One of the things that we put some effort into in this brotherhood I’m a part of is observing different times and seasons. The seasons of Advent has, over the last several years, become one of my favorite times of the year. The old year is dying, the days are the darkest of the year (at least north of the equator, in Belfast that’s very dark indeed). We go through a special set of scripture reflections during the special seasons, with everyone in the house putting aside or at least supplementing their personal studies with our house meditations. We take a part of our dinners to share any reflections and insights that we have from the passage of the day. I find it a great way to engage in and reflect on what God is about during the time.

Early on during Advent a phrase from 2 Peter 3 “waiting for and hastening the coming of the day of the Lord” caught my attention. I found myself coming back to this passage on several occasions over the last weeks. I believe that Christ is going to come again, that there is a building of and preparing for his kingdom that I am supposed to participate in. Does my life reflect that? Am I available to Christ and his plan? Am I repentant of the sin, the pride and distraction, in my life as there is no place for it in the life of a disciple. Am I even *aware* of it? Some very sobering reflections for me. I am meant to prepare the way and point to Christ with my life, but thanks be to God it isn’t up to me and my own resources to accomplish this. It is the work of God and the Holy Spirit working in and through me that will allow me, as I cooperate with grace offered, to journey on in hope faith and love.

A very prominent feature of this Lent was marking the difficult experience of one of the brothers here in Belfast. Doug Smith has lived and ministered here in Belfast with the Servants of the Word for nearly fifteen years. Earlier this fall it became apparent that his mother’s cancer had recurred. It was unclear how quickly things would run their course. In the end, after talking it over with the rest of the brothers, Doug decided to move up a planned trip home by several weeks. His sister back in Ohio was under quite a lot of pressure and Doug was able to step in and really aid the cause of everyone and was able to spend good time with his Mom. Doug was able to extend his stay to a couple weeks and was with his mother in the hospital the last night as she died. It so happened that Dave Quintana (Q) from the house here was in Michigan for some meetings and was able to attend the funeral in Ohio along with several of the brothers living in Michigan. The day of the funeral we began a week of mourning here in the house – some fasting, specific prayers, and mourning Psalms in our prayer room.

The chance to join with and support Doug in his grieving was a real blessing. It was remarkable seeing how the Lord really provided for Doug and the Smith family through the whole time. Seeing Doug go through this gave me an opportunity to reflect on my own commitments. The way of life I think the Lord has opened up to me and I am choosing for does not allow me to be a part of my family in the way I would be if married. There is real sacrifice there, but there is also a blessing. Because of Doug’s decision to live single he was more free to put other things aside and help his mother, father, and family during this time. He was also able to witness to hope in the Lord and eternal life in a profound and comforting way to his whole family.

A less spiritual aspect of Advent has been the beginning of house basketball on Monday evenings before dinner. Basketball was really my sport growing up, at least until about the age of twelve. That’s when I peaked as a starting guard on the Holy Family Wild Cats boys B team. Unfortunately it’s been all downhill since then. The games are fun, and good exercise, and somehow I manage to come down with more then my fair share of rebounds, it’s just the shooting, dribbling, and passing that I can’t do.

From Advent, to mourning within Advent, and now to Christmas. The last several days have been packed with celebration, feasting, rejoicing, and prayer. Saturday was a big spruce up day, cleaning the whole house top to bottom (I dusted and hoovered, the UK word for vacuuming for four hours), and then having a Lord’s Day celebration for the fourth Sunday in Advent. Sunday morning it was off to church. While the fourth candle was dutifully lit on the wreath the sermon and rest of mass certainly left Advent in the dust. Martin spent most of the rest of the day preparing for our house Christmas Eve celebration. He was main chef, pulled together a prayer service inspired by Orthodox and Anglican Christmas traditions, and did most of the decorating, including a real Christmas tree (first in many years for me) with actual candles we lit during dinner. Dinner was some beautiful salmon given to us by a family in Charis. We shared family Christmas traditions over dinner and I mentioned the oplatek, blessing/reconciliation bread we always share on Christmas eve at my grandparents. After dinner I called the grandma and grandpa’s place where most of my Dad’s side of the family was gathered. It was somewhat surreal having maybe twenty two minute conversations, hard to remember exactly who said what, but it was really nice to have a small connection with the family Christmas eve. After that off to church again for midnight mass.
Christmas day we had a early afternoon house prayer and hors d’oeuvres time. Restraint not being a strong point for me it was difficult, but necesary to hold back from another wee piece of the fancy cheeses and such. After a quick nap it was off Christmas dinner. All the brothers in the house joined different families in Charis. I was at the Semple home, for a lovely and ample feast. As things wound down about 7:30 after dessert, coffee, a little more dessert, it was time to head out. Many of the families in Charis live in one neighborhood called Greystown. Every family has their own Christmas dinner with assorted guests like myself, but then the wandering begins. After the Semples I was in four other houses. Laughing, caroling, eating, drinking, and general Christmas merriment ensued on a grand scale. A great celebration and I enjoyed it thoroughly. Tomorrow it’s off to for a week in Norfolk for our brotherhood Christmas retreat. We’ll be joining the brothers from the London house somewhere off in the English country side. Should be good craic, tis the season you know.

Three weeks since my last post and quite a bit has gone on for me here in Ireland. The second week in November John Keating, the presiding elder of the Servants of the Word, was in town for several days. It was wonderful to get a little time to meet with John and catch him up on how things are going for me in our Belfast household and the new service this year. John is an amazing encourager and completely dedicated follower and lover of Christ. We’re blessed indeed to have such a man to lead us in the brotherhood.

The following weekend (10-12) I had my first opportunity to go to “The South” – the Republic of Ireland, spending the weekend in Dublin. It was a cracker weekend. Q had some meetings in Dublin for the weekend and I had the chance to tag along and stay with a family, the Buckleys, from the Community of Nazareth (the local Dublin Sword of the Spirit community). Paddy Buckley, along with another Dubliner Tadgh Lynch, and a Belgian Sam Geleyn, were in Dublin for the weekend from London. They’re in the midst of a year of service doing university outreach there through a program called the Timothy project (inspired by 2 Timothy 2:2). I joined the three of them at the Nazareth youth group on Friday night. Noelle Gornik, a fellow Michigander, spent last year in Dublin helping with the youth. I was delighted, when her name was mentioned, to see most of the kids hold their hands up and point palm ward to show where she was from. I also got a chance to see Paddy’s brother, Cormac, on Friday.

Saturday morning the Timothies, Cormac, Stephen Dick (a Belfast lad who recently got a job in Dublin) and myself had a nice fry at Cormac’s place. It’s amazing the way that relationships work. I met Cormac in the summer of aught two when we ended up being roommates for a week at a conference in Michigan called the Ecumenical Youth Congress. We met again in Belgium the next summer at something called the bible week, where I also met the Timothies. Here we were, three years on, having some good Irish sausage and catching up on what the Lord’s been about in our lives the past three years (also speculating about Irelands chances against South Africa in the match that evening). After the fry Steve and I caught a bus into the city center. I got to see a couple things, Trinity University and some of the historic districts along the Liffey River. We then walked over to Christ Church Cathedral where there was a worship event I had heard about in Belfast going on. Christ Church itself was beautiful, but the event was a little disappointing. The vision behind the event was a broad worship time involving many churches, worship styles (music, art, etc.). The reality was an interesting but somewhat disjointed sort of Christian multicultural show. Fine for the afternoon, but not something I’d make an effort to get back to again. That evening there was a Lord’s Day celebration with the twenty-something singles from Nazareth at the Buckley’s house. This turned out to be a beautiful chance to thank God for his many blessings. After a sumptuous meal, which as any feast should had managed to dirty every pot/plate/container/and utensil in the house, we had an extended washing up time. Cormac manned the guitar while the rest of us joined in singing everything from traditional Irish folk tunes to the Beatles and Dave Mathews Band. Sunday including a nice brunch and a nicer soccer match. (Interestingly it’s actually often called soccer in Ireland because of the popularity of Gaelic football, making it still more complicated in decide which sport is referred to by ‘football’). I couldn’t compete skill wise with almost anyone on the pitch, but could hold my own in the hustle and endurance departments. Sunday evening it was off to Strangford Lough for a day retreat with the Timothies. I’m really beginning to love that house there.

The next week was taken with preparation for, and eventually celebration of, the 35th anniversary of the Servants of the Word. Friday we had a big anniversary event, with maybe a couple hundred people joining for a chance to celebrate the Lord’s goodness in calling my brotherhood into being. Yours truly had a wee slot to share a bit of my testimony of the Lord’s work in my life and why I’m a brother in the SW. I’ve shared similarly on many occasions, but something about this time carried more weight and so was more special (also surprisingly more nerve wracking then I expected). Over the next week we had nicer dinners, a feast with many of the leaders in Charis on Tuesday, and special prayers and meditations to mark the occasion. It was all crowned by my first Thanksgiving outside of Michigan. Sixteen of, two Belfast natives, two Lebanese habibis, and an even dozen expatriots gathered around a extra long table in our to celebrate and feast. Elaine Roub, a Minnesotan who is helping with the Gap program, was chief chef. She headed a crew that produced a full on turkey feast with all the fixings.

The next day (for the second time in a fortnight) it was off to the Republic of Ireland. Counter intuitively this trip tp ‘The South’ involved heading steadily west by north west for a few hours until I was on the northern Donegal coast near a place called Downings for the geographically interested. This is one of the ironies of the partition here in Ireland. When most of Ireland became independent of the UK three of the nine Ulster counties with predominantly Catholic populations went with the other three southern provinces and the other six Ulster counties with Protestant majorities became Northern Ireland, remaining a part of the UK. It just so happens that the most northerly part of Ireland (Donegal) is part not a part of Northern Ireland. Anyhow, the occasion for this trip was the TEC men’s weekend we called ‘The Yorkie Challenge’ (those who’ve spent time in the UK will understand the sweet allusion). We stayed at and worked on a couple old houses that are being prepared as a facility that different groups (youth groups, recovering addicts) will be able to use. The weekend was class and included: power tools, tearing out an old rotten floor, moving huge quantities of rock, lashing rain, a brilliant double rainbow, the maiden test of Peter’s potato gun (black PVC, very sharp), a huge bonfire with the afore mentioned floor and a tree we took down, Band of Brothers viewing, bacon and other fried things, mud, cigars, and a brilliant sunny tour of some breathtaking Donegal coast on Sunday morning. Not bad all told, we’re looking for our next chance to do some more work up there.

A few more linguistic gems to close this (overly long) post:

Cracker: adjective, meaning brilliant, splendid, dead on etc.

Eejit: from idiot, a slaggin’ (or sleggin) word for sure, but surprisingly mild

and two of my favorites from the last couple weeks:

usen’t (use-int): contraction of used not, I heard this one down in Dublin. Usage example “Dublin is booming right now, but it usen’t to be like that.” For whatever reason (maybe the accent has something to do with it) I find this one particularly charming.

scundered (two syllables, Skun-derd): embarrassed or mortified, I heard this one from a Belfast native with a poor sense of direction, saying she’s completely scundered when she has to get directions from people who have only lived in the city for a couple months. If someone makes a bit of an eejit of themselves you might sleg off on him by saying “skundered fer ya”.

I’ve been a bit remiss in posting, so I have, so I thought I’d give yous’ons a bit of the old run down on the last couple weeks.  I just got back this evening from a Servants of the Word house retreat weekend.  We were nearly complete, Peter was off serving on the NUTS residential.  NUTS is the aptly named YI project for 11-14 year olds.  On getting back I asked Peter how he was doing and with a big grin he said “wiped out”.  Apparently the main tasks of the weekend were helping the kids grow in faith and confiscating candy.  He said some of the kids brought as much candy/soda/crisps as clothing for the weekend (crisps this part of the word are potato chips, potato chips are something else).

The other seven of us from the house enjoyed a lovely weekend on Strangford Lough, the same place I went to one of my first couple weeks here in NI.   There’s a map showing where it is in relation to Belfast.  The topic for out time was the interior life and protecting sacred space.  Lots of space for reading, prayer, reflection, and enjoying the beautiful surroundings, all told a marvelous weekend.  Saturday morning was a spiritual highpoint for me.  Q pulled a couple selections from a book called The Soul of the Apostolate.  Reading over the selection about the interior life and being united to Christ I think the Lord helped me to do just that.  Being recollected has been a big topic, both for the SW at large and my own personal formation, over the last year and a half or two.  My experience of Saturday morning was one of having many strands, thoughts, and prayers of the last time in the area be woven together more coherently.  A time when much that I’ve assented to and agree with came into finer focus, more penetrating comprehension.  So anyways, that was nice.  After that I had a chance to go for a walk into the national trust site, Castle Ward, that’s literally less then a five minutes walk from the front door.  I quickly found a grand spreading old beech which over hung the sea wall, found a comfortable perch twenty feet up, and got lost in thought watching the tide fill up the Lough.  The best word to describe the beeches there along the shore is entish – I didn’t actually talk to the tree while sitting up there though, just myself and God.

Saturday afternoon Doug, Noel, and I took a little drive down the coast, low tide by now.  We checked out a castle, hiked out on the kelp strewn mud flats, and got to within fifty yards of some seals hauled out on to the rocks.  The seals were something else, they look really comical flopping around on the rocks, no grace at all.  But when they get in the water, look out.  I did a little research and these boys can stay under for thirty minutes and go up to fifty meters deep before they need to surface.  I think there must be some really profound spiritual insights about being in the right place and all … but I’ll need to let that stew.  Today there was more good time to read and meditate, as well as a chance for Georges to roundly defeat me in a fierce ping pong match, and to take a run through the Castle Ward grounds.  Here’s a picture of Audley’s Castle, a tower ruins that was along the run.On Friday night before the retreat Doug took Noel, Georges, and I to dinner with some friends of his from church who live in Portaferry across the Lough from Strangford.  We ate at Karen’s place with her boyfriend John and Connor, another guy from church.  The whole experience was quintessentially Irish.  Karen’s place is one of the smallest homes I’ve ever been in.  The seven of us filled up the main room (smaller then my dorm rooms at U of M) there was also a small kitchen, a smaller bathroom, and a loft bedroom reached by a ladder going up into the ceiling.  The house is in a row of small cottages that look out over the Lough which starts just 20 feet from the front door and is opposite a small marina where some sail boats tie in.  With a cheery fire going, good food, and great banter the evening was grand.  John was the second guy this side of the pond that I could talk a bit about the D-town Tigers with, I told him next year the Tigs will be back.  After dinner we hopped on the ferry and made our way across to Strangford.

The Friday previous I had another excellent dinner at Mags, Elaine, and Maureen’s house (three sisters from Charis).  An eclectic bunch, the party included myself and Elaine from the States, Georges and Joelle from Lebanon, Mags from “the South” (the Republic of Ireland), and four Northern Irish (the Walsh’s  a Charis couple w/children in Uni, Clare a gal from TEC, and Sharon a younger gal widowed last year).  The meal was Spanish in inspiration, and very tasty, but in Irish fashion featured several different potato preparations.  Mags had everyone who came along bring along a photo that means something.  Not having much this side of the pond in the way of photographs I asked my folks to scan a few family pics and send them my way.  I eventually picked this one when me and Beth were the ring bearer and flower girl (respectively) at my Uncle Larry and Aunt Theresa’s wedding.  I think we cut a dashing couple at five and three, plus the choice allowed me to warn about the potential pitfalls of mixing wee lads, tailcoats, and banquet hall toilets.  Another delightful part of the evening was the singing.  After the pictures Mary Walsh called for some Lebanese songs from Georges which needed to be followed by a traditional Irish tune and an American musical song or two.

One final highlight of the last couple weeks was a visit from a couple of the brothers stationed in London.  Andy Pettman was in town for a couple days for meetings.  We took a stroll one afternoon enjoying the botanical gardens and greenhouse, swapping tidbits of natural history and trying to recall the genus or family of various trees and flowers.  Really a blessing to knock some of the rust off the ID skills.  Richard Perry was in town a few more days and we had a chance to go down to the local (most frequented pub, the Malone Lodge in this case) to sit in the comfy chairs and enjoy some frothy Gaelic refreshment while catching up.

Thanks for taking the time to wade through these musings.  One quick prayer request is for a TEC outreach weekend we’re aiming to have the 24-26 of November.  There have been some facility issues (more precisely, the issues revolve around lack of facilities fitting our stringent criteria, dead cheap).  I’d really appreciate prayers for the invites TECsters will make and the practical details of the weekend.

I’m definitely growing in my understanding of Belfast, getting an inkling of how much there is I just don’t see and pick up on.  The area where our house is in south Belfast is a mixed area.  There are several of these but most of the city is clearly carved up between Protestant and Catholic.  You can pick it up from the murals painted on the sides of many buildings and what team the occupants of any given pub are supporting.  I can pick out someplaces as clearly loyalist, and others as republican, but a native knows intuitevely the intricate patchwork of the city.  It’s somewhat boggling to me how present the sectarian differences are here, having grown up in relatively homogenous suburban america where most people could really care less about religious background (or too commonly religion at all).  A perseptive fellow can normally nail down someones denominational background through a few simple questions like “what’s your name?”, “where do you live?”, and “where did you go to school?”.

Last night there was a Charis Lord’s Day celebration.  I’m really enjoying getting to know the brothers and sisters in Charis.  As I think many of you know the Sword of the Spirit communities have a set of prayers and a special meal on Saturday night in order to usher in Sunday and observe it, the day of Christ’s resurrection, in a prayerful, thankful, and joyous way.  The Charis community has one Saturday a month where the whole community joins together for the opening prayers and then goes to different houses for the meal.  I went to the McFaddens, a Protestant family.  They hosted me along with a couple folks from TEC and a Catholic family.  The whole time was delightful, an easygoing and entirely pleasant affair.  It’s so clear to me what a blessing it is for folks from different traditions to live life together and support one another in following Christ.  It’s clear that this is a blessing, but unfortunately it’s a bit under represented in Belfast.  Overall I’m thankful to be living in the midst of this people who have found such rich life together amidst the real obstacles to that here in Belfast.

Today the lads here in the house had a bit of an outing together.  We went hiking up by Belfast castle to a place called Napolean’s nose (it looks a bit like a giant sleeping with the highest point being the nose, but I’m not sure where the Napolean bit comes in).  A nice little climb, from the top you can get a view of much of Belfast, this one here is of North Belfast and Belfast Lough (actually taken on a previous occasion by Bruce, our view today was a bit cloudier).  We brought along the houses frisbee supply and played frolf up and down the hike.  From the top there was a stiff wind going, very difficult to get off a good throw.  Q had one that caught some thermals and went farther then I’ve ever seen one go in my life.  I had a good stretch until I had a seriously errant throw go well off the path down a steep hill, landing in the middle of a thick patch of black berries, wild rose, and stinging nettles.  After slow progress for about twenty minutes I managed to recover the disc.  Amazingly, despite many precarious lies, all of our frisbees made it home.  They’ll be able to threaten the Irish public on yet another occasions.

One more aspect of life here I’m figuring out a bit are some of the language differences.  There are many, maybe I’ll try to keep up a little running Irish lexicon.  Here are a few of the more important, or just entertaining, ones so far:

Slaggin’ and slags off:  the Northern Irish well refined art of cutdowns, backhanded compliments, and sarcasm.  You need a slightly thicker skin then back home, but it’s generally good natured.

Yousons: All of you folks, just like y’all.

Uni: The universtiy.  If I’m trying to blend in I might ask someone what they’re taking at uni, ie what are you studying.  Truth be told I don’t blend very well.

So I was: an emphatic, many variations on the theme, some of the lads here can distill half a dozen variations in a single sentence. 

What’s the craic?:  What’s going on with you, how are things going, can also be used descriptively- I was heading from city center to uni, so I was, and saw some of my mates there on the corner, so I did, and asked them if they wanted to go for a swallie (get a drink).  So we ducked in and grabbed a pint, so we did, and, aye – it was good craic … so it was.

Slicked (two syllables, slick-ed): I’ve only heard this one once but I think it’s brilliant.  Basically it’s a contraction of sly and wicked, could be used to describe someone who sneakily always manages not to buy a round at the pub or the like.

God Bless yousons, I appreciate all your prayers.  I’ve gotta go get washed up and remove the last prickers from my lacerated limbs now.