For several months now Rebecca has been gently suggesting that I hand over some of the duties of the Abbey to Other People. When she started pointing double entendres in my own writing that indicated that I needed more help, I finally listened.

In March I asked the Monks to sign-up to bring dinner. I like making soup for the Monks. I turn on nice music, I put on the chef coat’s Paul indulged me with one Christmas, and I try to be very present to the chopping and stirring. If I have time to bake something, I pray for each person as I add ingredients and stir or knead. Then I set the table and pick a few flowers (if it’s one of the seasons of light) or light candles (if it’s dark.) It’s vesting the space, these simple things, and I enjoy it. But, the reality is that I have a lifelong chronic aliment and frankly, I need help. So I started the sign up sheets in the hope that I could cook just two weeks a month.

Never in all my years of church and community organizing have I seen such a response. All the slots were readily and happily filled. No one ever called to cancel. I never had to remind people. We never had to order pizza because someone forgot.

Amazing.

Somehow I took that as a good sign that our Tribe was healthy. That everyone was there because they wanted to be, not because they were obligated by some sort of religious by-law. I not only felt personally loved, supported, and understood, but I also felt encouraged about the general state of the Abbey.

With the success of the Great Soup Sign-up I got really brave and followed Rebecca’s advice even further, this time asking the Monks to sign up to “Host” (lead our after dinner time) and “Cook.” My hope was that each week I would either do one or the other, but not both.

I haven’t done either for several weeks.

Really, it’s so beautiful, I could weep.

All of that is really just a long introduction to let you know what Jennifer R. did last night. Jennifer R. brought us a series of beautiful black and white photographs (from Youth Specialties, I believe). She asked us to pick one that expressed our greatest hope about who God is and one that expressed our greatest fear about who God is. Then we went around and let each other know why we picked our photographs.

About halfway around the circle, Helene pointed out that we were all leading with our fears, and then sharing our hopes. I reminded her that most of us grew up in the church, and she laughed and said that made sense. I thought it was both funny and telling.

Once again I was surprised by the Monks’ response to this activity. Everyone was willing to share their thoughts, no one seemed invaded, and I think it was understood that you could pass if desired. We did an okay job of not interrupting each other– ‘though we still tend to make jokes when we get nervous or if things get intense. Still, we’re a long way from where we started four years ago — when everyone was burnt out on “sharing” in small groups and their most likely response to being asked to “share” in front of everyone was either to be silent or to snort beer out their noses in laughter. I felt happy at the level of ease and the trust that the response of the circle exhibited. I think the air of judgement has evaporated in this place.

What I wasn’t surprised at was the depth of thinking exhibited by the Tribe. Everyone had intriguing and though-full things to say. I considered taking notes, but thought that was a little too distant (“I’m not really participating here, I the ‘other’ observing). ‘Thought part of me wishes that I did because there was such a diversity of thought and experience. But here are three that stuck with me…along with their pictures.

My fear is that people will choose fear – will choose to remain living in fear – and therefore wont’ choose to be connected and to recognize that we are all connected to each other and to the Divine.
-Darlene

My hope is that if we as humans become too violent and abusive and destructive, if we threaten to destroy everything, that we will be destroyed as necessary to preserve life as a whole. - Helene

My hope is not only that God sees each of us – that God sees this woman alone in her chair – but that God is each of us.-Rebecca.