Author: wonderfulexchange

Kimberly Bohan is a priest in the Diocese of Lincoln, less surprised by angels than by being so far south.

choose life

wonderfulexchangeLeave a comment

I’ve just returned from Prize Giving for S4 at Dunoon Grammar School. There was a mix of awards for academic achievement, improvement and (most wonderful of all, I thought) for those who most significantly surpassed what had been expected of them. We had contributions from an excellent piper, a couple of rappers, a dance group, a vocalist and some cheerleaders. Oh, and some noble words from the head and the guest speakers…

Being in a school for any length of time always leaves me marvelling at the wealth of talent young people seem to possess. And it makes me wonder: where does it go? Why are there so few adults who maintain the diversity of skills, the passionate enthusiasm that most young people seem to have naturally?

If I think back to my years as a teacher, the only kids who didn’t manifest joy and enthusiasm were those who had already been worn down by circumstances. They were often just as bright as their classmates and did perfectly well at school, but the energy that should have gone into creativity and laughter went into the mechanics of survival.

Is that what happens to so many adults? Are we so busy surviving that we forget how to live?

The first time I took part in an Ignatian retreat, my spiritual director sent me off to pray with Deuteronomy 30:

Surely, this commandment that I am commanding you today is not too hard for you, nor is it too far away. It is not in heaven, that you should say, “Who will go up to heaven for us, and get it for us so that we may hear it and observe it?” Neither is it beyond the sea, that you should say, “Who will cross to the other side of the sea for us, and get it for us so that we may hear it and observe it?” No, the word is very near to you; it is in your mouth and in your heart for you to observe. See, I have set before you today life and prosperity, death and adversity. … Choose life so that you and your descendants may live.

At the time, I found the passage frustrating. All well and good telling us to choose life, but how do we actually do it?

But I now think that the how doesn’t matter so much. Choose life, choose laughter, choose creativity, choose love… choose whatever you need to to let go of the need simply to survive.

Snow Day

wonderfulexchange6 Comments

snow dayI suspect that only the northerners among you — and maybe even only the American northerners at that– will truly be able to imagine the tremendous glee with which I awoke to find that it was a snow day.

Snow Days are sheer gift.

They instantly bring back memories of switching the radio on as a child, eagerly awaiting the announcement: School District 10 — closed.

I have never got past the belief that snow is God’s way of telling us to stop. And being alone on top of a hill, with a tree down across the drive and no electricity is as clear a sign as one can hope for. So I spent a glorious morning watching the snow fall. Then, when snow had stopped and birds had returned, I sat beneath a purring cat, watching the robins dance and the trees cast off their burden.

I’m sure there were things I could have done that did not involve either car or computer. But for a few hours today, the demands of beauty far outweighed the demands of my to-do list.

I hope it was the same for you.

The work of the people?

wonderfulexchange7 Comments

Today in Rothesay, the vestry had a conversation about the peace:  what works, what doesn’t; things we might do differently.

There seems to be no bit of the liturgy as likely to cause conflict as the peace.  But today’s conversation was interesting, because Rothesay is not, on the face of it, one of those congregations in which the peace is politely endured.  It is jolly.  It seemed to be working.  And yet, it seems that for many, it still causes tension.

Now, that’s a fairly easy situation to deal with, and we found a way forward. But the conversation led me to another question.  Who decides what a liturgical action means?

I have often assumed that the main ‘problem’ with the peace is that people misunderstand it.  It gets confused with ‘saying good-morning’ and is perceived as a social intrusion on an otherwise sacred time.  So, I find myself defending the peace as a liturgical action:  pointing out that it is an important sign of the communal nature of our worship — that the eucharist is not about ‘me and God’, but ‘us and God’.  We need it precisely because it might interrupt our private train of thought before we approach the altar.  We need it because it connects us with the body of Christ, which is the church, before we receive the body of Christ in the eucharist.

And I believe all that.

And I remember the people who have quietly worked their way into my life though that simple weekly action of turning to each other and saying ‘peace be with you.’

But if this only becomes clear through explanation, is it still true?

I have always assumed that the underlying theology of liturgy is where the truth lies.  And I therefore think that it’s important for congregations to talk about the liturgy, study it, and explore meanings.  But today I wonder:  where does the truth lie when there is a repeated gap between the theologian’s explanation and the congregation’s experience?

water water everywhere

wonderfulexchange5 Comments

Now, here’s a quick quiz for those of you familiar with Holy Trinity Dunoon.

In which of the following place(s) does water not flow?

  1. down the tower
  2. through the walls
  3. through the font

Sadly, the answer is 3. Or so it seems.

Tomorrow, there is a school group coming to look at the church and to ask questions. So, naturally, I opened up the font to get it ready (for show and tell, that is — not for baptism). After removing the rather odd collection of things that someone had stored there (why?), I noticed that there was no plug to keep the water in. That should have set alarm bells ringing. But it didn’t. Rectors can be so naive…

It had occurred to me, though, that the font might not have been used recently — so I proceeded cautiously. I filled the small watering can and poured a steady stream into the hole, anxious to see what happened. It backed up a bit, but so does every other drain in Dunoon. I kept going.

htfont.jpgNo joy. By this time, I had a small pool of water — just enough to make the inner lining of the font start peeling– and I decided that the thing to do was to poke at the drain. There is a handy drain-poking-paintbrush in the back vestry. So off I went. Only to find that the paintbrush, when pushed gently down the font drain, encountered solid stone three inches down.

Apparently, when the font was moved from the back chapel to the main door (‘sometime before the war…’), they did not create the necessary drainage. And apparently, every child since has been baptized in a rather large glass bowl hidden in the font, so that no one could tell.

But here is the mystery. Why would someone go through all the trouble of moving a very large, very heavy stone font if it would not then be possible to use it? And why, if you were going to baptize a baby from a glass bowl, would you place it in a large stone basin, where it is harder to reach?

Still: this was a good time to learn.

I wonder if Ikea has a font sized bowl in it’s liturgical toy section this year…