A Place for the Soul to Speak

By NOAA's National Ocean Service (Iceberg Uploaded by Jacopo Werther)
[CC-BY-2.0 (http://creativecommons.org/licenses/by/2.0)],
via Wikimedia Commons

For the most part in our culture we are not accustomed to speaking about the soul. I find this very  interesting because we say that we are body and soul and yet we focus most of our attention on the needs and wants of our body. Our soul is very much a part of who we are. In fact, it is the larger part of our being. An image that I learned from a friend which illustrates this point is that of an iceberg. The part of the iceberg that is visible is only the tip of the whole; it represents the body. The larger part is not visible, at least immediately, because it is underwater; it represents the soul. One has to dive in in order to see it. I can understand why it is easier to deal with what we can see and more challenging to deal with what we cannot see. In the case of the soul one has to dive in, as it were, to get to know it. And so for the most part we don’t ordinarily speak about our soul. It is too risky.

My passion for soul work grew out of my discernment process towards seeking ordained ministry, but it continued to expand as I sought to discern who God is creating me to be. Discernment is part of soul work. Early on I misunderstood discernment to be the work of ordained people like those seeking ordination to the priesthood. As it turned out I realized that discernment is actually a gift that all of us already have and all of us can exercise. What I have discovered in my discernment is that I feel freed up when I untether myself from unnecessary attachments; opportunities open up for me to expand, freed from the constriction created by the external demands to be who I am not. Letting go of my attachments is not easy. But I know that when my soul is untethered I feel a sense of liberation accompanied by a sense of gratitude.

Among the many living saints from whom I get inspiration in my soul work is Parker J. Palmer. I met him once at a conference 6 years ago and I am continually learning from his writings. Three books in particular have found a home in my bookshelf—Let Your Life Speak, The Promise of Paradox, and A Hidden Wholeness: The Journey Toward An Undivided Life. These titles struck me at first glance. I learned some time ago that when a word or phrase or image tugs at my heart the Holy Spirit is inviting me to discern where God may be leading me. So anything that stands out in my experience is food for my discernment. One image that stood out from Mr. Palmer’s writings is that of the hospitable place for the soul to speak. Mr. Palmer points out that the soul is shy and vulnerable and so she/he needs a safe place to speak. In my experience with psychotherapy, in spiritual direction, and in small group work I have found this to be true. While the process has been slow it is now bearing some fruit. One cannot hurry the soul after all. It needs to be treated gently and patiently.

A number of small groups at St. Martin’s provide a hospitable place for the soul to speak. A few “Circles of Trust” have formed out of the larger Women Connecting group as a place for participants to continue their soul work. “Spirituality of Aging” formed out of the Wellspring Lenten series of the same name; it is an opportunity for older men and women to reflect on their process of aging, the joys and challenges they meet at this point in their lives. And, “Nurturing Your Creative Soul” focuses on Benedictine spirituality using the book “The Artist’s Rule” for reflection.

On December 18 Wellspring will offer a small group spiritual direction for anyone seeking a place to gently start soul work and seek God with others. Subsequent meetings will be on the 3^rd Wednesday of the month. For more details visit Wellspring at St. Martin's online or contact me at hkollin@stmartinec.org or at 215.247.7466 x108.

- The Rev. Harriet Kollin

Threshold Anxiety

I am obsessed with doorways.  Thresholds consume my imagination.  What does it take to cross through a portal into a new experience, a new community, and new way of living?

Our front doors. Photo: Lucy Baber Photography

Long term church members forget the anxiety which grips newcomers and visitors when they approach the church door.  When that door is approached questions percolate as the pituitary sends a rush of endorphins to our brain.  What is waiting for me?  Will I be warmly greeted?  Will my space be respected?  Will I be gravely disappointed by the worship?  Will someone try to convert me or come on too strong?  Will I be ignored? 

If you are a gay, lesbian, or transgendered person, or a person of color in a predominately white church, the stakes are even more intense.  Is this community homophobic and hateful?  Will the words and the looks sting and hurt and raise my anger when I am looking for solace and connection to God?  Is the community racist and exclusionary in behavior and in culture?  Is my culture and my person respected here?

I call this response, threshold anxiety.  A focus of my ministry is to decrease this anxious experience as much as possible.  I want people to immediately feel welcome, acceptance, curiosity, and kindness when they enter our space.  We need to send clear signals that each person is a delight and an addition to the goodness of our community.  Why?  Because, however imperfectly, we represent a God who delights in all Her children and has room for all at Her table. 

Concretely, our buildings send signals.  Are there signs directing newcomers or is the building indecipherable and poorly lit.  The latter state of affairs sends a message that says, “We are not expecting you and we are not going to make life easy for you here.”  

Our buildings must communicate to all people that we are expecting their arrival and have a space in our web of relationships prepared for them.  For example, when we designed the rehab of the first floor of Hilary House, we chose a front door with a glass window in it.  Solid doors obscure what lies within.  Glass in a door sends a message of welcome and gives the reassurance that whatever is behind that door is accessible, open, and transparent.    Most shops – except those that wish to communicate exclusivity- have glass doors for exactly this reason.

I told you that I am obsessed with doors.

Over the next few years we will continue to work on our thresholds both physically and spiritually.  The vestry is working hard on the design and funding for an access ramp for people in wheelchairs, those who use walkers, and young families with strollers so the church will be more welcoming.   We will also make the door to the Parish House fully accessible and add glass to make it less foreboding and more embracing.  By the time we are done with this phase and the work at Hilary House about 65% of the facility will be fully accessible.  Not enough, but progress.

Spiritually we need to remember that the word “catholic” means “embracing.”  As a Church in the Anglican Catholic tradition we embrace God’s creation in every facet finding sparks of God’s light and grace wherever we go.  Thus, our buildings and our spirits must strive to be equally embracing.  We will continue to build on our Anti-Racism training (all the staff and the vestry attend this training!) so that we have the knowledge and skills to dismantle racism at St. Martin's and to work across significant divides of race without further aggravating the hurts and grievances of historic racism.  

Our mission statement says we exist to “Welcome All Seekers,”  and the good news is that we are receiving much positive feedback from newcomers who call us friendly, warm, and welcoming.  Our website, yet another modern threshold, is also telling, we are told, a welcoming story for families approaching us electronically.  May these words motivate us to be obsessed by thresholds and empathetic to all with the courage to cross.  Each newcomer is God’s delight and God’s gift.  Our spiritual work is to make room and make welcome.

- The Rev. Jarrett Kerbel