Hope Amidst The Struggle — LIFE ILLUMINATED TRAVEL

First published November 3, 2010

My studies are going well. Each day I experience new blessings and become aware of more challenges as all of us here at Bossey journey together in pursuit of unity. I think I had this fanciful idea that in order to achieve unity we just need to gather the gumption to live into the various exhortations throughout Bible that tell us to do so. However, you can't just go and do that if your definitions of unity are different, if your criteria for achieving unity entails completely different doctrinal and ecclesiastical beliefs and practices, and if your understanding of what church "really" is even differs. Ha. Wow. It is daunting and discouraging at times. Though, I am encouraged when I remember that although all those divisions exist at least we, at Bossey, have made it here. We have made it to this time and place which testifies to the fact that we have taken the first steps toward unity. Here we are engaging in conversations, living in community and hoping and praying for unity. So, with this hope we trust one day by the power of God we will be reconciled to one another and we will live in unity as one body of Christ.

Yesterday I caught a glimpse of this unity.

Perhaps you may know November 1 and 2 were All Saint’s and all Soul’s Day. These days go by many names in many different cultures and traditions, but the purpose is the same—to remember, celebrate, honor, and commemorate our loved ones who have died. Yesterday I had the wonderful opportunity to participate in an Orthodox worship service for this occasion. I sang in a small choir made up of students some of whom were totally familiar with this practice and others of us who were entirely new to it. American, Pakistani, Georgian, Romanian, Ukrainian, Egyptian, and Guatemalan; Orthodox, Presbyterian, Catholic, and Baptist—a gorgeous ecumenical tapestry.

While this day of remembrance and memorial is new to me, I love it! I have become quite familiar with the Orthodox tradition over the last month and a half thanks to our 15 minute worship service every weekday before dinner structured in a style observed by the Romanian Orthodox nuns. My ear has quickly picked up on the various hauntingly beautiful chants and songs we sing which is both exciting and satisfying. I am so grateful to be expanding my ways to worship God and learning to the extent that I trust I could teach or lead others in these ways. It is additionally powerful to participate in worship with Christians from the Orthodox Church because it is an expression of unity and solidarity in the midst of continuous divisions between our confessions that began 18 centuries ago. I can now go and share what I have learned and serve as a bridge builder, exposing other Protestants to these unfamiliar, yet beautifully reverent worship practices.

But, back to yesterday’s service. We sang a solemn, yet hopeful song in French called “La Tenebre” (“The Darkness”) between various Bible passages on life and death read by multiple people on staff at Bossey in their own languages of Italian, French, and English. The encouraging message proclaims, “Our darkness is never darkness in Your sight; the deepest night is clear as the daylight.” Then, in four-part harmony we sang a song to God on behalf of those who have died and for those of us who are living—that God would call us, lead us, and save us.

Next was the central part of the worship service. Before the service began we had been given the opportunity to write down the names of loved ones who had passed away that we wanted to remember today. So, at this point we sang “Kyrie eleison” quietly while Father Sauca (Orthodox priest and director of Bossey) prayerfully read each name. I remembered my grandfathers Bob and Harry, my late Aunt Mari, and my beloved grandmother, Kippy, whom I uphold as a great role model for myself. I am grateful I have not lost many loved ones in my life. My heart went out to some of my friends here though, one who had just lost her brother who was only a few years older than me, and another who lost his uncle just two weeks ago. After this Father Sauca prayed a prayer of atonement for their souls and a prayer of glorification for God’s loving and forgiving nature.

To follow, those of us who were near the front came around the small central table the Father was standing behind. Set before him was a cake made of flour, honey, and nuts. It was dusted with chocolate powder, on top of which individual chocolates that looked like upside down mini Reese’s cups were lined along the cross-section of the cake. He then took a bottle of red wine and drizzled some lightly over the cake. The cake represents the body of Christ—a symbol of unity among those whom have died and those of us still alive. While, the wine then represents the atoning sacrifice of Christ for our forgiveness of sins. We gathered in closely, put one hand under the dish holding the cake and began to gently move it up and down together. Those who were behind us then came and set their hands on our shoulders, creating a sort of human chain in order to all connect to the cake. To the same tune of the “kyrie” we sang, “Memory eternal.” A final blessing was given and we dispersed.

What a beautiful, sacred experience. I don’t come from a tradition where we take such care in remembering the dead and I appreciated the commemoration. It was an opportunity for us Christians from different places and practices to remember in the present loved ones from the past--to recall their presence, appreciate their lives, mourn the tragedy of lives ended too early, but also to rejoice in the hope of their current state of peace.