Mystery Night at the Gilmor

July fades into August in this steamy season at Stony Point. And for the interfaith interns who came to live and learn together, the parting was sweet sorrow, indeed. They were 16 young adults, Christian, Jews and Muslims between the ages of 18 and 30. During their time at Stony Point, they became a family, vibrant in their passions for justice and their commitment to be part of the transformation of the world.

On Thursday night, prior to their Sunday diaspora, they had a costumed mystery night at the Gilmor. This was to be their final party. As I am the official host of this hospitable mansion, I got to be a part of it. Everyone was given a character and mine was "Jackie O", but I was told it could be any Jackie O. I was to be charming, friendly to all, and would serve as host, appropriate to my real role here. My best character-friends were indicated on a slip of white paper. I had an assigned "interest in garden tools." So the evening unfolded with twists and turns and the inevitable murder that had to be solved. There was a bloody foot by the water cooler that distressed the host, yours truly, but no one else seemed to be alarmed or interested after an initial scream. Ultimately, the mystery was solved: Mr. White in the kitchen with a shovel. The evening lasted two and a half hours in pursuit of the murderer and motive. It was a drama game extraordinaire and everyone got fully into character, including the Gilmor host; a party right up my dramatic alley!

Of course, the Gilmor Sloane House was the perfect place for a mystery game party. Two of the interns had identified the prospect the moment they visited the mansion on the third day of their arrival at Stony Point. And so I had been approached. Yes, of course, I would be thrilled to have this memorable event unfold under my roof. As one who had come to Stony Point expecting to be a part of the Community of Living Traditions and had then been disappointed by an unexpected change in process, there was a certain sweet justice in being invited into the center of this fun and festive culmination to the internship month here.

But even better than the party was their final closing ceremony to which I was also invited, the only resident of the Stony Point community to be included in a ceremony that celebrated what they had learned during their month together. They each made a prayerful, spiritual offering from their own traditions: the Christians their own version of the Lord's Prayer, the Muslims a reading from Rumi and the Jews, a wonderful line dance to traditional music in which we all took part. We watched a slide show that captured highlights of the internship. They did an affirmation circle, where each one of then sat in the center of a circle of stones while the group tossed words of affirmation and love showering down around the one seated in the center. And finally, we walked silently and by candle light into the field where they had labored hard and long throughout the month to clear, plough and plant a new garden as part of Stony Point's food justice program. There they made a circle and gave thanks to God for what they had learned from each other and how they had grown. By candlelight and moonlight, they said their good-byes. They had farmed the land to grow the spirit.

And I who likes to lead and direct had grown too. I had learned the holiness of watching. I had been given the gift of bearing witness. I looked around the circle at these young people and held each one of them close to my heart. Here was hope in this hopeless and desperate world. Here was beauty, purity and hope.

Walking back to the mansion, alone in the dark, a great sense of peace settled within me. For this one night, at least, the world was wholly good.