c. 1996 Religion News Service

(Tom Ehrich is an Episcopal priest in Winston-Salem, N.C, an author and a former Wall Street Journal reporter. E-mail him at journey(at)interpath.com.)

UNDATED _ Finally the rain stops.

It was Southern California’s first serious rain in eight months, so one can hardly begrudge it. But I am glad for a clear morning and take off immediately for the hills.

I leave Mount Calvary Retreat Center, where I have joined a clergy group for two days, and walk a narrow road that twists upward through the mountains above Santa Barbara. Rock and eucalyptus trees rise to one side, and steep cliffs fall to the other.

I stop every few hundred yards to scan the ever-changing vista: sun-sparkled valley, mist-covered mountains marching up and down the coast, and, of course, the majestic ocean. Fog is drifting upward, beginning to obscure the million-dollar homesteads below. It’s too much for the eye to take in.

I reach a crest and decide to turn back. I hear the bells of Mount Calvary announcing matins. Four times a day the Anglican monks toll a call to prayer. Three rings, three rings, nine rings.

It carries clearly across the valley, a sound of eternity that rings over villages, proud cities, university campuses, shanty towns and this golden coast. Whether or not anyone is listening, the bells ring. And following the bells, the voices of prayer, in every language, lifting up to God every conceivable human condition, sometimes filled with hateful pride, sometimes with the holy emptiness of Jesus himself.

Today’s prayers will go on without me. I need to be here, in solitude on a mountain. Another day I will be there, taking my turn in the great vigil that is faith.

For faith is about waiting. Waiting outside the tomb, waiting for prayer to erupt from within, waiting for answers, waiting alone and waiting with friends, waiting for the sunshine of grace even as clouds cover all within sight, waiting in hope, for no verifiable reason, in the belief that God will be present in his sanctuary.

This small Benedictine community has practical matters, too. Who makes the morning coffee, today’s menu, guest reservations, finances, travel plans, plus the constant strain of living in community. Every issue that is tearing apart religious congregations is felt here: the arrival of strangers, new roles for women, tension between faith and culture, power struggles, institutional change, personal losses. Perhaps they feel the stresses even more keenly here, because the monks can’t go home to get away from church.

How do they do it? They feel the stress. Every time their door opens, more stress walks in with their guests. But the monks aren’t undone. Why?

Two reasons, I think. One is they do dishes. Unlike church members who seem to believe that the church exists to meet their needs, these monks know they are here for others. They prepare food, and after meals they clean up. That has a way of focusing one’s passions.

The other reason, of course, is prayer. Four times a day they stop what they are doing, and, with whatever guests happen to be present, they ring the bell, they pause in silence, they pray.

Theories abound for how to help religious congregations gain vitality. Leadership training, roles clarification, alterations in hierarchies and decision-making, mutual ministries, updating liturgies and music. All make a bit of sense.

But after three days in the hills above Santa Barbara, I wonder if we just aren’t doing enough dishes or stopping often enough for prayer. Pride and frenzy will undo even the sturdiest venture.

Whether our congregations occupy corners on city streets, roadsides in farmland, or breathtaking ridges in breathtaking hills surrounded by immense wealth, our purpose isn’t to find personal pleasure and, as part of that quest, to avoid offending each other. Our purpose isn’t to be right. Shalom doesn’t arrive on the wings of correctness.

In a world where people look out for number one, we are called to do dishes. In a world where people hustle and strive, we are called to stop, ring a bell, and pray.

MJP END EHRICH