Shrinemont 2009

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Thirty-six Wonderful Years! What a Glorious Ride!

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The Shrine Mont Adult Education Conference, which began in 1974, concluded in 2009 with a lively celebration of the life of this wonderful conference that has been so important to the spiritual formation of a generation of Episcopalians in Southern Virginia.  Jean Rutherford, one of the founders of the conference, and Randolph Charles, formerly of this diocese and now serving as rector of Church of the Epiphany in downtown Washington, DC were the keynoters.  Those in attendance were blessed by their presence and wisdom.  As we go forward into a period of discernment, a new Adult Formation Committee will be formed and will help inform and develop a strategy for lifelong formation.  Information on the new Adult Formation Committee will be posted on this page and elsewhere.  For additional questions and comments, contact Caroline Black at cblack@diosova.org

 

Shrine Mont Conference

July 2009

By Helen Phillips

Almost 75 years…nearly three quarters of a century… no matter how you say it-it is a long… long time. Others will tell the stories of their experiences at this conference, but I want to do something different and tell a little of what this place was like for me beginning in 1935.

I have a script, otherwise I would be taking you down a memory lane on a far longer walk than you could tolerate.

My story begins with my family’s first stay at Mrs. Kimball’s boarding house (now Stribling at the top of the hill). After two summers there she raised her rates to $12 a week, and my father, with some unexplainable financial figuring, decided that was more than he could afford. Therefore he purchased in 1938 the house known as Atkeson for $1600. It had seven bedrooms, no water and no plumbing. My mother, grandfather and I left Washington as soon as school closed and spent 10 weeks there every summer until the beginning of World War II with my father commuting each weekend.

Of all the memories of that house, the one that will always remain are my thrice daily trips to the Tea Spring, located in the Orkney circle, to carry drinking water for us. The pump there has been restored and I am, without question, the only person in Williamsburg with a framed picture of the Tea Spring pump on display at my house.

We had a chemical toilet as well with some interesting stories, but they are not appropriate for tonight.  But other memories of those growing up and coming of age years include the friends my age who lived in the other houses on the circle that are now owned by Shrine Mont; learning to dance in the Hotel Ballroom at age 10 followed by many summer nights as a teenager and young adult dancing to a live band, learning to drink beer at Jake’s (probably underage and sometimes followed by some not so pleasant stomach upheavals); being allowed at age 14 to participate in a rite of passage which involved climbing to the Cross at the top of the mountain at midnight; the frogs croaking in the lily pond behind the Shrine to accompany the reading of Compline which had not, at that time been included in the Prayer Book.

Much later experiences were centered around participating in this conference. Gratifying and exciting as it was for the conference to swell to almost 300 participants, it meant that we had to leave the facilities on the hill and move to the Hotel. That meant that we could no longer use the Shrine for our worship and liturgy.

Situated next to the Shrine is a log cabin which was the year round home of Dr. and Mrs. Woodward, he being the founder of shrine Mont. Their graves are to the right of the Shrine, on what, in old fashioned parlance, would be the Epistle side.

About five years ago, Kristy Lee, the wife of Bishop Lee of Virginia, undertook the leadership of a campaign to renovate the cabin, which was known as the Rectory.  It had not only served as the Woodward’s year round home, but it also was used each summer by the Chaplain of Shrine Mont. It had never been what you might call luxurious, and it was in need of many repairs, not the least of which was the addition of air conditioning. As part of that campaign to raise funds I was asked, as one of the two surviving persons who had spent summers in the Rectory with the Woodward’s, to write some of my experiences there for the Shrine Mont newsletter: This is what I wrote:

During the summers of 1942, 1943, and 1944 I was invited by Dr. Woodward to serve on the Shrine Mont staff in two capacities: one was to play the old pump organ at both the Shrine and the Shelter chapel (no electricity) for daily Vespers and two services on Sunday. The other assignment was to collect and keep track of the ration stamp books which all Americans were issued in World War II. The only way Wilmer Moomaw and Dr. Woodward could buy meat and sugar was to redeem those stamps, so each Shrine Mont guest had to surrender their books.

In the summer of 1944 an additional assignment was added: that of helping Mrs. Woodward, whose sight by then had failed to the point where she was no longer able to navigate the Shrine Mont paths and rocks. This required that I live at the Rectory.

My most vivid memory of living at the Rectory is of the shower in what I think was the only bathroom. One morning, while in the shower I looked down at the drain, which did not have a strainer for a cover, and saw a black, though small, snake slithering up the drain. I made a hasty decision to side-step the snake and get out as quickly as possible. I dressed quickly and found Dr. Woodward who beat it to death with his trusty stick. I never was sure of the real purpose of that stick, but he kept it next to his chair in the living room, but never used it for walking.

Another memory centered around an occasion when Dr. Woodward was exercising his medical skills. In addition to being an Episcopal priest, he was a medical doctor and served a medical missionary in Anking, China, for many years. Whenever Dr. Hoffman, the other doctor in Orkney was unavailable, Dr. Woodward filled in.

A couple brought a toddler who had stuck a pea or bean in his ear and it had become lodged to the point where they could not extract it. Dr. Woodward gave me a napkin and a bottle of chloroform and told me to drop the liquid onto the napkin which was over the child’s face until he told me to stop (which was when the child stopped screaming and squirming). I still shudder at the thought of that experience as an anesthesiologist at age 17.

As I mentioned earlier, I was saddened to move to the Hotel and no longer use the Shrine as our center of worship.

The Shrine is the heart and soul of this place and I am distressed to realize that there may have been participants at this conference in the past 15 years or so who have not had an opportunity to even SEE it.

You may not know that the Cathedral Shrine of the Transfiguration (its official name) is the seat of the bishop of Virginia and is the official cathedral for that diocese.

I will try to relate what the Shrine has meant to me over these many years. I guess the best I can do is to sum it up: whatever understanding I have of the church, and most especially the meaning of Christ as the center of one’s life, was formulated here. It was expanded through many different parish experiences, but this was its foundation. Over many years there have been so many changes in the life of the Church: liturgical changes, changes in social and cultural attitudes, and changes in the way the Church does its day by day business. Through them all I have always been able to visualize the Shrine: the memories of the people who worshipped there, the feelings, especially in the evening for Vespers, and the permanence represented by those rocks and stones so carefully chosen by Dr. Woodward and brought down off the mountain in wagons pulled by horses by the young men of Orkney, many of whom I knew as a child and remember fondly.

There are many more memories, but your patience and my time have both run out. I ask that you turn to page 34 in your song book and find the words that help span the years from when I was 8 years old to this summer when I’m 82.

Shrine Mont Story

by Claire Brill

My story at Shrine Mont began in 1982.  It has been a glorious ride because of many people that have labored in God’s abundant love!  And I personally want to say thank you to Jean Rutherford!

My particular memory that I want to share happened in 1992 when our keynoter was Martin Brokenleg.  I was privileged to be one of the coordinators that year.  Our Bishop, Frank Vest, had come with the staff for orientation on Saturday before the conference began on Sunday.

It was raining that afternoon and when it was time for worship, instead of using the Shrine, the staff gathered in the screen house chapel beside the Shrine.  Martin Brokenleg wanted to teach us a directional prayer that was used by the Native American culture so that we could lead the larger conference with him during our worship.

He began by asking us to close our eyes and to listen to the gentle rain and the approaching thunder.

He then instructed us in directional turns…to east, west,  north and south.  After guiding us through this, Martin asked that we remain standing silently for another few moments.  Then slowly… we opened our eyes…  I was AMAZED!  I found myself nose to nose with Bishop Vest!!  (Yes, God is a surprise)

One of us obviously did not follow directions.  I won’t say who, however, I do distinctly remember giving Bishop Vest a compass for his conference gift that year!!!

So what was so memorable about that?  Yes, it was laughable, but just like so many moments here at Shrine Mont, there are so many levels of learning from these moments.

For me I have learned:

It doesn’t matter that you pray correctly.

It does matter that you pray.

It doesn’t matter that you make the wrong run.

It does matter that you ask for directions.

It doesn’t matter that your life hasn’t gone in the direction that you planned.

It does matter that God remain in the plan.

My hope as we are together this year is for us to pay attention to the direction to which we are being called in our formation from this place.  Sometimes God does laugh when we make plans, but he also surprises us when we least expect it.  One think I do know is that God is already ahead of us and waiting.  Who knows?  We may open our eyes and meet him nose to nose!!!

Let us celebrate with singing, Shout to the North!