As we are fast approaching the most sacred time on the Christian calendar, I am trying to carve out some time to ponder over the past year and the changes it has brought to my life thinking in particular about those companions in mission that I have lost along the way. It has been a year of loss both personal and congregationally for me and the folks at the parish to which I am assigned here on Staten Island. Friends, fellow clergy members, parishoners, and local folk active in our extended faith community, have crossed over into the veil.
Some families have lost a parent at too young an age; another lost both a sibling and a parent in the same year. Another family lost an adult son in a freak car accident in which he was killed while sitting on a bench waiting for a bus. A patriarch for an extended family lost a heroic battle with debilitating illness and organ transplant. Our parish choir has lost four members in the last year alone.
Two of my closest spiritual guides have died this year. One, at a much too young age, the other after an illness left untreated for too long that resulted in a prolonged and difficult death.
And yet, life does move on in the continuum of time and space. We grieve, and the grief does not leave us. It scabs over and then falls off leaving a mark that we will carry with us for the rest of our natural life. Memories become less painful, and we can often laugh at past events shared with our dearly departed ones, that seemed impossible to do in the immediate time surrounding their deaths.
And the year moves on and new life enters into it.
Even though the past year brought with it times of deep sorrow and despair, New light and life has seeped into it as well. Several cousins welcomed new babies into their lives adding another grandchild, or experiencing one for the very first time. A niece gave birth to my brother's first grandchild, a daughter...sort of following a pattern for him: four sisters, two daughters and now a beauty of a grandchild. My daughter-in-law gave us a new grandchild, nephew and cousin that has given my "baby" one of his own.
And the circle of life continues to roll and roll and roll. We ride it for a time here, and later in eternity. It is a mysterious, event-filled and scary ride...but not one any of us would change.
This Sunday, those of us who worship in the Western Christian tradition will affirm our belief in the eternity of our lives as we celebrate again the ancient Easter liturgy and greet each other with the words: "Alleluia, Christ is Risen!", holding fast to the belief that those words so true to the apostles and disciples of old, are just as true for us today.
For many Cubans born after The Revolution, religious spirituality and Cuban culture are emphatically oxymoronic. Christianity in general, and Roman Catholicism in particular were parts of the social and national life that were supposedly erased away by Fidel and his followers. And on the surface and in conversation with those born post 1960, this is true. On a recent trip to Cuba I met two young tour guides who informed me that Christmas celebration were again allowed after the visit of Pope John Paul, but only old people actually celebrated it. The young much preferred celebrating the New Year. We were permitted to visit the Cathedral in Havana, but when I asked who was it dedicated to, neither of my guides could answer me repeating over and over again that it was just "The Cathedral".
We were informed that if religion among the Cuban population could be broken down into groups, the largest number would be Christian, the second group would be followers of Santeria, and the lowest percentage would be Jews.
Walking around in various towns and neighborhoods in Cuba reveals a religious heritage that has not been eradicated by 60 years of Socialist presence. From the names of the streets and plazas to the not so secret street shrines and lovingly maintained personal religious items of the people, spirituality has been alive, perhaps sub-rosa, but still there in Cuba all these years.
It is easy to identify followers of Santeria on the streets of Havana, Santa Clara, Trinidad or Cienfuegos, the towns we visited. Many of them are attired completely in white, a sign of their initiation into this religious melding of Catholicism and traditional African worship.
Grand Synagogue
Most of the Jews who live in Cuba reside in the metropolitan area of Havana and attend one of two synagogues: one is the conservative and the other is an orthodox Sephardic congregation. The conservative congregation worships in a mid-century modern building near the Malecon, the wide shore-hugging promenade that holds Havana away from the wild Caribbean Sea. The Sephardic Hebrew Center of Cuba building is in downtown Havana.
La Virgen de Caritas
The squares of Old Havana include San Francisco and Cathedral squares. There is a newly renamed street in honor of Mother Teresa, and a new Greek Orthodox Church has just opened near the Malecon. We passed Baptist, Methodist and Roman Catholic churches that are open and functioning.
La Virgen
Several of these hidden in plain sight symbols are the various street shrines, private statues and altar pieces dedicated to La Virgen de la Caridad del Cobre. You can see her in churches, on windowsills, in posters, on tiled walls in private homes, in organic street motifs. She is the patroness of Cuba with a long history and many devoted followers both Christian and Santerian. Her presence has been important to them, and her image is important even to many who profess that they have no religious faith. And she has an interesting and decidedly Cuban story.
Tradition holds that in 1612 two Native American brothers and an African slave set out to collect ocean water to make salt. They are called "the three Juans". They made the salt for preserving meat at El Cobre. While at sea, a storm arose, rocking their boat. One of them was wearing a medal with the image of the Virgin Mary, and they began to pray for her protection. Suddenly, the storm was gone. In the distance was an object floating in the water. It was a statue of the Virgin Mary holding the child Jesus and a cross. The statue was fastened to a board with an inscription saying "Yo Soy la Virgen de la Caridad" or "I am the Virgin of Charity." Dispite being in the salt water, the statue remained completely dry. This image was enshrined in several places, until it finally rested at El Cobre, a copper mining town, and the place where the first groups of enslaved people were freed in 1801.
So, in reality, the Virgin of Charity of Cobra has been around far longer than Fidel and his crew. Her image can be seen in the streets of Havana, in the gardens of Santa Clara, in the small apartments of retirees, and in the studio of one of Cuban's most celebrated artists. She has been a symbol of hope for the faithful of Cuba for over 400 years; that is a heck of a lot longer than Fidel's measly 60.
I just returned from an eight day trip to Cuba. I know what you are thinking: How did she go to Cuba? Aren't American Citizens forbidden to visit Cuba? The answer is complicated. "Est complicado" is an expression one hears all over Cuba, and we were all over Cuba in those eight days. Individual American will find it difficult to book a flight to Cuba unless they opt to first fly to Canada, Mexico or the Azores and then to Cuba. You can then go to one of the few resort hotels Cuba has developed to entice residents of northern climes to spend some time at the beautiful beaches at the all-inclusive resorts on the west and south coasts of the island. The folks who go there do not really interact with the locals. Oh, they may speak to their waiter or house maid about the island, or use the occasional taxi driver to get back and forth to a close by paladar...a privately owned restaurant, but that is about as close as they come to interacting with the Cuban people. My trip was a bit different.
It was advertised as a "People to People" event, and we did meet quite a lot of the locals and visited art schools, senior centers, a Boys and Girls Club, attended a Baroque music concert and listened to a chamber music presentation of traditional and modern Cuban music. We went to the Che Guevera Memorial, Ernest Hemingway's house, an old Franciscan Monastery, and Havana's Cathedral. We went to artists' residences and saw their outrageous work, and spent time in a market where you could buy "Cuba" baseball caps and Che refrigerator magnets.
Here are some quick observations:
1. The Cuban People love to talk to foreigners, and have opinions about how things should be in Cuba. Many have only learned the "party line". Be polite and listen to them. They just want to make you understand their way of life.
2. The infrastructure is horrible. The roads are rough, and the railroad is unreliable.
3. There are NO beaches in Havana.
4. Che Guvera's grandmother was a Lynch. She was Irish.
5. The population of Cuba is approximately 11 million. There are over 11 million people living in the NYC metropolitan tri-state area of NY, NJ and CT.
6. There are 30,000 cars registered in Cuba. They are considered to be a UNESCO Historic treasure and cannot be shipped out of Cuba.
7. The chief source of protein in Cuba is the pig...pork is king.
8. Fishing out in the Caribbean Sea is discouraged. The Cuban Government does not want anyone to have access to a good fishing boat that might make the 90 mile trip to Key West.
9. Any economic problem is the fault of the "embargo", and thus the United States, but they are gracious to Americans who have dollars to spend.
10. Bring your own toilet paper, tissues and hand sanitizer. You will need them. Several restaurants had brand-spanking new toilets, but no seats....get over yourself: this is Cuba.
This afternoon while watching my favorite afternoon soap opera, "General Hospital", several things occurred on the screen before me that had me yelling like a boob at the boob tube," Gentleman, Ladies, can you just get it right?"
Now some people may say that I overreact to what to me are obvious errors on the part of play directors, film crews and others who make what I consider to be bone-headed errors. I actually sat thorough the ill-fated Broadway musical based on "Saturday Night Fever", that showed two main characters dancing under what was supposed to be the Verrazano Narrows Bridge, except for one glaring error: it had a train chugging over it. Now, if this show was playing in Iowa, it would make no mind that this error existed, but it had many of us in the audience shaking our heads in disbelief that this blatant mistake happened in the city where said bridge actually was situated, and engineering -wise, could not have a train on it due to its design which mimics the curvature of the earth.
Or when I sat wiping away the tears as Oliver and Jenny rush out of Central Park on the way to the hospital where we all know she will die in the film version of "A Love Story." Oliver raises his arm to hail down a cab, and one stops immediately. "Oh, yeah", said my soon-to-be spouse, "Like that can really happen." Every guy in the movie theater burst out laughing at his cogent New York observation.
Yesterday during a commercial for medical insurance, a family is visiting Philadelphia when the father announces, "Here we are in the first capital of the United States." What? What I thought to myself. I am pretty sure New York City was the first capital of the United States. George Washington took the oath of office on the steps of Federal Hall near on Wall Street. There is a statue there commemorating that event. I am now shaking my head. I don't think I would buy any kind of insurance from a company that does not check its facts before making a commercial with such a blatant error.
But that is not the thing that stuck in my craw that day. It was the hot melting mess of a wedding ceremony on GH. Never mind that there is a mob shoot out about to go down during the nuptials, the vestments are all wrong.
Now, I know that most people would not know there is a protocol for religious attire, but they would know that one would not be wearing pajamas to a business meeting. And so Christian clergy have special clothes for special occasions as well, and there is a certain order of what one dons to each event.
Alb and chasuble
Vestments worn by liturgical centered clerics like Roman Catholic, Episcopal and Lutheran ordained folk, are based on everyday clothing of ancient Rome. At the celebration that includes a Eucharist, the presider wears an alb ( long white robe), a stole indicating their office and a chasuble if she/he is the priest/pastor, and an alb, stole and dalmatic if he/she is a deacon. These vestments are in different colors depending on the time of year and the reason for the celebration. During Lent, most of these vestments are purple; for Pentecost, red is the color; green is for what is called "Ordinary Time". And white is for celebrations such as weddings, baptisms and funerals (black is seldom if never used anymore, resulting in many, many black vestment sets being offered on E-Bay). Oh, there is no mix and match in liturgical vestments; the colors matter and one does not swap out different stole colors for the heck of it.
If a wedding is being performed, and there is no Eucharist, the officiant wears what is referred to as "choir attire" black cassock ( long black robe with a long row of buttons on the front), cassock and white stole or tippet (another scarf-like vestment that indicates the person is licensed to preach).
I guess you are wondering why I was so annoyed at the obvious...at least to me...screw up on the set when the "priest" came out to officiate at the wedding in a black cassock, white chasuble and red stole! Just wrong, wrong, wrong on many levels. Cassock...okay, I grant you a pass on that one. Red at a wedding??? I don't think so. White chasuble and no Eucharist....no can do. This obvious oblivion to liturgical fashion faux pas annoyed me more than the fact that I knew his wedding ceremony was not going to end happily....this is a soap opera, after all.
Choir Attire
Perhaps I should get a resume together and offer my services as fashion consultant for all things clergy on daytime television; I could be a contender, a "clerical consultant".
People often wonder what times of year or events do people like me, single again, not by choice, but by fate, find most difficult. Some would say Christmas, but since I still have lots of family around, and many Church obligations during that time of year, I am kept quite busy. The same holds true for Easter and Thanksgiving, family and faith obligations keep me hopping, and usually running from place to place.
But St. Valentine's Day is different; it is a day for pairs. A bit of a back story on St. Valentine is needed. There are at least three martyrs with the same name. The one commemorated on February 14th is Saint Valentine of Terni, third-century Roman saint and associated since the Middle Ages with courtly love. Just to set the record straight, Valentine is not just the patron saint of love, he is also responsible for overseeing engaged couples, prevention of fainting, bee keepers, roses, happy marriages, plague, and, last but not least, epilepsy. I don't know who assigns areas of patronage, but fainting, epilepsy and plague...that's a lot of responsibility without adding all that love stuff. And how random is the additional task of overseeing beekeepers?
St. Valentine
Anyway...Valentine's Day is not for the faint hearted single. The world is awash in paired bliss. On any other random Sunday, I might call married friends inquiring if they wanted to attend an event or grab a lunch or early dinner at some local eatery, but not on the 14th of February. First of all, you cannot just surreptitiously walk into any restaurant on this island or in this city without having a reservation on that particular day. And don't expect the normal menu...most places have a special "Dinner for Two" list set up for that day which is different than the normal one. Most of the tables are set for two, so an odd number, like one, is just out of the question. And you really don't want to be the solo act on this day; since your presence will only serve to remind everyone in the restaurant of the fact that a friend shared with me when my husband died " All marriages and relationships end... by divorce, disagreement or death." And if you are someone who is single by choice or chance, why put yourself through the personal angst, just order that pizza or the Chinese food for delivery and be done with it.
The one big thing that really gets under my skin about being single is the dreaded "single supplement" that travel companies impose on solo-travelers. It's like adding insult to injury. "So you want to continue to travel? Yippee! We'll take your money, but you don't have someone to share your quarters with? Okay, you can still come, but you have to pony up an additional fee to do so." That "Single Supplement"can be anywhere from $300 to $2000 depending on the trip. Some travel companies will pair you up with another single, but that does not appeal to me. I like my space, and at this age, I do not want to have to accommodate a stranger in that space. These travel companies don't suggest that partnered people double up with others, so, why do they think I am eager to do so? I don't mind sharing with someone I know, but that is not always possible.
I have begun to seek out travel opportunities where these fees are non-existent or low, and am happy to say I have found two cruise lines that have limited single cabins and a two travel companies that do not charge single supplements on some of their trips. The other alternative is to put together a solo itinerary on one's own, which I have done in the past, and will probably do again. I think the travel industry is really missing out on a huge market by its restrictive policies.
And as for next St Valentine's Day? Maybe I will spearhead a campaign to start a special event for singles only...no supplement involved.
For the past three years, I have been a part of a group of Episcopal and Lutheran clergy and lay people who have offered imposition of ashes at the St George Ferry Terminal on Staten Island. I vividly recall the reaction of our Liturgy Committee on that Thursday evening when I proposed we distribute ashes at the ferry: complete and utter silence.
I went on and on explaining that the Episcopal Church USA supported a movement called "Ashes to go" that brought the imposition of ashes to the streets where people, who are usually on their daily commute, are given the opportunity to receive ashes on their forehead on their way to work or school without judgement and without recrimination.
My then rector was a bit skittish about the whole thing, but called me up after the liturgy meeting saying that was the most exciting thing he had heard at those meeting since he became rector six years ago. But, he wondered, would we get arrested if we did it? We consulted our attorney who said we would be in public space, and would be okay. So we went. We went with two small glass bowls, ashes, one lay person with prayer cards and a charge to count how many people came forward to take the ashes and no expectations.
We stood aside a coffee shop whose owner bought us coffee for imposing ashes on himself and his employees. Police officers, train conductors, bankers, stock traders, secretaries, administrative assistants, lawyers, janitors, students, ferry pilots, homeless folks: they all lined up to have ashes placed on their foreheads and listen to the words:" Remember you are dust, and to dust you shall return".
Many people said "Thanks you for doing this." Some others asked us to pray with them or for them or for family members who were facing difficulties. We felt the presence of the Holy Spirit moving among God's people as they traversed past us on their way to work, school and who knows where, just living out their daily lives. Each year we encountered so many people who were walking in faith; people who held deep beliefs that sustained them throughout their everyday lives. People who sought repentance and redemption as they commuted every day to work to support their families. These were people to whom this rite of the imposition of ashes meant so much. It became for them a proclamation of who they were. They were Christ's own, sealed forever by faith and the Holy Spirit
But this year, we were told that we needed to file for a "performance permit" at the ferry, the same one given to filmmakers. We did so, and received a very restrictive one. We would be limited to a predetermined spot that was assigned to us by an undefined bureaucratic entity who said we were preforming "religious ritual" that would somehow offend someone. We finally negotiated three spots that would not offend: an assigned spot in an isolated corridor and two spots just off the radar and out of Department of Transportation jurisdiction.
We imposed ashes on 311 commuters on Ash Wednesday morning. It was an adventure, to be sure, but we were there. We were witnesses of Christ and for Christ to the faithful ones who came to us, and prayed with us, and rejoiced with us as we stood together to remind everyone "...thou art dust and to dust thou shalt return."
Are you frustrated by computer email glitches, cell phone connectivity loss, no Wi-Fi service, nothing to watch on your cable or FIOS television system, nothing of value on Netflix or Amazon Prime, tired of conflicting Facebook entries by family and friends, wondering if you've got the correct time for that next long-distance conference call? Do you feel that you are just running round and round on the hamster wheel, ever spinning, but actually getting nowhere? Welcome to the club...the club of the overextended connected person, and guess what? It's about time to take a break. Back when I was still living at home with my parents, there was a hit Broadway Musical called "Stop the World, I want to Get Off!", and sometimes I feel that that needs to be my mantra.
The play is about a little guy named "Littlechap" and his dreams and schemes in becoming rich and famous. He climbs his way to the top of the heap, including a great political career, only to discover that in life it is usually the personal things like home and family that matter the most. He finds his redemption almost too late. The lesson learned? Don't wait too long to finally realize the importance and meaning of life.
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=N2Qnp3D0G1A
We are quickly approaching the penitential season of Lent, a time of year that is perfectly aligned with the idea that slowing down one's life pace is a good and holy thing. As a younger person, I recall the call to "give up" something for Lent, usually sweets or some other personal behavior that could be perceived as extravagant. One year I gave up lemon meringue pie, another Snickers bars. Older folks were encouraged to curb their vices like smoking or drinking beer. Lent provided a good time to do a little self discipline and improve ones health as well. But this year I may just do something in addition to my normal routine.
I propose to add a half an hour of quiet time into my day. This will eliminate a half hour of mindless TV, meaning I may have to catch up with the Kardashians some other time.
I received in the mail a copy of this year's Lenten Meditations from Episcopal Relief and Development, and I intend to read each meditation therein. You can also get a link via email and Facebook, if you must, but I am trying to cut down on my "on-line" hours and actually sit with a booklet in my hands.. Also, I found one of Annie Lamont's books in a book exchange near my home and will be holding it and reading it as well.
I will, naturally, be following this year's edition of Lent Madness which begins on Thursday after Ash Wednesday with the match of the matriarchs: Monnica versus Helena. So, let the Lent begin! Let us use the time well as we hone our spiritual skills and enjoy some time of spiritual solitude.
