It’s a fifteen to twenty minute walk from my friend’s apartment to Union Station where I catch the Red line Metro to Tenley Town and then a walk or shuttle ride to American University and the campus of The Wesley Theological Seminary. Everyday I make that walk both ways, seeing some of the same people at the same time as we head to and from our days. I pass by two preschools and watch parent’s bring their kids thinking that it’s still five hours before my own preschooler will head to class on the other side of the country. Every morning between seven and seven thirty I am also reminded that the further East I go in this country the earlier people seem to be headed places and the bigger hurry they seem to be in to get there. If you are on the East coast of the United States they will say that people slow down the further West you get, but being from the West it certainly feels like it’s just that we aren’t ever in as much of a hurry. Even when I am a little later than I planned to be, and I feel like I am walking briskly, I am passed by nearly everyone; young and old, male and female. It’s a little funny to me because once you get to the escalators on the way down to the Metro trains those same people who speed walked by me are just standing on the escalator letting it take them at its own languid pace failing to see the irony as i step past them. I can’t help but wonder if everyone is always running late here, or if they really just move faster. Washington DC is a little different from some other cities like New York or Boston, but still the pace is intense at times. I have written about the unwritten rule of not talking to others when riding the Metro, and I wonder if some of that has to do with this hurry. When I ask someone on the train how their day is going they often react as though no one has asked them that in the longest time. When you move so fast you don’t always have time to even say hello much less to really ask how someone is doing. it’s not even that people aren’t friendly, it’s that when the pace is fast you forget. I have been with whole groups of these fast moving people who have deep relationships that play out on Friday evening at packed restaurants where you may not eat until ten or eleven at night, but you don’t care because you finally feel like you can slow down. It’s almost like because of the pressure to move so fast during the week it makes people that much more intentional about slowing down and using every moment of the weekend. I trying to criticize the pace, but rather simply to take note of it. Living in the Western U.S. there are times we could use a little hurry or even some sense of urgency. Living on an island though hurry does not exist, which suits me just fine, but I respect the pace of others too. i don’t think it has anything to do with getting more done or working harder or even efficiency, it just seems to be what it is. I do meet people who genuinely feel that what they are doing here is so important that they hurry because they just need to get things done. I guess if i am honest I appreciate a slower pace where things start later and people take the time to say, “hello, how are you?” but to each their own pace and I respect an intentionality of time. Whatever the pace, it needs to be your pace, your walk, and you should own it.
Monthly Archives: January 2011
Douglas Memorial UMC
From the outside you could already hear the church rockin’ so I was excited before I even stepped into the sanctuary. When I walked in, there was a band with two women singing and only a handful of people in the congregation. I was late so I was surprised that there weren’t many people there, but the energy of those two women made it feel like the sanctuary was full. I sat down and a few more people came and a third woman joined the first two and things were getting started. We were invited to stand and join in as the choir danced in singing, “Let’s be the service.” You couldn’t help but feel energized and sing along. It felt good to sing. From the time I walked up to the building the spirit was pervasive. Everything, every prayer, every scripture, basically every moment had musical accompaniment and it kept you swaying the whole time. The choir didn’t just sing the hymns, they danced them and the nearly every person from the liturgist to the choir director gave some kind of personal witness as part of whatever else they were doing. It was like getting snippets of sermons throughout the service and then even the sermon itself called on the congregation to give further testimony. At the time of offering the scripture of tithing was read and the challenge was laid down before us to give as a matter of faith. The end result was that we worshiped together. What I mean by that is that every person could not help but a part of the worship, we were drawn into the experience as something sacred. There was a spirit, which was palpable. When I was invited to introduce myself every person in the congregation came over to me singing and offered me a genuine hug (most of them gave me a second hug at the end of the service too). Having identified myself as a pastor I was also invited to pray with people at the rail at the end of the service, which is an honor for me and never fails to move me as well. It was a blessing to be made at home and to be a part of that connection that is so much bigger than any local church.
The Midnight Run …well almost midnight
A few years ago i was at a conference in Washington DC for young clergy. On one of the nights they offered a nighttime tour of the capital and they made it sound pretty neat, but for some reason i couldn’t do it. I have been back a number of times and walked all over DC, but never much at night. After a long day of class, a meeting and some phone calls I had some spicy chili and then walked with my friends to get some key lime pie. i haven’t been feeling well, but I felt like after the day I had had (and the pie) I needed a run. I set out at about 1030pm and I finally got my tour of the capital at night. The streets are mostly well lit, but at that time of night they are deserted and it’s like you have the monuments all to your self. There is something pure about it, something beautiful that can get missed in the crowded day time or the endless news cycles filled with all the bickering, posturing, bad mouthing and scandal. At night the city looks like what you hope it can be, like what it is meant to be. The Capital Dome is all aglow rising into the night sky and it exudes a sort of authority. The Smithsonian Castle looms in the dark in contrast to most of the other buildings, but that is perhaps fitting because it is something different and yet it belongs there just as much as anything else. On down is the Washington Monument that great obelisk pointing to the heavens stark white against the black it takes on a monolithic feel at night. To my left the Jefferson monument shines brightly enhanced by the reflection of the water it draws your eye. As I continued to run alongside the reflection pond the lights weren’t working and the night rested there in the long spaces on the way to visit Lincoln. It seemed further than I remembered, and I couldn’t actually see the monument for a long time, but I knew I was going the right way and then bam, there it was. I couldn’t help but run up the steps to say hello to the man who ended slavery, reunified the country and proposed the Methodism should be the national religion (okay so even I admit that the other two are more impressive, but still). The natural history museum, the archives and oh yeah the White House sitting separate and majestic it looks kind of lonely at night and I couldn’t help but think what how fitting that was because no matter who its occupant is the position is a paradox of constantly being surrounded, yet always alone. As my own night tour ended off down a side street to my friends house I am thankful for the privilege of seeing this other side of the capital and grateful for the lasting images that will stay with me.
The Midnight Run …well almost midnight
A few years ago i was at a conference in Washington DC for young clergy. On one of the nights they offered a nighttime tour of the capital and they made it sound pretty neat, but for some reason i couldn’t do it. I have been back a number of times and walked all over DC, but never much at night. After a long day of class, a meeting and some phone calls I had some spicy chili and then walked with my friends to get some key lime pie. i haven’t been feeling well, but I felt like after the day I had had (and the pie) I needed a run. I set out at about 1030pm and I finally got my tour of the capital at night. The streets are mostly well lit, but at that time of night they are deserted and it’s like you have the monuments all to your self. There is something pure about it, something beautiful that can get missed in the crowded day time or the endless news cycles filled with all the bickering, posturing, bad mouthing and scandal. At night the city looks like what you hope it can be, like what it is meant to be. The Capital Dome is all aglow rising into the night sky and it exudes a sort of authority. The Smithsonian Castle looms in the dark in contrast to most of the other buildings, but that is perhaps fitting because it is something different and yet it belongs there just as much as anything else. On down is the Washington Monument that great obelisk pointing to the heavens stark white against the black it takes on a monolithic feel at night. To my left the Jefferson monument shines brightly enhanced by the reflection of the water it draws your eye. As I continued to run alongside the reflection pond the lights weren’t working and the night rested there in the long spaces on the way to visit Lincoln. It seemed further than I remembered, and I couldn’t actually see the monument for a long time, but I knew I was going the right way and then bam, there it was. I couldn’t help but run up the steps to say hello to the man who ended slavery, reunified the country and proposed the Methodism should be the national religion (okay so even I admit that the other two are more impressive, but still). The natural history museum, the archives and oh yeah the White House sitting separate and majestic it looks kind of lonely at night and I couldn’t help but think what how fitting that was because no matter who its occupant is the position is a paradox of constantly being surrounded, yet always alone. As my own night tour ended off down a side street to my friends house I am thankful for the privilege of seeing this other side of the capital and grateful for the lasting images that will stay with me.
Tripping the Light Fantastic 