Conversations on the Road Home (DG)

People will either be surprised or annoyed to learn that I am a dyed-in-the-wool introvert. I have even taken several tests, (Myers-Briggs, Enneagram, grandmother etc.) that seem to firmly support what I already know to be true of myself. I have profound thoughts and deep emotions just below what is often a very calm and present, somewhat reserved exterior. Now, that is not to say that there isn’t calmness and presence on the inside as well, bouncing up against and flowing around the other thoughts and emotions.

So you might ask, “Why does an introvert choose a vocation (parish ministry) where they are around people, large noisy groups of them, and all the time?” I ask myself the same question, especially after a meeting runs too long on words and too short on content.

But, maybe, just maybe, if we all put the same question out there into the universe, one day I will get an answer.

Ok, so I am being a little cheeky about this blog entry, maybe a bit sarcastic, and here’s why: conversations are hard for introverts. (Or at least a “growing-edge” for introverts to use the most P.C. vernacular) Especially in a world that is filled to bursting with loud extroverts, talking all the time, using up our precious oxygen, deafening us with the sounds coming out of their mouths.

I am learning to do a better job of talking more, expressing all the things that need to be expressed, and most of all learning to share some of my vulnerabilities. It has been a practice. Sometimes I do better than others. Sometimes I am able to connect in ways I never thought possible as an introvert. Other times I miss the mark completely. (If only sticking your foot in your mouth meant you had been prevented from saying a foolish thing?) You see there is a kind protective shielding that happens with silence. You can’t say the wrong thing, if you don’t say nothing at all.

All of this to say (where’s the oxygen): I am learning to be with other people, and to enjoy them as much as I enjoy the book-ensconced solitude of my hermitage (i.e. Fahs House). It’s been tremendous, all of it, the talking, and most of all being in conversation.  

There is a difference (right?) between talking and conversation. The introvert in me still doesn’t want to talk, but I definitely want to be in conversation.  In conversation one expects to hear multiple voices, responses; perhaps, to gain insights, or simply to feel as though you have been heard by another person. In learning to be in conversation with others, I also feel as though I am also learning to be closer to the source of my being, the life that grounds me and contains all the rest. In fact I believe that G-d, among many other things, is what happens between “you and I” when we are in right relationship.

In Jewish and Christian scriptures we hear in one instance the psalmist wanting to turn their dwelling space into a “house of prayer” and in another instance Paul encourages his friends in Thessalonica to “pray without ceasing”. Prayer can be the ongoing, ceaseless conversation we have with each other in our house of prayer, the church. It can also be the conversation we have with life, by how we live in community, how we welcome the stranger—as a prayer. Talking is not prayer, real, meaningful conversation can be. Conversation, like prayer, when it is done right, reminds us of interconnectedness and interdependence of the web of life.

I’ve learned that to experience the benefits of conversation takes practice, lots of practice, not just for introverts, (like, a certain Intern Minister) but for all of us.

So here is a special invitation to enter a meaningful new conversation on our shared faithful journey. On Monday May 27, at 7:00 PM - Memorial Day - I am leading an interfaith worship service called the New Road Home right here at the church. It will be a unique gathering of veterans, civilians, active service members and their families. The aim of this service is for us to be in conversation in a way many don’t experience, but all of us desperately need. We will honor our connectedness, our commonalities and also our unique stories. We will reconnect with home, and our conversations across differences and generations will help to open the door.

I want to hear from you. I want to be in conversation. I want to pray with you. See you in church. Daniel.