In the Stillness

I ended up making it to Mount Irenaeus yesterday, although Angela couldn't go herself. However, there were about eight of us who did go, and it was a marvelous experience.

At ten o'clock in the morning, I wandered up to the parking area near the chapel, expecting to find Angela. Instead I found two other girls I know, Alicia and Dromio, who were also heading to Mount Irenaeus. Alicia was driving her own car, and offered to let me sit in the back until Angela arrived. A few minutes later, Josiah (who goes to Mount Irenaeus every week) came down and told us that Angela wasn't going to be able to go, and then Alicia said she'd drive me instead. A few other girls came, and so two of them, Deborah and Kristen, rode with Alicia, Dromio and I. Josiah picked up another student, Gerad, and then we headed off in a two car-caravan to the Mount.

That in itself was a wonderful thing. The two girls (D. and K.) had travelled to London two years ago, and both were homeschooled before coming to Houghton. And when they discovered that I was the girl from Alaska, we had a topic for conversation which basically didn't run out until we arrived at Mount Irenaeus.

The sun was shining brilliantly, and the sky was perfectly clear when we finally got to the Mount. For the first time in several days, we were in temperatures which didn't drive us inside immediately. (A warm up of about -16 C to about 0) So Josiah asked one of the Franciscan brothers if we might feed the birds. As he gave us small handfuls of birdseed, the chickadees came fluttering down and perched on our hands and arms, and for me, my head.

I think this was the first part that really touched me. In order to have the birds land on us, to have them eat from our hands, we had to be still. We had to be silent. And when I was silent and still, I heard the sounds of the birds, and I heard the creek out in the woods. As I thought about how very still one had to be, I suddenly realized that when God tells us to be still and listen to him, that's the sort of stillness, the sort of silence, that he needs. I spoke with God, and He spoke to me, out there on the snowy hillside with the chickadees. Because I was still, and ready to finally listen.

I don't know how long I stood out there, meditating on the lessons that the birds taught me, listening to God and speaking with him, but it can't have been nearly as long as my memory thinks it was. Josiah came and said that it was time to walk up to the chapel for Mass, and I fell in with the rest of the group.

The Holy Peace Chapel is at the top of a hill, and there is no parking lot by it, which makes all who go there take the path from the House of Peace (the sort of welcome centre they had). Along the path, there were different markers, all part of the stations of the Cross. We came up to the chapel and entered, and there were greeted by one of the friars. Josiah told us that it was very relaxed, but I think he underestimated. We took off not only our coats at the door, but our shoes as well. (Which I think surprised a few of the other girls, however, I'm happy at the chance to take my shoes off when I can!) The inside of the Chapel is very simple, and there were low benches with cushions set in a three sided, two row deep, circle about the altar. I ended up on the farther circle, by the window, with two of the girls and Josiah and Gerad. Josiah introduced me to the Father, knowing that I'm a Lutheran who has attended Catholic services before. I initially only asked if I might receive the blessing when it came time for the Eucharist, but the Father told me that so many Lutherans who attend Houghton don't go to the Lutheran churches in the area that he was fine with giving me Communion if I wished it, and he would let me decide when the time came. I was a little surprised, but very happy since I haven't had Communion in months, since I'd not partaken of the Eucharist at the parish church I've gone to for about two months, nor does my Gramma's church have communion often, and I didn't really like the flippancy of the Wesleyan churches I visited.

After a few moments, we all went around and said our names and where we were from, and the friars took the time to greet everyone who was there. The Mass began with a song about how all of nature joins with man in praising God, and how the creation reflects his wonder and his love. The readings of the Scripture were much like those I'm accustomed to in the Lutheran order, and we sang a few more hymns and prayers. Then the Father rose and gave a fifteen minute homily on the Chapter of Love (1 Corinthians 13) and when he was finished, he invited everyone to share whatever God led them to say. Several of the girls from Houghton seemed shocked at the very laid-back method of service, but one of them added in a few thoughts as the different worshippers mentioned other scriptures and thoughts. I didn't say anything, but my mind returned again to the birds and the lessons they'd shown me.

When the homily concluded and the Father had said another prayer, we came to the Eucharist. We sang the responses, and I went forward with Josiah and Gerad for the Communion. I did take it, and received a blessing as well. As I walked back, being the last Communicant, they began singing the last hymn, about how Christ is our Communion and brings all Christians together in Community to worship him in simplicity and truth.

Simplicity. I think that may be one of the things that I loved about Mount Irenaeus. Nothing was rushed. Everything was made beautiful in a reverence they held for things as creations of God. Nothing they did or had at the Mountain was elaborate or ceremonial, which in turn made the simplest greeting or statue or action or cross elaborately and ceremonially simple. Even the cup they used for the Eucharist was a simple blue ceramic cup with practically no adornments, yet it was beautiful in that same simplicity that would have made it plain in mundane settings.

After the Eucharist, the Father said another prayer and we had group prayer as well, and then he gave us the benediction and some people left almost at once. However, the friars had offered lunch to anyone who wished to stay, and by popular consensus, all of us from Houghton stayed. I sat in the window seat a while longer, praying and being still. I felt such peace at the Chapel that I nearly didn't realize that almost everyone had gone. (Well, I may well have missed it completely but Josiah remembered that I was still in there and got me out.)

Walking down the hill, I talked to Dromio, who seemed to have enjoyed her visit. We spoke of God's love, his patience, and how if we are still, he will give us his love, and his peace. So often, we push his love away, and then wonder why we have such little peace. She said that often she felt frustrated with herself when she asked God to forgive her her sins because she saw how often it was the same mistakes. But isn't that the wonder of his love? He doesn't care how many times we've fallen on the same point, he keeps lifting us up and setting us on our feet. He keeps on loving us and forgiving us. We have to learn to let go. When we let go, and ask Him to forgive us, he does. And that's the only way we'll ever learn to how to stop tripping on the same place.

We fed the chickadees again, and once more I found how much the birds know that I have yet to learn. I am still marveling at those birds. Josiah called us in and we ate lunch, which was lovely, and talked for probably over an hour.

At last it was time to go, and I didn't want to leave the Mount. Josiah said he would take me again next week, but even with that reassurance, I did not want to leave the peace I'd found there. But then I realized that God's peace was with me no matter where I was, if only I would receive that peace from him.

I do plan on going to Mount Irenaeus next week. I'm excited. And I've had peace and calm since we left. And I've been revelling in the stillness and the peace which God gave me through the birds and brothers at the Mountain.