STEP: STudent Ecumenical Partnership

All will be well

Jake Joseph Grinnell has one group that means the most to me. This is a small but diverse group. It is a group led by the Center for Religion, Spirituality and Social Justice. This is a group that has kept me rooted and proud of my college. It is not powerful. It is not large. It is not loud. It is the Religious Life Council.

Grinnell College is always on the Princeton Review's list of "Schools Where Students Ignore God on a Regular Basis." At last check we were #19 on that list — that is to say a neighbor of Hampshire College or Sarah Lawrence. How exciting, right? I don't really give that list much credit. Really many Grinnellians would define themselves as spiritual or religious. I think its just the stress of college life and not having a community of faith in the town of Grinnell that is like what they had back home that drives this ranking. I honestly think that the Princeton Review Rankings are nonsense. I mean really — who names a ranking area "Hemp and Vegans?"

One of the best things that Religious Life Council does is Religious Life and Pre-Seminarian Group Retreat. Earlier this year, when I went back to Iowa after winter break, I looked forward to this sacred weekend in Indianola, Iowa, at the old Methodist Camp up in the woods.

My first year at Grinnell, I had been really lost. I came with expectations of discovering a perfect dream place and was disappointed. I have since learned how to make Grinnell work for me, and I cannot imagine me going anywhere else. Grinnell forced me to make myself anew. It forced me to search out a new community to center myself around than the one I had in high school. The Religious Life Council Retreat, having been the best event of both my first and second years at Grinnell, illustrates its importance to me.

The first year we started out on icy roads. With directions from Mapquest, I was the navigator for the chaplain and another student, while another driver used Google maps directions, a the rabbi behind her. We left Newton, Iowa, and set out down the dark icy highway. We made it through Indianola.

Now we are driving out of Indianola and the road is icy and — what — what was that. Another one races in front of the van. Deer!! We are surrounded by deer, tired and lost: a van, a bigger van, and the rabbi in her car. Then comes one of the best memories ever. We are the lead van. I find the turn off into a field, then into the woods (or what we think is the woods since its so dark and snowy), then the road narrows, and we are up in the hills. Scccccrrrreeeetttchhhhh we break to a stop. My eyes swell with tears. The three of us are laughing because it would seem that this is the "summer direction" to the Methodist Camp. The road goes no further... and we are going to have to back the vans back to Indianola to follow the Goodle map directions (which were correct). The Lilly intern that year thought the situation was somewhat less funny — which in turn made the whole thing funnier. Finally we found the iced-over camp and settled into the large cabin. The focal memory of that first weekend at the camp was the Saturday night star-admiring walk.

There is a field in Iowa. It is snow covered ground.
Where horses trek and summer birds nest.
There is a field in Iowa removed from all the rest.
It is but a clearing in the woods with nothing around.

There is a field in Iowa. It is my sacred spot.
Where winter comes hold in the life.
There is a field in Iowa that never knew strife.
It is but a Warren County lot.

There is a field up in Iowa, land of the Hawk's Eye.
Where I looked up and saw heaven itself alive.
There is a field in Iowa with the night's sky.
All the starts and spirits- some static, others dive.

There is a field in Iowa, where I found my rest.
Where I found center, soul, self, and a test.
There is a field in Iowa that is singing in the dark.
"To survive the four years, learn what is best."

I wrote that after that walk. When we, all from different traditions and different places, stood there in the knee deep snow surrounded by trees, overlooking dark fields standing in the clearing silently separated around that open hill-top field and... I remember it well.

The next year was every bit as wonderful. We went with our amazing new intern to a different Mexican restaurant in Newton that also claims to be the best in a Four-County area (that is the gold standard in Iowa food advertising). This weekend was different. We had a silent meditation several hours... that were led into by a guided mediation by our rabbi. She talked us into internal space and then we were told to walk around... including the labyrinth we had set up in the meeting lodge. The one rule was to not think of anything in particular, but to just be in space and time. Notice that a thought is there — then let it go. We were also not to interact with other including eye contact. It was hard at first, but by the end, I know that once again... this field and woods weekend in Iowa has been huge for me in memory and center.

That evening we shared sacred texts or songs. I read a hymn or two out of "my" New Century hymnal — which is actually just one I have adopted since my first year at Grinnell from the chapel — and promise to return before I graduate. The Unitarian representative to Religious Life Council brought a song based on the saying from Julian of Norwich that starts like this "All will be well, all will be well, all manner of things will be well". Then asks Julian, "did you not know about pain... hunger... suffering... and concludes with a response... but that it will all be well despite these things." Ariel sung it for us with her guitar. I remember that powerfully.

I won't be at this event this year, but started thinking about how much that odd little weekend means and how much is sustains me even here in France.

Jake's previous story:

The ties that bind

Jake Joseph is a first-year member of the STEP Leadership Team and a member of Plymouth Congregational United Church of Christ in Fort Collins, Colorado.



		All will be well Grinnell has one group that means the most to me. This is a small but diverse group. It is a group led by the Center for Religion, Spirituality and Social Justice. This is a group that has kept me rooted and proud of my college. It is not powerful. It is not large. It is not loud. It is the Religious Life Council. Grinnell College is always on the Princeton Review's list of "Schools Where Students Ignore God on a Regular Basis." At last check we were #19 on that list — that is to say a neighbor of Hampshire College or Sarah Lawrence. How exciting, right? I don't really give that list much credit. Really many Grinnellians would define themselves as spiritual or religious. I think its just the stress of college life and not having a community of faith in the town of Grinnell that is like what they had back home that drives this ranking. I honestly think that the Princeton Review Rankings are nonsense. I mean really — who names a ranking area "Hemp and Vegans?" One of the best things that Religious Life Council does is Religious Life and Pre-Seminarian Group Retreat. Earlier this year, when I went back to Iowa after winter break, I looked forward to this sacred weekend in Indianola, Iowa, at the old Methodist Camp up in the woods. My first year at Grinnell, I had been really lost. I came with expectations of discovering a perfect dream place and was disappointed. I have since learned how to make Grinnell work for me, and I cannot imagine me going anywhere else. Grinnell forced me to make myself anew. It forced me to search out a new community to center myself around than the one I had in high school. The Religious Life Council Retreat, having been the best event of both my first and second years at Grinnell, illustrates its importance to me. The first year we started out on icy roads. With directions from Mapquest, I was the navigator for the chaplain and another student, while another driver used Google maps directions, a the rabbi behind her. We left Newton, Iowa, and set out down the dark icy highway. We made it through Indianola. Now we are driving out of Indianola and the road is icy and — what — what was that. Another one races in front of the van. Deer!! We are surrounded by deer, tired and lost: a van, a bigger van, and the rabbi in her car. Then comes one of the best memories ever. We are the lead van. I find the turn off into a field, then into the woods (or what we think is the woods since its so dark and snowy), then the road narrows, and we are up in the hills. Scccccrrrreeeetttchhhhh we break to a stop. My eyes swell with tears. The three of us are laughing because it would seem that this is the "summer direction" to the Methodist Camp. The road goes no further... and we are going to have to back the vans back to Indianola to follow the Goodle map directions (which were correct). The Lilly intern that year thought the situation was somewhat less funny — which in turn made the whole thing funnier. Finally we found the iced-over camp and settled into the large cabin. The focal memory of that first weekend at the camp was the Saturday night star-admiring walk. There is a field in Iowa. It is snow covered ground. Where horses trek and summer birds nest. There is a field in Iowa removed from all the rest. It is but a clearing in the woods with nothing around. There is a field in Iowa. It is my sacred spot. Where winter comes hold in the life. There is a field in Iowa that never knew strife. It is but a Warren County lot. There is a field up in Iowa, land of the Hawk's Eye. Where I looked up and saw heaven itself alive. There is a field in Iowa with the night's sky. All the starts and spirits- some static, others dive. There is a field in Iowa, where I found my rest. Where I found center, soul, self, and a test. There is a field in Iowa that is singing in the dark. "To survive the four years, learn what is best." I wrote that after that walk. When we, all from different traditions and different places, stood there in the knee deep snow surrounded by trees, overlooking dark fields standing in the clearing silently separated around that open hill-top field and... I remember it well. The next year was every bit as wonderful. We went with our amazing new intern to a different Mexican restaurant in Newton that also claims to be the best in a Four-County area (that is the gold standard in Iowa food advertising). This weekend was different. We had a silent meditation several hours... that were led into by a guided mediation by our rabbi. She talked us into internal space and then we were told to walk around... including the labyrinth we had set up in the meeting lodge. The one rule was to not think of anything in particular, but to just be in space and time. Notice that a thought is there — then let it go. We were also not to interact with other including eye contact. It was hard at first, but by the end, I know that once again... this field and woods weekend in Iowa has been huge for me in memory and center. That evening we shared sacred texts or songs. I read a hymn or two out of "my" New Century hymnal — which is actually just one I have adopted since my first year at Grinnell from the chapel — and promise to return before I graduate. The Unitarian representative to Religious Life Council brought a song based on the saying from Julian of Norwich that starts like this "All will be well, all will be well, all manner of things will be well". Then asks Julian, "did you not know about pain... hunger... suffering... and concludes with a response... but that it will all be well despite these things." Ariel sung it for us with her guitar. I remember that powerfully. I won't be at this event this year, but started thinking about how much that odd little weekend means and how much is sustains me even here in France. Jake's previous story: The ties that bind Jake Joseph is a first-year member of the STEP Leadership Team and a member of Plymouth Congregational United Church of Christ in Fort Collins, Colorado.