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The entries are posted from most recent (immediately below) back. so the first post in the series appears at the bottom of the last page.

Just before sunrise at Carolina Beach

Well that's it, kind of. Sabbatical reached its culmination today as I slowly worked my way back into church life, and the conclusion was formalized this evening when, to my surprise and great happiness, 38 people came to the Evening Prayer service I had planned (I had expected maybe 6 or 7) for the purpose of marking the moment when I can say that my first sabbatical has definitively ended and I'm back on the job. I am tempted to start making lists of summaries of great and deep experiences I've had, of places where I've traveled and worshipped, of amazing people I've spent time with, of books I've read and stories and wisdom I've accumulated, of kinds of food I have unwittingly worn on my shirt, etc. But a lot of that information is posted here already, and is only of real importance to one person anyway. I'm just glad to be back now, and ready to let all of that inform who I am and what I do.

Thank you, reader, for sharing in this great experience with me. Onward!

Mepkin Abbey

At Mepkin Abbey in South Carolina, I have found what I needed to find for my last week of sabbatical. The daily schedule of services begins at 3:20 A.M. and continues with periodic gatherings in the chapel--a sanctified space if ever there was one--through Compline at 7:35 P.M. The monks lead the worship, and it's as stirring and evocative as you might imagine. Retreatants like myself are welcome to attend all, some or none of the services; I started last night with Compline, then rose in the wee hours for the service of readings at 3:20 and have picked and chosen since then. (At the moment I've slipped out to the nearest town, Moncks Corner--no relation to the implied pun in the name, apparently.)
Sometimes a first impression of a visibly impressive place starts to fade after one becomes familiar with it. Sometimes you realize after 24 hours that what looked like such a genuine experience at first is really kind of limited or touristy or disingenuous. None of that is the case here. If the Avila Retreat Center in Durham (NC, USA)--boy does that seem like forever ago--provided a wonderful transition into Ministry Renewal Leave, with welcoming hospitality and good fellowship, and Turvey Abbey in England provided a spiritual home base for invigorating walks in the country and a sacred opportunity for individual prayer, Mepkin Abbey is providing the best of all, with its profound worship experiences (darkness, candlelight, antiphonal singing and sacred chant and the hovering smell of incense as one enters the church) and its spectacular grounds for walking, lingering, and contemplation. Plus, the rule of silence is strictly kept, from 7:35 P.M. until after the 8:15 A.M. prayers, and at all meals. Once you get accustomed to the layout of the place, you'd really have to try to mess this up.

Back to the Books

After three weeks out of the country, I'm happily hitting the books again, and developing a theological statement that will describe my interactions, including endorsements and disagreements, with the writings of Barth, Hegel, Herrmann, Schleiermacher, et. al., as well as a diverse array of traditions and thought systems ranging all the way from Eastern Orthodox theology to the postmodern shift away from...HEY! WAS THAT A YAWN? Come on, this is IMPORTANT!!

Next week it's off to Mepkin Abbey for some quiet work alone, and then the following week I will conclude sabbatical and re-enter church life. But in the meantime, to read about all those old German theologians properly, I took a couple of books with me to the German Cafe in Wilmington today. Schnitzel may or may not be a theological issue, but the Napoleon for dessert was definitely a revelatory experience.

Last Day in England

After preaching at St John's Church on Sunday morning--which I will begin less than 30 minutes from now--I'll have the rest of today with David & Judith and then fly home on Monday. I have had three extraordinary weeks away, and of course in 8.0 worship this morning was thinking of all the other things I wish I had done; namely, I would have lingered in 100 more ancient churches and walked 500 more miles of countryside. But nevermind. Every moment is a thrill, but I can't wait to get home to my family.

One last vid: David tries to teach me the rules of cricket

The Church of St. John in Hurst Green, England

I'm spending this week visiting the vicar and rural parish of St. John the Evangelist Church in Hurst Green, England. I believe there may also be a couple of excellent village pubs nearby. Anyway, last night David Butlin, vicar of St. John's and a friend of mine of the last 20 years, had arranged for an evening presentation at which I would discuss the PC(USA) and American church life in general, and they'd ask any questions they had, and we'd all learn a little something or maybe just have a nice evening. I expected 2 to show up, and actually thought that may have been doubly optimistic. (August is the universally recognized "down time" in the Church of England when everyone goes on holiday and most of the regular schedule is suspended.) We would start at 7:30 and not go past 9:00; I was sure 8:30 would be more than adequate.

In the event, 17 showed up, extremely curious and insightful people, and at 9:15 we finally had to just rein the whole thing in and call it a night. We had an absolutely fabulous time with lively and respectful discussion and lots of very good questions. The similarities in our churches vastly outweigh the differences, but among the most noteworthy differences is the impact in America of the separation of church and state. The American churches have the burden of providing Christian Education, whereas R.E. (Religious Education) is compulsory in British schools. The limited number of hours in a week that an American has to learn discipleship was noted, by me.

Also, the Church of England is a parish system, meaning that every square foot of English soil is under the care of a local parish. In other words the people of the local Church of England (Anglican) church are charged with the "care of souls" within its parish's geographical boundary. None of the other denominations carry exactly that burden; they look after their own people (and presumably do some local mission outreach, as we do). But regardless of the beliefs or practices of the 7,000 people in this parish, this church is charged with caring for them all.

There are of course lots of other differences and similarities worth exploring, which bear on the meaning of discipleship, but aspects of this conversation in particular occupied much of our evening.

Also, David drives a 1977 MG.

Bedford, England

In 1989-90, when I was 22-23, I served the Presbyterian Church (U.S.A.) as a Mission Volunteer (this was before the General Assembly staff, which included Vivian Hare, devised the Young Adult Volunteer program). I was assigned to a program in Britain called Time for God, which was (and is) aimed at people who had just graduated from college and were looking to give a year's time before embarking on their regular career path. Time for God then assigned me to serve a church in Bedford, England called St. Andrew's Church, and in this 6-days-a-week volunteer capacity, and under the tutelage of an excellent staff, I entered the work of ministry, and found immediately that what I contributed was nothing compared to what I received.

So you can imagine that the church where I first "heard the call," as well as the community where it happened and the people who were instrumental in my well-being, are all close to my heart and important for any kind of catching up and touching base I might want to do. And this sabbatical has turned out to be reflective of that. 20 years into full time Church life, I am--not that this was in any way part of my original plan--going back to almost all the places that have been formative in my life and ministry. Bedford is one of the most important of all, and it's good to be able to come back and see some amazing people, and try to catch up on the news of those who are elsewhere now.

But in all honesty, I have already processed--in some cases several times, from different perspectives--experiences such as my Mission Volunteer year in England, and I'm not focused on looking back. The idea of this turning into some kind of sentimental nostalgia trip makes me a little nauseous, actually. If anything, I'm looking inside, and looking ahead, and just happy to have some old friends along the way to help me in that endeavor.

Turvey Walking Day

Turvey Abbey in rural Bedfordshire, England is a Catholic facility for retreats and worship. The abbey grounds include a great walking trail, and the village of Turvey and surrounding area itself are also marked by lots of public footpaths, including the 7-mile circular route I followed on Friday morning. These easily accessible routes are a marvelous opportunity to do some deep thinking--or not, just walk--in a gorgeously serene landscape with a safe sense of solitude. It's almost like walking a labyrinth on a giant scale.

(Click photo for video link)

The diagonal line up the green field in the middle distance is the continuation of the path. "Walk straight ahead, downhill, with a large field to your left and a wood on your right. When the wood ends maintain direction to pass over a culvert over a ditch/stream and climb the hill ahead, again on the right-hand edge of the field with trees to your right.

"Towards the top of the climb, at the edge of the wood, the path bears left following the headland for 100 metres and then turns right at a public bridleway signpost..." Such was the detail of my directions from Walking in Bedfordshire by Alan Castle. From time to time on this pathway, I was not completely lost.

All Saints Church stands in the centre of the village of Turvey. (See night photo at right.)

In the afternoon--after a restful moment outside the Three Cranes pub followed by lunch at the abbey--having seen the sign to the village of Carlton 2 miles up the road, I followed Carlton Road on foot, not an easy proposition with long stretches where there is no sidewalk or even any road shoulder, just wild growth on both sides.

At length, I arrived at the outskirts of Carlton, and it was not long before I came upon the Fox Inn. I had a refreshment and a nice conversation with a young man behind the counter, and headed back to Turvey.

In the evening, after supper, I went for yet another stroll, and came to a great place to linger with a good book: the convivial, historic pub Ye Three Fyshes.

The next morning, I rose in time for a 6:00 service and, hustling over to the abbey church, found the door locked and the service not happening--I'm pretty good at misreading schedules. So with nothing to do and the world still slumbering, I went for an early stroll and noticed the sign at the bus stop near the green. Impulsively I made a plan to take the next bus to the city of Northampton. Just the name sounds delightful, doesn't it! Sadly, that proved to be exactly my experience; once you get past the name, I didn't find much to divert my attention in Northampton. I did, however, enjoy 20 restful and well-spent minutes in the sanctuary and chapel of All Saint's Church in the town centre (see above).

Later that day, it was back to Bedford for one more night and then on to Hurst Green.

The Bajrakli Mosque and some thoughts from Belgrade

The view from our window in Belgrade - which contrasted starkly with the sleek, ultramodern hotel itself, Hotel Zira, on Ruzveltova (i.e. Roosevelt's) Avenue. Another major street is named for Dzhordzha Voshingtona--George Washington.

Trg Republike, one of the main squares in the city. In the background is the National Museum, closed for several years and, apparently, the foreseeable future. The museum building itself is under major (i.e. expensive) interior renovation, and is not yet capable of securely displaying the collection--the single greatest, most important, and by far the most extensive collection of historical Serbian art. You can go in and see the ground floor, but not a single painting, sculpture, or artifact. I found that appalling.

For generations, the people of Belgrade have come out for the evening promenade. The city is especially beautiful at this time of evening. We were told repeatedly that it was safe all night, and indeed we saw many people, men and women of all ages, out walking, some alone, as late as midnight, and not just in heavily trafficked areas such as this. We never saw any evidence of any street crime whatsoever.

Bajrakli Mosque

Click here for a short video clip from the courtyard.
Short video clip: Call to Prayer 1
Short video clip: Call to Prayer 2

These photographs are from the top of Kalemegdan, a central feature of Belgrade's Old Town overlooking the confluence of the Sava and Danube Rivers.

Monday, August 10 in Belgrade

Well, we tried to make contact with our Reformed Church friends and colleagues in Serbia, but were unsuccessful. For some reason, in the months before our departure for Belgrade, my e-mails from the U.S. could never go through (something about my computer not speaking Hungarian, I imagine), and telephone calls from within Belgrade went on ringing or, all of Sunday morning, were met with a busy signal. In addition to seeing an old friend, Vivian and I were especially curious to see the church operation there. On the one hand, it would seem that we have such a small Reformed presence that it may be hard for a church to survive in the midst of an officially sanctioned Serb Orthodox culture, with Islam also an influence and a secular culture of not participating in any worship life at all (this was, after all, an officially atheist state throughout the communist era). But on the other hand we ought to be proud--and perhaps more supportive?--that our Reformed faith and beliefs are being positively represented by a brave and dedicated group, against enormous cultural odds. I am not looking at any figures at the moment, but I imagine the Reformed Church is about on a par with Catholicism in terms of distant minority status, in an area where nationality tends, to an overwhelming extent, to determine religious affiliation.

So the address for the church turned out to be in an apartment or office building, and all we could do on our repeated visits was stand outside and ring the buzzer--to no avail, alas, alas. Upon my return to civilian life, I will immediately use the old fashioned technology of paper, pen, envelope, and stamps, and contact our Reformed Christian Church of Serbia friends, as well as our PC(USA) offices in Louisville to give them an update on the status of the Church in Serbia. Despite our non-visit visit, we still seem to be a step ahead of the Europe Dept., who as of the date of our departure still had not updated the name of our sister denomination on the PC(USA) website. (What was the Reformed Church of Yugoslavia became the RCC of Serbia and Montenegro before adopting its current name).

St. Sava Serbian Orthodox Cathedral

Video clip: Inside St. Sava Cathedral 1

Video clip: Inside St. Sava Cathedral 2

On the Way to Serbia

The road to Belgrade runs through Heathrow Airport in London. We're just waiting for our gate to open up in a little bit. Vivian and I are hoping to see in Belgrade our old and dear friends Anna and Attila, both ministers--I spent a year in seminary with her in Chicago--and perhaps Attila's brother Arpad (also a minister), and another Reformed Christian Church of Serbia minister with whom we've slightly corresponded. I am also hoping to meet up with a burek sa sirom or a burek s mesom or some sarma or some cevapcici or a grilled goat or really just about anything they eat over there. I miss my grandmother these days, I'll tell you that.

At any rate the Reformed Church in Serbia is of course our sister Church (denomination), and there are only 19 churches--they are ethnically Hungarian for the most part, while most of my people, the Serbs, are Orthodox. (Vojvodina, in the northern part of Serbia, has a much larger Hungarian population where the Reformed church is active and vibrant.) We will be visiting as many sites as possible such as St. Sava in Belgrade, and may or may not make it past the city limits to see some of the ancient monasteries. Whatever happens, we are excited about the adventure just ahead of us, and were just told this morning by the British agent checking us in at the airport that Belgrade is a wonderful and beautiful city. He seemed to know of what he spoke.

All for now; Gotta run! See you there!

Bonus video clip: I did meet up with a plate of cevaps, our very first night in Belgrade--not bad but Ken's are better. Burek had to wait until the last. I found this hilarious burek video on YouTube and laughed out loud when I saw it.

Summary of the First Days of MRL

I just sent a quick e-mail to someone and it seemed like a pretty good nutshell description of my first days of Ministry Renewal Leave. Here it is:

The main experience of the first couple of weeks has been lots of classical theology reading--not just contemporary inspirational reflections, or books on church dynamics, but the real, grueling philosophical theology that I haven't had time to dust off since seminary--and this against the backdrop of touching base with a lot of places that have been formational for me. Flying out from the retreat center in Durham, I spent about a day and a half with my Mom in my hometown of Bloomington, IL before coming home, and then on the way up to Montreat I spent Sunday in Kannapolis, joining my former small church, Kirkwood, for 11:00 worship and then heading over to Bethpage, where I was associate pastor, for the 3:00 ordination service. (The sermon I posted below discusses some of what was going on with me in the first week or so.) In Kannapolis, I got to see lots of people I thought I might never get to see again, in the churches where I have known them, and there was something almost dreamlike about that. Once I was able to join the family at Montreat, it's been a week of family retreat and more reading and reading and reading. Then a little writing and then more reading. We're back home on Monday for frantic preparations and then Vivian and I fly to England--speaking of formational places--and she'll be back in a week and a half and I'll be Stateside again in late August for a little more of what I've been doing to start things off.

Loads of good wishes to you and all the folks back home!

Lookout Mountain

A side trail on Lookout Mountain in Montreat

Avila Retreat Center

Avila provided an excellent setting, first for a day of private retreat, and then a week-end guided retreat with about 45 other participants.

Are We Ready? (Updated July 7)

I have just a precious few weekdays left and one more Sunday in the pulpit before sabbatical gets underway on July 14 (for all practical purposes, the transition will begin on Sunday afternoon).

So, after the better part of two years to think about this opportunity, am I ready? Honestly, I don't know. Beyond simple logistics, there are essential questions: am I doing the right things? Emphasizing the right concerns? Preparing in the right way? I don't think I'll be able to speak with authority to these questions until I am equipped with hindsight.

What about the church? For many months, the church secretary, as well as the Music and Christian Education departments (i.e. Vivian), have been incorporating into their work a sense of preparation for the absence of the regular pastor. A strong team of able liturgists has been trained, and each has had at least two Sundays of experience; so, while there still may be some nerves, there won't be any big surprises (it's amazing how well prepared you can be going up to the pulpit, and then, when you're there, you feel like Don Knotts in The Ghost and Mr. Chicken). The Session is ready; committees and their moderators are ready; my Sunday School class is arranging their schedule of discussion leaders... There will be neither a vaccuum of leadership nor an absence of order during those eight weeks (any more than there already is!), and there shouldn't be much, if anything, that falls through the cracks (any more than there already would be).

Of one thing we may be sure: I will not return from sabbatical the (second) greatest pastor who ever lived. I hope that is not too disappointing. What I do intend is to be better focused...more centered...somewhat rested...somewhat rejuvenated...better at listening...and, for lack of a better image, in love with God as if I had just returned from a second honeymoon ("You see me and my Creator / We got a funky love thang," noted the eminent theologian Todd Rundgren), or as close to God as if we were two old friends who had just stayed up all night in a diner in Indianapolis, drinking coffee, laughing hysterically, and occasionally sharing quiet reflections on the deeper things—he immeasurably, (literally) infinitely wiser than I, but mercifully tolerant of my occasional ramblings and knuckleheaded dreams. That's kind of the governing idea behind the preparations that have taken place since the 2007 Session took the brave, potentially controversial step toward making it happen (who on earth gets paid to go away, other than restaurant accordionists?).

I mean to be a good steward of this time, in both my use of Ministry Renewal Leave and in the preparations being made for my physical absence from the church. I welcome any and all responses—agreeing, disagreeing, questioning, or emphasizing—to this or any other blog I may post here.

Yours in Christ,
Keith

The Church During Sabbatical

One of the benefits of Ministry Renewal Leave identified by the Alban Institute is the opportunity for the church to "develop skills in self-sufficiency" in the absence of the pastor.

It is so important for church members to feel the sense of ownership that is made easier when the pastor is out of the office--not only making way for new experiences in worship, but also leaving the administration to those who are on the scene. I'll only be out for two months, at a time of year that should cause as little disruption of the regular schedule as possible, so a great deal of the administrative work will have been arranged in advance. In fact the office has already been in preparation for several months.

But I remember the extraordinary lay leadership I found when I first arrived at CBPC in 2000. The members of the Session knew that, in program areas such as Worship & Music, Fellowship, Outreach, and Christian Education, as well as the support structure such as Buildings & Grounds and Budget & Finance, if things were going to happen, it was going to be up to them. There was no artificial sense that things would be taken care of by the pastor, because for a short time between the interim and my installation, there was no pastor. The church had come together in an amazing, healthy way--and that can continue to be the case as, among other sabbatical benefits, I get out of the way for a few weeks this summer.

Gratitude, Part One

When someone is called to church ministry, he or she is not just applying for a job and looking for a certain amount of pay for a certain number of hours. God gave us--us professional ministers--the gifts of clarity, of vision, of a sense of mission, of a humility that tells us we go when and where God tells us to go. We serve at the pleasure of our Creator, seeking only to be trustworthy servants of a compassionate God.

We have also been called, by the boundlessly insightful Stanley Hauerwas, "quivering masses of availability." And it's true: I have seen great men and women of ministry, in the stupor of unrelenting schedules and a sense of overwhelming responsibility, crash and burn, or make dumb decisions that cause enormous pain for all concerned. I see clergy--and teachers and social workers and others--who are almost debilitated by nervous tics and sleepless eyes. I know my own unhealthy stress responses (meet me at the fridge in ten minutes and we can talk about it). I've seen passionate servants flame out way too early.

So, sure, the ministerial instruction manual, if it existed beyond the Bible, would say, "Sometimes, you just have to say no to a pastoral request." Great, thanks for the wisdom. The reality? Not many ministers I know are very good at saying no. And despite what I've written above, a lot of times, we shouldn't say no. This isn't just a job; it's a calling (vocation) from God. Go, labor on, spend and be spent.

And thank God for it. My gratitude to God knows no bounds, although I'm pretty lousy at either expressing it adequately, demonstrating it, or even remembering it. But I am so thankful to be in the position that I am in, as the pastor of a church full of amazing, miraculous, humanly flawed like I am, but basically good and generous people.

And so my gratitude must first be to God, but God's trustworthy servants in Carolina Beach Presbyterian Church have always treated my family and me well, as one of their own, and we feel that we are. So secondarily, my gratitude also belongs to my church. They have seen fit to address the standard six-day work week, the sacrificed Mondays off and abandoned vacation days, the missed study leaves, the 70-hour work weeks, the absence of things like sick days or rollover vacation days, with the only thing I could really have asked for, if I didn't think it was too bold: time. Namely: eight weeks from mid-July through early September, 2009. As I begin my tenth year of ministry at CBPC and 16th year of ordained ministry overall--20th year of fulltime participation in the life of the Church, for that matter--I will gratefully receive and salubriously use the Session's gracious gift of two months of time away from the office and away from the pastoral demands of parish work. Elsewhere I have begun to outline different aspects of Ministry Renewal Leave in general and this sabbatical time in particular. But for now, the only word I can think of is gratitude.