Train Friend

Taking the train from Assisi to Firenze, known to me as Florence, is a tense experience, traveling alone, not knowing the language or how the train system works. I purchased the tickets before leaving home so that I would be certain to have them. It cost me a lot more money for that bit of security. What a lesson in trust. I could have simply waited till I went to the train and purchased my ticket here.

As soon as the taxi delivered me to the station, I looked for a ticket agent. Office was closed so I headed for the cafe to ask some questions and decided to purchase a sandwich. At that moment, a couple of nuns walked in and I felt drawn to follow them down the hall. They met another nun and I asked about the posted departures when their friend said that she was going to Firenze. Talk about feeling out-of-control when, in fact, everything is just as it should be. I now had a traveling companion to Firenze.

At this moment, I am traveling on a train, through a long dark tunnel, with my new Franciscan nun friend, Michaela. We don't speak a common language so I pulled out my iPhone translator and we have been communicating a bit with our fingertips.

The ticket agent came through to check tickets. Hooray. He speaks English and explained that there are two stops in Firenze and mine is the second one, where I get my connection to Turino.

It is almost time to switch trains in Firenze.

When we got off the train, Michaela kissed me first on the left and then on the right cheek and lifting her hand in blessing she formed the cross on my forehead blessing me as I journey.

Now surrounded by a mob of people at the train station I am thankful for having the ticket in hand.

I trust I will find a new friend.

Pastor Carol

Assisi: Last Day

San Damiano Cross

Today was my last day in Assisi. I attended morning prayer 6:45 and Mass 7:15 at the Basilica of Saint Francis.

I love being surrounded by the deep resonant voices of the monks. I sat next to a monk who helped me find my way through the Italian Book of Hours so that I could join in morning prayer.

When Mass started, all of the nearly 30 priests were in white robes. I think today was the celebration of San Bernardino of Siena.

I had this amazing sense of walking with the monks in procession to the altar. My heart was tugging me up the aisle as I sat on the hard wooden pew. It was as if I had done this many times before. It is in moments like this that I know I was a monk in at least one previous lifetime. In this lifetime I had to be a warrior in order to follow the call that I experienced. The church that I gave my life to was not prepared to welcome me and many like me. We were deemed unacceptable for priesthood because of our gender or gender preference.

It is so sad to me that this kind of small thinking continues even today. I am ever grateful to Ken Hayes, Disciple of Christ minister, deceased, who recognized my call and my need to fulfill it. It is now my deepest joy when I can participate in a call and help the seeker to fulfill it.

My uphill journey this week, as I climbed to the Hermitage of Saint Francis, reminded me of the joy that follows the struggle. The long hard breathless climb that tried to stop me with every step followed by the total elation of still being alive, actually vibrantly alive when I completed an extremely difficult accomplishment. In that joy is the desire to bless others with a gentler journey. When I was received by the Independent Catholic Church as priest which led to consecration as Bishop, the possibility of offering guidance and ordination to those who were judged to be unworthy by reason of gender or gender preference became a reality. Going full circle. Once seeking some one to guide me through those troubled and troubling waters, now I know the way to encourage others.

This morning I participated as fully as I could considering the language barrier. It was amazing to be gazing on a replica of the San Damiano Cross. The legend of Saint Francis hinges on this cross. It is said that the Christ on this cross spoke to Francis asking him to "rebuild the church."

For myself, I wonder at the meaning of this request. Have we who call ourselves Christians, so badly misinterpreted the teachings of Jesus that he is asking us to REBUILD?

What exactly am I, are we, being asked to do and be. This is a question that I often ask myself. Because I relive the fervor of my life as a monk, doesn't mean that I had it right or wrong, however, I am wondering if this time I am being asked to do it over to come to a different conclusion?

Is this my call to make a difference? I think that every one of us is expected to strive to make a difference. Some of us have the call to help one or two and some are called to bring hope to many.

Hope is so important. To know that there is something more.

It would be awesome if we made a difference ........together.

Have any ideas?

Pastor Carol

Assisi, Italy - May 14, 2017

Basilica of St. Francis of Assisi

Today's lessons were about the joy of flexibility. We abandoned our schedule twice to participate in local events that had been unknown to us. The English Mass at the Basilica of Saint Francis was changed from 11:00 to 9:00 a.m. Which conflicted with the lecture schedule. Some of the Catholics in the group wrestled with their choice. Each followed their heart.

As much as I wanted to experience Mass in the Basilica I didn't want to miss the lecture.

The second adaptation was the afternoon schedule. Pat learned that there was a procession planned to move relics from Saint Clare Basilica to the New Church. It was a rare opportunity for us to join in. It was at 5:00 pm. Of course, this is Italy, so it started around 5:30. There was music and singing. I enjoyed the young nun with her guitar who led the singing through the streets of Assisi. Someone was her moving music stand walking alongside her. She was wired with a microphone that blared through portable speakers attached to long pole that was carried much further back in the procession so that more folks could join in the singing.

Our Pilgrim group stood along the processional route as the hundreds of clergy and religious processes by. After the Bishop passed by carrying the relics we followed the townspeople to their final destination at New Church.

When the festivities concluded, I doubled back to the Basilica to spend some quiet time in the chapel where the original San Damiano Cross hangs. The life story of Saint Francis hangs on this crucifix.

Saint Francis had a vision of the Christ figure speaking to him from the cross. Francis was told to "rebuild the church". At first Frances took this directive literally by rebuilding an old church badly needing repairs. Later, as Francis grew in his spiritual awareness, he began to stand as a presence for change in the institution of the church.

Today was full of sensory delights. I pondered what is my call "to build the church?" What does that mean for modern day Pilgrims like you and me? Is there a church to rebuild, or is it time to create another way? Is it about finding the commonality that draws groups together rather than focusing on our differences. Is it about the people embracing new ways of being, deeper ways of being in relationship with the Holy? Is it about rethinking very fundamental concepts, such as: where is heaven? So much inside of me shifted when I realized that heaven isn't far away up there somewhere. When I began to understand that Heaven is right here, I realized a new appreciation for Earth, her sacredness and my responsibility to defend and protect her.

What about you? What are you called to? Or what call are you running away from?

I have learned that every challenge is an invitation to a new adventure.

Come on. Live it up. Take a risk. You only have this moment. Right now.

Pastor Carol