Back in July, I complained on Twitter that a bunch of teenagers had descended on my quiet Iona hotel. A friend replied, in jest, "Well, Iona is kinda a party place, right?" Religious pilgrimage destinations aren't typically known for their wild celebrations, but celebration was a common theme among places I visited in the summer. You wouldn't think of monks as guys who like to cut loose and party, but I was at St. Andrews Abbey for the Feast of the Transfiguration, and they did celebrate. After the longer Mass that day, they had quite a feast, with carne asada, beer and wine, and ice cream. Even in their quiet contemplative community, they knew there was a need to celebrate. When I worshiped with Hope Christian Church, I found even a normal Sunday in August was a reason to celebrate in their worship. I wish I could have hung around Jacob's Well for a couple more weeks, because they were soon to celebrate 15 years as a church, and they were going to have a block party with bands and food trucks. They knew their church being around 15 years was something worth celebrating.

I mentioned hospitality has a key ingredient among faithful folks I encountered in the summer, and celebration was key too. Whether it was monks in a monastery or churches living parish life, where I saw vibrant, faithful living I saw a spirit of celebration. I'm a quiet midwestern white guy, and I'm not the guy who you'd normally consider the life of the party, but I still feel a celebratory spirit is part of faithful living. We celebrate because ultimately the end of life is joy. However you want to understand it, God is drawing us together in joy. The ultimate destination for creation is where all of God's people are drawn together in God's presence, and there's joy there. It's a party I want to be at, and any joy we share in the meantime is a small taste of the joy we'll have in that gathering. Any church or faithful gathering that knows what it is about has a spirit of this celebration in its fellowship, worship, and in its life together.

When I was in Edinburgh, I saw one of my favorite paintings, The Reverend Robert Walker Skating on Duddingston Loch by Sir Henry Raeburn. Scottish Presbyterians aren't normally known for their joyous spirit, which makes the image of this pastor gliding on the ice even more curious. I'd like to think there is a little joy in this dour Reformed Scot as he glides along the frozen loch, knowing that his skate of life will take him to a place of celebration beyond our capacity to understand it now.