Thursday, May 07, 2009
Thursday, March 26, 2009
Post-Hospital Care
Portland's post-hospital care for homeless falls short of meeting needs
Nursing and housing exist for extreme cases, but people requiring less-intense care often must fend for themselves...
Tuesday, November 27, 2007
At Home Advent Retreat
It's impossible to go anywhere from mid-November through December without being hit with a barrage of Christmas advertising, Christmas sales, Christmas gifts, Christmas decorations, Christmas music...
But it's not Christmas yet.
In the Church, we celebrate the season of Advent, the four-week period when we allow our lives and souls to settle down. We sit in anticipation of the Feast of the Incarnation - of Christmas, when God became one of us. During Advent, we hear the cries of the prophets, longing for a new world, a new relationship between God and God's people. The prophets urge us to stop what we're doing for a few weeks, to pause in anticipation of Christ's presence in the world.
Fr. Ron has posted an Advent At Home Retreat for all to download and use as a prayer guide during these four weeks. Beginning with the First Sunday of Advent (this Sunday, December 2), take the time to read the Gospel reprinted in the Retreat document and then spend time with the thoughts on the Gospel that Fr. Ron shares after the reading. There's some questions to consider, either individually or shared with others, and then a prayer for the week.
The Advent At Home Retreat is a good counterbalance to the ever-frantic activities of these weeks before Christmas. Take a few minutes now to download the Retreat, and spend a little time each day entering into the mysteries of this season. Advent contrasts sharply with the bright commercialism and constant stream of "Christmas cheer" - it's a good opportunity to focus on why we celebrate on December 25th.
Fr. Ron will be presenting excerpts from the Advent At Home Retreat on KBVM - 88.3 FM if you're in Portland, or available via streaming audio from the KBVM website. These segments will air at 7am, Sunday through Friday, beginning on 12/2.
If you've downloaded the Retreat or heard a segment on the radio, do you have any thoughts you'd like to share? Add them to the comments!
But it's not Christmas yet.
In the Church, we celebrate the season of Advent, the four-week period when we allow our lives and souls to settle down. We sit in anticipation of the Feast of the Incarnation - of Christmas, when God became one of us. During Advent, we hear the cries of the prophets, longing for a new world, a new relationship between God and God's people. The prophets urge us to stop what we're doing for a few weeks, to pause in anticipation of Christ's presence in the world.
Fr. Ron has posted an Advent At Home Retreat for all to download and use as a prayer guide during these four weeks. Beginning with the First Sunday of Advent (this Sunday, December 2), take the time to read the Gospel reprinted in the Retreat document and then spend time with the thoughts on the Gospel that Fr. Ron shares after the reading. There's some questions to consider, either individually or shared with others, and then a prayer for the week.
The Advent At Home Retreat is a good counterbalance to the ever-frantic activities of these weeks before Christmas. Take a few minutes now to download the Retreat, and spend a little time each day entering into the mysteries of this season. Advent contrasts sharply with the bright commercialism and constant stream of "Christmas cheer" - it's a good opportunity to focus on why we celebrate on December 25th.
Fr. Ron will be presenting excerpts from the Advent At Home Retreat on KBVM - 88.3 FM if you're in Portland, or available via streaming audio from the KBVM website. These segments will air at 7am, Sunday through Friday, beginning on 12/2.
If you've downloaded the Retreat or heard a segment on the radio, do you have any thoughts you'd like to share? Add them to the comments!
Tuesday, October 02, 2007
Don't Forget Your Underwear!
Yes, that's right... bring underwear to Mass this weekend at the Downtown Chapel!
It's the first weekend of the month, "Undies Sunday" at our little parish. If you're able to help out, pick up a couple new packages of underwear at Target, Fred Meyer, Sears, the outlet mall, or wherever you might be this week, and bring them with you to the Downtown Chapel this weekend.
If you attended either mass last weekend, you heard that the clothes supplies downstairs in the hospitality center are getting pretty low. Fr. Bob mentioned in his homily that 101 guests had checked in on Friday morning. That's a lot of people in need of warm clothes, dry socks, a cup of coffee, or even something as simple as clean underwear.
The weather turned suddenly as it does in Portland each fall. The sunny weather of two weeks ago has been replaced with the downpours and chill of the past several days. In addition to underwear and socks, this might be a good time to check for any jackets, blankets, sweatshirts, or other warm clothes that you might be able to share.
But especially this weekend, remember to bring your underwear to mass!
It's the first weekend of the month, "Undies Sunday" at our little parish. If you're able to help out, pick up a couple new packages of underwear at Target, Fred Meyer, Sears, the outlet mall, or wherever you might be this week, and bring them with you to the Downtown Chapel this weekend.
If you attended either mass last weekend, you heard that the clothes supplies downstairs in the hospitality center are getting pretty low. Fr. Bob mentioned in his homily that 101 guests had checked in on Friday morning. That's a lot of people in need of warm clothes, dry socks, a cup of coffee, or even something as simple as clean underwear.
The weather turned suddenly as it does in Portland each fall. The sunny weather of two weeks ago has been replaced with the downpours and chill of the past several days. In addition to underwear and socks, this might be a good time to check for any jackets, blankets, sweatshirts, or other warm clothes that you might be able to share.
But especially this weekend, remember to bring your underwear to mass!
Sunday, September 16, 2007
Blessed Father Basil - Pray For Us
I don't know about you, but I've been watching this space all week. As the date for the Beatification of Fr. Basil Moreau, founder of the Congregation of Holy Cross drew near, I've expected to see the thoughts of Fr. Bob or Fr. Ron posted here, telling us about this Moreau guy - who is he, why is he being beatified - and what relevance might any or all of the festivities going on in LeMans, France have for those of us who gather to pray at our little concrete corner of Sixth & Burnside? What I knew about Basil Moreau before this month would barely fill a decent sentence, much less a blog post. I'll admit it - I was a little perplexed by his beatification. Does starting a religious order get one a fast-track path to sainthood? (Or did it have to be the order that founded the University of Notre Dame? :) )
What made Moreau so special? Why does his beatification matter to us? After today's Mass of Celebration at the Downtown Chapel and our parish breakfast, I came home to spend some time learning about this man who we now call "Blessed".
At the Downtown Chapel, when we hear "Blessed", the name that trips off our tongues is familiar - "Brother Andre". The spirit of Blessed Br. Andre Bessette, beatified in 1982, permeates every corner of our parish and hospitality offerings, and is ever present in everything from the Friday night meal ("Br. Andre Cafe") to the religious education activities ("Br. Andre Institute"). The story of the sickly, impoverished, mostly-illiterate novitiate failure who was only deemed competent to work as a doorkeeper at a high school is one that resonates with our community. Sickness, sorrow, poverty and marginalization - those are the stories of the lives of so many of us who walk through those red doors at the Downtown Chapel.
Fr. Moreau, though - he was no doorkeeper. Doorkeepers don't found religious orders. Despite the visionary leadership that it must've taken for Fr. Basil Moreau to create and nurture not one but three communities of religious, he's a relative unknown. Could you have named the founder of the Congregation of Holy Cross two years ago? Me neither.
As Holy Cross priests (the "CSC" after their names stands for "Congrégation de Sainte-Croix" - Sainte-Croix being the village in France where the community began) - Fr. Bob and Fr. Ron would've heard Moreau's name often. The seminary at Notre Dame is named for him, and the chapel there is simply the Moreau Seminary Chapel. But y'know - that's at Notre Dame, which might as well be LeMans if you're sitting out on Burnside watching the Portland traffic go by. I'm interested in what Fr. Moreau's life and legacy mean to us, our little fragile community bound together by our shared presence and prayer. Br. Andre teaches us about humility and about service to others, especially those who experience material or spiritual poverty. Does the life of a founder of religious orders have anything to say to a small community steeped in mental illness, addictions, broken relationships, isolation, confusion, and loss?
As it turns out, we have a lot to learn from Blessed Fr. Moreau. Moreover, even the fact that he's a relative unknown to us now tells the part of his story that is so important to us at the Downtown Chapel. Although today he is revered as the founder of the Congregation of Holy Cross, during his lifetime he faced political battles and dissension within the ranks of the communities he lovingly created. He was ultimately cast out of his own community, and as he lay dying, only a handful of the Sisters of the Holy Cross remained with him to see to his care.
A website maintained by the Eastern Province of the Congregation of Holy Cross summarizes his story:
Despite adversity and the political scheming of some men in the Holy Cross community, Father Moreau was able to remain confident in Divine Providence. In fact, he viewed the setbacks and humiliations to his plans as the surest sign that Holy Cross was not a work of his hands or of any human hands, but rather of God.
As one who began his ministry with great fanfare in the center of hopes and dreams of a new religious community, Basil Moreau knew the pain of being on the margins within what he thought was his home. He lived the experience of watching those he'd nurtured turn against him, and felt the rejection and abandonment of family and friends. It's a familiar story, one we hear from guests who come in to spend time with us, and one that many of us could share ourselves.
It's not what Fr. Moreau did with his life when he had the respect and admiration of his peers that's so instructive. We can learn most from how he lived his life when everything he'd built was taken away. Can we look within ourselves, as did Fr. Moreau, and find that reservoir of faith that keeps us turning toward God, turning toward the Gospel? Can we sit amidst that grief and confusion and loss and know, really KNOW that God will work through all of that to bring about good?
It's unlikely that any of us will ever start a religious community - but then again, none of us are likely to work as a doorkeeper at a high school, either. As a parish community we've found ourselves in the story of Br. Andre's humble life placed into the service of God for others. With Fr. Basil Moreau's beatification, we can now learn perseverance amidst trials. We're reminded to keep our gaze cast toward God when earthly conflicts threaten to distract us from what we're here to do with our lives.
Fr. Moreau founded his communities with a very explicit purpose: To make Christ known, loved, and served. May we be blessed with the richness of being part of the Holy Cross family through the priests who are sent to be with us. May we, with them, share in that same mission, that same purpose. May we hold the example of Blessed Fr. Basil Anthony Mary Moreau in our hearts, and persevere, even when we find ourselves most on the margins, most cut off from home.
There's hours and hours of information about Fr. Moreau available online. A few places where I spent time today:
- The Beatification Mass is available online if you have high-speed Internet access. (Click on the green "Regarder la Video" button)
- A blog maintained by a couple of Holy Cross priests who made the trip to LeMans for the ceremonies.
- St. Anthony's Messenger magazine has a feature article about Fr. Moreau in this month's publication.
Feel free to add any other links to the Comments, or add your thoughts about the Beatification of Fr. Basil Moreau.
Thursday, August 09, 2007
On an uplifting note...
The Downtown Chapel elevator is working!
I’ve been thinking about that elevator a lot this summer. It’s a humble little box, nothing the slightest bit fancy about it as it slowly creaks and groans from the hospitality rooms in the basement up past the office to the big room on the second floor. On Sunday mornings it ferries the coffee urn downstairs for folks to partake after Mass. Then, while some are picking a pastry and getting that coffee, other folks are taking the elevator back upstairs for the weekly faith-sharing discussion.
During the week, clothing and hospitality donations are loaded in the elevator to be deposited downstairs. Donations of canned food take a trip upstairs to be loaded into the pantry cupboards. Our friends with tired, sore feet from days and nights on the streets ride the elevator up for the footwashing or art ministries, and older, ill, or tired guests are welcome to take a trip downstairs for hospitality as well. On Friday afternoons some folks take the elevator to watch the afternoon movie, and on Friday nights, the huge pots of soup for Br. Andre Cafe take a ride down to the lobby. Later, those empty pots will make a return trip to the kitchen in the elevator for cleaning and storage until the next week's work.
For several weeks this summer, the elevator was not working. Prayers were offered, cash was needed. One quote for repairs came in at a number so big that when Fr. Bob mentioned it to me, I couldn't commit it to memory. It just didn't seem real - or remotely attainable. Faith-sharing after Mass took place in the sanctuary, and everything else was hauled up or down the stairs by volunteers and staff. Even our parish breakfast made accommodations, setting a table in the lobby and finding volunteer 'wait staff' to serve folks who couldn't - or didn't want to - make the climb. (Kudos go to the Bon Appetit staff from UP, who carried the catered meal upstairs with nary a complaint - nor a spill.)
And then - another opinion, another repair visit, a bit of divine intervention - and the elevator once again was in service! There was much rejoicing when its recovery was announced at the conclusion of that Sunday's Mass. It wasn't without cost, but at least the number wasn't as big as the first estimate.
Fr. Bob continues to work through plans to ensure that the elevator remains operational, as well as make some much-needed updates to the building to conserve energy and lower the utility costs.
Of course the return of our elevator isn't the only news from the Downtown Chapel. Keep an eye out here for updates soon, including news about the upcoming year's Personal Poverty Retreats, a new year's session of discussions for those who want to learn more about our faith or who are considering becoming Catholic (RCIA), and new additions to the Downtown Chapel staff.
Enjoy the last few weeks of summer, and if you're in town, come join us for prayer at Mass sometime, or drop a note about volunteering. Take a ride on the elevator, too!
I’ve been thinking about that elevator a lot this summer. It’s a humble little box, nothing the slightest bit fancy about it as it slowly creaks and groans from the hospitality rooms in the basement up past the office to the big room on the second floor. On Sunday mornings it ferries the coffee urn downstairs for folks to partake after Mass. Then, while some are picking a pastry and getting that coffee, other folks are taking the elevator back upstairs for the weekly faith-sharing discussion.
During the week, clothing and hospitality donations are loaded in the elevator to be deposited downstairs. Donations of canned food take a trip upstairs to be loaded into the pantry cupboards. Our friends with tired, sore feet from days and nights on the streets ride the elevator up for the footwashing or art ministries, and older, ill, or tired guests are welcome to take a trip downstairs for hospitality as well. On Friday afternoons some folks take the elevator to watch the afternoon movie, and on Friday nights, the huge pots of soup for Br. Andre Cafe take a ride down to the lobby. Later, those empty pots will make a return trip to the kitchen in the elevator for cleaning and storage until the next week's work.
For several weeks this summer, the elevator was not working. Prayers were offered, cash was needed. One quote for repairs came in at a number so big that when Fr. Bob mentioned it to me, I couldn't commit it to memory. It just didn't seem real - or remotely attainable. Faith-sharing after Mass took place in the sanctuary, and everything else was hauled up or down the stairs by volunteers and staff. Even our parish breakfast made accommodations, setting a table in the lobby and finding volunteer 'wait staff' to serve folks who couldn't - or didn't want to - make the climb. (Kudos go to the Bon Appetit staff from UP, who carried the catered meal upstairs with nary a complaint - nor a spill.)
And then - another opinion, another repair visit, a bit of divine intervention - and the elevator once again was in service! There was much rejoicing when its recovery was announced at the conclusion of that Sunday's Mass. It wasn't without cost, but at least the number wasn't as big as the first estimate.
Fr. Bob continues to work through plans to ensure that the elevator remains operational, as well as make some much-needed updates to the building to conserve energy and lower the utility costs.
Of course the return of our elevator isn't the only news from the Downtown Chapel. Keep an eye out here for updates soon, including news about the upcoming year's Personal Poverty Retreats, a new year's session of discussions for those who want to learn more about our faith or who are considering becoming Catholic (RCIA), and new additions to the Downtown Chapel staff.
Enjoy the last few weeks of summer, and if you're in town, come join us for prayer at Mass sometime, or drop a note about volunteering. Take a ride on the elevator, too!
Friday, June 29, 2007
Letting go of certainty
When I returned to the faith of my childhood around four or five years ago, I let go of many things that had previously been routines in my life. My friends didn't know what to think. Had the strong-willed, self-sufficient woman they'd loved lost her mind entirely? Was this some sort of an early midlife crisis that had left me feeling like I had to give control over to a Church? Were things so bad that I had to sacrifice my own intelligence and integrity for the dictates of some big organization - especially one in the media every day at the time as news of the sexual abuse scandal broke?
I was reminded of that time yesterday morning as I spoke with a colleague who dropped by my cubicle to chat. No job is "safe" in a profit-driven enterprise, and we've weathered some major changes recently. The latest round of group realignments and changes in priority have taken away what he thought his job was supposed to be, and he's not at all sure what to expect next.
My guest glanced at my laptop's screen, displaying as always the Downtown Chapel home page. Gesturing in the laptop's general direction he said, "It must be really nice to have at least one place in your world that's stable, where you know what will happen day after day after day."
I nodded slowly, and thought for a moment before replying, "Well, some things are stable there, but not everything."
Truth be told, one of the few constants that we experience at the Downtown Chapel is change. Nobody knows, day to day, who will come through those red doors for morning hospitality. Several new people have recently started attending weekend masses. Others who've been woven into the fabric of the community and the liturgical ministry ranks are moving on - some to parishes elsewhere in town, others even across the country. Andy's away at school for a month, Fr. Bob and Fr. Ron are each taking short trips, and we'll have the regular influx of tourists on the weekends, people walking uncertainly through our doors, sent over by the concierge staffs at nearby hotels. The visitors spend the hour in prayer with us - and then they're gone. This summer will brings some staff changes, with Tabitha, our Holy Cross Associate, moving on, and new interns coming in. Right now the rhythm of the place is badly disrupted due to the catastrophic failure of the building's elevator.
I don't do change well. Rather, I don't like change occurring around me, and I've made quite the career out of avoiding it by always being the one to leave first. When job uncertainty grew to be too much, I'd leave that job and get another. If relationships were rocky, I'd move out, and move on. If a community of which I was a member was in transition, I'd find a reason to distance myself until they'd gone their way, and I wasn't along for the ride. Oh, and I never stayed anywhere longer than three years. No job, no relationship, no community - nothing.
Part of my healing has been not letting myself leave the Downtown Chapel. Not that I've not been tempted, but I see that temptation so clearly now as my own fear of uncertainty, my own fear of whether I still really belong there, my own fear of What Happens Next, when whatever it might be isn't under my control. And so I stay. February will mark five years since I first walked through those doors, and eight years with my current employer.
The same employer, that is, as the anxious colleague who sat with me in my cubicle yesterday morning.
And so we spoke of change, of constants, and of how to maintain equilibrium when everything is swirling around us. I thought of Peter, standing on the boat in the midst of the storm, eyes cast toward Jesus, taking those tentative steps across the water. As soon as he dropped his gaze, he began to sink.
That's been the anchor for me - keeping focused on God. Given that I'm so challenged by that which I cannot see and hold, it's a matter of reminding myself that God is present in those around me, in my family and friends, in the people who walk through the doors of the Downtown Chapel, even as who the people coming in each week change with time and travel. Can I recognize Christ in the person in the pew whose face is new to me? Can I trust that Christ is with those who have moved on?
Some of my friends from before still don't get it, or me. Others are quite certain that by admitting that I believe in something greater than myself, I've lost my own self-esteem, my own path. And then there's the matter of the institutional Church, so very human, still coming to terms with itself at times, still losing its own voice of certainty by reacting to so many things that are of this world, not keeping focused on making God's Kingdom real for the least among us.
So all I know, and all I could offer my friend yesterday was my simple faith that by just showing up, the struggle's halfway over. I've stayed at the Downtown Chapel because I didn't leave. Perhaps someday I'll have a reason to go - a new job elsewhere, or moving to be closer to family. Perhaps the tumult at work will mean that my colleague - or I - may need to make a change. For now, if the urge to move on comes, I can see it for what it is within me, and learn to watch, to wait, and to discover the blessings that come from sitting with the uncertainty.
I was reminded of that time yesterday morning as I spoke with a colleague who dropped by my cubicle to chat. No job is "safe" in a profit-driven enterprise, and we've weathered some major changes recently. The latest round of group realignments and changes in priority have taken away what he thought his job was supposed to be, and he's not at all sure what to expect next.
My guest glanced at my laptop's screen, displaying as always the Downtown Chapel home page. Gesturing in the laptop's general direction he said, "It must be really nice to have at least one place in your world that's stable, where you know what will happen day after day after day."
I nodded slowly, and thought for a moment before replying, "Well, some things are stable there, but not everything."
Truth be told, one of the few constants that we experience at the Downtown Chapel is change. Nobody knows, day to day, who will come through those red doors for morning hospitality. Several new people have recently started attending weekend masses. Others who've been woven into the fabric of the community and the liturgical ministry ranks are moving on - some to parishes elsewhere in town, others even across the country. Andy's away at school for a month, Fr. Bob and Fr. Ron are each taking short trips, and we'll have the regular influx of tourists on the weekends, people walking uncertainly through our doors, sent over by the concierge staffs at nearby hotels. The visitors spend the hour in prayer with us - and then they're gone. This summer will brings some staff changes, with Tabitha, our Holy Cross Associate, moving on, and new interns coming in. Right now the rhythm of the place is badly disrupted due to the catastrophic failure of the building's elevator.
I don't do change well. Rather, I don't like change occurring around me, and I've made quite the career out of avoiding it by always being the one to leave first. When job uncertainty grew to be too much, I'd leave that job and get another. If relationships were rocky, I'd move out, and move on. If a community of which I was a member was in transition, I'd find a reason to distance myself until they'd gone their way, and I wasn't along for the ride. Oh, and I never stayed anywhere longer than three years. No job, no relationship, no community - nothing.
Part of my healing has been not letting myself leave the Downtown Chapel. Not that I've not been tempted, but I see that temptation so clearly now as my own fear of uncertainty, my own fear of whether I still really belong there, my own fear of What Happens Next, when whatever it might be isn't under my control. And so I stay. February will mark five years since I first walked through those doors, and eight years with my current employer.
The same employer, that is, as the anxious colleague who sat with me in my cubicle yesterday morning.
And so we spoke of change, of constants, and of how to maintain equilibrium when everything is swirling around us. I thought of Peter, standing on the boat in the midst of the storm, eyes cast toward Jesus, taking those tentative steps across the water. As soon as he dropped his gaze, he began to sink.
That's been the anchor for me - keeping focused on God. Given that I'm so challenged by that which I cannot see and hold, it's a matter of reminding myself that God is present in those around me, in my family and friends, in the people who walk through the doors of the Downtown Chapel, even as who the people coming in each week change with time and travel. Can I recognize Christ in the person in the pew whose face is new to me? Can I trust that Christ is with those who have moved on?
Some of my friends from before still don't get it, or me. Others are quite certain that by admitting that I believe in something greater than myself, I've lost my own self-esteem, my own path. And then there's the matter of the institutional Church, so very human, still coming to terms with itself at times, still losing its own voice of certainty by reacting to so many things that are of this world, not keeping focused on making God's Kingdom real for the least among us.
So all I know, and all I could offer my friend yesterday was my simple faith that by just showing up, the struggle's halfway over. I've stayed at the Downtown Chapel because I didn't leave. Perhaps someday I'll have a reason to go - a new job elsewhere, or moving to be closer to family. Perhaps the tumult at work will mean that my colleague - or I - may need to make a change. For now, if the urge to move on comes, I can see it for what it is within me, and learn to watch, to wait, and to discover the blessings that come from sitting with the uncertainty.
Friday, June 08, 2007
Teaching, Faith, & Service
Teaching, faith, & service is the simplified mission & slogan of the University of Portland, and the shared vision of the other Holy Cross institutions here in Portland, the Downtown Chapel and Holy Redeemer Parish. I appreciate these community tenants and how they necessitate one another in my personal experiences. For years I have seen teaching, faith, & service as a barometer for the balance needed in the work that we do here at the Downtown Chapel. How am I bringing my faith to the service being provided? How am I teaching and evangelizing through my words & actions? How can we offer more service opportunities to the greater Portland community in order to educate the larger community?
Personally, however, I am beginning to see this simple mission statement, not as a checklist of things that I need to be doing in my life, but rather, as the things I most need to be seeking and receiving from the community.
I believe that I am surrounded everyday, in this simple and honest community, by the greatest educators I have ever known. I hunger for the lessons that I receive each day in my office, lessons from friends who come asking for referrals, basic needs, and emergency services, while unknowingly changing how I look at the world and creating havoc on my personal priorities and convictions.
I am gaining in faith through the very faith that is shared with me by friends who see God and religion as a necessity, not a routine or rite to be followed. I am receiving the gift of faith through the vulnerability of strangers on a daily basis, who teach me of my own need for God in my life.
And finally, service... receiving the service of a community that also recognizes me as a person in need of companionship & love. Although I represent authority, I am not labeled as unburdened or immune to the need of compassion, but I am received equally as a community member. I am welcomed by the Old Town community, and I know that I belong.
Teaching, faith, & service is an institutional mission that gives our faith communities priorities to live out... but it also offers me three things that I continue to receive everyday from this community.
Thank You!
Andy
Personally, however, I am beginning to see this simple mission statement, not as a checklist of things that I need to be doing in my life, but rather, as the things I most need to be seeking and receiving from the community.
I believe that I am surrounded everyday, in this simple and honest community, by the greatest educators I have ever known. I hunger for the lessons that I receive each day in my office, lessons from friends who come asking for referrals, basic needs, and emergency services, while unknowingly changing how I look at the world and creating havoc on my personal priorities and convictions.
I am gaining in faith through the very faith that is shared with me by friends who see God and religion as a necessity, not a routine or rite to be followed. I am receiving the gift of faith through the vulnerability of strangers on a daily basis, who teach me of my own need for God in my life.
And finally, service... receiving the service of a community that also recognizes me as a person in need of companionship & love. Although I represent authority, I am not labeled as unburdened or immune to the need of compassion, but I am received equally as a community member. I am welcomed by the Old Town community, and I know that I belong.
Teaching, faith, & service is an institutional mission that gives our faith communities priorities to live out... but it also offers me three things that I continue to receive everyday from this community.
Thank You!
Andy
Wednesday, May 30, 2007
Fixing Broken People
Unlike my fellow bloggers here at the "Faith from the Streets", I don't spend my days at the corner of Sixth and Burnside. While the Downtown Chapel staff and volunteers are opening the doors and sharing their morning with neighbors and guests from the streets and SROs of Old Town, I'm more often than not in a cubicle, straight outta Dilbert, some fifteen or so miles away in Oregon's "Silicon Forest". My laptop's home page is configured to start at the Downtown Chapel website, a reminder throughout my day that I do have a life outside my tiny grey office surrounded by other people in tiny grey boxes.
I'm finding more and more, though, that reminders of 'home' come in ways more subtle, yet more insistent.
Anyone who spends much time at the Downtown Chapel will hear the phrase - "You can't fix people." Sometimes it's Fr. Ron talking about being present to those who are hurting or are struggling to find their way in this world, but knowing that there's no easy answers to give to them. Or perhaps it's Andy explaining to a new volunteer that the person sleeping in the doorway wouldn't suddenly be all right if someone walked up and gave them keys to an apartment. The challenges faced by everyone who walks through those red doors are not puzzles to be solved simply by producing the right combination of tangible items to offer.
With each passing day spent in my cubicle and in the company of those who, by contemporary cultural standards, "have it all", it's more obvious to me that the broken people who walk through the doors of the Downtown Chapel are kindred spirits with the broken people who walk through the security screening gate at work. Fr. Ron might say that the only difference between them is that those with whom I work have more stuff.
Another difference is in that very sense of brokenness and the response to it. Indeed, it's the very essence of corporate life to routinely be evaluated against one's peers, with areas identified as "broken" flagged so that an action plan can be devised to fix them. Thereafter, regular checkpoints are established to establish that 'repairs' are well underway, with progress marked against a timeline.
I've been in a corporate environment for about eight years now, surrounded by literally thousands of folks in their cubicles. I've yet to see one person be fixed. Oh sure, behaviors may change, irritants may be addressed, new skills may be learned - but nobody will be 'fixed' by any effort on our part to do so.
I do believe that lives can change. I've seen it at the Downtown Chapel, starting with my own broken self that I hauled through those very doors some years back. I've seen bitterness and fear melt away from many hearts, I've celebrated friends' passing various milestones of sobriety, and I've seen the smile on the face of someone who's just come in from a night outside to get a fresh cup of coffee. Nobody's 'fixed' - but perhaps each can get an inkling that they are loved.
Sharing coffee and a story with another broken soul will never replace the systems and processes that govern modern corporate life. Even admitting one's own brokenness in some places can be a career-limiting move. It's easy to believe in the idea of not fixing people at the Downtown Chapel, where brokenness is so visible and where one's inadequacy to conduct tangible repairs is so obvious. It's a lot harder to take that simple acceptance out into a world that demands perfection at any cost and shuns those who are flawed and different.
And yet that's the message of the Downtown Chapel to me, as I go to work in that other world. As Andy and Sally and the others welcome the guests each morning inside those open doors, can I be as welcoming to the people I encounter outside of them? Can I take them as they are, share a cup of coffee and a bagel, and see each one as God's beloved, not as a problem in need of repair?
I'm finding more and more, though, that reminders of 'home' come in ways more subtle, yet more insistent.
Anyone who spends much time at the Downtown Chapel will hear the phrase - "You can't fix people." Sometimes it's Fr. Ron talking about being present to those who are hurting or are struggling to find their way in this world, but knowing that there's no easy answers to give to them. Or perhaps it's Andy explaining to a new volunteer that the person sleeping in the doorway wouldn't suddenly be all right if someone walked up and gave them keys to an apartment. The challenges faced by everyone who walks through those red doors are not puzzles to be solved simply by producing the right combination of tangible items to offer.
With each passing day spent in my cubicle and in the company of those who, by contemporary cultural standards, "have it all", it's more obvious to me that the broken people who walk through the doors of the Downtown Chapel are kindred spirits with the broken people who walk through the security screening gate at work. Fr. Ron might say that the only difference between them is that those with whom I work have more stuff.
Another difference is in that very sense of brokenness and the response to it. Indeed, it's the very essence of corporate life to routinely be evaluated against one's peers, with areas identified as "broken" flagged so that an action plan can be devised to fix them. Thereafter, regular checkpoints are established to establish that 'repairs' are well underway, with progress marked against a timeline.
I've been in a corporate environment for about eight years now, surrounded by literally thousands of folks in their cubicles. I've yet to see one person be fixed. Oh sure, behaviors may change, irritants may be addressed, new skills may be learned - but nobody will be 'fixed' by any effort on our part to do so.
I do believe that lives can change. I've seen it at the Downtown Chapel, starting with my own broken self that I hauled through those very doors some years back. I've seen bitterness and fear melt away from many hearts, I've celebrated friends' passing various milestones of sobriety, and I've seen the smile on the face of someone who's just come in from a night outside to get a fresh cup of coffee. Nobody's 'fixed' - but perhaps each can get an inkling that they are loved.
Sharing coffee and a story with another broken soul will never replace the systems and processes that govern modern corporate life. Even admitting one's own brokenness in some places can be a career-limiting move. It's easy to believe in the idea of not fixing people at the Downtown Chapel, where brokenness is so visible and where one's inadequacy to conduct tangible repairs is so obvious. It's a lot harder to take that simple acceptance out into a world that demands perfection at any cost and shuns those who are flawed and different.
And yet that's the message of the Downtown Chapel to me, as I go to work in that other world. As Andy and Sally and the others welcome the guests each morning inside those open doors, can I be as welcoming to the people I encounter outside of them? Can I take them as they are, share a cup of coffee and a bagel, and see each one as God's beloved, not as a problem in need of repair?
Friday, May 18, 2007
Pentecost Preparation
Yesterday, one of our guests stopped me in the hallway. He took off his grey wool cap, looked me in the eye and said, "Father, you have to pray for me. The doctor said it was worse than I thought."
He has been in my heart all day. I never know how the day will unfold. The stranger I meet in the hall, after mass or in the confessional is in God's hands. However, I really need to pay attention if I am going to understand the Holy Spirit's gift in my path.
It is not easy to pay attention to life. It is never easy to hear what people are really saying, or to see the pain in stranger's eyes.
Pentecost is the time to celebrate our trust in the Holy Spirit- to wake us up, to see people clearly, to hear words intentionally. Pray for everyone this Pentecost. Expand your desires for life, healing and forgiveness. Leave nothing out. Remember your needs as well. Pray for peace. Yell and scream at God if you have to, but ask for everything in these next ten days.
Let's see what can happen on Pentecost Day when we can really pay attention to the gifts of the Holy Spirit. Let's see what can happen when we join our forces of prayer. Let's see if we can wake up to the needs of the stranger and find new life for ourselves.
Fr. Ron
He has been in my heart all day. I never know how the day will unfold. The stranger I meet in the hall, after mass or in the confessional is in God's hands. However, I really need to pay attention if I am going to understand the Holy Spirit's gift in my path.
It is not easy to pay attention to life. It is never easy to hear what people are really saying, or to see the pain in stranger's eyes.
Pentecost is the time to celebrate our trust in the Holy Spirit- to wake us up, to see people clearly, to hear words intentionally. Pray for everyone this Pentecost. Expand your desires for life, healing and forgiveness. Leave nothing out. Remember your needs as well. Pray for peace. Yell and scream at God if you have to, but ask for everything in these next ten days.
Let's see what can happen on Pentecost Day when we can really pay attention to the gifts of the Holy Spirit. Let's see what can happen when we join our forces of prayer. Let's see if we can wake up to the needs of the stranger and find new life for ourselves.
Fr. Ron
Tuesday, May 15, 2007
Theology on Tap
I will be speaking in the Theology on Tap series on Thursday May 24 at 7pm at the Lucky Lab Public House in Multnomah Village. (www.luckylab.com) The title is " We are all called to service- Who's answering?" I will be speaking about the spirituality of service and of course about the Downtown Chapel. Pass on the Word. You can view more on-line at Theology on Tap, Portland.
Ron
Ron
Saturday, May 12, 2007
30 Minute School of Prayer
On Sunday, May 13, we will gather after mass for another "30 Minute School of Prayer." This time we will talk briefly about the "Jesus Prayer." This mantra, "Jesus, Son of the Living God, have mercy on me a sinner," is a simple path to contemplative prayer. Being quiet, breathing along with the words, settles the soul into prayer. This prayer and others like it encourages us to form our lives around the simple love of Christ. After years of repetition, our souls cling to these words.
The mantra simply leads the heart to God. When distractions occur, the words bring us back to the intention of prayer. There are no rules of this prayer, no thing that must be done. Just allow the mantra room in the heart, repeating it over again in your mind and allowing God to do the work.
For more information about contemplative prayer and praying with a mantra read:
The Cloud of Unknowing, a spiritual classic by an anonymous author. Also, Toward God, by Michael Casey is helpful.
Think about how you pray and the obstacles you face. What would be helpful for us to discuss here and after mass?
Fr. Ron
The mantra simply leads the heart to God. When distractions occur, the words bring us back to the intention of prayer. There are no rules of this prayer, no thing that must be done. Just allow the mantra room in the heart, repeating it over again in your mind and allowing God to do the work.
For more information about contemplative prayer and praying with a mantra read:
The Cloud of Unknowing, a spiritual classic by an anonymous author. Also, Toward God, by Michael Casey is helpful.
Think about how you pray and the obstacles you face. What would be helpful for us to discuss here and after mass?
Fr. Ron
Wednesday, May 09, 2007
Prayer and Service
Our parish is intense. Its service is sometimes more than any of us can handle- addictions, homelessness, mental illness. We build our faith on these real and honest issues.
Being in this place has changed my life in so many ways. I have never been in a more truly contemplative place- honest prayer and authentic work.
However, how can our common prayer better serve this community? I want to hear from you about why you pray here. Think about how the parish prays and can we better serve you in how we pray- Sunday mass, devotions, Anointing of the Sick, weekday mass, etc. ?
Why do you pray at the Downtown Chapel? Why does this place not speak to others?
Fr. Ron
Being in this place has changed my life in so many ways. I have never been in a more truly contemplative place- honest prayer and authentic work.
However, how can our common prayer better serve this community? I want to hear from you about why you pray here. Think about how the parish prays and can we better serve you in how we pray- Sunday mass, devotions, Anointing of the Sick, weekday mass, etc. ?
Why do you pray at the Downtown Chapel? Why does this place not speak to others?
Fr. Ron
Post Bankruptcy
The Archdiocese of Portland is now out of bankruptcy. Facing the crimes of the clergy and the sins of the institution is not easy. Allowing true reconciliation will take generations. The real issues are not about money.
What should the Archdiocese do now? What are the priorities of this local church? Its mission has been on hold for five years being preoccupied with the issues of child abuse and how to handle the horrific situations.
Where do we go from here? How do we heal? How do we become credible again?
What do you think?
Fr. Ron
What should the Archdiocese do now? What are the priorities of this local church? Its mission has been on hold for five years being preoccupied with the issues of child abuse and how to handle the horrific situations.
Where do we go from here? How do we heal? How do we become credible again?
What do you think?
Fr. Ron
Thursday, May 03, 2007
Faith and Grieving
Three years ago this week I saw my mother for the last time. I knew when I walked out of her room in the nursing home that would be our last goodbye. I'll never forget that moment. We both sobbed. Walking away to come back to Portland was so heartbreaking.
In these Easter days we celebrate the reasons to move on. Death does not win. We are all loved by God and in the end will find our place in God happily. However, Easter joy is also a process. Healing does not happen all at once. Every step through grief is an opportunity to touch God. Every step walking away from our relationships on earth is a step toward ultimate life with Christ.
There is much to grieve here at the Downtown Chapel. Loss floods our common life. Perhaps there are opportunities to share our grieving. Are you interested in working through the issues of grief- such as group support, talks, homilies, or other ideas?
Let me know if you are interested in such a process. Think about it.
Fr. Ron
In these Easter days we celebrate the reasons to move on. Death does not win. We are all loved by God and in the end will find our place in God happily. However, Easter joy is also a process. Healing does not happen all at once. Every step through grief is an opportunity to touch God. Every step walking away from our relationships on earth is a step toward ultimate life with Christ.
There is much to grieve here at the Downtown Chapel. Loss floods our common life. Perhaps there are opportunities to share our grieving. Are you interested in working through the issues of grief- such as group support, talks, homilies, or other ideas?
Let me know if you are interested in such a process. Think about it.
Fr. Ron
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