St. Francis Inn

Room at the Inn is a film made in 2006 about the Franciscan Inn and it's development since the 70's.   The guests remain the same.  The volunteers and FVM's come and go.  But the core team remains and has changed significantly.  The Fathers, friars, nuns, and the lay team wrinkled and grayed.  They have become more joyful and warm.  That's what thirty years of commitment, repetition,  and daily sacraments will do to you.

This life is available to all.  Common people turned into saints and hero's.   Could we, flawed as we are, be this in Tampa?  In some ways it's as easy as merely copying ideas and implementing them in Tampa.  More challenging, it's adopting the lifestyle of passionate sacrifice that is available to all.  The only requirement is daily renewal of intention.  We are both inspired yet guided by St. Francis Inn.   

The embracing of the Franciscan tau- "try, try again"

The Inn creates magic despite constant threats from the city due to loitering.  They provide a place and times of joy and celebration.  Yesterday Jon and I attended their annual block party.  The guests at the Inn, daily humbled by having to seek free meals due to poverty get a chance to celebrate life and all their blessings.   There were clowns and pony rides for the kids a mist the littered and disease infested street, under the elevated train that runs several times an hour and rumbles the place.   Delicious baked chicken and dessert.  A DJ whom we found out left years of professional DJ'ing to become a Father.  He now drives up yearly for this block party.  

The Inn is the flower that grows in a cracked sidewalk.  

Dear Tampa,

You may have heard the story of the two Buddhist monks that were walking to a far off destination. On their way they came to a river where a beautiful young woman was stuck and needed to cross the river. One of the two holy men approached her and asked if she would like some help crossing. Agreeing, she jumped onto the monks back and he carried her across the river so that she would stay dry. After setting her down she went about her way and the two monks continued on in silence. After walking the rest of the evening and arriving at their destination the monk who had not spoken to the young women let out what had been bothering him throughout the day."How is it that you would speak to, touch and even allow that young women onto your back?" he asked in a mildly accusatory tone. See these monks had a discipline of staying cloistered away from women and never touched or even spoke with them. The monk replied "Brother, I set her down back there at the river bank, why are you still carrying her around?"

I have thought about this old story a lot while on this time away from you. See I am torn. While I love the story and think the ways that we (Probably should say I) cling to dogma and legalism are dangerous and often, as in the story, keep us from loving others. This point of the story rings very true for me, however the ideal of detachment is a different thing.

Since being away from Tampa, you people that I love, you ministries and communities with which I have rooted myself are always on my mind. I keep wondering to myself how I can better detach for the sake of 'sabbatical.' Now there are things that I should detach from that have been really difficult for me since being away. Its hard to keep myself from constantly checking in on things with The Well and I know Natalia has been having the same struggle with the Eden Project. I find myself thinking about the time of day and being keenly aware of each time I know a meal is being served, food is being picked up, our micro-site is gathering to worship or an open mic is popping off. I know that routine and habit have etched these time frames into my mind and it should be expected but I also sense myself longing to be there and be involved in someway. I have some real attachments that a healthier me could break with. This, I think, is a kind of detachment that I should practice. The ministries are all in amazing hands and more than that God is moving among them. There is no need for me and that is both a sweet treat and a bitter pill to me. I see my need to be needed flaring up and I also see my lack of trust in God in marked relief here. So, to my friends and partners holding down the fort in Tampa, thank you for being enough and thank you for spending yourselves on behalf of the poor and hungry and lost in our city.

Now when it comes to "our city" I cannot (and shouldn't) let go. Philadelphia is a beautiful city with amazing people and work being done here. The Kingdom is coming in this place and there are seedlings of that reality everywhere. In terms of "home" in the abstract, I have been very at home here and found many brothers and sisters who I have been able to share in real community with. Our family transcends states and regions and, while it is contextualized different in different places, the culture of the kingdom, our true home, is powerful and present. I have a deep longing and love for Tampa that I believe is straight from the heart of God. I miss it. Not a night goes by that I don't lay in bed, processing what I have seen here, and choke up thinking about seeing justice, love and community bring true shalom to Tampa. Our City is worth committing to, worth fighting for and worth surrendering to the will and ways of God. Everything I see here in Philly stirs a dream for Tampa, a memory of Tampa or a critique of Tampa. I keep remembering GK Chesterton's words that we do not merely love places because they are great (for then they might stay the same and that would be a tragedy) rather places become great because people love them. He corrects any who might say that this is fantasy by pointing to actual history. Every great civilization began at some sacred stone or tree. People devoted themselves to a place, and because they loved that place they committed to it, fought for it and developed it. This is an attachment that I have found deep in my heart as I experience prolonged time elsewhere. I am still carrying Tampa with me.

As I have been meditating on detachment a thought has been occurring to me. Perhaps I am not clinging to or carrying it with me as much as I am in its grip, just as I am in the grips of Jesus. Maybe the tension I have been feeling is a good and right presence of two truths? Detachment is good and healthy in regards to our capacity to surrender everything in our lives to God. Our hands are to be open and all things are to be on the table. My capacity to let go, however, is found in the grace of God which grasps all of my being. I am not attached as much as I am possessed. God possesses my whole heart, though I often struggle to break free, and I guess he keeps it in Tampa.

You Have my Heart,
Jon

"If you do what you love, you'll never work a day in your life"

On the outside what we've been doing here looks alot like what we do at home.   How is serving the hungry, having coffee with the homeless, and testing the medically uninsured for communicable disease any way different here in Philly than back home?  Here we are sharing crazy stories, being productive together, playing board games, and enjoying the simple pleasures of food like home-baked cookies with our neighbors.    Does this really feel different?  In some ways yes.  We get to "clock out"  .  But in others no- when the hours are over we realize that we are physically tired and must retreat to our room to read.  Ultimately we are realizing that what we do for work and what we do for fun are the same thing.  What we do is both the hardest and the funnest work that can be done.  

The City of Brotherly Love Sculpture