Mississippi River Walk 2013 on Facebook/Peter Johnson as published on Minnesota Public Radio web site, March 12, 2013
I have been back for two weeks from my 1,300 mile road trip on Megabus to the Twin Cities via Chicago for the annual conference of Spiritual Directors International on the theme "Cultivating Compassion on the River". The Crowne Plaza Hotel in St. Paul is located right on the Mississippi and it is as far north as I have ever seen this great and powerful river. From my 20th story window I could look down on the river. I thought that it might be small but even in the north, far from New Orleans, it is wide and formidable.
As I looked at this river (through the snow and sleet, I am sorry to say) I remembered other great rivers that have played a part in my life. There is the Hudson on whose banks I lived for a time both in New York City and in upstate New York. There is the Amazon where I was doing my youthful backpack trip as a Peace Corps Volunteer when the Six Days War broke out in 1966--I remember that the river was so wide that you could not see either side from our little steamer. There is the Zambezi where I saw Victoria Falls once from my one and only ever helicopter ride. There is Niagara Falls and Iguacu Falls, both dumping with incredible noice and power water from rivers and tributaries. And there is the Congo River that I travelled by motor propelled canoe several times when I worked with missions in Africa. Surely these rivers contribute to my love of water as well as to my deep fear of it (well, for one thing I can't swim!). Both my love and my fear equate deep respect. So I was surprised during the conference that in the plenary opening rituals, much attention was given to two Ojibwe women, pictured above, who are walking the length of the Mississippi, from the headwaters in Minnesota as far as the Gulf of Mexico with a copper bucket filled with water from the headwaters of the Mississippi. Their intent is to call attention to the condition of our water resources. Sharon Day is walking the 1,200 miles with her sister, Doreen. The copper bucket that they are carrying is filled with water from Lake Itasca, the source of the Mississippi. She commented: "This time we we'll take the water from the headwaters, where it is still clean and pure, and all along the way to where it enters the Gulf." Day is the executive director of the Indigenous Peoples Task Force in Minneapolis. By mingling the clean water with the polluted waters at the mouth of the Mississippi, they will provide a sign of healing and of memory. During the conference, I attended many workshops, plenaries, discussions around dinner tables and elsewhere. But two weeks out from the conference the impression that is greatest and most important to me is of Sharon and Doreen making a sacred pilgrimage along one of North America's great rivers. This small, holy act reminds me so powerfully of water as the source of sustenance for all of God's creatures. The work of these two women is the most basic spiritual act that I can think of and I keep them in my imagination and my thoughts and my prayers. If Spiritual Directors International had not met in St. Paul on the banks of the Mississippi, I would never have known this story. Of all the things at the conference, this is what most nourishes me now. Each night I dip my finger into the holy water font in my icon corner and make the sign of the cross remembering my baptism. Water. Nurture. Life. The Mississippi, Doreen, Sharon. Holy women, holy water.
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Today is definitely transitional to Spring! The temperature, for so long wintery, finally broke the sixties today. My crocuses have been up for awhile, little lonely blooms. The tulips and other bulbs have valiantly pushed through the frozen earth--and I am happy to see that the ones that were composted are bigger and healthier than the others.
About an hour ago I walked to the Spades Park Library, a century old structure that is one of the few remaining Carnegie Libraries in Indianapolis, to collect my reserve book. In yards everywhere, people are out with rakes and black plastic bags clearing the twigs, dead grass, leaves and debris that has accumulated since Autumn. I haven't started yet--mostly I am just looking and thinking about it! As I looked lazily upon my garden beds, I did notice lots of debris and some trash--hmmm, how did those Halloween candy wrappers manage to stay in one place throughout the past months? This exercise of debris cleaning will allow lots of new life and growth to appear very soon. Dead stuff is removed so that fresh plants may enter the world unhindered. It is an old lesson that we all know: Life bursts forth from the old and the dead . . . Is that a good Easter lesson or what? Sure, it is about Jesus but it is about the way the earth is wired. In fact, it is the way the universe is wired, if we are to believe the scientists (which I do). Every day I sit in contemplation and silence--most often in wordless prayer. What happens in those moments is a clearing of the debris. It is raked away--the sounds, the mental script, the to-do list (about which I am normally compulsive), the worries, the things that get in the way of my feeling really good. And I am left with what is deep inside. For me it is Being itself. For others, it might be a greater consciousness. For others, God. Actually, it doesn't make much of a difference what it is called. What I know is that it is life giving. But first, the debris has to be cleared away. Sometimes in spiritual direction, we may spend months or years clearing the gunk and the debris away, only to find one day that we have moved deeper both into ourselves and into God. That is a breakthrough moment worth every moment of raking and good work. It requires leaving behind ideas, favorite doctrines, habitual modes and allowing something new to spring forth in its own time. As we clear the debris, we learn to process things in new, unexpected ways. Contemplation, as a new way of processing, results in deeper, more richly textured life and promise. A joyous congregation gathers after the Easter mass for fellowship. The Rev. Fowlkes, Priest-consultant, seated right. Ms. Laura Mills, Warden for Finance, seated left front. Mr. Ben Farnandis, Warden for Operations, standing left. Daniel Hoffman "monastic in residence" for Holy Week seated center. The Easter service at the Church of the Holy Cross (Episcopal) in Chicago began with the lighting of the Paschal candlle and the words: The light of Christ. The people responded: Thanks be to God. Two more times these words were intoned solemnly and slowly by liturgist and congregation. The Paschal candle made its way to the front of the podium to one side of the alter where its light flickered gently and beautifully. It was cold outside--a Great Lakes cold. But it was also sunny and the shafts of amber light made the wonderful 1960s nave aglow--yes, the light of Christ! And this in a city that is struggling with unprecedented gun violence and social issues (the announcement was made just days before about the closing of more than twenty public primary schools). And yet . . . And yet, this small congregation announced with assurance and joy that Christ lives. It was a radiant moment following the darkness of Holy Week and the long forty days and forty nights of Lent. After a full week of fellowship and prayer with this congregation as monastic-in-residence, I rejoiced in the wisdom and stability of faith of the members and the vision of their priest-consultant.. Celebrating the resurrection in Morgan Park was a gift to me that I will not soon forgot. Easter joy! Yes, indeed, the light of Christ! I returned to Indianapolis thinking that the light of Christ and the hope of the world may reside in small groups of persons who generate energy and goodness as they carry the Paschal light into their world. |
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AuthorDan Hoffman is an Indianapolis USA based spiritual director, supervisor of spiritual directors, and workshop/retreat leader. This occasional blog discusses things he is thinking about and wants to share. Comments are always welcome. |