A group of fourteen of us has just returned from a week of canoeing in the Canadian wilderness. I’m still basking in the wonder of God’s creation and the beauty of living and working with a community of terrific church-folk! Summers are a time of mission trips, VBS, and canoe trips. This summer we also saw another group who sought to offer meals to students and families who would be impacted by there not being school meals. We’ve enjoyed a summer worship schedule that brought people together in one worship space on Sunday mornings. On Wednesday evenings, Vikar Jakob led a more experimental gathering that encouraged people to worship and share in different ways. There have been so many things happening. Each of those events gather people and encourage us to see the world differently, to see ourselves differently, and to work in a way that more fully embodies the love of God.
As we move past Labor Day, we will reengage many of the familiar ministry rhythms. Worship will return to 8:00 and 9:30. We’ll resume Sunday school and Confirmation classes, and soon Adult Faith Formation classes. Our monthly community meals will return on September 6th. A new committee will be inspiring us toward greater stewardship, even as another group helps us to remember and celebrate the care and strength of those who have gone before us for 125 years making Peace UCC the place that it is. All these gatherings are rooted in opportunities to remember what it means to be the love of God in the world.
The canoe trip sometimes offers a chance to sit with a book in the glory and wonder of God's creation and do some reading. This year I was continuing the book “The Art of Possibility” by Rosamund and Benjamin Zander when I read an old folk story, perhaps a myth, that I’ve encountered as both “The Monks’ Story” and “The Rabbi’s Gift” that captures both what I was seeing in our group living in beloved community, as well as the call to what it means for us to be the church in ways that we already know so well.
A monastery had fallen on hard times. It was once part of a great order which, as a result of religious persecution lost all its branches. It was decimated to the extent that there were only five monks left in the mother house: the Abbot and four others, all of whom were over seventy. Clearly it was a dying order.
Deep in the woods surrounding the monastery was a little hut that the Rabbi from a nearby town occasionally used for a hermitage. One day, it occurred to the Abbot to visit the hermitage to see if the Rabbi could offer any advice that might save the monastery. The Rabbi welcomed the Abbot and commiserated. “I know how it is” he said, “the spirit has gone out of people. Almost no one comes to the synagogue anymore.” So the old Rabbi and the old Abbot wept together, and spoke quietly of deep things.
The time came when the Abbot had to leave. They embraced. “It has been wonderful being with you,” said the Abbot, “but I have failed in my purpose for coming. Have you no piece of advice that might save the monastery?” “No, I am sorry,” the Rabbi responded, “I have no advice to give. The only thing I can tell you is that the Messiah is one of you.”
When the other monks heard the Rabbi’s words, they wondered what possible significance they might have. “The Messiah is one of us? One of us, here, at the monastery? Do you suppose he meant the Abbot? Of course – it must be the Abbot, who has been our leader for so long. On the other hand, he might have meant Brother Thomas, who is undoubtably a holy man. Certainly he couldn’t have meant Brother Elrod – he’s so crotchety. But then Elrod is very wise. Surely, he could not have meant Brother Phillip – he’s too passive. But then, magically, he’s always there when you need him. Of course he didn’t mean me – yet supposing he did? Oh Lord, not me! I couldn’t mean that much to you, could I?”
As they contemplated in this manner, the old monks began to treat each other with extraordinary respect, on the off chance that one of them might be the Messiah. And on the off off chance that each monk himself might be the Messiah, they began to treat themselves with extraordinary respect.
Because the forest in which the monastery was situated was beautiful, people occasionally came to visit the monastery, to picnic or to wander along the old paths, most of which led to the dilapidated chapel. They sensed the aura of extraordinary respect that surrounded the five old monks, permeating the atmosphere. They began to come more frequently, bringing their friends, and their friends brought friends. Some of the younger men who came to visit began to engage in conversation with the monks. After a while, one asked if he might join. Then another, and another. Within a few years, the monastery became once again a thriving order, and – thanks to the Rabbi’s gift – a vibrant community of light and love.
May we treat ourselves and each other with the light and love, the respect and inspiration, that has the power to transform us and the world. May God bless us with wonder!