(This post is from Dan Beirne)

We sang in a beautiful Chapel today whose every detail emulated the praise and worship that took place within it, but to really convey this meaningful experience to you, I am going to start at the end…

“Why did we sing to no one at the Chapel?!”

That is one of the first questions that a student tossed my way when we exited the Sanctuary. After I admitted the oddity of singing to an empty Chapel, with no congregation or audience, I pointed out with a smirk that the Chapel was far from empty. We sang to God. I’m pretty sure the student rolled her eyes, but that brief conversation left me thinking.

This Chapel was no ordinary Chapel, as it was built to host the voices of four different faiths. Divided into four different sections, individuals of Buddhist, Jewish, Catholic and Protestant faiths could call this place of worship their spiritual home. Each spiritual nook was laced with deep theological symbolism and religious meaning that was particular to the details of each respective faith. Ancient scrolls with the Torah in the Jewish temple connected the modern day worshiper with their roots. Amber colored stained glass in the Catholic Chapel replicated the ambiance of the caves and caverns that housed early Christians as the worshiped their forbidden religion. The Buddhist Temple walls had windows that, with a little imagination, looked as if the Himalayas themselves were waiting on the other side. None of the details in these chapels were accidental; the whole building, no matter which religious space we were in, emulated a focus on the spiritual.

So as I think of that student’s words again, “Why did we sing to no one?” it makes me smile…I don’t know if I’ve ever set foot in a place that was as full as this Chapel. Replete with the images and tones of millennia of Man’s spiritual journey, it was an honor to be in such holy and diverse company. And, to sing there – to contribute to the holy atmosphere of God’s home- what a pleasure.

No Chapel is empty, for ever color and every detail points to the presence of the One to whom we sing.

The following are some reflections from a random sampling of students on their experience climbing the mountain. The following pictures are from the “easy” part of the hike. It got very grueling as we got higher and higher.

We have no idea what’s ahead of us (below)

It’s harder than it looks (below)

Finally made it to camp! (below)

Julia Wallace

10500 feet into the air

Did you know that 35 teenagers and 4 adults could climb a mountain? Neither did I. When we found out that we would be going on a hiking trip in the middle of tour, there were many mixed reactions. Some where excited, others nervous, others were simply dreading it. As we drove to Sky Ranch Ute Trail in Powderhorn, CO, our feelings were amplified. We arrived at Sky Ranch at 12:30 in the afternoon. They separated us into groups, as we would start in intervals, and instructed us on what to bring and how to pack our stuff sacks. Fortunately, they had a truck that would drive up our food, water, flys (tents), stuff sacks, sleeping bags and Mrs. Panosh. Our lunch conversation was filled with questions as most of us had never been camping before and none of us had ever climbed a mountain. At around 1:00 pm we began to head out. In three groups we began our long decent, leaving Sky Ranch 20 to 30 minutes apart. Initially, the climb was very difficult because none of us knew how steep to expect some of the uphill sections to be. Thankfully, there were plenty of areas where the path leveled out and we had a break before we began another climb. The entire experience was a very nice team building experience. There was little to no complaining throughout the climb. Everyone understood that the only way to go was up, especially after the half way point when the truck could not reach us until the top. We had some issues with dizziness, dehydration and some altitude sickness but it was amazing to see how everyone stepped to help those who were struggling. I was especially amazed by Alex Tadevich who, despite a possible broken hand, kept offering to carry the bags of those who were struggling. There were many moments of team work as we helped each other over difficult patches and encouraged each other. There was a small group of us, myself included, that had to slow way down and take many breaks. We were dealing with altitude and dehydration and it took us a while to get up. One of the best moments of camaraderie was when we finally arrived at camp and the rest of the group made a human tunnel and cheered us on as we entered camp. We ate a delicious dinner and then most of the group went on a small hike up to watch the sunset. I stayed behind but it was so cool when I heard off in the distance the choir singing Mighty to Save which features the phrase, “Savior he can move the mountains. My God is mighty to save. He is mighty to save.” No song could be more fitting for the moment. That night, none of us got much sleep. It was very cold out and most of the group decided to sleep outside. There was a lot of complaining throughout the night. Many felt that they had been the only ones to not sleep well and were not happy about it. It was very cool though, in the morning when we were standing around the fire to hear from everyone else that, no one slept well. We realized that though we had been miserable, we had all been miserable and because of that, the situation did not seem so bad. We ate a short breakfast and began our decent back down the mountain. The way back down was much faster but presented its own unique challenges. Some of the areas were very slippery and we had to work together to get down safely. In the end, many of us say that we will never go camping again, but none deny the fact that we had a one in a life time experience.

Matt Hay

The hike up the mountain really was a great experience. I got to bond with people that I would probably not normally hang out with and got to know them which was a blast. I also did not know all of the people in the choir, but I got to talk and hang out with them on the way up as well as around the campfire which was cool. It was hard work with my knee but I made it! The view was also amazing. I’ve never seen anything like it in my life. It truly was a completely different world up there but one that I will never forget. This trip has been very fun getting to know everybody and one that I won’t forget.

Garret Panno

So basically… It was amazing.
After a 3mile hike, and adventuring 11,000 feet high, it was an awesome experience. Not just because of us hiking and climbing, but because of what it meant.

After dinner on the top of the mountain, we hiked a little more, and got on top of this rock that’s, “On top of the World.” (That’s what the people at the ranch called it. The top of the mountain we were on, obviously because it was so high and you can see almost everything there is to see.)

So we sat there at on top of the world for the sunset. And it was just gorgeous. It’s something that a picture or video will never be able to fully show, but only the experience, and the story that follows. Otherwise, it would look just like a post card.

But as we watched the sunset, there was the sun setting behind the mountains, with the rays of light beaming threw the peaks. And it was just amazing and beautiful.
And when we were watching the sunset, myself, and many probably came to a conclusion. Which is that God made such an awesome world, with awesome things, like the mountains, and oceans, and he loved it and said it was good. But God also made us, humans. And he called us very good. That “very,” is a big difference. To say how beautiful this world is, and how much we marvel at it, and to say that he loves us more then those things that we marvel at, is just jaw dropping love.

Nothing will compare (that is for a long time) to the experience we all had on that mountain top, the experience we had “On top of the World.”

Emily Miller

My experience in the mountains was an interesting one. We spent hours hiking up and bonding with the members of our groups. Each guide told us about themselves and I learned more about what it was like to live in different parts of the country. When we finally reached the top everyone was tired but I felt fulfilled because of this thing that I had accomplished. Reaching that mountain top was like reaching a new point in my life. I felt like I had done something that I had never thought I would ever be able to do. It was hard, and most people didn’t like it at all, but the whole experience really shed a light on my life. When we hiked up later at night to the “top of the world” I became emotional, as did others. It amazed me how much we all had done and how much closer we all had become throughout our journey. As a choir and puppet team, we have bonded over the year, but finally reaching the top point of something we spent all day trying to achieve, our minds and hearts seemed connected in a way that was almost unbearable. There have been many points in my life when I have felt like nothing would be as beautiful as things like the night sky or the beautiful people we all see in magazines, but looking down from the top of the mountain made me realize that nothing gets better than that. Also, one of our guides explained to us that God thought that all the scenery and such were good but all of the people he had made were really good. This made me feel so important in the difficult world we have to live through today, especially during all the difficult and emotional points when I ever feel worthless. I know that God will always see me as the most important and wonderful thing he has ever created and that is something that I will hold with me for the rest of my life.

The following is a post written by Sam Mather. He shared some of his observations and thoughts on rural America with us last night during vespers. I asked him if he would share them on the blog and he said yes.

I have never been to rural America before. I’ve never really wanted to go, either: while I consider myself well-traveled, I’ve pretty much only been to cities, and my experience with rural areas has been limited to the occasional news article or landscape painting.

Don’t get me wrong – I wasn’t one of the people who got bored on the bus ride. I was more than happy to look at even the Nebraskan scenery, and wonder about the last hundred years and how the land and the people and buildings have changed…but we would pass a tiny town or two every few hours and interrupt my monotony-inspired reflections. I think I only actually saw other people once. But the sight of houses prompted some thinking:

For example, how do people, on a daily basis/in a routine sense, live here? It was only driving though the residential area of Axtel, Nebraska (where we’re staying tonight) that I realized I truly have no idea what the daily life of a rural American is. I learned guitar by deciding what model I wanted, going to the local Guitar Center, buying it from a selection of hundreds, choosing from the four or five places that offer music lessons, and supplementing my excellent lessons with YouTube videos and books from the local Barnes and Noble. I learned to draw by deciding I wanted to and then reading just about every art book the three huge, local libraries had, drawing with supplies purchased from Blick, making visits to the phenomenal Art Institute, and taking all the classes the excellent local high school offered.

But here – based on the admittedly fractional view I’ve had – I don’t think I would be anywhere near so tapped into such a thriving cultural and artistic community. Ignoring the Internet for a moment, imagine someone here wants to learn to play guitar or draw. Back in Naperville, they would have nearly infinite resources. But from what I’ve seen here, there are no paintings on the walls or shelves stuffed with books. There’s not even a library, as far as I can tell. I haven’t seen any museums or music stores. All the artistic landmarks that I am proud to learn from seem to be missing here. All the things that, back home or on an ordinary trip, make me feel like I am a part of something important don’t seem to exist here. As a highly cultured musician, artist, and academic, I clearly have nothing in common with the people here.

The thing is, I do. At some point it clicked that, although I am at the fringe of the universe as far as I am concerned, and no one here will make headlines, they are exactly no less important than I am. I have to acknowledge that as overwhelming as my daily life feels to me, their daily lives feel to them, and God empathizes completely and perfectly with both of us. We talk about “centers of the world” – New York for art, D.C. for politics – but in God’s eyes, all the world is equally weighted. As busy and important as I feel in Naperville, God puts just as much stock in my teenage counterparts out here (and he’s right to). Naperville may have Chicago, but to God, that makes us no better, no more human.

My other thought came from the highway. Before we got to Nebraska, we were actually passing towns on a regular basis and seeing people and traffic on occasion. It was strange to go so far; Naperville is essentially the center of my world. I don’t think about places outside of it. But in the space of six hours, we passed thousands of other towns and cities that, for the people there, are microcosms for them the way Naperville is for me.

And while my Naperville problems are overwhelming, passing so many places to live made me realize that I am one of 300 million people in the country with problems. They are confusing, and I don’t know how they will turn out. No matter how often I sing that God takes care of all of us, I will never stop stressing out. But I don’t worry about the people in the rest of the country, or the world. Ever. I am sure that God will take care of them. My faith applies to them – but my problems are real in a way that theirs are not. To God, though, all their problems are on the same plane as mine and mine are on the same as theirs. The confusion, the doubt – they are universal feelings.

I think the distance – the superficial contact with these little worlds – really drove home to me that the world works. God has made an incredible creation, no matter how unhappy I get or how convinced that everything is going wrong – my world will keep going, the same that Clive, Iowa will keep going despite the problems and flaws of its residents; the same that Axtel, Nebraska, will keep going despite the worries and despairs of its residents. On a gut level, in bad times, it seems like the world can’t keep going. But the fact that other people feel that way and their worlds keep going is proof that what God has put together no man can tear asunder; that, in fact, our country is wise to trust in God.