Nils dropped me off around a quarter to eleven, which gave me about an hour in Spokane’s surprisingly classy airport. I grabbed a greasy Classic Italian at Quizno’s and planted myself next to a window. I sat and watched the other fifteen people in the airport chow-down on similar foods. A man at my two o’clock sat and pretended to read the New York Times, on which Obama’s face takes up a hefty portion of the front page. Next to him, a man finishes a piece of pizza and frantically texts someone…On the plane I started to read, but quickly drifted into an hour and a half nap. I woke up and apologized to my neighbor for any snoring I might have done. We started to talk, and it turns out he is a retired WSU professor of Russian literature. His name is Tom and when he found out my plan to head into ministry, a conversation sparked. “I went to seminary…ages ago,” he told me. It didn’t work out for him. He went to a Roman Catholic seminary right out of high school, and after three years, he found himself on a different path. (To be a teacher that is, he is still Roman Catholic). When we left the plane, Tom gave me his number in Pullman and told me to call him in a week or so because he had a number of books that he wanted to give me, including a Cambridge anthology of an explanation of the creation of the Christian Biblical canon. Very cool. We shook hands and I wandered through the vast Minneapolis/St. Paul International Airport.
As I wandered the Twin Cities’ airport, I noticed a number of people with ash marks on their foreheads. I asked someone at information if there was a chapel where they might be holding Ash Wednesday services. He told me where to go, but I wasn’t able to make a full service before I had to board. Instead, I planted myself next to my gate and watch Lou Dobbs on CNN. Apparently HE’s the one who has all the answers. Go figure.
At ‘Lagua’dia,’ I walked down the stairs to find my driver
with a sign with my name on it. No, it doesn’t just happen in the movies. I stepped in the lush Suburban, and my driver and I chatted about the differences between New York and Washington State. Twenty minutes later, we pulled up to the Leo House, a former Catholic boarding home for German emigrants. I believe the administrative staff is comprised of a priest and nuns, though I didn’t meet any. My room was small, but it was one of the only ones on my floor with a private shower—I can’t complain too much.When I woke up at 6am (3am my time), I was so excited to get into the city that I got ready way too fast.
…I had some time to kill, so I made “You talkin' to me?” poses in the mirror. I waited for the 7:30 breakfast buffet on the second floor. I know that certain people might be interested to know that they had corned beef hash. Woo hoo!
I checked out at 8 and walked toward Times Square. On the way I had several views of the Empire State Building. Times Square was quite a sight, though it would have been better at night.
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| From Bowing to Mystery |
I stopped by my favorite little New York pizza place Sbarro. (Michael Scott). Then I headed east to the United Nations building. On a building across the street was a passage from Isaiah. It included “Nation will not take up sword against nation, nor will they train for war anymore.” Made a quick trip to see “The Donald” at his “Al Pacino’s Scarface-esque” skyscraper. I saw the Waldorf Astoria, St. Bart’s Episcopal Cathedral,
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| From Bowing to Mystery |
30 Rockefeller and the ice rink. It was here that I finally found some other touristy people who I didn’t feel uncomfortable asking to take my picture, and then I had lunch in Grand Central Station. Grand Central was probably the coolest building I went to. That is probably because it was the only one I went in.
The Point of the Trip
My 22 hours in New York DID have a point though. At 11 that morning I met with the Reverends Douglas Fenton and David Copley to talk about the possibility of a mission in my future with the Young Adult Service Corps. They questioned me about myself and explained the program to me.
Should I choose to go on a mission, this would be my time line:
June 1-14: Attend missionary training session in Toronto, Canada.
June 15-Autumn: Raise funds at Good Shepherd and Cornerstone, as well as the Diocese of Olympia.
Autumn: Go on mission for a year.
I’ll hand it to David and Douglas; they certainly want my eyes to be open to all of the possible problems I might face while on mission. They told me about some of the loneliness and depression issues that some missionaries face. Their warning didn’t phase me at first, but they loaded my up with some reading materials. As I read them on the trip home, I started to feel a bit of anxiety about some things: catching a disease, becoming an outcast, insulting someone, becoming depressed…
Luckily I waited to make my judgment until I read a bit more.
My plane from New York to Minneapolis was delayed for 3 hours due to bad weather in Minneapolis. My first thought was that Kevin would have to stay up near his bedtime to come get me in Spokane. Since I’d be up past my bedtime, I would finally see the boy do some schoolwork! (I kid because I love) Then the continuing flight to Spokane was canceled and it appeared that I would be in Minneapolis for about 24 hours. I incessantly pestered the airline clerk to find me a better flight. She did, and it looked like I would only have to be at the Minneapolis airport until 9am. I would be home in time to go to the rec center—yeah right—or at least go work at the church office to catch up for the two days I missed.
...anyway, I had plenty of time to get some reading in.
I went through a book called On Your Way: A guide to your overseas intercultural experience. I found this book to be extremely useful with its honest and deep look at what it is like to be on a mission. It used real experiences of missionaries to back up their ideas—which I appreciated. I started to feel more comfortable with the idea of possibly being susceptible to diseases and such. This was because I read about what a profound influence cross-cultural experiences had on these missionaries. I started reflecting on my own life. What was missing? What could a yearlong mission provide for my spiritual growth?
At Minneapolis Airport I quickly found a bench without pesky armrests underneath one of the many flat-screen TVs airing CNN. For a few hours, Anderson Cooper sang the lullaby of the octuplet lady as I drifted in and out of sleep. All over the airport, people had found clever ways to catch a few winks. I used my shirt and pants from the day before as a pillow. At five or six I woke up craving something to eat. My choice was McDonalds, Burger King, or Starbucks. So: nasty, nasty, or overpriced…and kind of nasty. I opted to get a croisanwich at the BK. After that mistake, I went to my gate and slept a bit more until it was time to board the plane.
I got my new boarding pass to discover that, yes, I had been upgraded to first class.
LUXURY
…Okay, it isn’t THAT special. It certainly isn’t worth the $1000 extra that it cost those next to me. There were bigger seats, tray tables; more legroom; an omelet, potatoes, sausage, fresh fruit, and a honey oat bar. When I sat down and tried to put my jacket in the overhead compartment, a Chris Farley-ish flight attendant named JoJo told me “Honey, you’re in first class. Let me hang that for you.”
My flight attendant, Raul, called us all by name and refilled our drinks several times. Those drinks came in real glasses, by the way.
I can’t deny, first class was nice, but I just couldn’t get past how much money is wasted. I looked it up: $1000 to buy a first class ticket instead of economy. There are so many good things that can be done with $1000. You can send 20 disaster relief kits with food, water, medicine, and blankets to people whose lives were devastated by floods, typhoons, and hurricanes. You can give clean water to almost five families. The list goes on.
I left the plane feeling more rested than when I had gotten on, yet I couldn’t help but reflect on this a bit more. I wrote the following for my contribution to my home parish’s newsletter:
After numerous delays due to snow in Minneapolis, I was finally on my way home after a whirlwind trip in New York City. To ease my troubles, Northwest Airlines gave me a first-class seat. This was a delightful surprise—to say the least. I had never flown first class and was always a bit curious. It was pretty lush: bigger seats, tray tables; more legroom; an omelet, potatoes, sausage, fresh fruit, and a honey oat bar. The flight attendant called us all by name and refilled our drinks, which came in real glasses. It felt good to be pampered a bit.
But, sometimes I think that good things like that get in the way. We often think that Satan only attacks us through the bad things—through sins. Well I think more often than not, he tempts us with the good things: sleeping in on Saturdays, staying home to watch TV instead of building a friendship over some coffee, and buying first-class seats. The enemy is always tempting us with comfort, security, and power, just as he did with Jesus in the desert.
If it’s not done for His glory, then what is the point? If we choose those immediate comforts, what do we have when it is over?
Lent is the perfect time to think about these things and simplify your life, and to try to live as Jesus did. Instead of paying that extra $1000 for a first-class seat, you could give that money to a charity. That amount will buy enough mosquito nets for more than 80 families to prevent malaria. You could wake up early on Saturday morning and help a neighbor do yard work. There’s no limit to the opportunities God gives us to serve.
For the rest of Lent, augment the sacrifices that you may or may not be making. In addition to giving up dark chocolate, try to think of one thing that you can do every day that is out of your routine that helps someone. Forge new friendships; build up old ones. Or simply pray: “God of infinite wisdom, help me to see where I can be more Christ-like. You are my savior; you have transformed my heart. Transform my mind.”
Amen.
So what about the mission? I need to think about that more. I’m sure that if I decide to move on to the next step(s), I’ll be writing ALL about it.