Arrival

The plane left Newark as scheduled despite the snow on Monday Mar 2 at 8:30pm. Deacon Chris McCloud drove me to the airport and as she drove off, I knew again that I was on my own now. Boarding passes were easy. Security a breeze. I even found internet service in the airport after a long struggle, even on my new laptop! As of this writing it’s eluding me again - I had to borrow the monastery computer to make these entries. I prepared myself for what I knew would be a long trip.
The first leg was Newark to London’s Heathrow. The ten hour layover there was helped when I saw that two men who sat next to me were reading books related to ministry. In conversation I learned they are a father and son ministry team currently working in Birmingham Alabama, but on their way to Tanzania where the father was born. His family is still there and his brother is seriously ill. His son has never been and it seemed time to return for a visit. Although our African destinations were different, the layover time was similar and our conversations easily passed the time. Especially since I learned an important part of their ministry is healing. Traditional father and non-traditional son spanned experiences that I found fascinating. I shared about the ministry at St. Georges and my own traditional and non-traditional ideas about healing. This is the first in what is usually a lot of “coincidences” that emerge on a pilgrimage - as I have begun to term this sabbatical. Off to a good start!
The next stage was a ten hour flight to Johannesburg. By the time we touched down, over twenty four hours had passed and jet lag clearly arrived. Realizing I had a two hour layover I slowed down, until the size of that airport and the place of my next departure dawned on my foggy brain. Since it was the first stop in Africa I had to pick up my previously checked bag, go through customs and re-check it as well as train for a marathon in covering the large distances between each of these checkpoints. I only made the next flight thanks to an observant check in clerk. She saw the time and allowed those of us going to Port Elizabeth to form a new and much shorter line.
When this third plane landed I wasn’t sure what day it was, or the time, nor did I care. I was so glad to be done I didn’t even care which city I was in. If it was wrong, I’d make do! I’d reserved a car and grimaced at my next challenge in this travel gauntlet. (I never cared for the Amazing Race reality shows, but my sympathy for their obstacles might lead me to give those shows a second chance.) It’s now 35 hours since I left Newark. I’m tired, disoriented, intestinally distressed from the airline food, and aware that my reflex response is not up to snuff. When I paused to figure out how to pick up a glass of water, my long lost self awareness was getting concerned. It was at this point that I discovered my rental car had the steering wheel on the right side of the dash, and that the stick shift (stick shift??) was on the left of the driver. This stunning realization gave way to the panic of never having driven this type before. Then the dread of driving on the opposite side of the street rose as well.
During the two hour drive, I was really feeling the effects of the trip, missed the turn off for the monastery and went into Grahamstown proper. I wasn’t in the mood to enjoy it’s quaint appearance and turned around to try again. New Jersey, it seems, is not the only place that omits key street signs. Finding the correct turn, I was presented with three road options. One led to the SPCA (Society for the Prevention of Cruelty to Animals) facility, the next was to the maximum security penitentiary facility, and the third apparently - and thankfully- was the one I needed. Even as tired as I was, there was a theme here whose dots I did not want to connect. The tar road became gravel, the last building was a good distance behind, and the hill before me became a challenge to my left handed stick shifting ability.
Like a miracle a sign finally appeared humbly stating “UMariya uMama weThema Monastery.” The beauty and simplicity of the buildings and grounds say “welcome” and extend Christ’s promise of rest to those who are weary. At first I didn’t know where to go and identified what I reasoned to be the guesthouse. I was greeted by a fellow guest who steered me to the Guestmaster’s empty office. My wait wasn’t through, but at least I was in the right place. I went to the chapel and sat, prayed and snoozed. Movement in the garden some time later revealed a brother and I was directed to my room. As we passed the guest I had spoken to in the hallway, the brother greeted him as Bishop, whereas before he had only given me his name. One of the nice things about monastic retreat is the extended simplicity and humility of those who often visit. Formalities are checked at the door and we are all fellow seekers of God in these places.
The main business of a monastery is hospitality. The provide a “place apart” for clergy and lay people to be restored for the work God has called them to do. So far I’ve met several guests whose ministries I will come to know better and volunteer to help. Orphanages and schools are the top priority so far. In a country still struggling so hard to overcome it’s past, children suffer the most and those who work to help them need time to rest and gather strength to continue their work. It is a beautiful corner of the world filled with challenge, hope and strength. There is violence and brutality as well, yet with God all things are possible and it God to whom we turn at such times.
High on this hill the morning wind is fierce. Vigils (Morning Prayer) is at 6:00am and a verse from a psalm mentioned the voice of God as loud and thunderous. With the wind outside it seemed very true. I thought at that moment, that I’ve arrived and I’m listening.

Why Aelred's Garden?

I thought of this name for my blog for two reasons. The first is that St. Aelred is the name of my ordination day Saint, and I like gardens.
In 1985 the Bishop of Rhode Island chose January 12 for me to be ordained a priest - the earliest convenient Saturday in his schedule. Recent Seminary grads are usually ordained Deacons at their home Cathedral in June. The ordination to the Priesthood occurs no less than six months later. I was ordained Deacon with three others on June 23, 1984 and it was unlikely that I would become a Priest two days before Christmas so January 12 it was. The calendar of Saints revealed that St. Aelred was also celebrated that day. Saints are remembered on the date of their deaths, or more importantly, birth to everlasting life.
I didn’t know the name of Aelred prior to my ordination plans but what I found out made me quite fond of him. Born in 1110 AD in northern England he became a monk at a young age and over the years the Abbot of Riveaux, a large monastery also in the north of England and important in the early history of the Church of England. Aelred was a scholar and writer as well as Abbot and at the urging of St. Bernard of Clairveaux wrote what became an enduring work called “Spiritual Friendship”.
This book, short by modern standards, plumbs the depth of friendship from a Christian, spiritual point of view. Far from being didactic, it’s touching, insightful and ultimately revealing. Taken together with his written instructions as Abbot and published letters, he departed from other monastic traditions and allowed monks to explore friendships with each other. Normally discouraged or even prohibited, deep friendships were suspect as being possibly sexual or at the very least divisive in community life if conflicts arose between the friends themselves or the friends against the others in community. Aelred saw the deep nature of friendship as being able to transcend such conflicts, and used the example of Jesus’ friendship with His apostles - and by extension Jesus’ friendship with the believer and even further, the church. Our earthly friendships are reflections of the divine friendship.
Aelred’s letters are sometimes directed to his particular friend. Modern scholars read what we would describe today as a gay relationship into these letters. While love between male friends doesn’t’ have to be gay, it’s plausible that the emotions and intimate love between Aelred and his friend was that of lover and beloved. Given Aelred’s writings and today’s controversies, Aelred has been given the unofficial title of “Gay Saint” and adopted by gay religious organizations as a patron saint. Another reason to love Aelred and what a nice coincidence for me as a gay priest to share his feast day! I also refer to him as Patron Saint - one who is important and worthy of emulating.
As for gardens - they are beautiful, peaceful and invite the visitor to slow down, relax and even go deeper into meditation. This sabbatical is a time for me to enter that garden in this point of my ordained life. I’ve chosen places that are far flung in geography and tradition. I want to experience faith, spirituality and friendship with God in as many human contexts as I can. A garden is made up of more than one flower for the beauty of the many. Faith is like that for me and the experience is wonderful. God is in more than one tradition and place and friendships with God and people call me deeper and deeper into the mystery of his love.
That’s why this blog and the spiritual theme of this trip is called Aelred’s Garden!