Dear Friends,
I sit in Cranaleith’s dining hall, joined at the table by Blanca and Jodie from the New Sanctuary Movement of Philadelphia, a grassroots organization that affirms the dignity of immigrants and stands committed to the principles of spiritual non-violence. We are delighting in the taste of the fig salad—fresh, light, delicious– made from the fruits of the tree outside my office. I reach for a second forkful, then a third. Derek, our chef, translates the luncheon’s menu into Spanish. The women clap with pleasure and appreciation.
These have been difficult, terrifying times for our immigrant neighbors and friends. The New Sanctuary’s staff have been carrying heavy loads, heavy hearts. One member asks to sit in the dining room alone in contemplative silence.
Margie and Sr. Maria are hosting their women’s day retreat–a needed break from the sorrow and worry and fear. Sr. Maria tells me that earlier that morning, she and Margie asked the women to hold empty teacups in their hands, inviting each to share the story of what they carried in their ministry. Each named what they held—the tears, the sorrows, but the beauty, too. Maria tells me that the cups became a powerful metaphor, filled with all the contradictions—of discouragement and hope, of deep love and great fear—as the women discover in its contents a transformation. Their journey begins out of a kind of emptiness, with each letting go of fear and isolation, each making space for hope, community and possibility.
I talk excitedly with Blanca during lunch—imagining together ways that our organizations could be in partnership. I describe Cranaleith’s plans for hosting leadership “resilience-themed” dinners this fall, inviting the Executive Directors of organizations—along with those from the groups they serve—to dialogue and plans for social change. After our lunch, I open the New Sanctuary Movement’s website and sign Cranaleith up as a member organization.
This is the way we become resilient—by peering into our cups and seeing all that is possible. This is where—and how– we find our resilience—how we see everything, everyone, all together, held in the fragile shell of the cup, of the bowl, of the room, of the time, of this place. By sitting in the room together eating chilled figs on china plates, we can imagine, together, all the ways we overflow with hope. Cranaleith is a container to hold us all.
