In this Issue:

Diocese of Lexington reaches out to Survivors of Katrina

St. Raphael's first ever J2A Pilgrims Rock Ireland

Part of the Heart of Our Mission: Announcements

Solo Flight ritual: the art of loving

EYE: Can You Catch The Spirit Off The Beaten Path?

Hurricane Katrina News and Notes

Commentaries

From the Bishop: Matthew Goes to College

Reflection: Finding a home in the storm

X-ercizing: Community, solidarity, and humanity

Diocesan Calendar

Past Issues

X-ercizing: Community, solidarity, and humanity

By Steve Walton

As I am sitting propped up in bed with a glass of sparkling white wine on the nightstand and 1970s New York punk music spitting out of the CD player, I am trying to reconcile and digest the current events, my life happenings, and what it all means to me — today.

My original idea for this month’s column is jotted down on the back of half an envelope. It reads, “Bridal Department. Refugee. Isolated. Support. Hope. Faith. More planning. Should have been better prepared. 9/11. Perseverance. Love. S loves J. J loves S. Seeing through the stuff. Nothing else matters. Color for bathroom – Rust????”

A week and a half later and I don’t remember what I was trying to remind myself to write about. (The part about the rust colored bathroom probably has nothing to do with the column.)

I wrote the note to myself the evening after Katrina struck the Gulf States. Jessica and I had been out registering for wedding gifts, and the harsh contrast between my concerns at the time and the concerns of many of my fellow citizens was weighing heavily on my mind.

Actually, I mistakenly felt at the time I understood their plight better after my experience in the bridal department. Over the morning that was to follow, I grew to see that no experience I have ever had prepares me to speak in “compares and contrasts” on this subject.

As a person who processes information in the form of similes, metaphors, and analogies, I am faltering for comprehension. I still cannot get my mind around the pain, horror, and loss that others must be feeling at this time. I have no base of comparison. I cannot fathom the loss of control. I cannot fathom the fear. I cannot grasp the enormity of it all.

We get our news and understanding from the television, newspapers, and internet. And those media tell us hundreds of stories; show us thousands of pictures. And those thousands of pictures are worth hundreds of thousands of words, and still I can’t understand.

There is so much I don’t understand, I don’t even understand what I think I understand.

What I do understand, and the import that is not lost on me, is the enormous response of Americans. People all over the country have given money, time, and talents to the cause of supporting our own. As with Sept. 11, America has shown it has deep reserves of compassion and solidarity that stretch from border to border, and coast to coast. We, as Americans, fully understand in times of crises — united we stand or divided we fall

Recently I was having a conversation with photojournalist Jonathan Rodgers. He was explaining to me his goal of defining community. The dictionaries define community as “a place where people live; people in general; and people who share a common interest.” He wants to know if community is more than those things and if it can even be fully defined.

He asked how I defined community and I used a take-off on an old phrase: I don’t know how to define community, but I know it when I see it.

Based on the last few days of watching people give to The Red Cross, Episcopal Relief and Development, and other organizations; donating their time and talents; and offering up their prayers and support, I think community can partially be defined as a group of people looking through their differences and still seeing each other.

Fidel Castro pledged his country’s support to America during this time of sorrow and tragedy. I don’t know what his motivation is, but I like to think it is a sign of global community.

I sit propped up in bed thinking about an America that shows support not only for her own, but also an America that shows it has deep reserves of compassion and solidarity that stretches not only from border to border, and coast to coast. But ALSO country to country, from the least to the most. An America that fully understands in times of crises and in the times that prevent such things — united we ALL stand or divided we ALL fall.

Community is not about locality or camaraderie, or even about agreeability. A community is about the simplest commonality of all — our humanity.

“In you, O Lord, have I taken refuge; let me never be put to shame: deliver me in your
righteousness. Be my strong rock, a castle to keep me safe, for you are my rock and my
stronghold; for the sake of your Name, lead me and guide me.” Psalm 31:1 and 3

Steve can be reached at xersizing@yahoo.com

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© 2005 The Episcopal Diocese of Lexington

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