The Parable of the Table

Ten of us worshiped in the stillness. We had gathered in a close circle in the small library in a neighborhood Friends church.

It was early, 8 a.m.

A much larger congregation would be meeting later in the church sanctuary proper for singing, a short reading from the Bible, a pastor’s sermon, a period of silent worship and ministry and announcements from pews.

But in the little library, our small group practiced what Quakers call “unprogramed” worship, so called because it has no program of worship. Nearly all of our time together is spent in silence. Or as Quakers say, “in expectant waiting.”

In the silence I felt unusually attuned of our numbers. This was only the second time we had met.

I saw our new worship group as an experiment planned to last only three Sundays – the first Sundays of October, November and December. After that, we would decide whether to meet again, and, if so, where and when. 

To me, the little Quaker gathering, if it continued, would serve Friends in our immediate part of Portland: Hillsdale, Multnomah Village, Bridlemile, Hayhurst and Maplewood. The latter is where the church – West Hills Friends Church – is.

The first month, there had been five of us. So our numbers had doubled. The little library was nearly full.

In the middle, someone from the Church had placed a small table. Some of our knees nearly touched it.

Tables in the middle of a Quaker place of unprogramed worship are not unfamiliar in many meeting houses. In England they are almost a given. They usually bear  a single flower or a flickering candle. In some congregations, they hold Bibles. But here in the Western United States, I’ve rarely seen such a table. Quaker worship is an interior waiting, a ‘listening’ for the spirit that resides within us all. The deepening silence is what we share. The certerpiece is within. Occasionally, sometimes, someone will be moved to speak.

Oddly, in this circle of 10, I felt an eleventh presence. I was moved to acknowledge it “out of the silence.”

Some must have thought I was going to recognize God’s presence. But  “God,” the word, for me, is a barrier. I rarely use it. At best I refer to ‘the spirit’ knowing full well that my words fail. “Is-ness” or silence is the best I can come up with for the ineffable.

No, the eleventh presence I felt in the room was the small, bare table.

My eyes kept opening and going to its surface. I described my attraction to the table top in my short ministry. The table seemed to invite me to empty my spiritual pockets and place joys and concerns there. It asked me to be free of life’s attachments and to simply “hold them in the Light.”

Perhaps the little table was inviting others to do the same. I suggested as much before I fell back into stillness. No one else spoke.

Slowly in the silence, I felt the table fill.

*********   *********    ********   ********

There’s a post-script to this little “parable of the table.”

At the close of our silent worship, we wondered what this table was doing in the middle of an already cramped library. One member of our group, a part of the church’s congregation, said she had never seen the table in the library before.

The explanation of its presence turned out to be simple and far from mystical.

A pipe had broken in the Church the day before and someone moved the table to get it out of the way of the mopping up.

It was where it didn’t belong.

Or was it? 

    How often “where something doesn’t belong,” is exactly where it needs to be.

Hillsdale's one-day "Running Fence"

When I told Sylvia Bogart about my brilliant idea, she smiled her knowing Sylvia smile.

The executive director of Southwest Neighborhoods Inc. paused, letting her bemusement prepare me.

Then she said, “You know that you’ll have to get everyone, and I mean EVERYONE affected by this, to agree.”

The idea, which I blurted out at a Hillsdale Community Foundation forum was simple: Shut down busy Capitol Highway between Sunset and Bertha Court for a single Sunday.

Sunday, July 25, 2010, to be precise — the day of next year’s Hillsdale blueberry pancake breakfast and community book sale.

We’d move the Hillsdale farmers market to the middle of the highway. We’d have music and street theater and face-paintings and a rummage sale and … and.

“I mean EVERYONE.”

Sylvia’s words were as true as they were risible.

She knew. Here was a community leader who had helped guide Multnomah Village through shutting down the very same thoroughfare for Multnomah’s rollicking annual parade.

So she was smiling, you see, because she knew the Great Hillsdale Capitol Highway Shutdown could be done.

I was smiling too, but only partly because of Sylvia and the Multnomah parade. I was thinking, as I often do in absurd moments like this, of “Running Fence.”

In the early ‘70s I’d dropped out of journalism and teaching to raise goats in rural, undulating Sonoma County, about an hour north of San Francisco. Suddenly, out of nowhere, a seemingly mad conceptual artist named Christo and his equally zany wife, Jeanne-Claude, proposed stringing an 18-foot-tall nylon fence over 24 and a half miles of private pasture owned by 59 ranchers. The fence would cross 14 roads. Gaps would be left for cars, trucks, cows, goats and stray human beings.

Here I quote from Christo and Jeanne-Claude’s web page: “The art project consisted of forty-two months of collaborative efforts, the ranchers' participation, 18 public hearings, three sessions at the Superior Courts of California, the drafting of a 450-page Environmental Impact Report and the temporary use of hills, the sky and the Ocean.”

“Running Fence” paid for itself. But that’s another story.

Now here’s the strange part. While “Running Fence” was a visual delight to thousands, the primary reason Christo and Jeanne-Claude did it was to involve communities, government agencies, property owners, courts and Sonoma County residents . . . in art.

The couple delighted and rejoiced that they had to get everyone to agree. The endless civic, judicial and deliberative debates were much of what “Running Fence” was about. The longer and more complex the public involvement, the better.

“Running Fence” was artwork as everyone’s art work.

I don’t know whether we’ll shut down Capitol Highway for a day of celebration next July. But I do know that just thinking about it and deciding whether to do it will be good for Hillsdale.

If it actually happens, so much the better.

So how about it?

Auto eye

Why did this headlight catch my attention as I was hanging out in Multnomah Village today? Standing in the misty rain, I was waiting to meet a source for a Hillsdale News story.

Probably had something to do with ovals and planes in opposition. The citrus reflection of orange. The swirl of detail.

Headlights are "eyes" and this one seemed remarkable and strange. Searching two ways at once.

Can you identify the model of car this belongs to?

Destinations

The word “walk” as a noun, as in “I’m taking a walk” or “I’m going out for a walk,” usually connotes leisure or exercise — and nothing more.

Three months ago, when I started the 10,000 Steps program health and leisure were my principal reasons for walking.

Now, partly because the rising price of gasoline, I’ve added a new purpose to my walks — making them my primary form of transportation.

For instance, the other day I was all set to walk to the post office to mail five thank-you notes. But then I looked at the addresses on the envelopes and saw that of the five, three were right here in Hillsdale and a fourth was in Multnomah Village, a couple of miles away. Only the fifth absolutely needed to be posted.

So I decided to hand deliver (hand-and-foot deliver to be precise) the notes. In two of the four cases, I actually found the recipients at home and thanked them personally as well as in writing. They seemed impressed that I would bring the notes in person — and on foot at that. I told them I was happy to do so. Far from being an inconvenience, it was a pleasure.

P.S. Another nice thing about walking is that you don’t expose yourself to parking tickets. See yesterday’s post.

Multnomah Village Farmers Market

Those of you interested in the Portland farmers' market scene might want to go to my Hillsdale News site for news about plans to open a market in Multnomah Village this June.