The Best Breakfast in Town!
Every Wednesday morning, I have Eucharist with the faithful remnant of St. James’ Episcopal Church in Austin, Texas, followed by a superior homemade breakfast. In fact, after our meal in the church of bread and wine we invite people to our meal of eggs and bacon in the parish hall by assuring them it is “the best breakfast in Austin!’ After all that communion, I leave and go to the Rectory of St. Louis Catholic Church where I meet with six to eight fellow ordained ministers. This group was begun as a lectionary study group. It was started more than ten years ago, long before I had even entered seminary. At that time, I am told, it was fairly large. Now, it is down to the nine of us, if we are all there. Most Wednesdays it is about six. I was invited to join about three years ago, and I consider it one of the most wonderful fortunes of my ordained life. For me, it is a day I hate to miss, and perhaps one of the best times of the week.
We still meet under the guise of a lectionary study group, (and I should be more generous; we do study most of the time!). But, more than that, on Wednesday mornings those of us caught up in this mysterious, wonderful, inspiring, and sometimes death dealing work we do, find a place where we are not alone, and we are given a place to just be. This is a gift of untold value. This group was solidified long before the gift of this grant, and we will meet long after it. Our being as a group came first; these resources are simply a great complement to that.
There are many things that make this group special. For me, it is filled with people not from my Episcopal tradition, which makes it even safer than other clergy groups I have been part of. It also makes room for the possibility of far more challenge and learning. There is, here, no jockeying for position, no hedging of the truth lest we not be seen well in the eyes of the order. There is that rarest of things, for those of us who have chosen this vocational path: honesty among colleagues marked by the absence of fear in sharing who we really are, what really concerns us.
Our group has chosen to tackle the question of the spirituality of clergy wellness. Our time together has shown us that the concept of wellness runs deeper than a ten-point plan for our future, or a Steven Covey workshop, or even sabbatical time (although we are all for that and look forward to our own!). We have learned that the fruit of wellness is like real fruit, and real food, you must make a regular diet of it. If you are to stop eating, at least after a while, rather nasty things begin to happen to your body. It is no different with the care of the soul. We are spending our much cherished time and resources granted through this program to mine the depths of what it is that nourishes us on these Wednesday mornings. None of us knows exactly why, but all of us would agree, that we walk out of those times—no matter what may face us outside that place—a bit stronger and almost always reminded of why we chose to do this in the first place.
I will never forget at one Wednesday morning meeting, one I almost didn’t make. I had every good excuse not to go. I was about to leave town for a consulting gig, realizing that I should have never taken it in the first place with all the other things I had to do, not to mention how neglected I felt my family was at the time. I never voiced any of this, but my stress was palpable to my friends in the room. One finally asked if we could pray for me, for my travels, for my family, for my stress. It was truly fine dining. I walked out changed, filled, nourished.
A writer once said, “to be thoroughly known and loved anyway, is the greatest joy.” I think that is what happens to us on Wednesday mornings. It happens to me at the Eucharist table, at the table in our parish hall, where the farm fresh eggs and homemade salsa are served. And it continues in the meal we call fellowship in the Rectory at St. Louis Catholic Church. It is all such a great meal. Wednesday Morning Breakfast, the “best breakfast in town.”
Greg Rickel is rector of St. James Episcopal Church in Austin, Texas, and a member of the Wednesday Morning Ecumenical Group. This essay originally appeared in Volume 1 of Communitas, a publication of the College of Pastoral Leaders at Austin Presbyterian Theological Seminary.
