Holy Land Tour Part 4

(For the next several months this blog will contain memories,  reports, journals of international tours I have led or workshops I have conducted. They will include The Holy Land,  China, Finland et al. Each blog will contain a portion of the original reports.)

Holy Land Tour Part 4 

The Sea of Galilee

Now this was a surprise. We are all together in the boat. The Sea of Galilee is calm. We are about to leave the seashore at Tiberius. The boat crew hoists a flag: Old Glory. The recorded music blares out “The Star Spangled banner”. What can you say? I stood at attention, full of pride - and hopeful of peace

But the highlight came when we stopped in the middle of the Sea of Galilee. Ruth (as always - decked out in just the right attire) opened the Bible and with deep reverence and just the right intonation read the account of Jesus walking on the water and of Peter’s not completely successful effort to do the same.

My mind was flooded with reflections. Suppose it was I whom Jesus invited to take that walk. I decided Peter was a better man than I.

Outside Bethlehem

Angels We Have Heard On High

It was hard, very hard to really feel the presence of Christ or to recreate his walk along the Via de la Rosa - midst the shops, the noise and the solemn cross-bearing pilgrims. It got really tough to feel reverent at the Tomb of the Holy Sepulcher as warring denominations argue over who controls what portion of the floor, or door, or even tomb - while ornate brass lanterns give the whole scene and almost bazaar atmosphere.

But when we walked out of that cave on the hills of Bethlehem, when we sang, “Gloria in Excelsis”, I got it. I could see that angel and then the heavenly host. I could feel the rustle of angel wings. I could hear the announcement, I could get the impulse and say the words, “Come, let us go to Bethlehem to see this thing which the Lord has made known to us.” I was ready to go with haste - to the manger.

The Wailing Wall, The Holocaust, The Holocaust Children’s Museum

I combine these three for they all speak to me of a profound spiritual mystery: The Silence of God.

The Wailing Wall is a magnet. It draws to it Jewish people of all subgroups from the ultra-orthodox to the secular. It speaks of past glory, of great mourning for the temple which was destroyed, deep anger because of the Islamic Dome of the Rock now sitting above, of great hope for the restoration of hope for the ancient chosen people of God.

Access to the Wailing Wall, especially also for non-Jews, is not guaranteed. Some recent travelers had told me they had not been allowed to approach it. Issues regarding where non-Jews or inappropriately dressed people, or women kept surfacing.

So I was grateful when I knew we were going, men and women, just as long as men’s heads were covered and we stepped away from the wall before turning our backs to it.

 For obvious reasons security and access were carefully controlled. I fully understood why we went through the metal detectors, etc. The men and the women went to different sections, although we were in sight of each other.

I had expected more people, even though the entire area was crowded by an eclectic mass of people: Hassidic Jews, pilgrims from all over the world, Sri Lanka, Poland, Rwanda, Canada, Thailand, Russia and USA. About 20 feet from the wall scholars sat with their texts. Nearer the wall many bar mitzvahs were being celebrated by ecstatic young men with their fathers and male friends while mother and females “cheered them on” from beyond the barrier which separated men from women.

I wrote my simple prayer, approached the wall, placed my hands and head in reverent attention and placed my prayer between the cracks. I added a few more petitions, just reflected a few moments and then stepped back.

On one level it was only a ritual. On another level it was much more. (See below.)

I am glad we had time on our last day (and paid the extra $15.00 fee) to go to the Holocaust Museum. Nothing really new there. We all know the tragic history so well. But the presentation was so exquisitely well done, just the right tone, the architecture moving us along from the early stirrings of German patriotism to extreme nationalism, super-race belief, blind followers of clever politicians. Then came the prejudices, the faultfinding, the exclusion of “the other” and on to  (as we all know - and so movingly narrated by survivors) the pogroms, the Star of David, the trip to the concentration camps, to the ovens.

Who can possibly have this experience without deep moments of reflection, repentance, and resolution! And the realization that instead of “Never Again” we humans repeat the tragedy again and again: Mao Tze Tung, Cambodia, Rwanda, Darfur, Myanmar.

The Holocaust Children’s Museum overwhelms with its stark simplicity. Almost total darkness. Just illuminated with candles, one for each child victim. And a reading of the names and ages of the killed children, solemnly and slowly read - one, by one, by one...

In it all I experience the Silence of God. Where is God when the temple is destroyed and mad men throw children into ovens? My heart screams, “My God, my God, why has Thou forsaken us?” It is in these often deep periods of reflection that I find God; and God is not absent, but just beside me, and then I notice that God too is weeping. God’s tears mingle with mine and the many. God made the decision way before time began to give to human beings freedom of the will. They were not to be automats programmed to do only good. God gave us choice. So often we have chosen very, very poorly - and God weeps.

And sends a Redeemer to forgive, to point to better possibilities, to kindle more pious plans, to relight the candle of hope in the darkness - and finally, the darkness does not overcome it.

Holy LandTour, Part 3: Christmas Lutheran Church

     

(For the next several months this blog will contain memories,  reports, journals of international tours I have led or workshops I have conducted. They will include The Holy Land,  China, Finland et al. Each blog will contain a portion of the original reports.)

It had been very difficult to convince our tour company, NAWAS to include Bethlehem on our tour. There were issues: security, no four star hotel in Bethlehem, the Nawas family is Lebanese and

Lebanon/Israel relations are strained. Yet, I insisted we go to Bethlehem or we don’t do this tour.

Bethlehem was included.

My work with Wheat Ridge Ministries called upon me to assist in supporting Lutheran work in

Bethlehem. Wheat Ridge funded the Wellness center there. Wheat Ridge friends helped build the

school. Wheat Ridge helped establish a Parish Nurse program and sponsored short mission trips

for doctors, audiologists, nurses who donate their time for brief periods of time there.

So we visited. We listened to Pastor Mitre who tries to keep hope alive in a place where hope

is a rare commodity. And we worshipped on Sunday at Christmas Lutheran Church.

We had agreed (or more accurately, I had decided) to have our group sing a special

number during the service. I decided it should be Stan’s version of The Lord’s Prayer. We

rehearsed it (especially on the bus). I loved it and so did others. However, others with better

musical ears than mine came to me and said, “Mel, this is not working. Listening to our botched

up harmony does not make it easy to feel like a prayer. We must go to Plan B.” Plan B was to

sing “Alleluia”. Great song. I didn’t think it fit. I felt it kind of went on without an ending. I

made an executive decision. We will sing that old Lutheran favorite “Beautiful Savior.”

Problem: We didn’t have the music for that with us. Through Barbara I e-mailed Jane to fax it to

both our hotels in Jerusalem and in Bethlehem. She tried. Both hotels had their faxes turned off.

But we got just the right arrangement when we visited Bethlehem ministries on Saturday, 33

copies clearly copied.

Sunday morning found us at church 30 minutes ahead of time (a minor miracle for folks

from Calvary) but in time with that specific request from Pr. Mitre. As we entered the beautiful

chapel with its exquisite stained glass windows we were met by a large group of white people,

certainly not the Arab members of the congregation. It turned out to be a big brass band from

Germany. They had come to support the Lutheran ministry in Bethlehem, had a benefit concert,

taught children in the Lutheran school there how to play some band instruments and donated instruments. They were led by a gentle, tall Lutheran pastor. Now we needed to negotiate how their playing and our singing would work together to enrich the worship. Surprisingly, my German was better than the director’s English. Beautiful Savior is well known in Germany by its German name, “Schoenster Herr Jesu”. The band director thought we wanted her to accompany our group. Not a good idea. When I mentioned our hymn choice to Pr. Mitre he said, “Wonderful. This is a favorite hymn of

my congregation. Why don’t you folks sing the first 3 verses and the congregation and the organ

will join in on verse 4.” We did that. It was stirring: “Beautiful Savior, Lord of the Nations.”

I was also glad that we had dropped singing “The Lord’s Prayer “ when Pr. Mitre said,

“We do the same thing every Sunday. When we pray “The Lord’s Prayer” during the service I

ask each person to pray it in the language of their choice. It was powerful, Arabic, German,

Swedish, Norwegian, English. (I chose Cantonese.) God sorted it all out.

Another decision had to be made. Pr. Mitre had asked for someone from our group to

read the Epistle lesson for the day. Of course, many wanted to do that. Several volunteered. I

chose to offend them all and made the decision that I would read the lesson. And what a lesson it

was to hear God’s call for justice, peace and consideration for the poor. Once again, the right

word of God for exactly that time and place.

Two disappointments: The sermon was, of course, in Arabic. Pr. Mitre chose to not give

a brief summary in English. I learned later that Pr. Mitre struggles on Sunday in finding a

balance between being the pastor for the members of his flock, and also paying adequate

attention to the needs of guests.

The second disappointment: The church was built by German Lutherans more than 100

years ago. The stained glass windows all depict the life and ministry of Jesus in and near

Bethlehem. Stunningly beautiful! My disappointment: The Bible verse accompanying each

window was there in German. I wish it had been in an Arab language. To compensate, upon the

100th anniversary of the church, the congregation had the words of the Gloria in Excelsis done in

beautiful Arabic script around the dome.

The conversations after the service were an important part of the experience. Once again

the tour members were wonderful as all of us met the Arab members, some ELCA youth

volunteers from America and guests from Norway and Germany. My conversation with one of

the members was sobering. He explained the great difficulty he has getting around the “security

walls” to land which has been in his family for generations. He said to me, “I must get there. I

must continue to plant olive trees there. If I fail to go, if I fail to plant, my family’s ancestral

lands will immediately be ‘appropriated’. So I go. I plant with my bare hands. I have planted 400

olive trees.”

“Mitre, how do you feel about the future?” “Not hopeful”, he said. “I see almost no signs

of us moving toward a peaceful solution.” “Yet”, he said, “we must keep hope alive.” As Martin

Luther said, “Even if I knew I would die tomorrow, today I must still plant an olive tree.”

(Luther, of course, had said, “plant my apple tree” but in Bethlehem the apple tree became an

olive tree.) I heard that and tried to keep my teardrops from becoming too obvious.

Holy Land Tour Part 2

(For the next several months this blog will contain memories,  reports, journals of international tours I have led or workshops I have conducted. They will include The Holy Land,  China, Finland et al. Each blog will contain a portion of the original reports.)

Holy Land Tour– Sea of Galilee (2008)

We had come down from the mountain where Jesus preached, “The Sermon”. We had visited the home of Peter’s mother-in-law and the synagogue next to it. Now we were on the shore of the Sea of Galilee. It was the place where Jesus appeared to the disciples after his resurrection. It was the place where Jesus restored his apostolic call to a Peter who had thrice denied him. I liked the metal sculpture depicting Jesus restoring Peter. It felt right to look at the large stone formation running from the church to the shore of Galilee.

I made a decision. I would walk to the seashore. I would take off my shoes and socks and stand in the shallows. Then I would hear the voice of Jesus,

“Melvin, do you love me?”

“Yes, Lord, you know I love you.”

“Then feed my sheep.

Melvin, do you love me?”

“Yes, Lord, you know I love you.”

“Then feed my lambs.”

“Melvin, do you love me?”

“Yes, Lord, I love you.”

“Then feed my sheep.”

My mind went back 58 years and 10 days. That was the date the bishop’s representative ad St. Paul’s Lutheran Church, Tracy, California, commissioned me to serve as an officially rostered teaching minister in the Lutheran church. The text was the one above, the call to Peter.

And what a ministry it has been! (But that’s a topic for a different set of reflections.)

Holy Land Tour –Cana (2008)

It was startling! As we got off the bus to walk to the place remembered as the site of the first miracle of Jesus, I nearly walked into a huge banner hanging next to the street. I don’t remember the exact words, but the impact was there. It was something like, “Remember there is only one God, Allah, and his prophet is Mohammed.”

I refocused as we all entered a room reportedly the site of Jesus’ first miracle. We saw an excellent sample of a clay water pot capable, according to the King James version of the Bible, of holding 30 firkins of water. The first miracle!

Then we went to the chapel which Anes, our Guide, had reserved for our Sunday worship service. (A major accomplishment, as couples reserve this chapel for their wedding at all hours of the day with reservations required months in advance.) We had just come from Nazareth so we began our service with Julie doing her usual amazing and stirring introduction to the Annunciation as sung in Holden evening Vespers. “An angel sent by God, to a town called Nazareth, to a woman whose name was Mary…” And we responded with Mary’s Magnificat.

I very intentionally asked 92 year old Gerry Hendrickson to read the lesson for the day, the account of the first miracle. I wanted Gerry to read this because he was the first president of Calvary Lutheran Church. Just like Jesus began his ministry of miracles, Gerry has led and been faithful at Calvary, a congregation alive and active because of God’s continuing miracles.

We prayed very purposely at this wedding site where Jesus was present. First, I asked each of us to recall one marriage for which we especially thanked God (our own, our parents, some friends…) Each in their own way thanked God. I thanked God for Jane and our marriage of more than 57 years.

Then I asked each of us to pray for a marriage that is facing special challenges and threats. I had promised one particular Calvary couple that I would do this and I was pleased to keep this promise.

Our third prayer was for God to find a partner for someone currently unmarried but having a desire for marriage. I imagine some prayed for themselves or for a friend. I prayed for the one member of my family who is not married but would like to be. I continue to ask God to hear that prayer.

I closed with the thought, “God still changes water into wine.” There are times in our life when we run out of wine. All we have left is simple H²O. We turn that over to God and the first miracle is repeated: God once again changes the water into wine!

Tour of Israel, Palestine (Holy Land) 2008 Part 1

It has been some months since I last posted. For the next several months this Blog will contain memories, reports, journals of international tours I have led or workshops I have conducted. They will include the Holy Land, China Finland etc. Each blog will contain a portion of the entire reports.

HOLY LAND TOUR

Sept. 1-30, 2008

Introduction: Why Lead a Tour to The Holy Land

“No more tours!” I said it and I meant it. My participation in leading four trips to China,

one to the Footsteps of St. Paul, one to Lutherland and the Danube and one to Brazil had all been

memorable, educational and inspirational. But now I was 80 years old and it was time to quit.

“One more tour- to the Holy Land!” I announced. Why? The ageing process affords the

opportunity to reflect upon missed (or yet available) new experiences. As Jane and I together,

once again read through the four Gospels, I thought, “I’d like to walk where Jesus walked. I’d

like to sit in places where Jesus taught. Maybe I should go there - with a group.”

There was a second motive. I wanted to go to Bethlehem. In my work for Wheat Ridge

Ministries I learned more and more about the situation in Bethlehem. I listened to and was

inspired by Pastor Mitre Raheb who heads up Lutheran work in Bethlehem. I looked at pictures

of Arab kids (Christians and Muslims) studying together in our Lutheran School there. These

kids drew me to Bethlehem.

Of course there were concerns. Do I still have the physical and mental stamina to be a

group leader? Is it safe? I felt a very heavy responsibility for the security, especially also because

all in my tour group are key members of Calvary. I dare not irresponsibly lead them into harm’s

way… Support from Jane is always essential. Of course, I had no way of knowing that two

weeks before our departure she would have full hip replacement. Typically, Jane kept her

reservations about my trip to herself and supported my dream. Our kids, as is also typical of

them, were supportive with Peg coming from New Hampshire and Lyzse from Connecticut,

Dave, newly arrived in San Diego, Tim from the Bay area and John providing almost daily

contact via computer Skype conversations from Taiwan.

Then there were marvelous co-hosts: Bill and Marian Duncan. Bill handled the finances

and paper work and Marian the interpersonal stuff.

Once again absolute unconditional support came from the tour members. As anticipated,

they were responsive and wonderful. In spite of significant difference of opinions re the Middle

East political issues and the US role in them, the members remained more than civil. They could

not have been more cooperative, loving and understanding.

And so we went. We traveled safely. We ate (or just looked at) the food provided. We

found a land that instead of floating with milk and honey, flowed with wine (and cola for Al!).

I’ve said that in a way the trip was more informational than inspirational - as

commercialism and conflicting church claims at many of the Holy sites tended to remove the

aura of holiness. Yet I gained not only new information, but also moments of deep inspiration. In

the following sections I share special moments of inspiration and moments for which that

adjective does not apply.

1. Gethsemane

The Garden of Gethsemane was a highlight, a place of deep reflection and spiritual

awakening. As we drove across the Brook Kidron my anticipation heightened. The chapel in the

Garden was quietly affecting my mood. Then we entered the Garden. I looked for and found the

oldest of the olive trees, gnarled, ancient, sturdy, still bearing fruit. Some, I believe have been

there since the days our Lord went to pray among them.

We found a quiet spot where all who chose could sit.

We sang,

“Go to dark Gethsemane,

Ye who feel the tempter's power.

Your Redeemer's conflict see.

Watch with Him one bitter hour.

Turn not from His griefs away.

Learn of Jesus Christ to pray.”

Judy read reverently and movingly the account of the agony and prayer of our

Lord under those old olive trees, and of the sleepy eyes of the disciples which just kept being

closed in sleep.

For us gathered there the climax came in the Holy Communion. We had previously been

in Cana where Jesus turned water into wine. I had secured wine from Cana. The previous day we

had been in Bethlehem. There I had secured individual communion cups, chalice shaped, made

of olive wood. The bread was a full loaf baked in Jerusalem. As Christ invited, we did this to

remember Him and in that moment, He too, remembered this little band of 33 from a church

named Calvary!

Addendum: We lingered in the Garden. We had our group picture taken there. We went

to the edge of the Garden. We looked over the burial tombs of centuries of Jewish brothers and

sisters. We looked across the Brook Kidron to the upper room, to the home of Caiaphas the high

priest, to the city of Jerusalem.

And I recalled Jesus sitting there. Sitting there and weeping over Jerusalem. He wept, He

said, because Jerusalem had not been able to secure the peace God intended for that place.

Now 2000 years later I felt Jesus sitting next to me. Again He weeps. Not yet has peace

come to Jerusalem, nor to so many other major cities of the world. I felt the tears of Jesus mingle

with mine.

Ageing Update

This I know: Nobody else really cares about my ageing. This I also know: anyone who reads this blog is in the same process as I. So here are a few of my personal reflections and I really would be pleased to hear how you are doing.

First the good news: My body is okay. As long as I do my exercises and drink my two glasses of red wine a day things go pretty well. I have not been able to get my Dr. to actually officially prescribe those two glasses of red wine a day so Medicare does not reimburse me for my now 3-Buck Chuck. My golf drives get shorter and shorter. The other day I had to use a 5 iron to reach a green only 130 yards away and I can’t blame age for my lousy putting. Fortunately there are some things that my brain still handles okay. I recently was able to give a brief 3-point speech without having to consult my manuscript.

With age my concepts of God and my vision of reality keep getting expanded more and more.

Yet ageing is obvious, especially when I sit down at this darn computer. I screw up all the time, get frustrated every time I try to use this machine which I cannot get along without and which drives me to distraction when I use it and it doesn’t stop me from writing run-on sentences.

I keep forgetting numbers. Can’t even remember a house number that I had memorized when I had left my home. I left behind (so far not retrieved) my annual calendar which had not only my appointments but also my phone contacts, prescriptions,and computer passwords!

My lack of alertness bothers me especially after someone honks at me when I made a right turn on red in front of him or her. (I KNOW THIS COULD GET SERIOUS!)

I notice now that occasionally people show deference to me because to them I obviously appear as “ an old man”. I also notice that others now seek my opinion or consultation much less frequently and when I give my suggestions they seem to be ignored more often.

So I wake up each morning especially grateful that my wife Jane is patient with me, that she is the one who insisted that we move to this retirement community, that we can still afford the monthly payments (even after working for the church virtually my whole life), that I have a family which supports me even though we just cancelled the planned visit of all six of my sisters, two sisters-in-law and one brother because within 48 hours one had unexpected cancer surgery and another had to accompany a spouse to the hospital for urgent blood vessel work.

So that’s the word for today. I will put it in my calendar that next November I will again give an update provided I remember and/or don’t lose my calendar…and am still among the living.

Survivors of Torture

 I spent most of yesterday in jail. It was in the US Detention Center near the Mexican border. Thank God I was not a detainee. I was there, however, on behalf of a particular class of detainees, survivors of torture in other countries who are seeking asylum in the USA. There are at least 2,000 of these every year. (Probably as many as 5000,000 refugees in America were tortured prior to their arrival in the USA). They arrive having escaped torture in their home country, but not yet having all the papers to legally stay in the USA. Unfortunately, they are placed in the same prison with all others who are held for illegal entry or are waiting to be sent back to their country of origin.

I went there because I am on the Board of Directors of a local organization called Survivors of Torture, International. Our mission is to identify legitimate asylum seekers who were tortured in their home country, had to flee for their lives and are seeking a new life in America.

I am getting to know these brothers and sisters personally. Just this week: A woman from a Middle Eastern country. Her teen-aged son foolishly wrote a less than friendly note about his country’s leader in one of his computer tweets. He was identified, told that he was “dead”: He made it home. Fortunately his mother had the resources to buy a ticket for her son and herself to the USA (leaving behind her husband and other children). Of course, when she landed in the USA she did not have a visa. She was sent to a prison detention center; she to one, her 14 year old son to another!

Another survivor: Her family was pro–USA, but the real offence her father committed was to send this daughter to school. The Taliban stopped her on her way home from school, told her to drop out. She went back to school. She was stopped again. The persons who stopped her found she had an English as a second language textbook with her. They came to the house, took away her father and killed him. She is a Survivor seeking asylum in the USA.

There are stories like this every day. Survivors of Torture, Inc. (started with the assistance of a Wheat Ridge Ministries grant some ten years ago) assists these brothers and sisters get legal status, helps them find doctors who assist with their physical and psychological trauma. Sad disclosure: I have yet to meet an adult female asylum seeker who was NOT raped!

My efforts are feeble in the light of the need. I raise funds for the organization. I met with and wrote the Warden at the Detention Center expressing my thanks to him for protecting me from people who want to hurt America but also asking him to treat humanly those who are here because they believe the invitation on the Statue of liberty, “Give me your tired, your homeless, your tempest -tossed, those yearning to be free”. And I am working for Congress to pass legislation separating asylum seekers from suspected criminals like the gentleman of whom I heard yesterday. He was in Afghanistan assisting a USA helicopter force. He was threatened. He fled. When he got here he was handcuffed, incarcerated, treated like a violent criminal. Tough calls: but I want to be sure that I am on the side of those who are truly Survivors of Torture.

Lutheran International and Urban Schools Symposium : Reflecting, Rejoicing and Regretting

I have just returned from a symposium to which I looked forward with much anticipation. My colleague Marlene Lund from the Center for Urban Education Ministries had helped pulled together a symposium of some 60 Lutheran educators from around the world. Her hope was that by combining leaders from international schools with those of urban Lutheran schools in the USA new learnings might emerge and new relationships might be formed. A part of that goal was well achieved, some of it not very well. Here is a sample of a few of my Reflections, Rejoicings and Regrets

I rejoiced to look at the cities/countries from which these Lutheran school leaders came: Hong Kong, Hanoi, New York, Australia, China, Ghana, Frankenmuth, Papau New Guinea. It continues to thrill me to image kids from each of these places having the opportunity to learn and grow and to have faith born and sustained in every one of those places. I regretted to see no-one from any South American or European country there.

I appreciated looking at titles of the participants: Executive Director of International Education, Science Teacher, Head of School, Evangelist. Board Member, Treasurer, Elementary Teacher. Of course, many of them could also have identified themselves as “parents”. It takes all kinds of expertise to make schools places of growth. I regretted seeing no title or position related to a denomination head or regional offices such as at a church-wide, synod or district. It again pointed to the quickening demise of denominational leadership in the USA.

I thought about the contrast between the small, very financially poor Lutheran school struggling in, for example, Ghana, and the relative wealth of international schools in places like Hong Kong and Shanghai. Yet as I spoke with heads of those schools of whatever country or size they all spoke of the on-going challenge of responding to parent’s concern or lack thereof.

It was wonderful to see the representation from Lutheran colleges and universities and their departments of international studies. (I reflected upon the fact that way back in 1968 I was asked to start up the first one of such in the LCMS but decided my educational career was headed in another direction.) I wondered what insights we would have learned had there been one there from the largest Lutheran University in the world – in Brazil. It has 32,000 students on campus out of a total of some 140,000 in their extended network.

I enjoyed looking at names like Gyamfi Kwadwo, Betty Lingenfelter, Philip Ohene-Abrefa, Moyo Tawango. And Tarirai Doreen. I regretted seeing no names of obvious Hispanic heritage. The highlight for me was the keynote address by Martin Schmidt. His theme was “Grace and Vocation”. He challenged all Lutheran schools to be places where students and staff experience grace, a God who cares about and loves all creation and vocation and the calling for each one of us to be of service and ministry in and to the world. He gave marvelous examples of how teachers at all levels can lead their students into this wonderful direction. I left this symposium just as more than 3000 teachers in Lutheran schools from all over were gathering for a three day convocation. I bowed my head in respect for them and in prayer that each of their students might indeed discover and live out Grace and Vocation.