Just this AM Junior Warden Elaine Hogg and I hung out from 7-8 AM at the 82nd Avenue/Halsey Tri-Met train platform, offering cherries and coffee and St. Christopher's Day blessings to any who wished.
I wish I could say that I came up with this great idea on my own, but this was the brainchild of Mother Jennifer Creswell of St. Luke's Gresham. Jennifer has a flair and courage both for "liturgical evangelism", taking the charge of her priesthood vows "to bless" by public presence and blessing out and about in the world. Several small groups of Episcopal clergy and laity promised to keep vigil at Tri-Met stops throughout the city on this, the traditional Western feast of St. Christopher patron of travelers. I felt a special urgency to be present on the 82nd Avenue stop as by reputation it is one of the more crime-prone train stops in town.
I found this experience deeply, sacredly unsettling. For all my talk about evangelism and learning how to "go forth", I am actually quite shy of that, afraid of intruding on people, and averse to potential hostility. To avoid potential hassles by transit cops I made sure I had an actual ticket in my possession.
Elaine met me on the platform, our other companions being prevented from participating by illness. I had bought one of those Starbucks coffee cartons complete with cream and cups, and Elaine brought fresh cherries. Elaine said we should begin by invoking blessing on ourselves, on the Tri-Met travelers, and on the operators, as well as on ourselves. And so we did. Something changed in that moment, a sense of purpose and rightness, a feeling of being centered and of standing on a place which God has set aside, holy.
Elaine was great, our pro-active person, walking about with cherries and, when it felt right, saying simply why we were present, "Happy Saint Christopher's Day!" I stood by the coffee and the sign "Free coffee, free blessings for those who wish them, no obligation or back-talk!" Several people drifted over and spoke. Those who did were, judging by their dress and appearance, those who had known some pain or some poverty. People of color were more receptive by and large than non-colored folks, often saying first "God bless you!" before any such words came from our mouths.
One lost-looking man about my age with a briefcase gratefully took our directions for the correct train downtown, said he was on business from the Pittsburgh area. I told him I had gone to school at a tiny Roman Catholic seminary up Route 8 from Pittsburgh, whereupon his face registered shock and disbelief. "St. Fidelis--I went there too." We stood and stared at one another--St. Fidelis had maybe 45 students at its height in those days, before it closed. Some might call this coincidence, but I find I dare not.
Elaine and I would stand and speak between each wash of the commuting tide presaged by train arrival or a bus disgorging its preoccupied load of commuters above us on the overpass. We spoke of how, as the hour wore on, people seemed more tense and more preoccupied, less amenable to being approached even with cherries proffered by a gentle woman with a delightful Scottish accent. We spoke of how we can bless, with the name of Jesus, those passing by on train and those in bumper-to-bumper traffic on I-84 next to the tracks without anyone conscious of that fact. In writing afterwards, I find myself thinking that it is somehow crucial that such anonymous blessing be something of value, something that makes a difference in ways I cannot put into words.
When we were done, we were done. We left and, with the 2/3 full coffee carton and the remaining cherries, went to the courtyard of JOIN and left the remaining spoils of St. Christopher in the courtyard which would soon be filled with poor folks waiting to get inside.
What does it mean to "take one's faith out into the world"? We all do this daily just by dint of being the Body of Christ in family and workplace. But to speak words of blessing, owning up to being intentional friends and servants of the Blessed One, that is something else again, at least to me. For one brief hour, it was an experience of vulnerability--needing a companion that we might go "two by two", needing prayer and assurance of the divine presence, needing the receptivity and kindness of those whom we approached, needing the assurance of divine presence and blessing. I suspect that it is this sort of presence and vulnerability that will be part and parcel of ministry in this and any church in the future, and those who are already so engaged have a head start! But we have a chance to offer the best of what our particular take on the Gospel gives to us--a generous, blessing-conscious, vulnerable faith, learning from the ground up what it is to take blessing and to receive blessing in a God-inhabited world.
