A Pie Plate Pilgrimage

by William Loewen

  Chapter 7 - Alistair Graham

  The next day, Lydia had another out of town afternoon interview. That would have been a perfectly good excuse to not show up at the Westminster office, but like every morning, come 8:30, she walked into the quiet building and took a seat at her desk.

  Routine wasn’t the only reason she went in early. She had been out of the office for most of the previous day, so her email inbox would be quite full. Almost a week had already passed since the beginning of the promotional tour and Lydia was getting regular updates sent to her. Luke was sending information about book sales and press coverage and Soleil was sending personal reflections, mostly complaining about having to travel with Luke.

  Besides checking her inbox, Lydia also wanted to double-check the driving directions to that day’s destination. She always offered the author candidates the option of meeting in the city, as the company would reimburse any travel costs. But, like Mr. Worsley, today’s candidate had preferred that Lydia drive out to visit him. This meant that she couldn’t use the company credit card at a fancy restaurant, but it also meant that she again had to trust her suddenly unreliable GPS and her weak navigational skills to get her from the city to an isolated place in the country. She was travelling to Bethpage, a spiritual retreat center a few hours from the city. Even though their brochure gave very specific instructions on how to find the forest getaway, Lydia double-checked the route on Internet maps just to be safe.

  On her way out, at just after nine o’clock, Lydia met Melvin in the parking lot. He was in charge during Luke’s absence, and even though he rarely knew what she was doing, he still felt comfortable giving her extra work.

  “Lydia, hi,” he said. “On your way home already?”

  She didn’t know if his sarcasm was supposed to be funny or demeaning, so she smiled and responded, “Actually, no. I have an interview out of town today, so I’m giving myself an early start.

  “Oh, right,” he nodded, “for your little Christian book. Let me save you some time. Call a guy named Reverend Joseph Ballard. That’s all you’ll need to do.”

  Lydia didn’t know what was more annoying, his assumption that she couldn’t do her job, or his assertion that she wouldn’t be able to find someone better than that creepy priest.

  “Thanks for the tip,” she said, continuing on her way to her car.

  She was a little uneasy about driving that far in the middle of winter. Benjamin Worsley’s farm was a little ways off the highway too, but she was more worried about getting stranded today since she was alone. It wasn’t the first time she had to drive into the Haliburton Highlands, but she had always visited the area in the summer. Despite her fears though, the roads were clear. The snow on the trees and the frozen lakes never got old, even after driving through it for over an hour.

  Lydia arrived half an hour before the agreed time, partly because she drove extra fast so she wouldn’t be late, and partly because the directions in the brochure worked perfectly and she didn’t need the extra time she had given herself.

  She took a few minutes in the car to compose herself before heading in. She still hadn’t totally convinced herself that she was capable of doing the job required of her, but she’d already had a few good interviews, so even without Oscar’s help today, she would probably be fine.

  Outside the car, she could hear a variety of chirping birds and smell the wood smoke from the main building as she walked toward the office. The receptionist greeted her with genuine warmth, which helped Lydia to feel more comfortable. Since she wasn’t staying as a guest, she didn’t need to sign in, but Lydia was still required to give up her cell phone. Normally this would have felt quite intrusive, but Lydia recognized that it meant nobody could call her from the office for the next hour, so maybe it wasn’t so bad after all. She followed the receptionist to a similar building and followed the invitation to have a seat in a small dining room.

  “My dad will be here in a minute,” said the woman. “He’s out chopping wood with some guests. I’ll go tell him you’re here.”

  Sitting alone in the empty room, Lydia wondered how long it would take for the rustic simplicity of the place to become dull and depressing. She also couldn’t help but wonder what sort of retreat center would require its guests to give up their cell phones and to help chop wood. If she saw a group of people in bland, solid-coloured jump suits, she was going to make a run for the parking lot.

  “Sorry to have kept you waiting.” Alistair Graham came in wearing insulated coveralls and a toque, both dusty from the work he had been doing outside. “We had a good crew today. I guess we just got lost in the work and were having such a good conversation that I wasn’t paying attention to what time it was.” He was older than Lydia expected, which made it even more surprising that he had been out chopping wood.

  “No problem,” said Lydia, getting up to greet him with a professional handshake. “I was early, so you likely wouldn’t have been expecting me for another fifteen minutes.”

  “Still,” he said with a gentle grin, “maybe it would be best if I washed up a bit.”

  “This will be just fine,” Lydia said. His appearance did give a different feel to the interview, but not necessarily a bad one. “So tell me,” she began, “do a lot of your guests volunteer to help with work around the property?”

  “Yes. We ask all of our guests to volunteer somewhere within the facility. Since their stay is free of charge, the work they do offsets our operating costs.”

  “Don’t you think that if there was a fee, people would happily pay it if it meant they could relax more?” Lydia asked rhetorically. “From the money that came in, you could hire staff to do those chores.”

  “And the hired help would also do the work more efficiently than our volunteers,” Mr. Graham joked. “There are a few staff members here, and many of our guests and other sponsors do make financial donations, but it isn’t just about the money. At Bethpage, we believe that physical labour can also be a spiritual exercise. For most of our guests a day of work consists only of sitting in an office chair or standing behind a cash register. Certainly they work hard and their jobs provide them with income and a sense of identity, but something is missing. There is a meaningfulness to the work here that they just don’t get in the city.”

  “Forgive my ignorance,” Lydia began, “but it sounds to me like you’re running a voluntary work camp. That doesn’t sound like a retreat to me.”

  “No, no,” he answered with a chuckle. “We have a few hours of work Monday to Saturday, but Bethpage is primarily a place of prayer. We keep a fairly rigid schedule. Every morning, we have a group prayer for an hour before breakfast, and after we’ve eaten together we have three hours of silence, which people can use for meditation, study or personal prayer. Then we gather again for lunch, and when that’s all cleaned up, we have four hours of work time, and another hour of group prayer before supper. Eating the meal together leads into a time of fellowship, and after a few hours, we’re ready for the final prayer service at 9:00, and it’s quiet for the rest of the night.”

  “That’s a lot of prayer.” Lydia could feel herself losing her professional objectivity. She was also having trouble believing that people signed up for a stay at this facility.

  “Well,” he began, quite familiar with this type of scepticism, “we’re not on our hands and knees the whole time. We spend some of the time singing hymns, reading scriptures, and discussing the things that we’re praying about.”

  “Okay,” Lydia said, even though it still didn’t sound any more interesting. “Would it be fair to say then that what you have is a modern-day monastery?”

  “That is one way of looking at it,” he nodded. “Like monks, people come here for a quiet place of meditation, but there are some significant differences.”

  “Like what?” Lydia asked. “I’m not that familiar with the role of monasteries in the history of the church.”

  “Well, let’s see. For centuries a select group of people have dev
oted their lives to a quiet life of meditation, study, and service to God – men in monasteries and women in convents. The church, and I would say all of western society, has reaped the benefits of the contributions these people have made. However, we are very intentional about the ways in which we are different. When a man would join a monastery, he was making a life-long decision. We allow our guests to stay for as long or as short as they choose, and the vast majority stay no more than a week at a time.”

  The idea of staying any longer than was needed to complete the interview seemed dreadful to Lydia. She couldn’t imagine someone voluntaryily staying for a whole week.

  “Also, monasteries have always been open only to members of whatever Episcopal body supports it, whereas we are open to whoever is interested in coming and committed to praying with us. Also, monks and nuns were always sequestered in separate locations, but here we allow men and women to come. Both genders also share in leadership and service aspects.”

  “So then in many ways you are quite progressive, it seems.” To Lydia, any religious group that allowed women to speak at all seemed progressive.

  “Maybe in some ways, but I think most people on the outside would see our policies toward male and female interaction here to be old-fashioned.”

  “Why’s that?” asked Lydia, not sure if she even wanted to hear the answer.

  “While we have no problems with men and women working, eating and praying together, we do ask that at night and in the living quarters, they remain separate. We ask that our guests, single or married, sleep in separate quarters according to gender. We want our guests to spend their time here focusing on their relationship with God, and we believe that interaction between genders can be a distraction, especially for our younger guests.”

  “You’re right, that does sound old-fashioned” Lydia said with a grin. “So what would motivate someone to come and stay here?” she asked, hiding her discomfort.

  Mr. Graham was happy to give her a list of people who had stayed there and why they had come. In the many years he had run the retreat center, he had met quite a few interesting people and had a long list of stories about their varied experiences. He told one story after another, in part because he thought it might be a good subject matter for the book, if he were to be chosen. Lydia kept writing things down, so he continued recounting his experiences. His stories were varied enough that Lydia didn’t feel the need for follow-up questions, and interesting enough that she wasn’t trying to find ways of diverting the conversation. He talked about retirees looking for good ways to spend their newfound extra time, burned out workaholics needing reprieve, couples on the verge of marital breakdown, university students looking for meaning, and even youth group teens coming because it was sometimes the cool thing to do.

  After Mr. Graham had drawn his last story to a close, he added, “I continue working here because this place is of spiritual value to me, but it makes it all that much more valuable when others tell me just how meaningful it has been to them.”

  “It sounds as though you are truly providing a valuable service,” Lydia said, hoping to wrap it up soon.

  Mr. Graham nodded politely. “Thank you,” he said.

  “Let me just ask a few more brief closing questions,” she said, clicking her pen into action again. “What do you think is at the heart of Christianity, the Bible, or whatever?” She was worried that it might not be a good idea to pose such an open-ended question to this old guy who liked to talk, but she was hoping he had heard her emphasis on brief.

  “Christianity is essentially about building a relationship with God, and fundamental to any relationship is communication. Granted, God has communicated to us through the Bible, the church, and other avenues, but I believe it is best achieved through prayer. I also believe that prayer is so important, that when things in our lives interfere with our prayer life, we need to get rid of them.” He hesitated. Lydia was unsure if he was about to say more or if it simply meant he was intentionally cutting himself short, but she quickly interjected with her second question.

  “If we were to invite you to write a book with us, what kind of people do you think would most need to read it?”

  “People out there really have a lot of misconceptions about prayer. Many people think they have to memorize and then repeat someone else’s words, or it doesn’t count. Others think that only their own words count as prayer. Some people think they don’t have time or that they can replace it with going to church or donating money. Those things are just not true, so those are the people I would be writing for.”

  “Great,” Lydia said, scribbling down her last bit of information. Taking out the legal documents, she added, “Now there are just a few legal things to take care of.”

  “I can do that,” he said, putting on his glasses to read the specifics of the non-disclosure agreement before signing. “Oh, and on your way out, feel free to ask the receptionist if there is a time that would work for you to come visit for longer. We’d love to have you here for a day or so as a guest.”

  “I’ll have to check my calendar,” she said, putting the signed document into her briefcase, “but thanks again.” While she wasn’t at all interested in returning as a guest, she hadn’t written him off yet as a potential author. Lydia stood up and stretched out her hand for a farewell handshake. “I’m sure we’ll be in touch again soon.”

  “I hope so,” he said, smiling. “God bless.”

  On her way past reception, Lydia picked up her cell phone from the receptionist and turned down yet another invitation to return as a guest. There were no missed calls or messages waiting for her when she powered up her phone again. Normally that probably would have been a good thing, but instead she was a little disappointed. She wanted some justification for feeling inconvenienced, but mostly she wanted to think she was important enough that somebody might have needed to contact her during that hour-long interview.

  From: Lydia Phillips – Westminster Printers

  To: Oscar Brandt

  Subject: One more interview

  Hi Oscar,

  I just thought I’d let you know that I had another interview today. I don’t know if you know him, but his name is Alistair Graham, from a prayer retreat center called Bethpage.

  I have another interview lined up for Friday with the director of a women’s shelter. Do you have time that afternoon to tag along again?

  I also have a few questions. There’s no need for long drawn out answers, but if you could help me understand these ideas, that’d be great. First, how can there be peaceful Christians in the world, like Mr. Worsley, and at the same time there are so many wars today and throughout history that are fought in the name of God? Second, and this stems from my interview today, when Christians pray for long periods of time, what are they saying or thinking about during that time?

  Thanks,

  Lydia

  From: Oscar Brandt

  To: Lydia Phillips – Westminster Printers

  Subject: Re: One more interview

  Great questions Lydia, and I’ll do my best to answer them, but first I have a question for you. Is your interview on Monday with a woman named Monica Lang?

  As far as the prayer thing goes, there are two answers I could give - what we do think about and what we should think about. Often it’s tough to tune out the outside world. You may have heard a term called ‘monkey mind,’ where your brain gets distracted by a million other things besides the meditation or prayer that you’re trying to do. So yes, we often try to pray and focus on God, but we get distracted like everyone else.

  That’s not really a uniquely spiritual problem though; we have to overcome that to write tests, do homework or to be properly patriotic while the national anthem is playing. Ideally, though, prayer time should go as smoothly as talking to a friend. When you’re hanging out with friends, or on a date, assuming the relationship is healthy, you can talk forever without noticing how much time is going by and you might talk about a lot or nothing at all. />
  Generally our praying breaks down into five categories: A) complimenting God, B) admitting the mistakes we’ve made and asking forgiveness, C) expressing thanks for the stuff God gives us or does for us (* this all sounds old-fashioned and religious, but imagine you had a really powerful friend who was nice to you, you would want to say all that to them too), D) asking God to do things for other people, E) asking God to do things for you

  That’s all the talking, but listening is equally important. We try to pay attention to what God wants us to do, lessons we should learn, etc. Sometimes we really have to pay attention for a long time. You should also know that the people you saw at the prayer retreat center are the exception. I don’t think most Christians could sit there and pray for any more than ten minutes at a time.

  The peace thing is a little tougher to answer. To grossly oversimplify things, in the first part of the Bible God tells his people to go to war, and in the second part of the Bible, Jesus preaches peace. In trying to establish a precedent, some people use Jesus’ message of peace and some use the military history of the Israelites. They can rationalize their positions, but they can’t deny that the Old Testament (the first part) call to war is different than the New Testament (second part) call to love our enemies.

  I’m not sure if this helps you to understand it. Christians often get a vast diversity of opinion, often on the same passages of scripture. I guess we just get used to it.

  OB

  From: Lydia Phillips – Westminster Printers

  To: Oscar Brandt

  Subject: Re: One more interview

  Thanks Oscar,

  In other fields, the different experts will come to different conclusions from the same evidence. That phenomenon isn’t unique to Christianity. I guess I just thought that wouldn’t happen with a supposedly sacred text.

  And yes, the woman’s name is Monica Lang. I’m looking forward to talking to her. Would it work for you to join me? I guess I wouldn’t absolutely need you to be there and it’s really short notice, but let me know if you’re interested.

  When’s a good time for you next week to get together to talk about this more? I have a board meeting coming up and I’d love to be able to run some things by you before then.

  Thanks again,

  Lydia