Or, People's Instinctive Travels and The Paths of Rhythm
Last month, I was honored to share both time and sacred space with young seminarians recently awarded the prestigious Ministry Fellowship from the Fund for Theological Education (FTE) in Atlanta, Ga. I was privileged to return to this familiar setting having myself been awarded this fellowship in the summer of 2002. My return was at the invitation of FTE to serve as one of five Mentor Pastors for the 2011 Fellows comprised of some of the brightest minds and greatest hopes for the future of the church.
At first glance, the site chosen for this momentous gathering might have seemed odd to even the most enlightened observer. Admittedly, the historic French Quarter in New Orleans may appear as a peculiar place to engage in theological reflection for persons preparing to serve the church and the academy as pastors and professors of religion. (It did for my brother-in-law, Juan, and sister-in-law, Pauline, whose most immediate thoughts of the French Quarter brought ideas of Mardi Gras and revelry.) Yet, over three days the peculiar manifested itself as perfection as God revealed deeper meaning and purpose to our work and presence there in the National Historic District.
I believe that our presence in the French Quarter was not happenstance. We were summoned there by providential power! Initiated by our instinctive travels -- the discernment and heeding of God's call to ministry and the journey such discernment has led us to embark upon -- we converged together in the Big Easy. History reveals a certain commonality of purpose for New Orleans, for these Mississippi River shores have called unique voices together over the centuries. In the same place where Spaniards traded goods, the French before them, and centuries upon centuries of Native American tribes before them, we traded visions of a world gripped by the Gospel, visions of justice and equality for all, and visions of ending poverty and pollution.
And the narrow streets of the French Quarter, along which we made daily pilgrimages, soon emerged for me as paths of rhythm. Each street seemed to have its own beat, its own melody, its own sound, its own character, its own rhythm. And yet, like the bands playing in the shadow of St. Louis Cathedral, these streets and their "sounds" came together to form a mellifluous composition.
I soon began to think, "What better place to engage in theological reflection than along well-worn paths trod by previous generations of travelers who undoubtedly did the same? What better place to be reminded of our interconnectiveness and of how the melodies of our mutual presence enhances each other's lives than in the midst of a culture birthed out of the intertwining of many cultures? What better place to meet God and the presence of God in others than making instinctive travels along these narrow pathways passing pedestrians of all shades, shapes and forms?" Whether catching steady glimpses of the Mississippi, listening to the poetic utterances of a street performer in Jackson Square or exchanging pleasantries while traveling along paths named Royal, Peters and Chartres, God's presence was made known.
Over three days of powerful engagement and theological reflection in the French Quarter, we came together as a tribe called to a mutual quest: to make the love of God known to all people, in all places, at all times, without hesitation, compromise or fear! Hence, the French Quarter emerges as a microcosm of our spiritual lives. Each one of us must embark down a spiritual path, ultimately uncertain as to where the path will lead us. Instinctively, however, we press forward along our journeys as something within continues to draw us forward. Thankfully, we have been gifted with the confidence of knowing that as we instinctively travel, we follow a rhythmic path that has safely guided many before us to their destinations. And as we travel, as we discover our own rhythm, the groove that works for us, the melody with which we best discern the voice of God, we are blessed!
As we departed from each other to return to our individual places of home, service and study, we departed strengthened by our fellowship, enlightened through our mutual presence and empowered to serve. Only one question remained conspicuously within our minds after three days of prophetic posturing of prolific potentials at home and abroad toward spreading the love of God: concerning our ability to kick aside the world's pain and prejudice for power and justice, we each openly pondered within our spirits, "Can I kick it?" And an encouraging response from a great cloud of witnesses gone before us reverberated down the path with unwavering confidence and thunderous accord, "Yes, you can!"