The Gift of Letting It Go: A Weekend in Bergen

Bergen-Mostraumen Fjord Tour

After my first week in London, I published a post about being disturbed from usual routines: disorientation and a bit of chaos characterized much of my first impression of study abroad. I found that amidst great transition, the Eucharist provided me with a sense of routine and adventure within that routine as I adjusted to life in London.

Almost halfway through the semester now, various routines have newly developed or fallen out of my life as I’ve adapted to life in a big city. I don’t run as much as I like to on campus while here, but all of the walking in and around central London has grounded me in healthy movement. I don’t grocery shop on a certain day or time, but consistently keep my fridge and shelves stocked with classic Katie foods – including hummus, arugula (aka “rocket” in London), and digestives (wafer-like tea cookies) – from the same grocery store down the street. I shower, have a cup of tea, and do some reading for class each morning when I wake up. I pray the Angelus each day around noon, attend Adoration on Thursdays, and celebrate Mass on Sundays, but locations and/or times tend to differ for these special spiritual moments.

While studying abroad, “routine” has become a much more fluid word for me: it means comfort and organization, but with flexibility added in. It means being more patient with myself, and more adventurous in my relationship to the world. This semester, I have found it extremely important to become more go-with-the-flow when it comes to routine, and have found a great balance somewhere between organization and spontaneity.

While I have simply adapted routines during the week from life on campus while in London, weekends are an entirely different story. At Notre Dame, I would typically schedule several fun events, meals, etc. throughout the weekend as study breaks, and spend lots of time doing homework, regrouping from the previous week, and preparing for the week ahead outside of scheduled-in “fun time.” This semester, weekends are nonexistent if defined by homework, regrouping, and preparing. My weekends here are dedicated to travel. Exploration. Getting kind of lost somewhere in Europe and then discovering pieces of myself there.

Travel planning is an extremely intimidating, abstract idea when one has had little previous exposure to it; the first time I sat down to plan a weekend away from London with a group of friends, I had little to no idea what I was doing. I had composed a list of places I wanted to visit this semester, and did not plan on straying much from that list of famous cities and usual study abroad student destinations. But on a whim, we decided to try to see the Northern Lights. We flitted around online from Skyscanner to AirBnB to Lonely Planet to Hostel World. We found Bergen, Norway. I had never heard of Bergen, Norway, and neither had any of my travel companions. What was the first trip I ever scheduled on my own, independent of my family? A weekend in Bergen, Norway.

The city of Bergen from above

Our time in Bergen this past weekend was absolutely magical, even though our original dream of seeing the Northern Lights did not happen. In fact, once we began planning our trip in more detail, we realized traveling further north from Bergen in order to see the lights was completely a nonissue for us, since the gem of the town we discovered in Bergen had so much to offer on its own. We were blessed with gorgeous weather and a beautiful AirBnB to stay at that we happened upon online back when we first sat down to plan and found affordable plane tickets to a city in Norway none of us had ever heard of before. We took a boat tour of fjords, shared a meal on top of a mountain overlooking the city, and celebrated Mass in Norwegian among a couple hundred Bergen locals. We ate fresh shrimp from a fjord-side market, navigated our way around a foreign public transportation system, and learned how to convert American dollars and English pounds to Norwegian krones and vis versa. We even watched the movie Frozen during our stay, which is set in an environment based on Norway’s breathtaking fjords. A weekend that seemed completely random when we first planned it turned out to be one of my most adventurous, exciting, fulfilling experiences of the semester so far.

The random way that this weekend came about made our time together in Bergen all the much sweeter. While weekend traveling is not conducive to maintaining any sort of consistent routine from Thursday nights through Sunday evenings here, the adventure that comes from not being wed to any particular routine is extremely empowering. I just returned from my third weekend out of five travel weekends in a row. This lifestyle would have sounded insane and chaotic to the me that had not studied abroad yet, but it is lifegiving and beautiful to the me who has learned, like Elsa from Frozen, to say “let it go.”

Our view of spectacular Bergen and accompanying fjords from Mount Fløyen

Doing Lent Abroad: Grace Mediated Through Waffles and Prayer

Until about three days ago, I was under the gravely mistaken impression that there is nothing quite like an Eggo waffle drizzled in Log Cabin syrup and smeared with a healthy dose of Jif peanut butter. I treasure fond grade school memories of before-school breakfasts with my brothers gobbling down messy Eggo waffles, and no other waffle experience could quite live up to the sugary family time from those memories…until this weekend, when I had Belgian waffles. In Belgium.

My weekend in Bruges, Belgium was largely spent satisfying every food craving I could possibly imagine. Whether we were enjoying powdered sugar and chocolate-drizzled waffles, frites (French fries) dunked in curry ketchup, samples from chocolate shops lining quaint cobblestone alleyways, or freshly brewed world-famous Belgian beer, my five fellow travelers and I did not cut corners on entering into Belgian food culture. We dined on traditional Flemish stew, learned about how beer is made on a tour of the last working brewery in Bruges, and brought home enough chocolate to feed our friends in London for days. 

At first, I struggled to reconcile this splurgy foodie weekend with the liturgical season we are in. As people of faith we are called to practices of prayer, fasting, and almsgiving during Lent, and filling up on sugary Belgian goods does not seem consistent with any of these practices. However, I have realized that God is teaching me alternative ways to enter into Lenten practices during my time abroad, which has shown me even more clearly how essential it is to choose highly personalized Lenten practices each year.

It is very important to me to ‘live into’ the culture of each place I visit during my time abroad, and a primary element of any culture is food and drink. Thus, with the exception of the traditional Friday fast, I am not giving up something food-related this Lent. Instead, I am fasting from dwelling in negativity: any time I find myself in a negative mindset, I intentionally affirm either someone around me or myself. In addition, I have committed to saying the Angelus, a traditional Catholic prayer commemorating the Incarnation, each day at noon. The third component of my Lenten practices, almsgiving, comes in the form of corporate works of mercy, such as volunteering at Open House and visiting a local prison in London (stay tuned for a future post about this!).
  
While my indulgent weekend in Belgium was certainly not conducive to fasting in the material sense, I had the privilege of entering into Belgian food culture while still maintaining my chosen Lenten practices this weekend.

And while my stomach was full of delectable goodness and my heart was full of the happiness induced by adventuring in Europe with dear friends, God still reminded me of the key lesson behind our practices of prayer, fasting, and almsgiving: it is not things of this world that will make us truly happy. 

The Bruges Crew with the steeple of the Church of Our Lady in the background

On Saturday, my friends and I visited the Church of Our Lady in Bruges. This stunning gothic cathedral is home to Michelangelo’s sculpture Madonna and Child. I was astonished at how incredibly lifelike Mary looked in the sculpture: I felt as if the marble Madonna would at any moment raise her gaze and step down from the archway on which she is displayed. While contemplating this masterpiece, I felt the urge to pray the Hail Mary over and over again, and gradually found myself transitioning my prayer into the Angelus. As soon as I completed my prayer, I realized it was a few minutes past twelve: I had begun praying exactly at noon, the traditional time Catholics pray the Angelus.

Michelangelo's Madonna and Child

On Sunday, my travel group arrived in Ghent, Belgium for the afternoon before we continued on to Brussels. We had the opportunity to stroll along quaint canals and explore several medieval churches, but learned there was a major political rally happening that afternoon on the streets of this small town. They had brought in armed national riot police and several helicopters appeared overhead throughout our time there; we decided we needed to cut our time in Ghent short and move on to Brussels as soon as possible. As we hastened towards the train stop that would remove us from the building tension in the area, I again found myself repeatedly reciting the Hail Mary. This time, I prayed not in awe but in fear: I asked for Our Lady’s intercession to keep my friends and I safe. Again, my prayer seemingly spontaneously transitioned into the Angelus. And just as I began the first words of the prayer – “The angel of the Lord declared unto Mary…” – a nearby clock tower chimed noon. I had been called to my Lenten prayer practice during an extreme emotional experience for the second time during our Belgian adventure.

This weekend, I was given the gift of entering into community on many levels. I traveled with a new group of wonderful friends, which resulted in enriched relationships. We completely indulged in Belgian food and drink culture, which allowed us to experience much of what makes Belgium so special and connected us to centuries of people who have enjoyed similar foods in that country. Finally, my experiences of prayer, particularly related to my Lenten practice of saying the Angelus, connected me to the worldwide Catholic community saying the same prayer at the same time. And God reminded me that looking beyond the things of this world, beautiful and delicious as they might be, is more spiritually filling than even the best Belgian waffle.

This is how I feel about Belgian waffles and the grace mediated through them and prayer.
Photo credit to Laura Gruszka.

A Roman Catholic in Anglican England

A lively throng of English high school students crowded onto the London Underground after school let out, taking seats without breaking stride in their conversations. This was clearly a typical after-school occurrence, save for one glaring detail: a big black cross of ash streaked across the forehead of one of the girls. Despite the many situational layers that could have made her self conscious – being the only one among friends with a black cross on her forehead, sitting on the train in close quarters with strangers without acknowledging the cross by word or action, walking through the bustling streets of mid-week London with a sign of her faith openly displayed to the public – she acted completely at peace in her current state. She was unashamedly wearing her faith on her forehead.

I heard about this particular encounter with an Ash Wednesday cross in bustling London in the homily at Mass this Sunday. The sense of awe that the priest felt during his meeting with this student was consistent with a couple encounters I had that same day last week. I ran into a family with crosses on their foreheads around lunchtime on a busy London road, made brief, knowing eye contact with the mom, and was filled with joy at the sight of fellow Catholics owning their faith among city commotion.

Ash Wednesday felt particularly significant this year because it caused us to stand out as people of faith in a largely secular country that doesn’t talk about faith very often. Since Church and State are not separated in the UK like they are at home, I assumed there would be much more public discourse on religion here. Yet events like the Anglican prayer service Evensong have become woven into the fabric and routine of the city without carrying religious significance for everyone who attends. People go to Evensong just as they go to tea. It’s what the English do.

I have become fascinated with Anglicanism and with exploring the history of relationships between Anglicans and Catholics since arriving in the country the Anglican Communion calls home. Many American Catholics, including myself previous to my arrival here, are only aware of King Henry VIII’s desire to get divorced and the Catholic Church’s refusal to let him do so as the event that started Anglicanism. While this is accurate, there are also so many more details to explore regarding the split between the Church of Rome and the Church of England. A history of tension prefaced the split. Events such as Martin Luther’s release of his 95 theses in 1522 (and things that prompted this to come about) and the martyrdom of people such as St. Thomas Becket and St. Thomas More as well as general religious and political tension all contributed the formation of a separate branch of Christianity called Anglicanism. Henry VIII happened to be the one to make it official. Many differences in theology and liturgical practices between Catholicism and Anglicanism originated during the reigns of King Edward VI and Elizabeth I, rather than that of Henry. So did far and wide persecution of Catholics.

The Westminster Cathedral was constructed in the nineteenth century after Catholicism was made legal in England and Wales again. It is dedicated to the Precious Blood, which is fascinating because it both expresses gratitude and awe for Christ’s sacrifice and nods to the Catholic blood that had been shed over the last several centuries in England by saints and martyrs. Rather than adopting the Gothic architectural style of the nearby Westminster Abbey which was originally Catholic but made Anglican during the Reformation, the architect of Westminster Cathedral was largely influenced by the Catholic Byzantine tradition. The very architecture of this space indicates the urge of Catholics in nineteenth century England to re-establish themselves as strong people of faith in a country they had been persecuted in for hundreds of years. 

London's Westminster Cathedral. Image from panoramio.com.

Choices like the dedication of Westminster Cathedral to the Precious Blood and traditions such as saying the Hail Mary after the Prayers of the Faithful in Mass continue to indicate residual scars from past religious tension in England. Some think the ritual of praying for Our Lady’s intersession at this particular time (which is not a part of the official Catholic liturgical rite) arose out of a desire to express the uniqueness of the Catholic faith in a country where Anglicanism is the official religion. It feels strange to insert the Hail Mary into the Mass in such a structured way, as if the Catholic Church in England is still trying to prove a point to Anglicans. “This is our prayer,” it seems to say. “This is different – just like the architecture of our Cathedral.”

Learning more about the history of Anglicanism and Catholicism in England has been a fascinating blessing for me. During my first month in London I have had the opportunity to visit many physical spaces where religious history has been shaped in England, which brings the history to life for me. I have attended Evensong at Anglican Westminster Abbey and at Magdalen College in Oxford, celebrated Mass in Westminster Cathedral and other Catholic churches in the London area, visited the Tower of London, where St. Thomas More was held and executed, and toured many additional churches in both the Anglican and Catholic traditions. I have noted many similarities and some differences between these two Christian faith traditions during my time here, but have not witnessed much outward dialogue about their relationship or about different religious traditions in general.

The lack of conversation about Anglicanism, Catholicism, and other faith traditions could indicate the healing over of past wounds, but many people have clearly not yet let go of memories from centuries past. Though there is not a separation of church and state here – the Queen and the Prime Minister both play prominent roles in the Anglican Communion – there seems to be radio silence about religion in the wake of a tumultuous history. And there seems to be more to talk about.

I am a Roman Catholic in Anglican England, but I have felt supported in my Catholic faith during my time in London so far. However, hope to witness increased communication between people of varying religious traditions throughout the semester. London should provide the perfect global platform for conversations between religions that our world is so desperately in need of. These conversations can start in small, organic ways: when three of my friends and I went into a coffee shop on our lunch break last Wednesday, our cashier asked me about the significance of our “markings,” which I explained are a sign of our faith on the first day of Lent. She let me know that she and her co-workers would make crosses with cocoa powder on their foreheads when they got off their shift because they didn’t have any palms on hand to create ashes. I told her I think cocoa powder is the next best thing.

Image from darkroom.baltimoresun.com

Works Consulted:

http://anglican.org/church/ChurchHistory.html

https://www.churchofengland.org/our-faith/being-an-anglican/anglican.aspx

A Spot of Tea is a Holy Thing

The act of enjoying tea reveals God’s loving presence to me through a warm beverage that tastes like a hug. Many days, tea is one of the first things I think about. While coaxing myself out of my warm bed on school days, I often plan which flavor of tea I will drink on my way to my first class, a routine that puts a bounce in my step in the face of South Bend blizzards and London wind. On non-school mornings, I look forward to sipping tea while reading a book or writing a blog post.

Enjoying tea with family and friends takes the soul-warming experience of tea a step even further. There are few activities in the world I love more than sitting down for an excellent cup of tea and even better conversation. Last year, my roommate and I hosted a group of friends for tea and fellowship every Tuesday night, and washing mugs after these Tuesday Teas became a prayerful act for me each week due to the joy and gratitude shared over warm drinks.

This semester, I find myself in the land of tea. Naturally, I have been consuming absurd amounts of tea while here, and enjoying every second of it. This weekend, however, was the first time I had participated in a traditional English-style tea complete with pastries since being here. Celebrating a three-hour dinner feast of tea, scones, clotted cream, jam, and cake with five wonderful friends in Cambridge this weekend was a prayerful experience for me. Sharing stories, love, and laughter over delicate cups of tea enlivened every part of my being during the course of this fabulous meal. There is something spiritual about the way tea brings people together; even across history, we can trace the ways in which tea has connected humans. Legend has it that tea was invented in 2737 BC in China, and here we are in 2016 AD still able to revel in the beauty of an excellent cup of Earl Grey. 

I have been developing a theory around the phrase "treat yourself," which has entered into the vocabulary of our generation as, many times, a sarcastic justification of indulgence. "Treat yourself" has become a mantra that helps me to practice excellent self-care. My morning tea habit, taking a stroll with a friend while accompanied by a warm cup of tea, and having tea and scones for dinner are all small but largely significant ways to treat myself with regards to tea. I’ve found that treating oneself frequently in small ways – whether to dessert, some time alone to journal, or a crazy spontaneous adventure with friends – is key in order to maintain the best possible relationship with oneself. As a result, treating oneself within reason helps to develop rightly ordered relationships with others and with God.

When I am particularly kind to myself, I am happier, more patient, and more loving. I notice myself acting with a greater amount of zeal for the activities I’m engaging in and the people I’m with when I am in the habit of treating myself in small ways. I reach out to God more frequently, too, when I feel excited about my activities, the people I am spending time with, and the way I have been treating myself. For me, one of the best ways to treat myself is to a good spot of tea. How do you treat yourself? 

“When tea becomes ritual, it takes its place at the heart of our ability to see greatness in small things.” – Muriel Barbery, The Elegance of the Hedgehog