Beauty + Rest: Weeks 5 + 6 in Lebanon
Sunset on the rocks by the port of Jbeil
Greetings from our quiet little hill on the coast! As I sit down to write this post, most people are sleeping, and the house is still - the only other person I have seen in these early morning hours is Fr. Pierre as we crossed paths in the kitchen to make coffee. This is a fairly regular occurrence for Fr. Pierre and me, as I think we share a kindred appreciation for early morning solitude. He likes to sit on the terrace (with the kitchen door open so that he can keep an eye on whatever delicious thing he has started on the stove) and read scripture, enjoying the view before the day begins. And he has the right idea - the terrace in the morning time is especially peaceful. In the early hours, the air is still and fresh, and the sea is a hazy blue that blends almost imperceptibly with the sky, creating a soft backdrop for the birds that swoop in and out of view.
Like Fr. Pierre, it has become part of my daily routine to rise early and seek a space to be alone and pray in a beautiful place. The daily/weekly rhythm here is vibrant and full, and those of us who are staying for months have learned that an essential part of this rhythm is to learn when and how to take meaningful personal time. For me, the mornings are the best - my heart is still soft and sleepy, and so am more naturally in a peaceful place to meet the Lord in prayer. In the same way, I am more docile and sensitive to beauty in the mornings; it is tremendously nourishing for me to sit and “soak” in something beautiful. No agenda, no intellectual wrestling, no trying to capture it in a drawing or a poem, but simply to let it touch me, let it console me. And then, what starts as a simple moment of simple receptivity turns more deeply into prayer because, of course, it is the Lord who is present there in the beauty, revealing to us something about His Heart.
A view of the coast from the docks of Jbeil
And this is the startlingly wonderful truth that I never grow tired of; that the first mission field of beauty is my own heart. The beauty of God is on mission to console the world and draw her into abundant life, but He comes first to me (to each one of us) and invites us to let ourselves be transformed by His beauty. And the crazy thing is, He actually does transform us; how many times have I walked away from an authentically beautiful moment and felt like a different person? As if all of a sudden, I have a fresh motivation to love, a renewed peace in my heart, a feeling of encouragement, or a certain strength to persevere. These moments of beauty, big or small, long or short, have all the potential to be a well that does not run dry, where we can go to drink at any time.
This is a truth that has often been on my mind in Lebanon, particularly as I think about the crisis that the country is experiencing. Prior to the crisis, Lebanon was already a country that culturally had a deep appreciation for beauty and its creative expression in art. In a time of crisis, our thirst for beauty increases - our hearts cry out for the harmony, wholeness, peace, simplicity. This is true in Lebanon, and what I find striking is how so many people have turned to beauty as a way forward. So many people creating music, playing music together, throwing their whole heart into their praise, writing poetry, dancing, theater, visual arts. They take a creative role in their life, even when so much is out of their control.
I have been especially struck by how pursuing beauty, and finding solidarity in beauty, has been a poignant source of hope, resiliency, and prayer for the young adult community here in the region. Every week, the Community hosts a meeting for young people in an atelier-style room next to one of the churches in Harissa. In this cozy, creative little space, young people ranging in age from 17 to 30 meet to share life and grow together in the midst of their often-changing reality in Lebanon. Each time I go, or whenever some of the young adults comes to our Community house, I am touched by the creative outpouring of the group. While many of these young people would not consider themselves “artists”, I have seen countless displays of their creativity and their efforts to bring beauty into the details. There are so many little moments that come to mind, but here are a few of my highlights:
Every time we have Mass or praise with the young people, I am so delighted by their music. Even when there are thirty people gathered, the way that each one sings or plays with attentiveness, seeking unity in pitch and harmony in the spirit of whatever song they’re playing. They feel free to harmonize and create spontaneously, they sing with their whole heart. What’s more, the Community members who lead this group really encourage each one to find his or her gifts and use them - there are two guys who play guitar together, and a girl whose rhythms on the jembe (a small drum played with the hands) add so much life and movement to the music. And the rest of the people singing are just as involved as the musicians leading - each time it feels like a unified creative effort with one heart, and the effect is stunning.
The amount of people, young and old, that I have met that have invested time to play some sort of instrument. Flute, violin, guitar, tambourine, piano, voice…and again, for many of these people the goal is not to pursue music professionally or to play perfectly, but rather to have the joy of creating, of learning, of playing together in community. Many people take the same approach to visual art - they set time aside for drawing and painting simply for the joy of it, from this natural intuition that it does a person good to be at play in some creative fashion. Theater, film, and dance should also be mentioned among this little litany of creative pursuits; again, one feels that the culture relishes the gift that it is to participate in these things. In fact, next the Community is having a whole retreat on the theme of dance and the importance of our body in relationship to our soul (I am majorly excited to go on this retreat).
The spirit that I see in people to give of themselves creatively, again without this sense of perfectionism. I see it expressed in little drawings or painted gifts passed from friend to friend, in a young adult with a gift for speaking who gives an inspirational exhortation on a retreat, in the care of sorting through the apple harvest to select the most beautiful ones to serve at table, for no other reason than to have the added enjoyment of their physical beauty along with their sweetness.
My new friend, Helen, who is an artist here - she has a workshop on the second level of her house that I was able to visit and spend some time making art with her and sharing stories. She hosts classes in her workshop, as well as opening the space to friends and other artists who might be in need of materials or a place to get away. Books and CD’s lined various shelves, mingled with plants and work from various local artists that she likes (many of them live in the region, she would point out their houses as we drove by), and the bright light of the loft made for an atmosphere of inspiration. Helen told me stories, showed me places in the region that inspired her, told me about all of her ideas for helping people to create. She truly has a generosity that is creative in itself, because she uses it so gratuitously to create beautiful experiences for other people.
…and these are just the highlights!
As for my own artwork, I have the freedom here to balance working with the house (helping to clean, cook, and serve the young American women who are in a time of formation) with making art. I am grateful to have the opportunity to create some pieces for the Community, as well as putting together the skeleton of a new series for my studio work back home. This past week I was even able to get some paints, so there are some plein air (painting outdoors) studies to be done in the last month here!
Overall, life in Lebanon these past few weeks has been quiet in a certain way, simply living the daily rhythm (I will be sure to give some more details about what that looks like in another post) and enjoying moments of living life together. Notable moments include the five of us girls driving down to Jbeil a week ago for a half day spent walking around the beach and the old suq (market), watching the sunset from the port, and having a drink in an open-air cafe. An abandoned kitten was left at the monastery, and it looks like he’s here to stay since he already acts like he owns the place; he is black and white, so we call him la petite vache, which means “the little cow” in French. Karmyn and Anna (the other two Americans) and I have started reading a book aloud to one another, sometimes with cups of tea as the rain blows over the hills and against the windows. Julie and Claire, who are French and Belgian, respectively, are such a blessing to our American crew, and our group sense of sisterhood is deepening in a very natural way as the weeks go by.
But, for now, it is time to wrap up - I need to grab a quick breakfast, pack my bag, and throw on my hiking boots for a hike in Qadisha (which means holy valley) with Fr. Joseph…which is BIG because it was a video of the Qadisha that first sparked the fire in my heart to come to Lebanon. Two years later, it’s really a dream to be on my way there…stories to come, I’m sure :)
Ciao for now, my friends!
In the peace of Christ,
Megan