Today was my final day at The Hermitage. It was also our annual celebration of the Feast of the Transfiguration. These were my departing words.
Story –
‘A man was going down from Jerusalem to Jericho, and fell into the hands of robbers, who stripped him, beat him, and went away, leaving him half dead. Now by chance a priest was going down that road; and when he saw him, he passed by on the other side. So likewise a Levite, when he came to the place and saw him, passed by on the other side. But a Samaritan while travelling came near him; and when he saw him, he was moved with pity. He went to him and bandaged his wounds, having poured oil and wine on them. Then he put him on his own animal, brought him to an inn, and took care of him. The next day he took out two denarii, gave them to the innkeeper, and said, “Take care of him; and when I come back, I will repay you whatever more you spend.”
Many of you may have already heard of my interaction with this story, but months before June and I were set to join the Hermitage staff in a meeting with my spiritual direction supervisor he asked me what biblical image came to mind when I think of my spiritual direction. Never having given it any thought beforehand and emerging as a bit of a surprise, “the innkeeper in the parable of the good Samaritan” was what I said. This was undoubtedly the spirit moving within and preparing the soil for this next chapter of my life.
After this conversation I found a copy of a painting by Rembrandt of the Samaritan dropping off the injured man to the inn. This image has had a constant presence in my life since then. I would have a copy of it next to me when I provided online direction, and it has been on my office wall here at The Hermitage. And as all good biblical reading is a work of imaginative play, my own play with this story has expanded the story so that all the characters of this parable lodge at the inn. In this expanded version the priest is arrogant and entitled, the Levite is deeply anxious to not do the wrong thing, the Samaritan is the over working justice warrior trying to save the world, and the injured man is one of the invisible downtrodden. The innkeeper welcomes all who come, and all that they bring.
This image of the innkeeper, along with the writings of Brother Lawrence, the Rule of Benedict, and the example of Father William, the guest master at St. Gregory’s abbey have guided me as I’ve explored and developed my own identity as inn keeper here at The Hermitage.
Through these four years my work as innkeeper has been first and foremost to welcome all as Christ. I’ve also learned over the years that the primary thing I am welcoming people to or inviting people to, is to receive the gift of rest. While rest may seem like a trivial thing, like are we really doing all this just so people can take a nap? But we all come here, guests and staff with too much busyness and striving and anxiety racing around in our heads and bodies. To let go of all those things and receive the gift of a nap is truly a gift of resting in God’s care. I truly believe that in rest, in silence, in slowness we make ourselves available to God. A life in deep relationship with God is not a life of striving, but of receiving, not of accomplishing, but of allowing.
The season of Covid was (and is) a season of deep unrest. We were able to be open much of the time although often at a reduced capacity. It was heartbreaking for me to witness the deep exhaustion and trauma that people so visibly bore when they arrived on retreat. It was such a gift for me – who was often fighting that same exhaustion and trauma – to be able to welcome people to a place of deep rest.
With all my focus on me as innkeeper I do not want to give the impression that this offering of hospitality and running this organization was all my work, even if I sometimes had those delusions. If it had been all my work I would not have survived these past four years. This work has provided endless opportunities for community and collaboration with fellow community members David and Naomi, with staff Kim, Scott, and Ursula, volunteers, first and foremost Casey and many other, with the very supportive board, and with June. These partners in the work of the Hermitage have been an enormous gift to this place, and to me. Sadly, it is often in these closer relationships that extending the gift of gracious hospitality can be more challenging. I know that I have been every one of the good Samaritan parable characters to my colleagues and I’m unceasingly grateful for the compassion and grace they’ve extended to me.
My and Casey, my colleague for that past nearly two years, in our Hermitage Team/Magnificat t-shirts.
Story
About midway through my time at the Hermitage (in the midst of the season of Covid) I had a dream. I was driving an empty school bus and had to detour off the interstate into a city. Through a curious series of turns trying to figure out how to get out of this city the bus and I ended up in the middle of an airport terminal. I had no place to go so I stopped the bus. I exited the bus utterly confused and uncertain what to do. Then a gentleman in overalls came towards me, he lightly grabbed my elbow and with a gentle laugh led me on for us to figure out how to get me out of this predicament. When I woke up, I immediately new that this dream was significant.
Naturally, this dream became fodder for a few sessions with my spiritual director. It seemed to make sense to me that the bus was obviously the Hermitage, a large vessel I was trying to maneuver through unknown waters – to mix my metaphors. But if that was the case, I was troubled that the dream ended with me walking away from the bus. While I was grateful for the man helping me abandoning the bus felt like a betrayal.
The part of this dream that has particularly stayed with me is the gift of the stranger’s reassuring laugh and quiet invitation to go along with him. It was an act of generous hospitality to a weary pilgrim. My third story is actually a poem, in which we will again encounter that gentle laugh.
Story – Poem
The Guest House by Rumi
This being human is a guest house.
Every morning a new arrival.
A joy, a depression, a meanness,
some momentary awareness comes
as an unexpected visitor.
Welcome and entertain them all!
Even if they’re a crowd of sorrows,
who violently sweep your house
empty of its furniture,
still, treat each guest honorably.
He may be clearing you out
for some new delight.
The dark thought, the shame, the malice,
meet them at the door laughing,
and invite them in.
Be grateful for whoever comes,
because each has been sent
as a guide from beyond.
As I leave the Hermitage I wonder what to make of my innkeeper identity when I have no inn to keep. This Rumi poem is a wonderful reminder and encouragement for me that this work of inn keeping is not just about providing a physical space for people, although that is incredibly important, but at it’s core it is about a willingness to welcome others, welcome God, and to welcome the fullness of ourselves into our own hearts. And as with the figure in my dream we hear with Rumi the act of welcoming comes with a gentle laugh and an invitation in.
And so now what is next for June and I. We have one more week of packing and cleaning before we move to Winkler, Manitoba, Canada. For me, this move will be my return to Canada, and my hometown of Winkler after a 30 year absence. The primary reason for this move to is be close to my folks as they age and to be available to them in this time. I’m currently looking for work that is in some kind of alignment with the idea of the innkeeper, which will most likely be with an organization that works with developmentally disabled adults. June will remain retired and has already signed up for her first quilting retreat at the end of August.
May the Hermitage, and all who care for her continue to be blessed with a spirit of gentle and jovial hospitality, welcoming all as Christ.