Listening and Dancing - the Church for which I long.
I have not written much in recent weeks about Resurrection House, the day shelter for homeless people at which I serve in SRQ.
This is mostly cos I have not been there so frequently in recent weeks.
We have been inundated with “snow birds” - winter residents of Florida - from such American States as Michigan, Ohio, Illinois, Minnesota, and from the Province of Ontario in Canada. These snow-birds have been more than anxious to volunteer.
So much so, that in recent months Res House has had too many volunteers! So I have taken a wee break. These northerners will return to their homes quite soon, and then I’ll be back at my usual joyful tasks.
Nonetheless I have been at Res. House for the weekly prayer service which I facilitate. I never “preach at” our guests at this service (the whole fundamentalist world is more than active in “preaching at” them).
So I facilitate a quiet time in which my homeless friends can be certain that someone will listen to them, and not preach at them.
That’s my kind of Church: a place where listening is more important than preaching.
One of my most precious homeless friends, a woman named Tara, recently died. She was a lovely and feisty woman. She always insisted that I do a dance of celebration when I saw her.
I led her memorial service at Res. House, and I danced to celebrate her life and her passing.
What a Church we could be if we concentrated on listening and dancing!
This is mostly cos I have not been there so frequently in recent weeks.
We have been inundated with “snow birds” - winter residents of Florida - from such American States as Michigan, Ohio, Illinois, Minnesota, and from the Province of Ontario in Canada. These snow-birds have been more than anxious to volunteer.
So much so, that in recent months Res House has had too many volunteers! So I have taken a wee break. These northerners will return to their homes quite soon, and then I’ll be back at my usual joyful tasks.
Nonetheless I have been at Res. House for the weekly prayer service which I facilitate. I never “preach at” our guests at this service (the whole fundamentalist world is more than active in “preaching at” them).
So I facilitate a quiet time in which my homeless friends can be certain that someone will listen to them, and not preach at them.
That’s my kind of Church: a place where listening is more important than preaching.
One of my most precious homeless friends, a woman named Tara, recently died. She was a lovely and feisty woman. She always insisted that I do a dance of celebration when I saw her.
I led her memorial service at Res. House, and I danced to celebrate her life and her passing.
What a Church we could be if we concentrated on listening and dancing!
Comments
Post a Comment