Living by the rule

Guesthouse atHoly Cross Abbey
Berryville, VA

In April, I took some time for a silent retreat at the Holy Cross Abbey, a Trappist monastery in Berryville, Virginia… 1400+ acres of rich farmland located on the west bank of the Shenandoah River. I think John Denver was correct in his lyric: “…almost heaven, West Virginia.” They got the “almost,” because we’ve received the real thing — the eastern Blue Ridge mountains in spring must surely be the foothills of Heaven itself.

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!

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

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

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

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

A spirit of decision.

As I sit here writing this article, we are celebrating the Feast of the Ascension — a capstone finish to Jesus’s work here among us. His disciples had been through an quite a lot with Him — His Baptism, Transformation, Crucifixion, and now, Resurrection.

What do they do after He passes this 5th milestone of His ministry? They go back to town and head for the Upper Room. They shut the door. And there they sit, until the promised Advocate arrives (10 days later at Pentecost). That Advocate (the Holy Spirit) blows them out of their safe haven and into the the streets — first Jerusalem, then Judea, Samaria… and then, well, that breeze is still blowing. It won’t stop until it’s reached the ends of the Earth.

I’m realizing that all of us can retreat, at one time or another in our lives, to that Upper Room. My head is my Upper Room, and, for much of my time, it is my residential address of choice. Getting stuck in that room is a problem. When I get stuck, eventually I figure I have to make a change. Deciding what that change could be and figuring out what to do next is the hard work of discernment. 

The Latin root of discern means to sift or to sort. Options must be generated. Outcomes weighed. Risks assessed. Opportunities recognized. And choices made. 

Choosing means deciding between: what will I give up in this choice? — and, what will I hang on to? I am finding this framework to not be all that helpful. It immobilizes me. 

I’ve discovered a key to help me unlock this conundrum. There is a hint of desperation contained in the phrase “hang on to.” Actually, it reeks of reluctance. A better, more helpful way to put it is: what do I want to give myself to freely? That freedom is a call to fidelity — being faithful in identifying one’s gifts, and being faithful in joining those gifts to the needs of the world.

Where can you find the safe space to find out what you are really thinking, feeling, struggling with? Get out of your head, and into community. A program like the Vocare School here at Richmond Hill is an excellent option — it equips you with time, tools, and a safe, supportive community to do the hard work of deciding what might come next in your life.

Remember, the call is not to remain in some safe, enclosed space. The call is to move out — into your circles of connection, virtual and real. It’s the Spirit’s call to renew the face of the earth. 

And that’s a kingdom call.

Richard Rumble
June 2014