A blessed week

There is never a shortage of worship experiences here on “Holy Hill” and I try to participate in as many as is possible. This week was an all-time high.

The first service I attended, after finishing my copyediting work for The River Reporter on Tuesday morning, was at the Pacific School of Religion (PSR), a non-denomination Christian seminary. It was put together by Seminarians for Worker Justice and featured a fiery sermon by a Quaker student that demanded that schools at the Graduate Theological Union provide a living wage for their kitchen and maintenance staff. The sermon, which used at its core the biblical story of The Good Samaritan, challenged the school administrators and student bodies to take on the mantle of religious leadership and work to dismantle the system that perpetuates the existence of second-class citizens.

Next up, quite literally with a quick lunch in-between, was a service put on by the Religion and Mental Health students at Starr King, which featured quotes and music that were born out of mental illness. In a prophetic witness at the service’s end, congregational members were asked to stand if they or anyone they love suffers from mental illness. No one was left sitting. The service illuminated the fragile nature of human existence and the imperative need for community and compassion.

A small women’s spiritually circle, facilitated by a young Catholic theologian on Wednesday evening, offered the opportunity to reflect on our individual uniqueness and to create a Mandela exploring a physical representation of the past, present, our growing edges and the potential of the future. I wondered if our experiences would be more affirming if we examined life’s details as colors rather than specifics.

Worship with the Franciscans on Thursday morning is a weekly opportunity to sing praises to the divine spirit in a variety of languages, accompanied by brilliant piano playing and a roomful of devout people intent on communing with the divine. Tai Chi immediately afterwards, graciously given by an Episcopalian seminarian in St. Margaret’s Courtyard, is an opportunity to get in touch with one’s bubbling spring of inspiration and life force.

The experience of the Islamic evening prayers and a dikar circle, the communal recitation of the name of Allah 999 times on Thursday evening always seems to move my spirit to joy. A visit to the masjid on Friday afternoon to pray with a community of Muslims is a reminder that the spirit runs across all races, religions and beliefs. A first-time Sufi dance experience on Friday evening, where circular communal dance movements are blended with repetitive and simple songs or prayers, brought great feelings of connection and body centeredness to the week’s end.

The weather turned chilly this week and when I removed the fan from my second-story window, it fell to the cement courtyard below. As I went downstairs to retrieve it, I questioned why I thought I could press in the tough buttons on each side, lift the heavy floor to ceiling window and make sure that the plastic fan would fall into the room and not out. Sure that it would be shattered, I found it serenely nestled in a round planter, located to the left of my window above.

If the many worship opportunities don’t lead me to feel that our life journeys are blessed, certainly the memory of the fan, unharmed in the geraniums, will.