On a hot Sunday, June 12, Vocare III class held its commencement ceremony in the cool of the Chapel here at Richmond Hill. The word commencement was chosen over graduation. Because, when it comes to discernment, one is never done — with that process, there are no endings. Just a bunch of new beginnings.
Here are a few words about the Vocare School. It began in the fall of 2013. The School was created in response to recurring conversations with folks who spoke of finding themselves at points in their lives where they wondered: “Am I in the best place for me at this phase of my life? Is this all there is? What else could God have in store for me?”
These are excellent questions. Questions which can be challenging to tackle. It takes time, energy, space, and the Holy Spirit to answer questions of this sort. Richmond Hill had space and we made room on our calendar. Folks committed their energy. And the Holy Spirit showed up. Through a process of deep listening patterned on a Quaker clearness circle, doors opened (or closed), and folk found their respective way.
When we came to the end of the program, of course we experienced sadness, grief and loss. The bonds formed during the experience are strong and deep. Walking away is difficult. But walk away we must, as we engage in our own work and pursue our own path.
As we navigate the journey, it’s good to pay particular attention to the spiritual geography surrounding us. In finding one’s way to an unconditional “yes” in life, you can look to the points of the compass.
EAST: The direction of the rising sun (beginnings): What new energy/movement is starting to emerge in you? Are you aware of issues/areas in need of healing or change? SOUTH: The direction of the sunny exposure (imagination, spontaneity): Where is your energy being called forth? How do you nurture yourself? WEST: The direction of the setting sun (endings, letting go): What or who needs to be released or shed? What maps no longer work for your life? NORTH: Your guiding light (spiritual values, stabilizing force, mentors): What images of God nurture and sustain you? Who are your spiritual guides and dearest friends?
Anyone can steer the ship. Who’s charting the course? That’s the big question.
Richard Rumble
June 2016
Friday, June 17, 2016
Tuesday, May 10, 2016
Living by the rule
Guesthouse atHoly Cross Abbey Berryville, VA |
In the summer of 2012, an important question arose within the first three months of me moving into the residential community here at Richmond Hill: “Where does one go on retreat when one lives at a retreat center?” I’d encountered a similar Zen-like koan many years ago as I was leaving VCU to find a break into the advertising business: “We don’t hire students. Come see us when you’ve got some experience.” Good thing I love a good puzzle.
Initially, I was simply too busy learning and living into life in the community to slow down and take a retreat. So much to do, and all of it Kingdom work. Wow! What’s not to like? And, it was all good, until I found myself getting testy with my colleagues in community. When I was rude to some guests about making coffee, I knew it was time to pull back. That’s the definition of retreat, right?
Seven years ago, my spiritual director posed a question about my Rule of life. As I had no idea what he was talking about, he recommended I do some work around that. Well, I love a good project. So, I wrote, and then re-wrote, my rule. And item no. 4 of my Rule said: “Go on retreat (3x/year). Walk the labyrinth quarterly.” Since the Jerusalem Mile is just outside my back door, I’ve made many a good turn on the labyrinth. But I regularly ignored taking a retreat. For all the usual excuses: too busy, too expensive, too tired…plus, I didn’t know where to go…
When it came to obeying the Rule, I was being, well, unruly. The Rule, as I am finding out, is a lot like the Sabbath. That is, it is not something we feel we have to do. Rather, it should be something we want to do — because it gives us back our lives. It restores us, not restricts us. My reluctance to go on retreat was not so much out of ignorance. Rather, it was more out of fear — fear of being caught by God in the silence, far away from all my familiar distractions, with nowhere to hide. And He caught me. Thanks be to God!
Thursday, May 7, 2015
The where-with-all
Springtime is a beautiful time in the Commonwealth of Virginia, in the City of Richmond, and most certainly, in the gardens at Richmond Hill.
Springtime means awakening to new life. From the dead leaves of winter, new possibilities emerge. Look around the garden. New growth appears everywhere you look. The goldfish frolic in the pond, fine and frisky. The lily pads are spreading there, and the lotus has shown the first of its many blooms.
Springtime is also discernment time at Richmond Hill. As monasteries go, we are unique in that no one here makes this place a permanent residence. Folks answer a call and come into this residential community one of two ways: either a) the Urban Service Corps, which is a one-year commitment to service, with an option to renew for an additional year, — or — b) professional residency, which is a 3-to-5 year commitment wrapped around a specific job description. This call also carries the option and possibility for the renewal of term.
Either way, every spring, in late April and early May, each resident here at Richmond Hill enters a discernment process — sitting, talking and praying with a panel made up of members of Council and other residents. This is a time to look at the year past and look to what’s ahead, examining one’s life in relation to what we feel God is calling each of us to do.
What a privilege it is to take this time to check in, examine and reflect on what is going on in life.
The day following my discernment, as I sat in chapel listening to the sermon, I glanced down and noticed a neighbor’s toe, well manicured with plum nail polish. As I gazed at this snapshot of dress, ankle, foot and sandal, Vermeer’s painting of the Girl with a Pearl Earing came to mind. And I realized the loving attention to detail, the thoughtfulness and intentionality that went into making this ensemble so beautifully put together.
In that moment I caught a glimpse of what it is to care, deeply, right down to your toes. “Ahh,” I thought, “thank you, Lord, for giving us the where-with-all to play in this space called Life.”
Can I dare to care in this way? What will it take for me to say, “I do?”
Richard Rumble
May 2015
May 2015
Tuesday, April 21, 2015
Placing a call
Richmond Hill is a special
place where a lot of folks pass through for lots of different reasons. Some
come for quiet reflection, some for wonderful worship. Some come thirsty for
knowledge. Others come simply to be fed, either at the altar or in the
refectory, and maybe enjoy some fellowship. Whatever your particular need, this
place holds us all.
Richmond Hill holds many
special places. The chapel is one such special place here. In addition to
praying there for the City three times a day, the community comes together
there for a Eucharist every Monday evening. During his sermon Monday night not
long ago, Bob Hetherington commented on the particular importance of
maintaining balance among one’s spiritual practices: personal, corporate, and,
your work in the larger world.
Making oneself available to
listen to what God might be saying to you is important work. There are many
ways to do this work, but I think it really is a question of how engaged are
you in hospitality of the heart? Open eyes and ears help open the heart to
receive the Lord when he calls on us.
The open heart allows our mind
to open — open up to possibilities of engaging our selves in our surroundings.
So far, so good. As long as we are open and receptive to the prompts and nudges
the Spirit provides, we’re all done here, right? Not exactly. Openness and
receptivity is great. But if that’s all we do, it’s a little like Roger Federer
swinging at a tennis ball, then coming to a screeching halt just as the ball
touches the strings of his racquet. Of course he doesn’t do that. He follows
through his stroke, usually with stunning results.
Whatever we see, hear, or feel
as a spiritual prompt, we need to follow through. And our follow-through ought
to be grounded. This requires solid footwork and a place to stand. You want to
understand your calling, your vocation? Look at where your feet are pointing.
Location is a huge part of
vocation. Does location inform vocation? Yes. How? Responding to the call
involves posture. Where are you? What are you doing? Sitting? Standing?
Attentive? Are you running to it? Or, running away?
As you begin to heed your call,
pay attention to where you are. You might be strategically placed to build a
little bit of God’s kingdom right here, right now.
Are you willing? That’s a good
place to be.
Richard Rumble
April 2015
Advent shuffle
Well, we’ve come to it once again. My favorite time, my favorite place. It’s that “not yet there, but getting close” time. What is the meaning of Advent? Ad venire, Latin: to come toward. Toward what, and toward whom, is the real question.
Advent is the dawning of a new year. It’s the set-up narrative, preparing us for the birth of our Lord. It’s a New Year’s party. It’s a new life party. And it’s a birthday party.
What gift do you give to a Child? Or, for that matter, to the One who has everything? Two years ago, while preparing for an Advent program I do, a song came to me. It was a gift. I call it Walking the Kingdom Walk:
Gone to Bethlehem, looking for a King
Not sure what I would find
Took a long journey with a lot of steps
Trying to ease my troubled mind
Was I coming? Was I going?
I don't know — it felt good to be on the road
Somewhere on the way my perspective changed
You eased my heavy load
Fear was driving me, I was losing my world —
Disconnected and cut off
Getting kinda lonely out on my own
Walking the Kingdom walk
Was I coming? Was I going?
I don't know — maybe You'll show me a sign?
Lord, I need a glimpse of You today —
And I know things’ll work out fine
Showed up at the stable, brought forth my gift
Set it right before the Child
He looked at me, His eyes so bright
Lord, how we did smile!
Was I giving? Or receiving?
I don't know — it felt right to be right there
Somehow out there on my way back home
I found an answer to my prayer
Was I giving? Or, receiving?
It's both, you see, that can make your life so free
On the way back home I came to find my self,
Thanking God for His gift called me.
Richard Rumble
December 2014
Advent is the dawning of a new year. It’s the set-up narrative, preparing us for the birth of our Lord. It’s a New Year’s party. It’s a new life party. And it’s a birthday party.
What gift do you give to a Child? Or, for that matter, to the One who has everything? Two years ago, while preparing for an Advent program I do, a song came to me. It was a gift. I call it Walking the Kingdom Walk:
Gone to Bethlehem, looking for a King
Not sure what I would find
Took a long journey with a lot of steps
Trying to ease my troubled mind
Was I coming? Was I going?
I don't know — it felt good to be on the road
Somewhere on the way my perspective changed
You eased my heavy load
Fear was driving me, I was losing my world —
Disconnected and cut off
Getting kinda lonely out on my own
Walking the Kingdom walk
Was I coming? Was I going?
I don't know — maybe You'll show me a sign?
Lord, I need a glimpse of You today —
And I know things’ll work out fine
Showed up at the stable, brought forth my gift
Set it right before the Child
He looked at me, His eyes so bright
Lord, how we did smile!
Was I giving? Or receiving?
I don't know — it felt right to be right there
Somehow out there on my way back home
I found an answer to my prayer
Was I giving? Or, receiving?
It's both, you see, that can make your life so free
On the way back home I came to find my self,
Thanking God for His gift called me.
Richard Rumble
December 2014
Tuesday, September 30, 2014
Belong to the longing
Writing in my journal this morning, I had a few questions: What/where are my longings? Can I feel them? Name them? Will I find them underneath and in between all the should-ings and the must-ings? Why pay attention to them?
Indeed. Why pay attention? For one thing, I can’t help it — it is in my nature, my DNA, my genes, my “nine-ness” (from the Enneagram, a dynamic personality system which describes nine distinct and fundamentally different patterns of thinking, feeling, and acting).
With regard to the Enneagram, as I understand the nature of a Nine, we are Mediators. We are hard-wired to pay attention — highly sensitive and tuned in to people and our surroundings. And what if that sensitivity is so occupied with outside stimuli that it cannot respond to any inner promptings? See, the outer drowns out the inner. Where does that leave me? Often too preoccupied to listen to the still small voice of the spirit. Not a good thing to be cut off from, I think.
As I read through The Essential Enneagram (a book we encountered in the RUAH program), it invited me to consider the following questions: How have all the people and things around me been pulling at and competing for my attention? How indecisive have I been? In what ways have I gone along with others’ agendas and plans? In what ways have I been sidetracked into focusing on secondary priorities or inessentials?
All this questioning leads me to wonder about finding and maintaining focus in a world chock-a-block full of distractions. What might be useful for finding one’s focus? And maintaining that focus once found? A tool, a discipline or a practice might be just the ticket here.
What can help me set my priorities straight? What already exists in our rich Christian tradition?
Lectio divina is an ancient monastic practice designed to be a “long, loving look at the real.” It works through four stages or steps: read, reflect, respond, and rest. Lectio becomes a container for awareness of inner movements and voices. That’s good, as far as it goes. But I need something more: action. Some outpouring of all that contained goodness.
Once these inner longings are heard clearly, then perhaps I will honor them through action. And action is surely required to build beloved community, which is where I long to belong.
Richard Rumble
September 2014
Indeed. Why pay attention? For one thing, I can’t help it — it is in my nature, my DNA, my genes, my “nine-ness” (from the Enneagram, a dynamic personality system which describes nine distinct and fundamentally different patterns of thinking, feeling, and acting).
With regard to the Enneagram, as I understand the nature of a Nine, we are Mediators. We are hard-wired to pay attention — highly sensitive and tuned in to people and our surroundings. And what if that sensitivity is so occupied with outside stimuli that it cannot respond to any inner promptings? See, the outer drowns out the inner. Where does that leave me? Often too preoccupied to listen to the still small voice of the spirit. Not a good thing to be cut off from, I think.
As I read through The Essential Enneagram (a book we encountered in the RUAH program), it invited me to consider the following questions: How have all the people and things around me been pulling at and competing for my attention? How indecisive have I been? In what ways have I gone along with others’ agendas and plans? In what ways have I been sidetracked into focusing on secondary priorities or inessentials?
All this questioning leads me to wonder about finding and maintaining focus in a world chock-a-block full of distractions. What might be useful for finding one’s focus? And maintaining that focus once found? A tool, a discipline or a practice might be just the ticket here.
What can help me set my priorities straight? What already exists in our rich Christian tradition?
Lectio divina is an ancient monastic practice designed to be a “long, loving look at the real.” It works through four stages or steps: read, reflect, respond, and rest. Lectio becomes a container for awareness of inner movements and voices. That’s good, as far as it goes. But I need something more: action. Some outpouring of all that contained goodness.
Once these inner longings are heard clearly, then perhaps I will honor them through action. And action is surely required to build beloved community, which is where I long to belong.
Richard Rumble
September 2014
Saturday, July 5, 2014
Fruitful thinking
Summertime
is upon us. Among other things, this season is a time of ripening — a time of
fruitfulness. Does this affect us in our own lives? Maybe so, let's see.
I awoke
early the morning of the longest day of the year. I was up, so why not take a
quick spin on the Jerusalem Mile before chapel? In that pre-sunrise light of
the summer solstice I found my way to the labyrinth.
There are
many ways to walk the labyrinth. Often, I’ll carry something specific with me
into its opening. This time, I had nothing particular in mind. I just walked
in. By the second turn, I was talking to God.
“Thank you,
Lord, for this most beautiful morning, and for this beautiful place. I cannot
believe I have the grace and good fortune to call Richmond Hill home.
Awesomeness abounds! I am so grateful!”
“So, here’s
the thing, Lord. Are you calling me? How will I know what my call looks like? I
figure you know — plus, you’ve equipped me with appropriate skills, interests
and talents to get the job done. I believe I’ve got the willingness to follow
and serve. I know I’m in a good place and location to get the work done. But
what does this call actually look like?”
“Well,
there’s your problem,” a dear friend said as I shared this question with her.
“You mean, ‘What does this call sound like?’ You don’t see a call, you
hear it.”
“Let’s not
get picky. I’m visual. And I’d like to see it,” was my response. Anyway, what
we’re talking about here is a matter of recognition — how do you recognize
exactly what is your call?
Recognition
can come in many forms: what might it look like, sound like, feel like? “It
looks like a good opportunity. It sounds like a great idea. It just feels
right.” These are forms of internal recognition. But what about external
recognition? How does validation appear?
There are
passages that appear in the gospel about good trees producing good fruit. Both
Matthew and Luke comment that bad trees cannot produce good fruit.
What makes
the good fruit good? Is it God, by His divine design? Or, is it humanity — who
tends the orchard? It’s a combined effort no doubt. A good yield is just that,
a good yield. The evidence resides in an overflowing basket, for all to see.
Touch. And taste.
The answer
to my question is clear. If you’re looking for the good fruit, be sure to check
your personal produce aisle. If your fruit looks good, congratulations. Chances
are you’re probably in the right field.
Richard Rumble
July 2014
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