singers going where scholars fear to tread

29 october 24

 

Thursday last week was the day that I felt like I finally got to work and offered something instead of being totally on the receiving end. I really have only had two events where I was to present. The first was at the Blavatnik School of Government where Aaron teaches. It’s a school of public policy, very new by any standard, founded only in 2010 from huge donation from a business magnate named Len Blavatnik. After all the grand ornate old buildings of medieval Oxford with their gargoyles and facades, winding staircases and grand halls and portraits adorning the corridors, it was a bit of a shock to be in a simple handsome modern building for a change, with lots of light and clean lines. Aaron had put the word out for an 8:30 AM gathering over a semi-catered breakfast, insisting to me that people who sign up for such things usually show up––and they did. I think we were about 30 people. And what an interesting crowd, all very young (by my standards) except for one other woman faculty member, and from all over the world: two from Ukraine, Colombia, Egypt, Saudi Arabia, at least three from the States, Austria, Singapore… that’s all I can remember right off the bat. And, of course, bright as can be.

 

The topic was “What governments can learn from monasteries.” Aaron was very careful to frame the topic so as not to be bringing religion into it per se, but more along the lines of monastic governance. I of course front-loaded and over-prepared (if there really is such a thing), boning up on the Rule of Benedict and its history. I offered them a handout that I have used with the monks with three sets of monastic values: one list from the oblates of St John’s in Collegeville which, as far as I know, is anonymous, one from Abbot Jeremy Driscoll, and my own. But I, of course, never got to any of that.

 

The first step of our time together was for them to introduce themselves. Perhaps it was because the first one or two did, but to my surprise each one of them not only said where they were from, they also said what their spiritual tradition was. I started out by telling them that I have done many interfaith encounters, and I never ask that question of anyone, and how struck I was by that. The main theme of my offering was to focus on servant leadership, not only my whole spiel on paedagogos (from Clement of Alexandria’s writings on Christian leadership: the leader ought to be like “the slave that the parents hire to train the children”) but also after the example of Jesus, imagining for a moment, along with some prominent scholars, that Jesus was actually setting himself as a leader in Israel––and this is how we’re going to do it: the greatest among you will be the one who serves. I talked about “culture” and how my favorite images that Jesus uses for the reign of God, salt, seed, yeast, are all things that act by disappearing, and also that act from the inside out. And I also added how changing the culture of a place or an institution is like changing the oil in a car––while you’re driving. But it’s ultimately more effective and enduring change, as the pope is trying to do at the Vatican, doing away with the culture of careerism, instilling a culture of synodality. But we as individuals have to be willing to “die” in the process for the sake of the greater good.

 

Aaron gave them plenty of time to offer comments and questions. I didn’t feel obliged to offer an answer or a solution to every issue raised, but I tried to respond. They were so engaged and so engaging! I can still see their bright eyes and attentive faces. Of course we had touched a little on contemplative practice, so Aaron wisely suggested that we could either take the last three questions or we could spend some time in silent meditation, which we did (the latter). The discussions I had with the folks afterward were very moving, and I left feeling a little more hope than I usually feel in this day and age, choosing to believe that these young people were here because they really thought they could effect change in the world in the best way possible.

 

That same day at lunchtime we were back at Pembroke College for the third time. Rev Andrew Teal, who had been our host at evensong and high table on Monday, runs an interfaith discussion group each Thursday. This particular one was led by a Scottish professor who is a member of the Church of Latter Day Saints (who we usually refer to as Mormons). These are three things I might not have ever put together: Scotland, Latter Day Saints, and Oxford. He was very erudite and entertaining. There were also several other LDS members in attendance as well, mostly Americans as it turns out, and they too were very vocal about their faith after the professor ended his talk and opened the floor for discussion. There were two moments that were a little awkward. One was a question from a retired professor who asked about doing comparative readings of the Book of Mormon against other copies of the ancient text as would be done in biblical research for instance. I’m not sure if she knew what she was asking, since there are no other copies of the gold plates that Joseph Smith is said to have found. The other was a question asked by me. I didn’t mean to be provocative, but the other LDS members there were saying that the Book of Mormon corroborates everything in the Bible. (One person asked why the Bible had to be corroborated.) I asked what the difference was between LDS’ christology and that of mainstream Protestantism or Catholicism. We didn’t get to that much, partially since we were running out of time, though Rev Teal did jump in and insist that LDS are very trinitarian. I only have faint memories of what I was told by my few Mormon friends, but I think actually it diverges quite a bit. I would have liked for that to have been said. But I did tell the good professor afterward that my experience with Mormons has been that they are some of finest people I have known, and two of the best recording engineers oddly enough, Mike at Orangewood in Mesa and Chris at Pine Forest.

 

Friday was the main event, my musical performance at Somerville Interfaith Chapel. But before that we were met for lunch at Somerville by a stellar young man named Lucas Tse, from Hong Kong. In the world of random connections this one was really extraordinary. Amil, who was staying at Aaron’s with me, had a friend here who he had studied with in Chicago and who is now a research fellow at All Souls, a very prestigious seven-year commitment on their part. (Our friend the wunderkind Fitz had been as well.) On top of that, while he was studying in California in 2013, Lucas and a friend of his had taken a pilgrimage down the coast and happened upon New Camaldoli Hermitage. A monk found them wandering around the cloister, engaged them in conversation, invited them in to lunch and then showed them his cell that had a batik of Jesus in lotus position from India hanging on his wall, named Cyprian, who turned out to be the head monk. And when Lucas saw the poster for the concert, he wrote to Aaron asking if he could meet with said monk, neither he nor Aaron knowing the Amil connection. He is one of those people who asks all the right questions and really listens to the answers, and obviously also spoke very eloquently about anything he is asked as well. My favorite part of our discussion was about the Tao te Ching and Taoism in particular. I have a little slip of paper (Matt Fisher will love this) that I have been carrying around in my wallet of three phrases\definitions that I got from David Hinton’s mind-blowing book Awakened Cosmos.

 

            wu=non-being as a generative void from which this ever-changing realm of being perpetually arises

tao=way, the generative ontological process through which all beings arise and pass away as non-being burgeons forth into the great transformation of being

 

            tzu-jan=self-ablaze, the mechanism by which being burgeons forth out of non-being.

 

I have tried to speak to a few people about these concepts, only to be met with blank stares. Not so with Lucas. Of course, Mandarin is his native tongue, and he is a philosopher. (Amil too, by the way, had at one time been working on his own translation of Tao te Ching, himself half Chinese.) We had an amazing conversation. Like with Fitz, it’s consoling to get an affirmation that one is thinking along the right lines. What I see in this (and this will be a bit of a leap, but not that big of one if you have read Rediscovering the Divine) is the three Persons of the Trinity, the mountain underneath the island.

 

We had heard from people all week long how they were sorry but they were not coming to the concert that evening. One guy actually stopped in at the chapel while we were setting up to say, “Just wanted to say hi, but I’m not coming.” It was nice of them to say so, and obviously Aaron had gotten the word out. But my expectations were very low: I was expecting nobody but Aaron, Amil, Lucas (who said he could come for the first part) and Arziah, the head of the chapel. In the end we had about 30 people, so that was a big win. I would have been happy with five and would have done pretty much the same thing. As it was, it was a great evening. I played and sang very well, I could feel myself playing the room (both the space and the attendees) quite well, and it all felt very conversational. They also sang along quite well. I did “The Drink Sent Down” (Kabir Helminski’s version of the Turkish Sufi illahi, for instance, and asked the crowd to sing alhamdullilah as a dhkr underneath the entire song as an ostinato. It was the best “performance” of that song ever. As I wrote in my Facebook post, only at a place like Oxford might you be singing a Sufi dhkr in Arabic along Islamic scholars, a Sanskrit mantra with Hindus in attendance, and a song from the Tao te Ching with two people in the audience that know the book in Mandarin. “Minstrels going where scholars fear to tread.”

 

Again, the conversations afterward were very touching. Somerville, besides being the alma mater of Margaret Thatcher, has been an interfaith college from the start, and so it was a perfect setting. One gentleman who identified as a Sikh told me that it was more like a kirtan sing at the gurdwara than a concert, and I can’t think of a better compliment. I am so adverse to what William Harmless (God bless his memory) called “cherry picking,” and saying “See, it’s all the same.” And there is that risk that someone, especially in a place like Oxford where people really know what they’re talking about, could find a hole in my cloth and tear it from top to bottom. To be appreciated by a crowd like that was very satisfying and energizing. I told Aaron later that music has to stay a part of this next phase in my life and ministry. Somehow or other. “Telling stories and singing songs.” I think by this time I do see myself fitting easily into the folk\minstrel tradition.

 

I have only one more official appointment, a rather formal dinner tonight with some folks I have met along the way with the president of Somerville College at her home. Tomorrow I am going down to London to visit with an old acquaintance, then one more informal meal with some friends of Aaron’s and then to Rome. I’ll catch up with the rest later.

A common word

 25 October 24, Oxford

 

It has been a great week here in Oxford. I can barely remember all the encounters I have had along the way.

 

After my pratfall but otherwise good evening at Trinity College preaching and singing Sunday, our first encounter Monday was at Regents Hall. The “halls” as opposed to the “colleges,” if I understand correctly, are the colleges that were founded by specifici religious institutions. This particular one has assumed the now defunct Capuchin house and Benet Hall, the Benedictine one, so their alumnae can now still have a home here at Oxford. A very nice gesture from a Baptist Hall! We met with the very affable and seemingly brilliant theologian Prof Paul Fiddes, himself once president of this hall. (We ate lunch beneath his portrait.) Now retired, he is “simply” a research fellow. He has also been deeply involved, hence Aaron’s wanting me to meet him, in a joint Christian-Muslim initiative, called “Love and Religion.”

 

This is a project being run in collaboration with the Royal Aal Al-Bayt Institute for Islamic Thought in Amman, Jordan. Its founder is Prince Ghazi bin Muhammad of Jordan, who was the author of the world-renowned A Common Word. And that was my shock for the day… Had you ever heard of “A Common Word”? I, who have been involved in interreligious dialogue, including all my activities with the Tent of Abraham, working with Muslims, had not ever, so just imagine how few other Christians have?! Here’s the story…

 

Pope Benedict XVI gave a lecture at the University of Regensburg on September 12, 2006, on the subject of faith and reason. It focused mainly on Christianity and what Pope Benedict called the tendency in the modern world to “exclude the question of God” from reason. Islam also features in a part of the lecture. For some reason, the pope quoted a Byzantine Emperor’s strong criticism of Muhammad’s teachings. Pope Benedict clarified that this was not his own personal opinion and described the quotation as being of a “startling brusqueness … which leaves us astounded.” But that caveat did not help. Throughout the world a lot of people thought it was very insensitive of him to use the quote at all. And of course, many Muslims were very offended.

 

But what came out of it was amazing. First of all, one month later (October 13) 38 Islamic scholars, representing all branches of Islam, replied to the pope in “An Open Letter to the Pope.” And then a year later, 138 Islamic personalities co-signed another open letter entitled “A Common Word between Us and You” aimed at promoting interfaith dialogue. This is from the summary and abridgement.

 

“In the Name of God, the Compassionate, the Merciful

 

Muslims and Christians together make up well over half of the world’s population. Without peace and justice between these two religious communities, there can be no meaningful peace in the world. The future of the world depends on peace between Muslims and Christians.

 

The basis for this peace and understanding already exists. It is part of the very foundational principles of both faiths: love of the One God, and love of the neighbour. These principles are found over and over again in the sacred texts of Islam and Christianity. The Unity of God, the necessity of love for Him, and the necessity of love of the neighbour is thus the common ground between Islam and Christianity. The following are only a few examples:

 

Of God’s Unity, God says in the Holy Qur’an: Say: He is God, the One! / God, the Self- Sufficient Besought of all! (Al-Ikhlas, 112:1-2). Of the necessity of love for God, God says in the Holy Qur’an: So invoke the Name of thy Lord and devote thyself to Him with a complete devotion (Al-Muzzammil, 73:8). Of the necessity of love for the neighbour, the Prophet Muhammad said: “None of you has faith until you love for your neighbour what you love for yourself.”

 

In the New Testament, Jesus Christ said: ‘Hear, O Israel, the Lord our God, the Lord is One. / And you shall love the Lord your God with all your heart, with all your soul, with all your mind, and with all your strength.’ This is the first commandment. / And the second, like it, is this: ‘You shall love your neighbour as yourself.’ There is no other commandment greater than these.” (Mark 12:29-31)”

 

It then mentions this well-known Arabic phrase from Surah 3:64 of the Qur’an that refers to the 'ahl alkitab––“the people of the Book” (sometimes translated “People of the Scripture”). And by the way, this in and of itself is part of the common ground that we share with Muslims and Jews: we are the prophetic traditions, based on a revealed Word. And so the document goes on…

 

“In the Holy Qur’an, God Most High enjoins Muslims to issue the following call to Christians (and Jews—the People of the Scripture):

 

Say: O People of the Scripture! Come to a common word between us and you: that we shall worship none but God, and that we shall ascribe no partner unto Him, and that none of us shall take others for lords beside God. And if they turn away, then say: Bear witness that we are they who have surrendered (unto Him). (Aal ‘Imran 3:64)

 

The words: we shall ascribe no partner unto Him relate to the Unity of God, and the words: worship none but God, relate to being totally devoted to God. Hence they all relate to the First and Greatest Commandment. According to one of the oldest and most authoritative commentaries on the Holy Qur’an the words: that none of us shall take others for lords beside God, mean ‘that none of us should obey the other in disobedience to what God has commanded’. This relates to the Second Commandment because justice and freedom of religion are a crucial part of love of the neighbour.

 

Thus in obedience to the Holy Qur’an, we as Muslims invite Christians to come together with us on the basis of what is common to us, which is also what is most essential to our faith and practice: the Two Commandments of love.”

 

What’s interesting to note is that it quotes Jesus, though it doesn’t mention that Jesus is quoting Hebrew Scriptures. I’m kind of sad about that but if I ever use it, I will highlight that fact and so see all three Abrahamic traditions together in this. Obviously, that wasn’t the point of this particular issue, but still, Jews are a part of the “people of the Book”––'ahl alkitab, mentioned here. Also interesting to note that it does not insist on the second part of the shahaddah, “and Mohammed is his prophet,” only to acknowledge that there is only one God, assuming that it is the same God that Jews and Christians worship.

 

I was just astounded that I had never heard of this document, and I have spent a lot of time with it this week. To the point of trying to learn the Arabic phrase from Surah 3 verse 64 of the Qur’an on which it is based: 

 

يَـٰٓأَهۡلَ ٱلۡكِتَٰبِ تَعَالَوۡاْ إِلَىٰ كَلِمَةٖ سَوَآءِۭ بَيۡنَنَا وَبَيۡنَكُمۡ أَلَّا نَعۡبُدَ إِلَّا ٱللَّهَ 

Say, ‘O people of the Book, let us come to a common word between us and you.’

 

* * *

 

Tuesday, I took a train ride down to Winchester to meet Paul Inwood and Catherine Christmas, (Mr. And Mrs.). You may know that Paul is the very well-respected composer, and he and Catherine were two of the five (later six) members of the Collegeville Composers Group with whom I worked for ten years not he Psallitè project for Liturgical Press. We met I forget how many times mostly in California and England, and a few times in Minnesota to work together, usually for a week at a time composing three pieces of “essentially vocal” music for every Sunday and feast of the liturgical year (see the earlier blog about that) plus a whole set of Mass and ritual settings and a collection of bi-lingual music for funeral and weddings, with the addition of Anna Betancourt. I stayed with them by myself to work at least once and then Carol Browning and I came over several times, usually to Havant, in the Deep South where they live but one glorious week with Sisters of Pity near Windsor where, I like to say, they “spoiled the stuffing out of us” while we composed. (That is also, by the way, where I wrote “The Ground We Share,” having just come from my encounter with Imam Navid Baig and his Sufi group in Denmark.) Paul has had very severe health problems related to his kidneys, just got out from a five week stay in the hospital, is on dialysis, and quite frail, so I was honored that they made the effort to drive up and meet me and of course deeply consoled to spend time with the both of them. We had a fabulous meal at a brand-new Lebanese restaurant (only been open five weeks) served by a waitress-hostess from Slovakia, who kept calling us “my darlings” and “lovelies” and a waiter from Nepal who told us that the only Lebanese person there is the chef.

 

That evening I had an entrée into the full depth of old-world Oxford culture, at Pembroke College, one of the oldest and most prestigious. We were the guests of chaplain, the Rev Andrew Teal, a long time Oxford fixture who knows everybody (including the storied NT Wright!). We first attended Compline, very much like our experience at Trinity except that the choir was even more refined and sang more of the music themselves. Afterward adjoined to his warm over-crowded office––his “rooms,” I suppose you might say, where he also does his tutorials, over-flowing with books and all various sorts of things. He was dressed in his black robe and old-fashioned cleric collar that drops down in front like a sort of forked bib (like the French Christian brothers wear). At that point he got each of us an academic robe to wear because we were going for a formal dinner at the high table, higher than Trinity’s. Mine was awkward to keep on (over my standard beige jippa). It was a loud evening, with many students attending, and yes, it looked even more like Hogwarts, and a delicious meal. Then we adjourned to another large room for Second Dessert. There were two long tables fully set with only fully lit candelabras for light. We were all instructed (at this point it was just faculty and invited guests from the high table) to sit with someone new. I sat next to a woman who introduced herself as an “American historian,” not that she’s from America, mind you, but she teaches American history. There were plates of fruit and candied ginger set around and four after dinner wines (every place had four different glasses as well) that were passed around three times. And… a tin of snuff. It was my first encounter with snuff. I did not imbibe. My interlocutor seemed to seemed to have an ironic if not negative view of all the whole affair. She was from another college and rarely if ever attends the formal dinner. She said to me, with her head turned so no one could hear her, “It’s all very performative, isn’t it?” It was the tin of snuff that put the whole scene over the top for me. And of course, the immersion in a culture so very much unlike anything that is a part of my life.

 

Wednesday so far was the highlight. We were back at Pembroke, this time for a meeting with someone I referred to as the wunderkind, Fitzroy Morrissey, who at 33 years old is a historian of the Islamic world and a fellow at All Souls College. He has a DPhil in Oriental Studies, speaks Arabic and Persian, and teaches Islamic Studies, Middle Eastern Studies and Theology. He has two books to his credit already, one on Sufi saints, which was how Aaron got involved with him, and another popular book called A Short History of Islamic Thought, which I subsequently bought and am enjoying thoroughly. My conversation with him was like sitting in on a Masters seminar and he very generously let me pick his brain about several things. He did assure me that I was on the right track in my thinking about several things, but also pointed out areas where I can deepen my understanding and how to do that. Among other things he recommended an obscure book that compares Sufi mysticism with Taoism via Chung Tzu and Ibn al’Arabi, which Aaron consequently found on PDF. We had him record that line from the “common word” from the Qur’an on Aaron’s phone so we could get the best pronunciation. (Aaron prays in Arabic but doesn’t always trust his knowledge, which is the sign of a good and humble scholar.) He then treated us to lunch in the Senior Common Room, a lot less formal than the high table, and no robes and no snuff. There he asked me about my own work and listened very attentively. Along the way, even as Aaron and I were planning this trip, the idea congealed that this could serve the purpose of networking with some good folks to my work with DIMMID, especially around dialogue with Islam, and that is indeed what it is turning out to be, and I am thrilled by it. We are discussing along the way areas of possible collaboration. It seems like a hop, skip and a jump from Rome to here by comparison.

This is getting very long-winded! I’ll leave it there for now and update at some point. 

From Rome to Oxford

 20 October 2024, Oxford, England

 

I have finished up my first official stay in Rome now and I’m on to the next and last phase of this sabbatical year, though obviously it has turned out to be quite different from what I had originally planned.

 

As I mentioned before, the retreat I was supposed to do at Poppi got canceled and so I headed straight back to Rome for two reasons. One, to help my brothers provide music for morning prayer at the Synod, and two, to take possession of my room at San Gregorio.

 

Being at the Synod again was like old hat and I fell right in step with what was going on, pretty much the same music as last year, our psalms in English and Italian. Since I was there, they wanted to exploit the guitar a little more, so I lugged the guitar over every day this time. The very first day I was there they happened to be highlighting Asia, so I was asked to do one of the Indian pieces as a meditation, which I just happened to be ready for anyway. (“He Prabhu.”) There was also a young sister from the Pie Discepoli who was an excellent violinist. Last year the sisters did the music for Mass each morning and we helped them, and Sr. Miriam played the cetra often, both to accompany the psalms and for some of the musical meditations that we did after the reading of the Gospel each day. This year, the sisters sang the psalms with us, which was nice, to have women’s voices leading instead of all men. So we were able to have some very nice combinations of organ, guitar, violin, and cetra which the folks seemed to really appreciate.

 

It seemed as if the Holy Father was there more often this time and like last year he was very generous with his time. One of the participants told me that he often came early, and there was always a line of people waiting to talk with him, take their picture with him, at one point he even signed an excuse for one of the young participants to get out of class. A real pastor.

 

I understood something about this synod more clearly than I did last year. This synod is an extraordinary one, to discuss and try to implement synodality itself across the Church. And this is the last time it will meet for this purpose. (I was worried that I would have to say no to coming next year because I am already booked for other work.) I suppose from here on out they will go back to having simply the Synod of Bishops. But, as the same participant told me, Pope Francis is preparing them to be missionaries of synodality, to bring this spirit of open conversation out to the rest of the Church, even to demand it of the pastors and bishops. We shall see. I don’t know how the bishop and cardinal participants feel about it all, but I know that the lay people are really charged up. Interesting enough, I had a conversation with the young Anglican chaplain at Trinity College last night. They of course have the synodality process with three different houses, like Parliament––the bishops, the clergy, and the laity. According to him, it is the laity who are often the most conservative and resistant to change. I wonder if that is the case with Catholicism.

 

It was a pleasant experience setting up my room at San Gregorio. Not much to it of course, but I did invest in a water boiler so I can make my morning tea without risking setting off the alarm in the kitchen, which in any case is about a half mile walk! I don’t want to set up a bachelor pad in my cell, but I did get myself a nice tea strainer-cup, honey, tea, and biscotti (integrale, whole grain, of course, ricco di fibra–“rich in fiber!”) to keep me entertained in the wee hours of the morning. I am in search of a nice little rotary fan. Even this time of year the room gets pretty stuffy and warm already in the morning. It’s going to be a challenge in the late summer if this year was any indication.

 

There are now four students there from Camaldoli and Shantivanam, plus the four regular monks, plus four (or so?) long-term boarders. Plus me. Matteo has been there all month because of the Synod but he also has been coming with some regularity. It seems that he wants to be more hands-on as official prior of the place, more than past priors general. He holds house meetings and is not afraid to scold the brothers for some lack of decorum. And as might be expected, there is a constant stream of visitors, folks dropping in for lunch, monks passing through from our other houses. And every now and then a dignitary of sorts, especially now since Matteo is so well-known in Rome. Most days we are about 10 in choir and the singing is really robust. I am still trying to figure out the culture of the place, fit in and maybe contribute something positive as well. There were moments when I felt like I was back in high school, having just moved to a new town, not understanding the jokes, not knowing where the bathrooms were.

 

I’ve decided for the most part not to take the evening meal with the brothers, for several reasons, mainly because I am so used to having nothing to do but go to my cell after evening prayers. And evening prayers (with Mass most days) doesn’t end until nearly 8 o’clock. Basta! Besides that, as hard as it is to hear in the refectory anyway, by that time of day I am usually tired of struggling with Italian. The other reason is that I really want to watch my intake of food. The cheeses and pastas are all too tempting. I am impressed that several of the young guys are very careful with their diets, often skipping the pasta dish at pranzo, filling up on salad and leaning toward the veggies. As a matter of fact, at least one other monk in the house is a pescatarian.

 

So I think I have a sense of what my days will be like. This new job is going to require of me a lot of travel and also a lot of time on the computer between writing conferences and answering emails. And my room so far has been a fine place to work, and then break in the late afternoon to practice the guitar. (No one has complained about the noise yet…)

 

I had one big day of meetings up at Sant’Anselmo, the Benedictine University where my “boss,” the Abbot Primate, lives. Another place that has its own culture, an even older and denser one than San Gregorio, with well over 100 monks living there and a very strict schedule and hierarchy, much more formal than anything I have ever lived in. They were all very gracious. I first met with Fr. Geraldo, the Brazilian who is the economo for the Confederation and also holds a number of other posts. Besides discussing my DIMMID budget, he was very helpful in helping me understand out the protocols of Sant’Anselmo. I had a quick meeting with my old friend Paolo Trianni, who teaches there and at the Gregorianum in the area of interreligious dialogue. We had first met at Shantivanam in 2009 at the Abhishiktananda centenary. I had midday prayer in choir with the monks and then lunch with them as well. After lunch Gerardo introduced me to a monk from America named Eusebius, ostensibly to have Eusebius explain to me the process for getting an extended visa to stay in Italy. (The process has changed, and no one told me!) In the course of meeting each other I find out that Eusebius is from Marion Abbey, right down the road from where I grew up in Illinois, and was actually a priest of my diocese, Joliet, before becoming a monk. We knew so many people in common, including two of his cousins who were my classmates in high school. That led to him inviting me to teach for one week at Sant’Anselmo’s summer institute, five days for five hours day, which I’m pretty excited about. We talked for an hour non-stop and then it was time for my meeting with the rector, Austrian Fr. Bernhard. Actually, the rettore magnifico, as he is known there officially, to be exact.

 

Bernhard came well-recommended by our young monks, and I found him very affable and engaging. He also knows Br. David Steindl-Rast well and has spent time on the Big Sur coast. He is very keen on getting dialogue back in circulation there at Sant’Anselmo, and we were exploring different ways we could collaborate. For one thing he wants me just to be present there a few days a week, for liturgies and meals, which I think is a great idea. My thought was to come up a few days a week, work in the library and stay for midday prayer and lunch. That will also depend on the new prior who starts his mandate in January.

 

And then the big meeting (Thanks be to God these were all in English!) with Abbot Primate Jeremias. I thought that he was going to have a full agenda for me, and I was prepared with a long list of items to discuss with him, eleven to be exact. Well, he didn’t really have an agenda at all, so I carried the meeting. And we got on just fine. To both him and Bernhard I kept apologizing for talking too much, I got so excited telling them about all my ideas. They did not seem to need the apology. About Jeremias took lots of notes as I went along (“Wait, what was your eighth point?!”) and then at the end mentioned a few ideas that he had, asked a few questions, and gave me a few ideas of where he’d like me to focus––the relationship with the Vatican Dicastery, the dialogue with Islam, and also a conference that he would like me to attend in India in February. One of our items, at least in my mind, was to discuss the length of the term which had never been set. He seemed not too concerned about it at all and said that, like with his personal secretary (another American, from Clear Creek, OK), he would prefer it to be simply ad nutum, which means sort of like “at will.” That shifted something in me: open-ended. Okay. Let’s get to work.

 

So, now I am in England, at Oxford with our old friend Aaron Maniam from Singapore. He now teaches in the school of government here and has a cozy two-bedroom apartment in the heart of things. Another friend of his is here too, Amil, a very bright young man who works for a consulting firm in Singapore with branches here in the UK. The three of us have already had some amazing conversations, and it’s an entertaining experience for the three of us to share this little space like post-grads, propping our computers on our laps, negotiating bathroom times and figuring out how to share meals. We’ve also started meditating together, which is especially nice. Amil has also been involved in dialogue work, his own background, not atypical for Singapore, being a mixture of Islam and Christianity, though he identifies much more with his Vipassana practice now.

 

I did my first event last evening at evensong at Trinity College, followed by high supper at the head table. Talk about walking into a different culture! The language of the Anglican liturgy, the formality of evensong, the way of dressing. I had a ten-minute sermon ready on love ready to go, and then was to sing a song—“Compassionate and Wise.” I exited my doored choir stall to go the front where there was an altar rial and two steps, my guitar tucked around the corner. I turned around to go the podium and immediately tripped on one of the stairs in front of the pulpit, knocking my guitar against the marble step, making quite a clamor. Nothing like a pratfall to break the ice! I made a light-hearted comment about almost losing me and my guitar. (No response.) I recovered quickly and launched in. It was hard to read my “audience” and of course I walked in with little idea about who would be there. They were young, not all Christians, not what I was expecting. But it went very well, I think, and the contrast between their four-part organ and choir anthems and my little guitar and voice at the end worked pretty well. I had several lovely conversations with students afterward, as well as a lively conversation with Rev. Josh and two other faculty members at the high table during the very noisy but delicious formal dinner.

 

From here, lots of little engagements this week, and I shall give you a full report. For now, from a lovely café called Vaults and Gardens under a large Victorian edifice, I send you warmest regards from Oxford.