“We do not know the past in chronological sequence. It may be convenient to lay it out, anesthetized on the table, with dates pasted on here and there, but what we know, we know by the ripples and spirals eddying out from us and from our own time”.
Ezra Pound.
I don’t know specifics; I don’t know the date a group first went there or how it was chosen from among the myriad of options being considered.
This week, as I was gathering pictures and my thoughts about our experiences with Don and his family (written about here and here)
Using a child's size tipi, which Maggie painted for their daughter Jemma, Don and Maggie demonstrated how to assemble it, then deconstructed it and had Glen and Andy set it back up.
We had initially declined their generous invitation because, on the night in question, we had already made plans to eat with other groups staying on the campus at Bishop Hare. Groups which included members of a Baptist congregation from TX (doing vacation Bible school in a nearby community), a Catholic woman (a former nun from Ohio), an Episcopal priest (covering congregations for the local clergy couple so they could attend General Convocation) and a few “Care-a-vanners” (originally from AZ, now going cross country, working at different Habitat sites).
When told of the conflict, Don and Maggie, with no hesitation, said to bring them along.
Two nights later, on a glorious summer evening, a group of 25 unrelated people feasted on our combined offerings of fried chicken, pot roast, Caesar salad, fruit salad, baked beans, watermelon and homemade chocolate chip cookies.
We shared stories about our lives, our traditions and our faith.
We heard about a way of life and the struggles of a people while we reflected on the consequences of fearing differences rather than celebrating them.
We gave Thanks to our Creator for bringing us together in this specific time and place and we watched a sunset paint the landscape with more colors than Crayola makes in their big box!
I remember thinking at the time that we had been allowed a glimpse of heaven; that this was the way God had intended our lives to be and, in my heart, I heard the words of Eucharistic Hymn 304:
As Christ breaks bread and bids us share
each proud division ends
that Love that made us
makes us one and strangers
now are friends.
We’re going back this weekend to be with friends as we celebrate and offer thanks for the life of someone who touched and enriched our lives in countless ways.
Ezra Pound.
I don’t know specifics; I don’t know the date a group first went there or how it was chosen from among the myriad of options being considered.
What I do know is that Emmanuel has a long history with the Bishop Hare Center on Rosebud Reservation.
We’ve had groups of Senior High students and ‘Adult Mission trippers’ make the 16 hr drive to a place that, in many ways, remains as mysterious as it is starkly beautiful.
We’ve hammered, sanded, 'mudded', painted, mowed, built ball fields and ceremonial arbors; cleaned, sawed, hauled, schlepped and provided assistance with roofs, stoves, gasoline, clothing, toiletries and with prayer and presence.
We’ve worked with grass roots indigenous groups, Diocesan Jubilee organizers and Habitat for Humanity.
In an age known for impermanence and quick fixes, Emmanuel has been referred to, by people on the reservation, as ‘the church that comes back’.
While not minimizing the very real need for social justice and hard labor that exist throughout this country as well as abroad, a core group of Adults made an intentional, almost Benedictine, commitment to people and place and, it feels wonderful to realize how deep those first tentative ‘ripples’ have become.
This weekend, three members of the Steering Committee (Andy, Glen and I) are making a ‘quick’ return trip to the reservation, although that's a contradiction in terms if I ever heard one!.
We’re going out to represent our group at the Memorial Service and ‘give-away’ celebration for Don Moccasin, a Lakota elder.
We’ve had groups of Senior High students and ‘Adult Mission trippers’ make the 16 hr drive to a place that, in many ways, remains as mysterious as it is starkly beautiful.
We’ve hammered, sanded, 'mudded', painted, mowed, built ball fields and ceremonial arbors; cleaned, sawed, hauled, schlepped and provided assistance with roofs, stoves, gasoline, clothing, toiletries and with prayer and presence.
We’ve worked with grass roots indigenous groups, Diocesan Jubilee organizers and Habitat for Humanity.
In an age known for impermanence and quick fixes, Emmanuel has been referred to, by people on the reservation, as ‘the church that comes back’.
While not minimizing the very real need for social justice and hard labor that exist throughout this country as well as abroad, a core group of Adults made an intentional, almost Benedictine, commitment to people and place and, it feels wonderful to realize how deep those first tentative ‘ripples’ have become.
This weekend, three members of the Steering Committee (Andy, Glen and I) are making a ‘quick’ return trip to the reservation, although that's a contradiction in terms if I ever heard one!.
We’re going out to represent our group at the Memorial Service and ‘give-away’ celebration for Don Moccasin, a Lakota elder.
This week, as I was gathering pictures and my thoughts about our experiences with Don and his family (written about here and here)
Using a child's size tipi, which Maggie painted for their daughter Jemma, Don and Maggie demonstrated how to assemble it, then deconstructed it and had Glen and Andy set it back up.
We had initially declined their generous invitation because, on the night in question, we had already made plans to eat with other groups staying on the campus at Bishop Hare. Groups which included members of a Baptist congregation from TX (doing vacation Bible school in a nearby community), a Catholic woman (a former nun from Ohio), an Episcopal priest (covering congregations for the local clergy couple so they could attend General Convocation) and a few “Care-a-vanners” (originally from AZ, now going cross country, working at different Habitat sites).
When told of the conflict, Don and Maggie, with no hesitation, said to bring them along.
Two nights later, on a glorious summer evening, a group of 25 unrelated people feasted on our combined offerings of fried chicken, pot roast, Caesar salad, fruit salad, baked beans, watermelon and homemade chocolate chip cookies.
We shared stories about our lives, our traditions and our faith.
We heard about a way of life and the struggles of a people while we reflected on the consequences of fearing differences rather than celebrating them.
We gave Thanks to our Creator for bringing us together in this specific time and place and we watched a sunset paint the landscape with more colors than Crayola makes in their big box!
I remember thinking at the time that we had been allowed a glimpse of heaven; that this was the way God had intended our lives to be and, in my heart, I heard the words of Eucharistic Hymn 304:
As Christ breaks bread and bids us share
each proud division ends
that Love that made us
makes us one and strangers
now are friends.
We’re going back this weekend to be with friends as we celebrate and offer thanks for the life of someone who touched and enriched our lives in countless ways.
We know we take all of you with us in spirit.
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