Category: Rules To Live By

The Mother of All Churches — Full of Surprises

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At the Baton Rouge restaurant in Montreal, our waiter Sebastian was rattling off nearby tourist attractions. He said, “The big cathedral past Chinatown is very nice. Celine Dion was married there.” I’m not usually going to churches based on a celebrity endorsement, but what the heck, I was on vaction.

We walked up the hill towards Old Montreal. The church was full of surprises – the first of which was the cost — $5 for adults and $4 for kids just to enter. $22 later, I was hoping that it was worth it.

It was worth it. The church was a riot of color and as pretty as rainbow sherbet. I was in love with the light of the ceiling and altar — a Robin’s Egg blue.

We joined the English-speaking tour group. We heard about Montreal’s origins –  to convert the heathens.

The next big surprise was the chapel. I imagined more of the same — a Neo Gothic church/wedding cake — frills, curliecues and gold stars. Not at all.

Walking into this chapel, the woman behind me gasped. It was full of light.

The massive bronze altar sculpture showed three archways representing childhood, middle age and old age (death). It was not all crucifex-y and literal like some churches. It was symbolic –The symbols

of the trinity were a sun, a dove and a kind, smiling man. It was all bright and yellow (almost as pretty as the Louise Nevelson church, one of my faves!)

The artist of the Sacré-Coeur chapel for Notre-Dame Basilica, Charles Daudelin (aka ‘genius’) created this masterpiece after a fire in 1978 destroyed the Gothic chapel. So there’s an inspiring lesson:

Sometimes a devastating turn of events can lead to some great modern art.

I dug the nativity scene in the modern chapel because the women figured so prominently. This was the church of Mary and I do appreciate churches that celebrate women.

The tour ended and my daughters got in a fight. See, to light a candle and make a prayer, you had to pay a dollar. I only had one single. I gave the dollar to Charlotte and told her to “Share a prayer. Or light two candles. It doesn’t matter.” But Catherine felt if we lit two candles, “We’d be lying in a CHURCH!”

Charlotte eventually resolved the bickering by telling Catherine that she’d put two dollars in the collection box. Catherine was appeased and lit her candle. Then Charlotte told her twin she had been lying and she’d only put in one dollar. The fighting began again.

I told the girls that this is part of the history of Christianity. “I think the Holy Wars were fought over this. The Reformation was about not having to pay to pray.” I told them, “God hears the prayers of the poor as equally as the prayers of the rich.” They didn’t care. They just wanted to light their damn candles.

This is how sibling rivalry goes. They ebb, they flow. They lie, they fight. They pray. They light a candle. They’re hungry and they want to leave this stupid place. I, meanwhile, enjoyed this church very much.

On the way

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I was heading to Hayden’s Swim Meet. I passed a line of people waiting patiently for sandwiches to be given out from a makeshift cardboard stand. There were about a dozen people warming their hands in their pockets. They could’ve been in a photo from the Depression, but, this is 2010, a cold December afternoon.

The church looked lit from within. I asked the (Latina?) woman who seemed to be in charge, “Can I go in?”

“Sure,” she said. She walked up the steps and opened the door for me. I am always grateful when someone opens the church door for me, especially this woman who seemed to have more important things to do — distribute sandwiches.

I sat in the church. I just sat. I looked up at the blue walls. I like blue walls. That’s all.

Then I heard clicking behind me. Ah, I thought, the proverbial church mouse. I looked around.

It was a woman at a computer keyboard behind a glass wall. The church office was sectioned-off in the back of the sanctuary.

As I walked out, she and I smiled at each other. I kind of wondered what was an office doing in a church. Maybe she wondered what I was doing, staring at the walls. Then I wondered if it would be impolite to take a picture of the people standing in the sandwich line. But I didn’t have to decide. The line had disappeared. All of the sandwiches must’ve been distributed.

I went to the Swim Meet.

Blue Cliff Monastery

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On the mindfulness walk, I took out my phone to snap this picture. The Buddhist sisters were ahead of me on the walk. I looked at my phone and realized that I had email. And so at a Buddhist monastery on a sunny daylong retreat I found myself checking my email.  (I had to resist posting my status on Facebook and Twitter. “On a walk in the woods with my Buddhist sisters.”)

I like to be inundated. I like to be overwhelmed. I like MORE. I came to Blue Cliff Monastery for less. For a few hours one day to let go of the swirling storm of my life.

In the morning, I sat cross-legged in this beautiful, big, bright, meditation hall. I love rules for life. And while I noticed I could not sit as still as the monastic brothers and sisters on the mats near me, I got so much out of the message. 

This was the dharma talk from the teacher and founder of the monastery, Thich Nhat Hahn. It was a message videotaped a few days earlier from his talk while traveling in Thailand (I think):

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1. Be aware of breath
2. Follow breath
3. Be aware of body
4. Release tension
5. Generate joy
6. Generate happiness
7. Be aware of pain
8. Release pain

The first four focus on the body; the next four on feelings. If pain is great, practice five and six. How to create happiness and joy? Let go. It is possible right here and right now.

Happiness can come when you 1) let go and 2) are mindful. 

Mindfulness is the energy of the Buddha. You can be mindful of your eyes. With your eyes you can see the paradise before you (all of the colors). You can be mindful of your heart, beating all the time. With awareness of your heart, you can be grateful for it.

But they do not sell mindfulness at the market, you must generate it.

Joy and happiness can always be possible.

Pain is like the baby, crying. We do not hit, suppress, fight with baby. We embrace, we hold the baby with tenderness. It will lessen the suffering, the pain.

There is no reason to be afraid of strong emotion. Strong emotion is like a storm. It will come. It will pass. Young people need to know this. We are more than one emotion. Bring attention to the “in breath” and the “out breath.” Give attention to the abdomen. Touch the rise and fall of your breath. Go down there. Breathe in and out. In a storm, the tops of trees sway, but the trunk (the belly, below the naval) stays strong.

Practice five minutes of deep breathing every day for two weeks. It will then become a habit.

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This was the guidance from Thich Nhat Hahn’s talk. The 30 of us then stood in a circle outside and sang a few songs with hand motions. We took the mindfulness walk. We ate a warm vegan meal in silence. Then the bells tolled (I thought of visiting the Taize monastery and the tyrrany of the bells! https://mbcoudal.wordpress.com/2009/10/28/taize-service-my-guys/).  

After the bells, we could talk a little with those sitting near us. Then I sat alone in the sunshine. And yes, I checked my email again!

Then we, the group from the United Methodist Church, sat in a circle and shared the meaning of the day so far. How Jesus was like Buddha. How to practice compassion and Christianity. How to live in community. How to and of what to let go.

The sharing was deep, powerful, honest. It was a wonderful day. The brothers and sisters invited everyone to come again for the weekend or for a day of mindfulness or for a holiday. I would like to go again. But next time, I will leave my phone in the car.  

This retreat was organized by the wonderful Mandy Iahn, a United Methodist pastor who has found peace visiting the monastery. She is a part of the Commission on Christian Unity and Interfaith Concerns, CCUIC.

I saw this retreat listed in the New York Annual Conference newsletter, which promised, “This opportunity is being offered to promote peace and understanding between ourselves and our Buddhist brothers and sisters.  You will learn about Buddhist traditions and practices, have a silent meal with the monks and nuns of Bluecliff, and connect with God and yourself as you spend the day at this peaceful place.” 

http://bluecliffmonastery.org/

United Nations Meditation Room

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I was headed to the Church Center for the United Nations to spend a day with peacemakers but in the crush of 42nd Street I ran into a group for whom I’d led a communications training a couple of days earlier.

I pointed them in the right direction (they were heading towards Fifth Avenue instead of First Avenue). In gratitude, they offered me an extra ticket to their United Nations tour. I’d done the tour a few times, but it is ALWAYS different and always great, led by some brilliant international young person.

Our guide was the super-smart, super-gorgeous Jali, an Egyptian mother and artist who was a tad bit disillusioned with the effectiveness of sovereignties who fail to implement the UN resolutions. 

Extremely powerful– one of the last exhibits on the tour is the one on landmines. This is the heartbreaking reality — the landmines look like yoyos and rocks. So ten years after a war has ended, who picks up the yoyo or rock hoping to play? Children.

They are the ones maimed and killed by landmines. And even though 11 years ago, 156 nations signed the UN Ban Mines Treaty, China, Russia, and the United States have not joined. Ugh! So embarrassing to be an American when you hear this.

I chatted with Jali about the UN, her art, raising children in NYC. I said good bye. I will probably never see her again.

I started to walk out of the UN to get to the church center meeting, but I spotted a group of women. They were as pretty as water lilies floating in a Matisse painting. I walked towards them. They departed by the elevator, and I was left standing in front of the UN Meditation Room which is right beside the Marc Chagall peace window.

Despite my love for the UN and the many times I’ve been there, I never knew there was a chapel in the UN. It was dark but for a couple of shafts of light. There are so many faiths around the world that the chapel is intentionally free of symbolism. The beams of natural light are the symbols. Oh, and there is a slab in the center of the small space. It reminded me of the sacrifice stone upon which Aslan, the lion and Christ figure,  is sacrificed in the movie, “The Lion, The Witch and the Wardrobe.” It is a big stone in a small room. The big rock and its sacrifice altar quality — made me uncomfortable. I tried to focus on the shafts of light.

I wanted to sit a while. The space reminded me of one of the favorite churches I’ve visited — the Louise Nevelson chapel. https://mbcoudal.wordpress.com/2010/08/18/the-gospel-according-to-louise-nevelson/

But, as often happens, some tourists walked into my sanctuary. (Note to self: Learn to love the tourists.)

I also have to admit I consistently feel ridiculous and indulgent sitting quietly in churches. I know there is work to be done. Kids to provide for. Articles to write. Work meetings to report on. Phone calls to make. Emails to read.

Why should I get to sit quietly in the middle of the day contemplating sacrifice, land mines, spirituality, peace, my own sanity? Then again, why should I not? I take in a church a day the way other people have a cigarette break.

My church a day visits are my break. I could do a lot worse.


– Dag Hammarskjöld

Dark Love

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“She’s black and beautiful and out of control,” that’s what Professor David Carr said about the woman in the vineyard. I was at a noontime Union Seminary chapel service learning about this passage from Song of Songs — good and juicy.

I sat there thinking my tame life rule, number 4, “Cultivate a Secret Garden” needs to grow wilder. Because we’ve got permission from these popular biblical wedding verses to color outside the lines and let our vineyards grow.

At first, when Professor Carr started talking about the conundrum of the woman, “black but/and beautiful” who was sun-kissed by her work in the fields, my mind wandered.

I squirmed, not wanting to listen to a lecture. I wanted to feel something and in that depth of feeling, be handed more patience for my life, at work and at home. (My husband leaves for India today, for relaxation and relief from his Parkinson’s Disease. God help me, I need patience.)

This service gave me that depth of patience with myself. Because the verses (Song of Songs, 1:6) proclaim power, permission, and meaning in deep, unlawful, passionate, mutual love affairs. (That’s what I heard any way. And I’m sticking to it.)

The Song of Songs sister whose fields grew wild required a love “that cannot be spoken of..an unsanctioned, forbidden love…a mystical, Afro-centric, erotic passion.” Wow! If this is seminary — sexy and permissive — sign me up!

My church-a-day foray definitely heated up this week. Professor Carr quoted the great American poet Audre Lorde to go beyond physical love. “Love — more than sexual love — may be queerest of all.”

Love is not easy.

Audre Lorde had said, “Of course, women so empowered are dangerous. So we are taught to separate the erotic from most vital areas of our lives other than sex.”

In other words, cultivate a garden, then let the roots and fruits grow deep and wild and free. The garden is a gift.

“Let him kiss me with the kisses of his mouth— for your love is more delightful than wine.” (Song of Solomon, 1.)

Yes, the bible says all that. I’m going there.

Kids in Church

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I was waiting for my daughters to finish a math tutoring session at Joan of Arc public school. (Joan of Arc is my hero —  I love that there’s a public school in NYC named for her!) I saw this church across the street.

It was Saturday afternoon and a lot of well-dressed people were mingling on the sidewalk. “Goody! A wedding!” I thought.

I entered the church. The sanctuary was paneled and low-ceiling-ed. Empty, except for a couple of girls who plucked keys on the piano. That was a bit annoying.

I sat for a minute, restless. As I was leaving, I heard a party going on in the basement. People sang, “feliz compleaños.”

I have to admit that the language barrier made me feel I wasn’t really a part of the action at this church. I wished I spoke Spanish, but I don’t. Not enough any way.

But then, something happened and for a moment, I  felt I belonged. See, this boy ran down some steps, fast like he owned the place. He stopped, stared and smiled. That’s it. A smile. That smile took off when words and language failed. I left uplifted.

I picked up the girls and we met friends. We hung out in the Bramble in Central Park, a beautiful and spiritual place.

A Cave for Mary

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Mary in a grotto! The cave walls are like walls in a zoo — they look real and touchable.  But get a little closer and they look a bit fake. Also, it’s just weird to see cave walls in a church, even if they are recreating Lourdes, France in Upper Manhattan.

I was on my lunch hour, hungry for a moment of peace. Family life and work life are way hectic at the end of September. And Michael DeBorja had Facebook messaged me the suggestion to visit this church! (Thanks Michael)

The odor of incense totally hit me when I walked into the sanctuary. There is also the wow effect of a cave wall in church and the vast, wide space and the echo-ey domed ceiling. This church totally reeked. I was thrown back to my first grammar school — St. Joan of Arc in Skokie, Illinois. It’s kindergarten on the Holy Day and the crowning of the May. I recalled wanting desperately to crown Mary and not being chosen. Hence, I’ve spent my life pursuing and getting snagged by the Good Girl syndrome.

Mary doesn’t help — with her unattainable tranquility and alabaster skin (what product could give me that smooth sheen?). Mary is also always alone. Ah, and in this church, there were five older women,  a diverse group too, all sitting alone. One wore a white veil on her head.

Their aloneness struck me as sad. But maybe, like me, these women, are surrounded everyday by people and they need this moment of solitude. Maybe it is an active aloneness. Like Anne Morrow Lindbergh said about solitude by the sea, “The loneliness you get by the sea is personal and alive. It doesn’t subdue you and make you feel abject. It’s stimulating loneliness.”

For some reason, I felt compelled to bless myself with holy water as I left. In churches I’ve visited before, I never felt the need. But yesterday, I did. It was a hot day in the city and cool water on my forehead would feel good.

I looked for the water founts and found them. I walked to the Morningside entrance to dip my fingers in. I was overcome with gratitude for my life. I walked down two blocks thinking of nothing but gratitude for everything and everyone in my life. And I named you all. It was a chant, “Thank you God for …..”

Today, when I looked up the church online to be sure I got the name right I discovered on Wikipedia the water is sent from Lourdes, France by special arrangement. I am glad. I am an unabashed Francophile and love all things French, especially the language. Around Mary’s halo are words, that begin, “Je suis….” I couldn’t read the rest. But I’ll take, “Je suis!”

If you love Mary — and who doesn’t? — this is the church for you! The Church of Notre Dame at 114th and Morningside.

Table Set For You

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Welcome to the table! It looks delicious. All set up for you at St. John the Divine. The sign encourages you to “Please Enter, Sit & Touch.”

“Really?” I hung back. I was the only one in this little chapel. Should I really sit at the table? It looked nice, well lit, sounds of dishes clattering and conversation. I was a little hungry. The food was spread on the table. I was thinking this must be some kind of Judy Chicago-inspired womanist art piece. 

So I sat. And pretty quickly noticed that the meal shifted and floated in front of me. The meal on my plate was just a projection on the table.

So cool! I was on a quick lunch break. I had to return some overdue library books (“Happy At Last: The Thinking Person’s Guide to Finding Joy.” Really good!)

I love the Poets’ Corner of St. John the Divine. I had rushed in on my lunch break, sandwiched between two meetings, to experience the beauty of the words etched into the floor.  I LOVE Walt Whitman’s ‘Song of Myself’ and wanted a quick moment of peace to reflect on the quote you can find there:

“I stop somewhere waiting for you.” (Is that not breathtaking!)

But I couldn’t find the Poets’ Corner, haven’t been there in a year. Instead I stumbled upon this table — Terry Flaxton’s “In Other People’s Skin,” multimedia art thingy.

As I was leaving the table in the chapel, amused and lighter, I encouraged a couple of young blonde tourists, (German or Scandinavian maybe?) to “please enter, sit & touch.” They looked confused. I pointed to the sign. They still hung back, like I had done.

The space at the cathedral is vast, echo-ey, inspiring. As a rule, churches don’t usually encourage touching and fully participating. Experiencing a church is usually a spectator sport.

But this table, at St. John’s, although it is unreal, is set up for you. It is cozy and warm. Well worth it.

I had been reluctant to fully experience the table. But when I did sit, I sat at the head of the table. Trust is difficult. But ultimately rewarding.

A Church A Night

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I love churches so much, that I stayed overnight at Rutgers Church on Friday night.

I was a chaperone for the youth group, about 17 kids from ages 10 to 17, for a church lock-in. We played Charades, made candle holders, played whiffle ball. We sang together in the sanctuary with the lights off. (My kids and I tried to teach the group the song, “Sanctuary,” which we sing really well! Is that bragging? So be it.)

Our pastor Andrew spoke a little during the sanctuary time.  He had made barbed wire to show us and talk about. We discussed barbed wire’s purpose — to keep people and animals out. Andrew talked about growing up in a country surrounded by barbed wire.

He talked about how we have to be the candle light within the swirl of barbed wire.

“This is the symbol for the organization, Amnesty International. They take a stand for people who are in jail needlessly. The light means a lot to people who are living in barbed wire countries or who are living in barbed wire. We can be their light,” said Andrew.

When we blew out our candles we were asked to take the light within us. To keep a light for human rights burning. The fun of the sleepover, the depth of it shone through. The kids and parents are such a great group.

Church is community, I’m coming to see. It is not simply sitting alone in a dark place midday praying. It happens at night and when one is away from the sanctuary too. It happens when we try to take sanctuary with us, create it for ourselves, our neighbors, the world.

West End

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The front doors were locked. So were the side ones. I didn’t see a bell to ring. Maybe the Jewish New Year, Rosh Hashanah, has the churches closed in solidarity. It’d be nice if religions were in solidarity with one another. I’ve had my religious tolerance reinforced as a member of United Methodist Woman and the Religion Communicators Council, and working at the Interchurch Center.

I think people who embrace religion in their lives have more in common than they realize. We are all searching for meaning. Any religion is a leap of faith and a personal decision.

imageI am proud of all the United Methodist and Christian groups that have preached and taught tolerance since Sept. 11th.

My friend Sarah worked with Faisel Rauf (the founder of the Cordova Center near the World Trade Center) on a performance piece about religious tolerance at the theater that’s a part of St. Paul and St. Andrew’s Church in ’03, (I think that was the date). She said the Imam and his wife were wonderful, kind, regular, all about building bridges of understanding.

I’m meandering. My point is I tried to get into the West End Collegiate Church around 6 pm but the doors were locked, probably unrelated to Rosh Hashanah.

I’d been cleaning all day. I’d wanted to get to a museum with the kids, but there was too much to do. Living in an apartment, we have no attic, garage or basement to stash and dash. Minimalism is a goal.

The girls started school yesterday, but they are off for the Jewish New Year today. Tomorrow too.

When the church was closed I went back to the park to hang out on my usual park bench near the playground. My daughter and her friend were rollerblading. They were holding hands. Have I mentioned how much I love that? I hope they never stop holding hands.