to the community.
It is a wonderful to be just a few paces from the abbey church to take in the services of the day: Lauds at 7 a.m., Eucharist at 11:15, Vespers at 5:30 p.m. and Compline at 7:15 p.m. I am a mere participant with no responsibilities to prepare, officiate, be “on” and shake hands at the door. My mind can wander, I can lose my place, I can look up and gaze. The Abbey liturgy is familiar to me as an Episcopalian and its monastic call to hospitality offers me an acceptance into Eucharistic fellowship that is often denied to non-Roman Catholics in parish churches under diocesan oversight. Here I am a pilgrim and a soul looking for some time away and have been warmly welcomed.
Monks are people that still make us marvel at how and why they do what they do. For a community to still be following the Rule of Saint Benedict that dates from the 6th century is a witness that the call of a life of prayer and study in community is timeless. What it is that so many modern people and believers wrestle with:? that they seem to be alone in this world to navigate times of pain, loss and doubt. Our American individualism, our “do it by yourself, up from the book strap” mentality can ring hollow in today’s complex and interconnected world. What a visitor sees and feels in today’s monastery – this Abbey in the rural South – it that the Spirit grows stronger in community. We are never fully alone. We are left alone for a while to work out particular way in this world, confront our demons, and to cultivate what is means to have a personal relationship with our God. But all in the company of fellow pilgrims.
My favorite part of the day is following behind the monks after vespers to dinner. They walk two by two, lead by Abbot Justin, from the church under covered walkways as the bells ring out. Visitors walk behind them. And then there is Compline. At the close of the service the monks walk down the aisle followed by visitors and as thy near the font, the abbot blesses them with water in great waves, reminding them and us of our common baptism.
The font at the entrance of the nave is a magnate for those who enter the church. It acts like one of the great infinity pools that are so popular -- making it feel as it the waters are falling off into nowhere. I have never been called by piety to dip my fingers into the small holy water receptacles affixed to inner doorways of many Roman Catholic and Anglo-Catholic churches. But to see the baptismal font full of water is something different. There it is. Our baptisms. That is what and why one can dip ones fingers in the water and retrace the sign the cross. We were made Christians in these waters. In and through the water we are reminded of our call to community, to worship God and to see Christ in face of humanity. It is a powerful symbol that makes the most sense liturgically and theologically. It just works.
Thursday, October 1, 2009
A Wonderful Place
I awoke this morning at 5:30 a.m. to head off to the bakery at St. Joseph's Abbey. Located down the road in another building, I had to find my way in the dark of the early morning (with a star lit sky overhead) and only the smell of bread baking to guide me. I found it! The baking began at 3 a.m., which was a little early for me. The monks and volunteers welcomed me warmly and I saw their production of 700 loaves of bread to be distributed to soup kitchens in the New Orleans area. A wonderful ministry.
Meals are eaten in silence with the monks, with one person assigned to read from a spiritual book. Today's lunch the reading was about the making of the King James' Bible. Funny to be with Roman Catholic Benedictines and listening to tales of the Church of England in the early 1600's.
The silence is wonderful and much needed.
Meals are eaten in silence with the monks, with one person assigned to read from a spiritual book. Today's lunch the reading was about the making of the King James' Bible. Funny to be with Roman Catholic Benedictines and listening to tales of the Church of England in the early 1600's.
The silence is wonderful and much needed.
Wednesday, September 30, 2009
Off to Bake and Pray
Today I depart the gulf coast for Covington, Louisiana for Saint Joseph Abbey, a Benedictine Roman Catholic community. One of their main ministries is their Pennies for Bread bakery, where each Thursday and Monday they bake over 2,000 loaves of bread to be distributed in the New Orleans area. Check out their link at
http://saintjosephabbey.com/guests-nota.html
I am scheduled to help out in the bakery tomorrow and Monday. Let's hope that goes well.
http://saintjosephabbey.com/guests-nota.html
I am scheduled to help out in the bakery tomorrow and Monday. Let's hope that goes well.
Friday, September 25, 2009
New Orleans
I arrived in New Orleans last night to spend the next two weeks in Louisiana and the Gulf Coast. Leslie flew down and met me and will be here until Monday morning. We are guests of the Dean of New Orleans, David Duplantier. It was New Orleans in April, 2008 where I first got the inspiration for this sabbatical: finding the connection between food, cooking and recipes with community: how food continues to bind us together and in times of crisis help us to heal and rebuild. Part of my time here will be spent at St. Joseph's Abbey, working in their bread baking kitchens: more about that later. Anyway, with only four weeks left in my time away, I am trying to get the most out of this wonderful time.
Thursday, September 10, 2009
It is risen: the bread
The bread baking has begun in earnest. Last week I began small, with a simple white bread. Then onto rye. This week I bought some whole wheat flower and starting mixing it with bread flour. One of the recipes from Peter Reinhart's Brother Juniper book had me mixing in butter milk and honey. Yesterday I tried struan, a Scottish harvest bread with cooked brown rice, polenta, wheat bran and honey. The result was pretty good, but the rice turned out a little crunchy. I am also experimenting with how long I can leave the dough for its first rise. All in all, I'm enjoying the experience. Today, after my son Will's badgering, I cooked a loaf of banana bread. Again a first. It's cooling in the kitchen.
The challenge of course is not to eat all of the bread that I am so happily making.
The challenge of course is not to eat all of the bread that I am so happily making.
Wednesday, September 2, 2009
The Urgency of Me Learning to Cook
The kids have gone back to school. Leslie is back at her work at the diocese. Our summer of travel is over. Labor Day is approaching. The house is empty and nearly seven more weeks of sabbatical time looms before me. What in the world am I going to do with these days? I have a pile of books that I have chosen to read, and I am dutifully making my way through the list. But, how about cooking? Didn’t I announce that I wanted to learn how to cook?
One of the foundational purposes of my grant application to the Lilly Endowment was for me to “cross the kitchen” and try my hand at cooking. Food and feeding and hospitality are at the center of what we are called to do as Christians. And, having married a former editor at Gourmet magazine and cookbook author, I have sat at the table and admired and tasted my way through 19 years of married life. How would I fare as a cook?
First, I began this week by baking bread. I had never baked bread before. But with the help of the classic “Joy of Cooking” cookbook and others and incredibly helpful “how to” videos on YouTube, I have baked bread the last two days. I have to say: I like it. I have learned to knead the bread and also how to proof yeast and find a warm place in the house for the rising of the bread. A new world has been opened to me. My first two loafs were ordinary white, and I pushed myself and made rye bread yesterday. The kids have gobbled it up and I have to say it’s pretty good. Not bakery quality, but actually pretty good. Clearly this could be a phase that I tire of quickly, but maybe, just maybe, I might continue…
Perhaps inspired by our recent trip to England and their abundance of Indian restaurants, I announced to Leslie that I want to learn how to cook Indian food. I tackled my first dish last night, the recipe for which I found on the web. I attach the link here: http://allrecipes.com/Recipe/Indian-Chicken-Curry-II/Detail.aspx
The chicken curry dish came out really well -- I have to say (and the family agreed) I made some basmati rice to accompany it and also cut up some fresh cilantro to put on top. I doubled the recipe and cut way back on the cayenne powder, as I did not want to overpower the dish for the kids. I also did not use a whole lemon. It is a creamy comfort food type of dish that may just become one of my standards. Next up is lamb rogan josh, a classic recipe from the Kahmir section of India. I always find that I order this dish in restaurants and want to learn how to make it myself. I will also try my hand and baking naan, the Indian bread that is so addictive.
But as I prepared the meal last night, with the house empty and NPR playing on the radio, I actually tried to think about the relaxing quality of cooking. Yes, I had to remind myself to relax and enjoy the cooking experience -- as opposed to just rushing through it and putting something on the table. Clearly, I may not always have a free afternoon to leisurely cut sauté onions and slice chicken into bit size pieces, but on this one day, I did enjoy it. And lo and behold, I learned that I could cook a reasonably complex dish with more than two ingredients and not out of a box.
Today, I baked blueberry muffins from scratch. They’re cooling right now.
One of the foundational purposes of my grant application to the Lilly Endowment was for me to “cross the kitchen” and try my hand at cooking. Food and feeding and hospitality are at the center of what we are called to do as Christians. And, having married a former editor at Gourmet magazine and cookbook author, I have sat at the table and admired and tasted my way through 19 years of married life. How would I fare as a cook?
First, I began this week by baking bread. I had never baked bread before. But with the help of the classic “Joy of Cooking” cookbook and others and incredibly helpful “how to” videos on YouTube, I have baked bread the last two days. I have to say: I like it. I have learned to knead the bread and also how to proof yeast and find a warm place in the house for the rising of the bread. A new world has been opened to me. My first two loafs were ordinary white, and I pushed myself and made rye bread yesterday. The kids have gobbled it up and I have to say it’s pretty good. Not bakery quality, but actually pretty good. Clearly this could be a phase that I tire of quickly, but maybe, just maybe, I might continue…
Perhaps inspired by our recent trip to England and their abundance of Indian restaurants, I announced to Leslie that I want to learn how to cook Indian food. I tackled my first dish last night, the recipe for which I found on the web. I attach the link here: http://allrecipes.com/Recipe/Indian-Chicken-Curry-II/Detail.aspx
The chicken curry dish came out really well -- I have to say (and the family agreed) I made some basmati rice to accompany it and also cut up some fresh cilantro to put on top. I doubled the recipe and cut way back on the cayenne powder, as I did not want to overpower the dish for the kids. I also did not use a whole lemon. It is a creamy comfort food type of dish that may just become one of my standards. Next up is lamb rogan josh, a classic recipe from the Kahmir section of India. I always find that I order this dish in restaurants and want to learn how to make it myself. I will also try my hand and baking naan, the Indian bread that is so addictive.
But as I prepared the meal last night, with the house empty and NPR playing on the radio, I actually tried to think about the relaxing quality of cooking. Yes, I had to remind myself to relax and enjoy the cooking experience -- as opposed to just rushing through it and putting something on the table. Clearly, I may not always have a free afternoon to leisurely cut sauté onions and slice chicken into bit size pieces, but on this one day, I did enjoy it. And lo and behold, I learned that I could cook a reasonably complex dish with more than two ingredients and not out of a box.
Today, I baked blueberry muffins from scratch. They’re cooling right now.
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