Radio Silence

Until just a few years ago, maritime radio stations were required to observe radio silence on certain frequencies for the three minutes between 15 and 18 minutes past the top of each hour, and for the three minutes between 45 and 48 minutes past the top of the hour. These periods of radio silence were imposed to allow opportunity for the possibility of weak distress signals to make it through the din of usual radio traffic. More colloquially, we often use the term radio silence to describe the situation when someone who is usually very chatty stops communicating altogether.

The sundial on the south wall of
Ely Cathedral with the Greek inscription
"Know the Time" 

I’m not sure but you may have wondered why there was an abrupt halt to my regular sabbatical blog posts. Since my last post, much has transpired. There was much to do and many decisions to make. After my time in Cambridge and my pilgrimage to Canterbury, I made my way to London to spend a final few days in the United Kingdom. You heard me correctly – a final few days.

After two months, resources began to run low. While inflation may have begun to ebb slightly in the US, it is a very different matter in the UK. When plans and budgets were set months ago, I could have anticipated a very different outcome. I could have squeezed several more days into the budget but there was more to consider. Without going into a lot of details, it proved necessary for me to adjust my plans and return to the US two weeks ahead of schedule. As I write this entry, I am recovering from a more intense case of jet lag than I had experienced in the past – but recovering, nonetheless.

All that is to say, that in that silence, I had to take time to reflect. I concluded that it was time – time to return home – not because the clock had expired but that “the time was right.” Ancient peoples understood this in ways we moderns often miss. This is the notion of time the ancient Greeks called kairos.

Kairological time is the time of events rather than intervals. It is the time of ‘right times’, the right times for things to happen. It is the time of the Ely sundial (pictured above), whose message, kairon gnothi, often translated as ‘know the time’, is more accurately rendered as "choose the opportune moment." Though our sense of this kind of time has weakened considerably in our modern world, we still do sometimes respond to it. For example, if we feel a hunger coming we might say, “It’s time for lunch.” That’s a statement of kairological time. By contrast if we declare, as we more commonly do, “It is one o’clock, lunchtime!" we are responding to a command dictated by chronological time, when the clock determines our activity. The decision to return home was not one taken of chronology but of “kairology.”

Now that I have returned, it’s time for me to “break radio silence.” So, fear not intrepid reader, my sabbatical is not yet over (chronologically or kairologically!) and there is much to process from the time I spent wandering as a stranger in a strange land. The reflections that will follow will be a bit less “linear” – they will not follow the timeline of my journey – so much as they will be a bit more “3-D” as a deeper dive into the experience and the impact that it had. Stay with me. I am still walking, though on more familiar soil. Even so, the paths may lead to places yet unknown!

Community

Chapel of the Martyrs and Witnesses
Past and Present
Canterbury Cathedral

Mention “church” to most people and a vision comes to mind that includes buildings with pews, pulpits, organs, choirs, hymnals, sermons, Sunday school and the like. For others, they may think of Sunday evening suppers or special service projects. Still others may think of an event they attended once or twice that made an impression for good or ill.

When we read the scriptures, one of the earliest words used to describe the church was “ecclesia” – a Greek word that, at its root, means “gathering.” In other words – the roots of the church are in the people that gather – in the relationships that form as people find what they have in common as they focus on their own relationship with Jesus.

Relationships – the core of church. Without that all of the awesome architecture, inspiring poetry and melody can be reduced to passing experience of something transcendent but ultimately impermanent. We can be reminded of that when we pass the ruins of monasteries no longer active, or churchyards long forgotten and untended.

In the Church, these relationships find expression in what we profess each Sunday in the phrase the “communion of the saints.” When we profess our belief in this doctrine we too often think of it as an abstraction – as a way of connecting ourselves to the souls of the past. But it is a very present reality. This came home to me in a very real way in, of all places, Canterbury.

Deirdre Good

As it happened, my planned visit here coincided with a visit of one of my most cherished colleagues from the Stevenson School for Ministry, Dr. Deirdre Good. Deirdre’s mother, now in her mid-90s lives in a care home in the north of Kent, not very far away, and Deirdre was staying in Canterbury during her visit. Once we were both aware of the parallel timing, we quickly planned to meet. On Deirdre’s recommendation, we met outside Christchurch gate and walked to Cote Brassiere a few blocks away. We wiled away the hours in conversation about many things – family, retirement plans, current projects, anything, and everything. It was an absolute delight. The bistro filled and emptied during the time we were there. Finally, the evening came to an end, and we walked as far as we could before we had to separate to go follow our different path again, not sure if we would see each other before we took our leave, each for our respective homes in the US one in Maine the other in Pennsylvania.

Some would say that it was another example of “six degrees of separation” – or connection. I believe, however, that it is an example of the power of community – of shared values – of connection in the Spirit of God. Two souls, connected by a power beyond out understanding that recognize within each other something beyond themselves, a power that transcends space and time, that makes a connection even in a far away land. 

It is the same power that connected those who did not now each other but gathered for Morning Prayer in the chapels of the Cathedral or celebrated Holy Communion in the East Chapel dedicated to the Martyrs and Witnesses of the Past and Present. It is the power of the “communion of the saints” – it is the fellowship of the ring – not a magical ring of gold but a spiritual ring of faith that gathers us together wherever we find ourselves.

Seeds bear fruit.

The seeds of where I wanted to spend my sabbatical were planted several years ago with an article that appeared about an organization called the British Pilgrimage Trust (BPT). I referred to them in an early blog post about the Coronation Pilgrimage in which I participated shortly after arriving in England. The initial interest came with an article that described their work in ferreting out a pilgrimage route that is now called “The Old Way” - a 240-mile journey from Southampton to Canterbury.

Unlike the Camino de Santiago de Compostela in Spain, this pilgrimage path was almost forgotten – but the BPT rediscovered it on what is thought to be Britain’s oldest road map (the Gough Map, ca.1360), which reveals an intriguing red line running from Southampton to Canterbury.

The west gate

This path may not have been exclusively used by pilgrims, but the waypoints are known to include large religious houses that formed a network of hospitality that pilgrims used. It also connects the harbors and ports along the South coast of England, where many European pilgrims would have disembarked before joining the most convenient and direct route to the shrine of Thomas Becket, the martyred Archbishop of Canterbury. Many of these waypoints have a long history of pilgrimage as destinations themselves. Also, along the way, there are many lost shrines, healing wells, and much pilgrim graffiti that hints at the journeys known to have been made back and forth along this path over the centuries.

Of course, several years intervened that included a pandemic. I have grown older, and the 240-mile trek seemed more and more formidable than something I felt I could undertake. Quite frankly, the costs associated with the pilgrimage also grew exponentially and the entire idea became a pipe dream. But the seeds had been planted. I ended up in England on sabbatical with an entirely different vision of what I would do on sabbatical, but the frame of the vision would still be one of pilgrimage – a journey of discovery – and as it happens – a journey that would conclude, in its spiritual dimensions, in Canterbury.

On Saturday, I arrived in this special place probably just as weary as if I had made the trek on The Old Way – or so it seemed. Loaded with a backpack of belongings that sustained me for the last two months, I trekked up the cobbled streets toward the center of the city, toward that destination which has attracted pilgrims for centuries.

Christ Gate (at left) with the Cathedral Tower
just showing to the right

Soon the ancient city gate appeared, but there was more to go. I really began to feel what those ancient pilgrims must have felt – anticipation but a sense that this might never end. My GPS (something they wouldn’t have had to aid them!) kept urging onward until I realized I made a wrong turn and had to retrace my steps! Finally, there it was, Christ Gate – the entrance to the Cathedral precincts was in view.

What I hadn’t realized was that the lodgings I had booked were actually within the precincts of the cathedral itself! I would be spending my time here on the grounds of the Cathedral with access the general public did not have! And all quite by accident! Or was it?

Circling Around

New Street looking west in downtown Birmingham

My stay in the UK to this point has been fairly, well, “protected?” Most of it was spent within the rarified atmosphere of an academic city and that within a theological college. Some time was spent on pilgrimage to religious sites of significance taking in the experience of the pilgrims’ way by staying in hostels rather than plush hotels. Other days were in more posh locations like London’s Kensington and Notting Hill neighborhoods attending meetings of canonists and jurists and more academics.

Upon completion of my time in Cambridge, I took a trip to Birmingham, England’s “Second City.” Birmingham is an industrial center in the west midlands of England – more Pittsburg or Chicago than London or Boston. Hardscrabble in areas, very diverse in language, ethnicity, religion, and politics, Birmingham probably reflects more of what today’s Britain is like than what one sees on YouTube travelogues and vacation brochures. As large and influential as it is, even my tourist “bible” (anything by Rick Steves) didn’t even have an entry for the city.

I think that’s what made it intriguing for me. Birmingham lacks the medieval walls of York. Its churches are large, and some are notable, but few make the impression of, say, York Minster the Cathedrals of Ely or Lincoln. Birmingham is populated by second and third generation descendants of Commonwealth transplants from Pakistan, India, the polyglot nations of Africa, and the far East. Victorian era Anglican churches, built primarily to care for the spiritual and often the physical needs of factory workers, stand next to twentieth-century mosques, and Sikh temples. Hillel grocers are on nearly every street corner – or at least most green grocers offer Hillel products.

Modern middle-class grade high rise apartment complexes dot the suburban landscape around the Olympic style arenas where the Commonwealth Games are held periodically, and older housing is being rehabbed and updated with high-tech and high-end appointments. All this evident from the number of DYI and big box tech stores along the major access highways and the empty boxes and dumpster rentals at the entrances to the older developments along the way.

It is an area of contrasts. Along with this sense that it is an area “on the move” the marks of a darker side still manifest themselves. Gang graffiti tags overpasses and industrial buildings. Carcasses of cast-off vehicles and long neglected retail spaces litter other, clearly forgotten neighborhoods.

A newspaper recently carried the headline that economic stats indicated that the UK would avoid the forecasted recession. All this sounds vaguely familiar. What is interesting to me is that in the UK credit for that accomplishment is being taken by a conservative government. In the US, it is being touted by an administration that is professedly left leaning. In the end, it seems, it may not matter who is in charge. Maybe the 18th and 19th century economic philosophers who speculated about the “invisible hand of market forces” were correct after all. If that is true, what is important is what we do with the wealth we derive from these forces.

As Anglicans, we may need to revisit the social ethics of thinkers like those of the Oxford Movement, who saw within the gospel message proper correctives to the excessive drive toward the accumulation of wealth and power. Perhaps we need to get our religious values reoriented away from the priorities of the “prosperity gospel” and toward a “preferential option for the poor.” Just perhaps, it’s time for a rethink about what Jesus had to say about whose kingdom we pray for each day.

The Last Day

My window on the last day

This story began on April 25. It ends today - June 16. Barely eight weeks. Two lunar months. Not quite two calendar months. Fifty-three days.

Time passes. Time.

I can’t help but reflect on how artificial our assessment of time has become. My sabbatical has made me deeply aware of this. I spent weeks preparing for the “time” I would have. While I have been away, I have struggled with the whole idea of “sabbath” time. In my academic discipline of canon law, we make a distinction about time. The notion of tempus utile or “useful time” is time during which someone can be expected to act. Interestingly, this category of time is a subset of time generally. In other words, all time is not time when someone is expected to act or is held to account for a particular responsibility. Now, of course, that’s legalese ripe for use in the conduct of legal procedures, but it is helpful to understand how we may have gotten a bit off course about how we look at time in our culture and in our lives.

Especially with the arrival of 24/7 news cycles, cable TV, streaming services, social media and the like, things like “useful time” seem to have disappeared. All time, our culture seems to tell us, should be useful time. If you are not doing something useful all the time, you are wasting time. What is even worse, in an age where “multi-tasking” is a highly valued skill, if you are not doing more than one thing at a time you are wasting time and energy.

Once I arrived in Cambridge, I tried to get myself on schedule – a different one – but a schedule, nonetheless. I had my “to do lists.” I had the readings I wanted to accomplish. I had the places I wanted to visit. I wanted the experiences I wanted to “check off.”

It wasn’t until I undertook my brief pilgrimage to York Minster that I woke up to the fact that the gift of the sabbatical wasn’t merely the privilege of being away from the daily grind of my usual work – but that it was the gift of – you guessed it – time. In the great minster, it took the punishing climb of the Great Tower to awaken me to the reality that simply “getting things done” was not the purpose of my journey. I was here to awaken something deep inside me – an awareness of God’s spirit and life that had been calloused by over-use and over-work. It had become more difficult to feel God’s tenderness because the places where that touch was most often felt had grown rough and tough. They needed to be restored and renewed.

As I descended the tower, I stopped the harried pace of my tour. I sat in the mighty nave listening to the brief hourly prayer and heard that still small voice within say, “Quiten, David. It’s time for quiet.” Nearly an hour passed. I needed that hour just to recover physically to be honest. But as the enfleshed spiritual child of God I am, it was the beginning of a renewal that has now continued through the remainder of this sabbath time.

Out went to the to-do lists – though not entirely. They just took a different priority. Out went the intense scheduling – though not entirely – each day came with new opportunities. Walks in the meadows replaced the need to “be somewhere.” Coffee at Michaelhouse with one of the books I wanted to peruse, rather than the library. If I got distracted, all the better. I was awakening. God was doing God’s work. The only difference? I had finally let go – and let God (trite saying, yes, but true and necessary).

The time that passed was not totally ignored. That lovely scene outside my window was a gradual transformation – from the vibrant tulips of that late April day to the varied wildflowers of the ubiquitous English style garden – that itself a metaphor of sorts. Planted and tended, to be sure, but largely left to its natural cycles. Maybe it’s a lesson I have learned in these several days – a lesson I hope to being home and live into in the days to come.

Late yesterday those wildflowers witnessed final good-byes as students and their families, faculty, staff and these two refreshment guests celebrate the Eucharist for a final time under the "marquee" on the college lawn and in the evening twilight a bit of an informal party.

Earlier in the day, a final time together in the lecture hall presented an opportunity to address the students. There, I was able to thank them for their hospitality and for the service the provided me - to remind me that the first vocation any of us receive from God is to be a disciple - a vocation that is first and foremost in the life of every Christian and remains the most important call we receive from God. Everything else is in service to that basic and most fundamental call. 

Strange that after over 40 years of ordained life, the most powerful element of my sabbatical experience would be to remind me that regardless of any other accomplishment of a long career, the most important thing I could ever be was a disciple of Jesus - a follower of The Way. Upon reflection, just about every great saint teaches that same truth - not that I am a great saint, far from it - but the truth is self-evident. It just took me this long to remember it. By God's grace, I will never forget it.

The Last Days - Part 4

The community seated for dinner
at the May Ball

They are always meant to be festive occasions, but events like the May Ball (a.k.a. “The Leavers’ Ball”) are bittersweet. The warm, Tuesday spring evening began with that most British of aperitifs, a Pimm’s Cup, on the Principal’s lawn. Students and faculty dressed to the nines. Some dedicated to serving, others, up to now having their talents exposed only in the praise band accompaniments at worship were under another tent regaling the gathering crowd with Dave Brubeck’s classic “Take Five.”

The announcement was made that the “Moule Hole” (usually a playground for faculty and resident student children) was now open (transformed into a photo venue). Not long after, Fiona Greene, our Sabbatical Coordinator (and the Assistant Principal/Dean of the college) appeared on crutches! She seemed just fine when we spoke at morning prayer earlier that day. Apparently, to her surprise on Monday, during a game of Rounders, she made a diving catch and fractured her knee. It ached horribly so she went to get it checked out. This was the result! Alas, we aren’t getting any younger. (I had missed that event since I was still in London at St. Milletus College.)

This writer and his refreshment
companion Judy Berinai from 
the Anglican Church in 
Malaysia

Then came a lovely three course dinner, expertly prepared by the house chef, which I came to learn, is an executive hotel chef who is, shall we say, underemployed at Ridley Hall, and, as Fiona told me over dinner, “lives for moments like these.” As a testament to his skill, I learned the next day from one of the student servers that the desert course met with disaster. As it was being transferred to a staging area, the trolley collapsed, and it all came crashing to the ground. Chef Howie was able take available resources and create a new dessert that, when served, seemed to have been planned all along!

The Rev. Michael Voland
Principal of Ridley Hall
addressing those gathered.

Then came the toasts and the speeches. All were brief. Many funny. All, in the end, poignant. As noted, this is “the Leavers’ Ball” which is part of the good-bye process for those who are finishing a chapter in their formation for ministry. They face new chapters as they leave for their first curacy, an appointment as a lay chaplain, or simply to search for ways to serve God and the Church. Those left behind find themselves facing new roles when they return without their student mentors to guide them. They, in turn, will become the community’s elders. It is a microcosm of how the Church itself works – of how we guide and mentor one another in the ways of the faith.

It seems this past week has been filled with these experiences. On Tuesday of last week, a special service was held at Great St. Mary’s for the “leavers” (graduates) from the consortium, which comprises the Cambridge Theological Federation (which I described in an earlier blog post). That began the steady flow of bittersweet experiences (including a "leaver's ceremony" at St. Mellitus) that will culminate on Thursday of this week as I say my final goodbyes to Ridley Hall’s community. More on that later. But for now. Cheers!

The Last Days - Part 3

But Sunday wasn’t the end of it. There was still Monday to go.

Thanks to my new colleagues at Ridley Hall, I was able to contact a Cambridge local (Fr. Mark Scarlata – another US transplant, by the way) who is also a member of the team at St. Milletus College in London.

Morning session opens at St. Milletus

St Mellitus College is an English theological college established in 2007 by the Diocese of London and the Diocese of Chelmsford of the Church of England. St. Mellitus College remains a non-residential college that has pioneered context-based training within the Church of England by integrating academic theological study with ministry placements throughout the course of study. It was one of the models I came to study as part of my sabbatical inquiry.

The college was formed as a merger between North Thames Ministerial Training Course, which was based in the dioceses of London and Chelmsford, and St Paul’s Theological Center and has grown significantly since. It has moved into its own premises at St Jude's Church, Kensington (2012), a building renovated specifically for this purpose that houses a range of teaching space, rooms for pastoral care, academic and administrative offices, a growing academic library, space for hospitality and college worship.

While in many ways, St. Milletus mirrors our experience with the Stevenson School for Ministry in the diocese of Central Pennsylvania and the diocese of Bethlehem and beyond, there are significant differences not only in structure, but also in the way they can respond to the Church’s needs because of the polity of the Church of England. We are organized very differently in The Episcopal Church, and the processes involved in raising up people for lay and ordained leadership can have profound differences. However, there are many things that are the same whether we are Anglicans in American or in the UK. These are the things I came to study.

Experiences like my immersion in the work of Ridley Hall and my visits to places like Westminster College (Cambridge) and St. Milletus (London) have given me a great deal to think about. Along with my colleagues at the Stevenson School for Ministry, we continue to face many challenges for the development of church leadership for the Church of the twenty-first century.

I’ve gathered a great deal of data. In fact, my brain is swimming in it. As some time passes, some of it will settle – much like the rich silted soil in a river delta. My hope is that from this richness there will emerge some new thinking that will help us all to discover what God has in store for us in the days and years to come.

By the end of the day it was time to return to my temporary "home away from home" - Ridley Hall. Road weary and tired - oh and by the way, weary of the heat (it's been a whopping 85 deg F here!) - I showered, read a bit, had my evening tea and collapsed into bed for a rest. The next few days may prove just as challenging!