Sometimes Our Work is Boring, and Sometimes We Get Tired

There--I said it.  My time in Aschaffenburg has not been spent floating along on cloud nine.  But I'm not complaining.  I chose to be here, and I'm grateful for my time here; it's just impossible to spend 24/7 feeling engaged and energetic, and not even the lovely castle we can see from our flat can change that reality.  Americans have to tendency to romanticize living in Europe, but, truly, castles and picturesque streets don't cook for you, clean for you, or earn you money.  They don't keep you from getting sick or guarantee that you'll get along better with family and friends.

When it comes to the life of my particular community, praying three times a day and hosting nightly prayer services might not seem tiring, but it can be, and so can visiting with lots of people. Working three hours at a soup kitchen might not seem boring, but it can be.  On the other hand....all of this can be really wonderful, too. The fact is, each week has a little bit of everything: boredom, excitement, exhaustion, relaxation--everything.  This is real life, even if certain aspects of our life are not so common.  Though I think we will walk away from these five week with a sense of the unique nature of our experience, what we take away will get woven into the rest of our lives, not pasted in a scrapbook of vacation memories and put on a shelf.

Women's Breakfast
at the refugee home

At home, I love to visit with friends and have good talks over coffee or tea.  We do this frequently here, and on Wednesday we did this at the local prison.  I had a feeling that the women would not be interested in us, but I was wrong.  One was particularly talkative, in English, German, and French, and most (out of about 8) were really attentive.  Sr. Chiara, the Franciscan sister that arranged our visit to the prison, had suggested that we share something about our faith journey, which, again, I didn't think would go over well.  I mean, why would women awaiting trial and sentencing in Germany be in interested in the spiritual life of a 28-year-old American woman?  What Chiara did, though, was ask questions that led to some great conversation: Do you have a favorite memory from your time in Taize?  Why do you go to Taize?  What is the meaning behind the Taize cross?

After breakfast, we
hold our midday
prayer at the refugee home.

I said that one of my favorite memories was from last June, when I was welcomed in Taize after traveling from Baltimore to New York to Madrid to Lyon Airport to Lyon City Center to Macon to Taize (three flights, two trains, and one bus).  I was famished and tired when I arrieved, but one of the brothers gave me some food, and, soon after, the church bells began ringing for evening prayer.  I finished telling by story by saying "When I heard those bells, I felt like I was home."

And then I felt tears in my eyes.  So unexpected!  I looked at Sr. Chiara in an effort to not look at the inmates and really start crying, but she also had tears in her eyes.  It was quite a moment.

A couple hours went by, and then our visit was over.  It was supposed to be a one-time deal, but we all (inmates included) enjoyed the visit so much that our community agreed to return on Monday with pictures and a short film about Taize.  I'm looking forward to it, and I don't think I will get tired or bored.

Laugh Your Prayers

I've done this a lot during my time here.  Seriously, I have never laughed so much when I am not supposed to be laughing.

Five people can make a great community, but not necessarily a great choir, and we have trouble when we sing songs we aren't so familiar with.  The problem is, when I am not confident, I don't sing very loudly, and when I don't sing loudly and all I can hear is Lena singing alto, accompanied by other not-so-confident voices, I can't help but laugh at our sorry attempt to create beautiful music.  Sometimes, I can recover my composure by taking a deep breath, but if Amandine or anyone else cracks a smile or lets out an audible chuckle, it's all over.  You might as well take my hand like I'm a three-year-old at church and lead me out the door.  It's one thing if this happens when we pray by ourselves in our flat, but it's quite another if it happens, say, during Friday evening prayer around the cross with people from the community in attendance.  Thank goodness my community members are better at plowing through a song like nothing's gone wrong, because laughing through a prayer can be really distracting!

But sometimes I think that maybe it's good to laugh through our prayers, at least from time to time, and that maybe it's even important to laugh at our ridiculous attempts to connect with God and find meaning in our lives through acts of faith.  Don't get me wrong--I genuinely believe in the importance of prayer and my faith actually does give meaning to my life.  At the same time, I know that my humanity makes it impossible to comprehend God and, at best, very difficult to prove the value of going to church, spending time in prayer, and doing things like heading to Germany for five weeks to live with women I don't know.  Yes, indeed--my humanity make cultivating a spiritual life rather challenging at times (as in virtually 24/7), but laughing about this feels a lot better than getting frustrated or depressed.

Some anecdotal evidence:

On the second day of our community, I was in charge of morning prayer.  We sang some songs.  We read a Psalm and an excerpt from the Gospels.  We spent some time in silence.  And then.....it was time to share bread*.  I had thought through this ritual and it was supposed to be easy.  All I had to do was "break" the bread and share it with the others, right?  In theory, yes.  But have you ever tried to tear bread apart with your own bare hands?  It's not easy. Bread does not want to tear, unless it is it sandwich bread, and who would ever want to use that in a prayer service?  I sure didn't, and so I chose a nice, brown roll.

 It looked Biblical enough, but breaking it was virtually impossible.  After struggling with the roll for what seemed like eternity, I threw ceremony out the window and ripped the roll like someone who's just had free bread delivered to them at an all-you-can-eat Italian restaurant. There were crumbs on the floor, crumbs on my hands, and four pieces of bread that were too large to eat in one bite.  After all of us received bread, we were supposed to sing, but be couldn't; our mouths were too full.  What was supposed to be a somewhat solemn, reflective moment, felt more like snack time, and it was funny.  I mean, really funny!  Maybe you had to be there (or maybe not), but trust me, we laughed, and I may have laughed the most.  I could hardly compose myself.

Some people say that God has a sense of humor.  I believe it!  And I also believe that we, humans, can take some of the credit.  We do lots of things in the name of faith--good and bad things, quiet and loud things, ugly and beautiful things.  But then, some things are just downright funny, and I have the sense that, as we fight back chuckles, God might already be doubled-over, rolling on the floor laughing with no hesitation whatsoever.

Lena and Amandine sang Taize songs in a hunting shelter.
Did we laugh?  Of course.  

*At Taize, Catholic have the opportunity to receive communion in the morning, and Protestants can receive bread blessed as their churches would have it blessed.  Those who do not wish to receive either can still participate by receiving bread that is not considered part of any specific denomination's communion.  In our community, we have been sharing bread during morning prayer as a way to follow Jesus' example and remember the times he broke break with members of his own community.

Catching Up a Bit

We've been busy!  And, at the end of the day, I'm not always feeling up to writing a blog post.  It dawned on me, however, that an e-mail I sent on Sunday to a good friend in Baltimore provides a pretty good summary of last week.  I don't think she'll mind if I share part of that e-mail here:

We had quite a week here, full of good experiences as well as bumps in the road of community life.  Despite our occasional moments of misunderstanding or community fatigue, I think we are growing together in such a way that we are forming more connections with people in Aschaffenburg and finding more meaning in our work.

Talking about "solidarity" with students at a local school

On Monday, for example, a couple younger guys came to our evening prayer, and, afterwards, one of them asked if we would like some tea from Taize.  I was little confused, and figured that he had managed to get his hands on some of the powdered tea served at Taize and that he wanted to give us a box of it.  Instead, he pulled two thermoses out of his backpack along with a bunch of bowls for drinking (this is also something they use in Taize--don't ask me why they don't use cups).  It  was amazing!  And great timing, as we were feeling a little discouraged by how few young people were joining us for our prayers.

Today, an older couple from Franziska's home parish took us out for lunch and a pilgrimage through local villages and village churches.  A few other people came along, including another older couple that went to Taize when they were younger and who now attend our evening prayer almost every night.  At each village church, we stopped to sing some Taize songs and learn a bit about the history and art of the church.  I spent the whole day feeling so grateful for Crysta and Robert's hospitality and so happy to be out in the countryside.

Our hosts (and me!) on our trip through the countryside

Another cool connection that has come out of our time here is with a Franciscan community of priests and sisters from Italy.  Being from Italy, their hospitality is very Italian, as in feeding us pasta and homemade pizza after evening prayer last Tuesday, at 9 pm.  There was also wine, chicken, and dessert (my roommate was like "If this is Lent, what does the rest of the year look like?").  Communication with the Franciscans is really crazy.  They all speak Italian and, in theory, German.  But a couple also speak French and a little English.  And three of my community members speak German and English, but one speaks only French and English.  And no one speaks Spanish (although Lena is learning).  But sometimes it's better for me to speak Spanish and try to understand people speaking to me in Italian, that is, until I get distracted by the people at the end of the table speaking French and the people across the room speaking German and Italian.  It's then that I feel like my brain is melting into alphabet soup.  To top things off, some of the members of this community know a guy from Italy that used to attend young adult prayer services when he was a student in Baltimore. Even crazier is the fact that he will come visit Aschaffenburg in a few weeks. This level of interconnection boggles my mind!

Homemade pizza and homemade beer with the Franciscans

And that, in summary, touches on something that a lot of people experience in connection with the Taize: the level of connection in that place is surprising and wonderful.  May we continue to be surprised by the joy of meeting new people, seeing old friends, and growing in relationship with God.

Walking back from Cafe Oase--with leftover pasta!