“Postcard from Chautauqua

Jennie and I are in Chautauqua, NY, this week.  Tucked away in the far western tip of New York, the Chautauqua Institution, celebrating its sesquicentennial this week, is a spa for the soul-- refreshment and renewal for body, mind, and spirit. 

The Chautauqua Institution’s four pillars are worship, the arts, education, and recreation.    

A place to worship “in spirit and in truth.”  Each morning begins with worship. The 5,640 pipe, 1907 Massey Memorial Organ fills the 5,000 seat outdoor amphitheater with music that loses me in “wonder, love, and praise.” The preaching is outstanding (Any time I get to listen to someone else is a good sermon).

Our preacher this week is The Most Rev. Michael Curry, Presiding Bishop of what he refers to as “The Episcopal branch of the worldwide Jesus movement.”  He is delighting a larger-than-average congregation every morning, delivering theological and biblical depth in warm, winsome oratory seasoned with self-deprecating humor that packs a powerful punch of cultural critique, albeit wrapped in a velvet glove. As he slyly remarked with a mischievous grin, “I’m not going to get political. Trust me. But if you apply this Bible passage, it becomes political.”  Given the current climate of rhetoric and actions in spheres public and private, his theme of love is countercultural, indeed.       

A smorgasbord of the arts.  Daily delights for the eye and ear.  Music of every genre.  I’ve heard it all at Chautauqua: jazz (Wynton Marsalis is coming), hip hop, barber shoppers, rockers, philharmonic orchestra.  A Frank Sinatra tribute two nights ago.  Last night a playful band (loosely defined) called Squonk whose odd-sounding name fit their cacophonous honks, squeals, and other indeterminate sounds. Ballet tonight. An Abba cover band to come. Dance troupes. Prize-winning photographers. Theater. Nature’s artistry abounds: shimmering water, towering trees, flowers galore.

On the evening of Chautauqua’s 150th birthday, we stood amidst a couple thousand folks on the expansive lawn in front of the venerable Athenaeum Hotel fronting Lake Chautauqua and gawked at a drone fireworks show.  Oohs and aahs abounded as a fleet of hundreds of drones, each fitted with colorful LED lights, performed choreographed formations in the night sky. Aerial art.    

Continuing education: Lectures by men and women from all walks of life who are world class in their respective fields.  Effective communicators.  Founts of wisdom.  Engaging.  Motivating.  Ennobling.  Moving.   

Dacher Keltner, professor of psychology at U-C Berkeley, was the opening keynoter for this week’s theme of Wonder and Awe. Asked by the creators of Pixar’s Inside Out films which emotion they ought to add to their cinematic repertoire, Keltner replied, “Awe.”  They didn’t take him up on it … this time. He wrote the book on the subject.  Literally.  Awe: The New Science of Everyday Wonder and How It Can Transform Your Life is Keltner’s scientific, psychological, philosophical, and spiritual exploration of the emotion he defines as  “the feeling of being in the presence of something vast and mysterious that transcends your current understanding of the world.” His engaging lecture explored the Eight Wonders of the World gleaned from his exploration of how awe manifests itself in 26 cultures worldwide: mystical (religious) experience, big ideas (epiphanies/insights), nature, music, the circle of life: birth and death, moral beauty (courage, resilience, selflessness, compassion, justice, generosity), visual design (art and architecture), and collective effervescence (the exhilarating esprit de corps experienced in the midst of concerts, dances, choirs, marches, sporting events, worship services).  All are hallmarks of Chautauqua, a truth Keltner aptly underscored by pronouncing the word phonetically: shh-awe t-awe qu-awe. I made a note to self: retirement is an opportunity to intentionally seek and experience awe in all its forms. Put pen to paper and create a bucket list of awe-portunities.     

Recreation: a three-mile walking/running loop traverses the perimeter of the scenic gingerbread village on Lake Chautauqua.  Golf.  Boating. Kayaking. Swimming. Lawn bowling. Croquet.  Shuffleboard. Tennis. Napping. Jennie rises and shines for her morning walk.  I lace up my running shoes mid-afternoon.          

Chautauqua is all this... and porches, too. You’ve heard of the Bridges of Madison County?  Introducing the porches of Chautauqua.  Ahh! Chautauqua’s porches.

The Disciples of Christ have two 3+ story residences-- “houses”-- at Chautauqua.  Think of two old-time boarding houses (though one is brand new) replete with hospitality and charm at a price that can't be beat and with great company within a hundred paces of the amphitheater.  The epicenter of life at both houses is the porches. The best seats at Chautauqua hands down are the rockers on the porches of the Disciples Houses. 

The porch of a nearby house touts a sign that sums up the spirit of a Chautauqua porch well.  It reads: 

PORCH RULES  Take a nap. Feel the breezes. Read a book. Converse. Listen to the birds. Relax.

What is it about porches? Located at the intersection of home and world, a porch is liminal space. Betwixt and between.  Neither here nor there.  A porch straddles public and private, indoors and outdoors. As such, a good porch is an inviting space that welcomes resident and guest to a meeting place where both can be enriched by each others’ presence in the presence of God’s creation.  To sit on a porch is to be in Sabbath space. To be invited to pull up a rocker and join in a conversation is to be welcomed into holy space, a Chapel of Chat.

When the subject of Chautauqua’s porches came up a few years ago, my friend Paul Jones observed that nowadays front porches have been usurped by backyard decks.  Not good.  We return home, click the automatic garage door opener, pull in, and put the garage door back down.  If we go back outside at all, we go out back to “me, my, mine” space removed from others by house and fence. We’re siloed. Isolated.  Separated from one another.  Absent porches, we’re no longer on speaking terms with our neighbors.  Absent the practice of dialogue with them, we shouldn’t be surprised we can no longer speak civilly to strangers, let alone adversaries.

On our way up to Chautauqua, Jennie and I stopped in my hometown of Warren, OH.  We had dinner with my lifelong friend, Mick.  A few summers ago, he and I drove to the neighborhood we grew up in, parked the car, and walked around the block. House by house, we named the families that lived there 50+ years ago. After we had walked the ¾ mile loop, sharing stories, laughter, and more than one wistful sigh, Mick observed, “Do you realize we’ve walked around the entire block on a summer Saturday morning and didn’t see a single person?  Not a single man, woman, or child outside. Nobody on their porch!”        

I propose one small step in the direction of increasing civility in this country:  more people on porches.

Front porch. Summer night. Starry sky. Drone fireworks. Awesome.