Run the course…
And when you trip,
stop and catch your breath.
Run the course…
And when you fall,
Pick yourself up and dust yourself off.
The first semester has come to a close. The last day of classes are now just a memory. New bonds of love formed in the crucible of academic rigor bind me deeper into the Anglican community.
In the past three months I have pushed through volumes of material, much of which is still working to inform my ministry and calling to the priesthood.
I have experienced the grace of being held in prayer by my community at St. Timothy’s and many others who have been a part of my pilgrimage of faith. I thank God for each of you, because, your prayers and encouragement have sustained me through the very toughest days. There have been a few days where I ate the bread of tears mingled with the bread of life.
This morning as I was walking I remembered that, and the substitute I song I offered in my sermon on the first Sunday of Advent. We need one more verse to bring full understanding in this song.
“It’s okay to pout, it’s okay to cry
That is reason Jesus came to live and die.
Jesus Christ knows our fears and our pain.
Still, Jesus loves us with our frail ways.”
Advent, the time of looking to Christ’s glorious reign on earth, is soon to be replaced with the glorious recitation of His First Coming once again.
Soon we will be gathered to celebrate the Feast of the Incarnation. We will marvel again at the gift of Godself to us. We will recall the blessed event of the nativity of Jesus, and find hope for our weary souls as we watch children take such delight on Christmas day.
I pray that each of you will feel God’s presence in new and profound ways. The great mystery of the incarnation is God’s wonderful self disclosure.
Thursday, December 22, 2011
Saturday, November 26, 2011
Advent Song..Hmn Hmn Hmn is coming to Town
Parousia
You better watch out, you better not cry
You better not pout, I’m telling you why
Jesus Christ is coming to town.
He sees you when you’re waking
He knows when you’re asleep
He knows when you’re behaving
Like an onry stupid sheep.
You better watch out, you better not lie,
Always love your neighbor, this is why
Jesus says he’s present in them.
I want you to know there’s nothing to fear
Jesus loves you, he’s holding you dear.
Jesus Christ is present always.
We call upon our Father
in Heaven as we pray.
We ask him to pour blessings
On the bread and wine and us.
When we eat the bread, and take from the cup
Jesus Christ comes into our hearts
So trust in him and do your part.
I want you to know there’s nothing to fear
Jesus loves you, he’s staying quite near.
Watch for Jesus everyday.
You better watch out, you better not cry
You better not pout, I’m telling you why
Jesus Christ is coming to town.
He sees you when you’re waking
He knows when you’re asleep
He knows when you’re behaving
Like an onry stupid sheep.
You better watch out, you better not lie,
Always love your neighbor, this is why
Jesus says he’s present in them.
I want you to know there’s nothing to fear
Jesus loves you, he’s holding you dear.
Jesus Christ is present always.
We call upon our Father
in Heaven as we pray.
We ask him to pour blessings
On the bread and wine and us.
When we eat the bread, and take from the cup
Jesus Christ comes into our hearts
So trust in him and do your part.
I want you to know there’s nothing to fear
Jesus loves you, he’s staying quite near.
Watch for Jesus everyday.
Thursday, November 24, 2011
Grateful Heart
“Grateful to be known and loved by God, that Christ has taken residence in my heart. Thankful for family that increases in size each year, through marriages and births, and the fellowship of the church.” (Facebook post Nov 24, 2011 7:20am)
Maybe that’s all that needs to be said, but I feel so much more.
I am grateful for being an inheritor of a great line of tradition. In following my pilgrim path I discovered a treasure which anchors my place within the lesser known history of this nation. Thanks to Professor Ann Taves who taught Christian History by having each student research our own family history, looking for the story of how religion played a role in each of our families. That research led me to a corpus of correspondence between my maternal grandmother and all the family connections she could make. Ruth’s quest provided a treasury of stories of faith from many generations. There was one in the late 18th Century who belonged to the Church of England and became Methodist because of the zeal of the preachers. Another who, it is told always was a member of the Episcopal Church. There is a record of an 19th Century Episcopal priest, Rev. Wright, in North Carolina. There were many Congregationalists and very many Irish Roman Catholics. All belonging to the one Body of Christ, united in the Covenant of Baptism, and strengthened by Holy Communion. Both priesthood and servanthood have been handed down from generation to generation. These and many more watch over me and embolden me as I continue to pray for clarity in my vocation.
If a certain committee does not or cannot hear my call to holy orders, I will still be a Christ-bearer. From the covenant of my Baptism I am empowered to serve. By the gift of the Holy Spirit I am a leader and teacher in the church. By the authority of the Bishop and my priest, I am a preacher, lay Eucharistic minister, and lay reader in the service to my parish. I will continue to be a prophetic voice speaking for the hungry, homeless, jobless, victims of disaster. I will remain a voice that speaks in opposition to institutional violence and corporate greed. This is both my diaconal ministry and priesthood; for this I need no other authority than the empowerment of the Holy Spirit.
Ever since I completed my undergraduate degree, I have always been called to serve as an equipper and one who empowers others to live out their baptismal ministry in the unique ways that God has gifted them; to see the sacred in all of life and to respond faithfully to God in extending Christ’s reign in the present age.
While huddled under my warm covers this morning I was struck by the tremendous contradiction of the present day American celebration of Thanksgiving, in relation to the first pilgrim feast, following the harsh winter and first year in this new land. The Pilgrims voyage in the Mayflower was for the pursuit of a place to live out their Puritan Christian ethic, one which disdained the celebration of Christmas. The day was set aside to feast with their new neighbors; Native Americans who welcomed them and helped them through that first year. Thanksgiving Day in the present age seems to be only about over-consumption for mainstream America. Now, the vast majority of Americans engage in massive eating. After that they plan and execute great shopping trips consisting of waiting hours, or days in lines for the best deals of the day.
The Pilgrims life is a worldview. Living the Christian life faithfully requires making faithful choices; choosing to be in the world and yet not of the world. Thankfully, last night our parish was afforded the opportunity to gather together for Evening Prayer led by our young Christians with the guidance and direction of Deacon Nicholas. Those gathered were the faithful remnant scripture often upholds to us. I am grateful that our family has been steadfast enough in our faith to resist the constant pressure of advertising which fills the air.
Today, we will take a trip up to Big Bear to join our daughter-in-law’s family. We are blessed to share this day with ones we love, who also love God; Father, Son and Holy Spirit.
Maybe that’s all that needs to be said, but I feel so much more.
I am grateful for being an inheritor of a great line of tradition. In following my pilgrim path I discovered a treasure which anchors my place within the lesser known history of this nation. Thanks to Professor Ann Taves who taught Christian History by having each student research our own family history, looking for the story of how religion played a role in each of our families. That research led me to a corpus of correspondence between my maternal grandmother and all the family connections she could make. Ruth’s quest provided a treasury of stories of faith from many generations. There was one in the late 18th Century who belonged to the Church of England and became Methodist because of the zeal of the preachers. Another who, it is told always was a member of the Episcopal Church. There is a record of an 19th Century Episcopal priest, Rev. Wright, in North Carolina. There were many Congregationalists and very many Irish Roman Catholics. All belonging to the one Body of Christ, united in the Covenant of Baptism, and strengthened by Holy Communion. Both priesthood and servanthood have been handed down from generation to generation. These and many more watch over me and embolden me as I continue to pray for clarity in my vocation.
If a certain committee does not or cannot hear my call to holy orders, I will still be a Christ-bearer. From the covenant of my Baptism I am empowered to serve. By the gift of the Holy Spirit I am a leader and teacher in the church. By the authority of the Bishop and my priest, I am a preacher, lay Eucharistic minister, and lay reader in the service to my parish. I will continue to be a prophetic voice speaking for the hungry, homeless, jobless, victims of disaster. I will remain a voice that speaks in opposition to institutional violence and corporate greed. This is both my diaconal ministry and priesthood; for this I need no other authority than the empowerment of the Holy Spirit.
Ever since I completed my undergraduate degree, I have always been called to serve as an equipper and one who empowers others to live out their baptismal ministry in the unique ways that God has gifted them; to see the sacred in all of life and to respond faithfully to God in extending Christ’s reign in the present age.
While huddled under my warm covers this morning I was struck by the tremendous contradiction of the present day American celebration of Thanksgiving, in relation to the first pilgrim feast, following the harsh winter and first year in this new land. The Pilgrims voyage in the Mayflower was for the pursuit of a place to live out their Puritan Christian ethic, one which disdained the celebration of Christmas. The day was set aside to feast with their new neighbors; Native Americans who welcomed them and helped them through that first year. Thanksgiving Day in the present age seems to be only about over-consumption for mainstream America. Now, the vast majority of Americans engage in massive eating. After that they plan and execute great shopping trips consisting of waiting hours, or days in lines for the best deals of the day.
The Pilgrims life is a worldview. Living the Christian life faithfully requires making faithful choices; choosing to be in the world and yet not of the world. Thankfully, last night our parish was afforded the opportunity to gather together for Evening Prayer led by our young Christians with the guidance and direction of Deacon Nicholas. Those gathered were the faithful remnant scripture often upholds to us. I am grateful that our family has been steadfast enough in our faith to resist the constant pressure of advertising which fills the air.
Today, we will take a trip up to Big Bear to join our daughter-in-law’s family. We are blessed to share this day with ones we love, who also love God; Father, Son and Holy Spirit.
Monday, November 21, 2011
Along the pilgrims road ...becoming Anglicanized part 2
Introduction: The life of any seminarian consists of continuous consumption of new reading material, reflecting and writing. That regular pattern has taken away considerable amounts of "free time" which I might otherwise use to blog. Thus, to maintain some form of connection to those of you who share a concern in my journey, I've decided to post a few of the reflections submitted to the professors.
Today is the second of two postings from my liturgics class.
In her book The Eucharist and the Hunger of the World (Sheed and Ward, 1992) Monika K. Hellwig raises important questions about the message communicated to 20th (and now 21st) Century Christians. First of all, she identifies a chasm between the rich and the poor of the world. She posits that neither the affluent, nor the oppressed can be satisfied spiritually through the Eucharist. The rich can’t appreciate being fed spiritually until they have first truly experienced hunger, and the starving of the world cannot hear the message of hope that comes with the Eucharist until they are given the satisfaction of a full belly. Almost as an aside she laments the loss of the Roman Catholic tradition of days of fasting which came with the Liturgical Renewal Movement. In truth, I suspect that the movement away from the observance of days of fasts, was well on its way out the door well before Vatican II.
What struck me once again is how deeply entrenched the idea of communion being only an individual experience for American Christians. I can see now how I failed in the rural context in which I served, to broaden the understanding of the common re-bonding which occurs through communing. Although we used the expression of ‘remembering’ and placed emphasis on it as ‘re-membering’ , I don’t think I had it sufficiently worked out for myself to provide an explanation for the members of my charge. Now I would start by speaking of the Eucharist as a common meal for the common good, a strengthening of the Corpus Christi, established within each member through baptism. I would continue by explaining that regular communion is much more than a reception of forgiveness for failures committed. In frequent reception of the bread and cup we take on the presence of Christ to be in solidarity with the oppressed, the sorrowful, and to seek out the lost children of God. Through Eucharist we are empowered to take up the mantle of the great commission.
Today is the second of two postings from my liturgics class.
In her book The Eucharist and the Hunger of the World (Sheed and Ward, 1992) Monika K. Hellwig raises important questions about the message communicated to 20th (and now 21st) Century Christians. First of all, she identifies a chasm between the rich and the poor of the world. She posits that neither the affluent, nor the oppressed can be satisfied spiritually through the Eucharist. The rich can’t appreciate being fed spiritually until they have first truly experienced hunger, and the starving of the world cannot hear the message of hope that comes with the Eucharist until they are given the satisfaction of a full belly. Almost as an aside she laments the loss of the Roman Catholic tradition of days of fasting which came with the Liturgical Renewal Movement. In truth, I suspect that the movement away from the observance of days of fasts, was well on its way out the door well before Vatican II.
What struck me once again is how deeply entrenched the idea of communion being only an individual experience for American Christians. I can see now how I failed in the rural context in which I served, to broaden the understanding of the common re-bonding which occurs through communing. Although we used the expression of ‘remembering’ and placed emphasis on it as ‘re-membering’ , I don’t think I had it sufficiently worked out for myself to provide an explanation for the members of my charge. Now I would start by speaking of the Eucharist as a common meal for the common good, a strengthening of the Corpus Christi, established within each member through baptism. I would continue by explaining that regular communion is much more than a reception of forgiveness for failures committed. In frequent reception of the bread and cup we take on the presence of Christ to be in solidarity with the oppressed, the sorrowful, and to seek out the lost children of God. Through Eucharist we are empowered to take up the mantle of the great commission.
Sunday, November 20, 2011
Along the pilgrims road ...becoming Anglicanized part 1
Introduction: The life of any seminarian consists of continuous consumption of new reading material, reflecting and writing. That regular pattern has taken away considerable amounts of "free time" which I might otherwise use to blog. Thus, to maintain some form of connection to those of you who share a concern in my journey, I've decided to post a few of the reflections submitted to the professors.
Today and tomorrow I will be posting from my liturgics class.
Reading Reflection A Theology of Worship
There are two things that especially struck me as important as I was reading A Theology of Worship this week. The chapter on Music and the chapter on the Sacraments each provided much to think about as I think about planning worship in a particular context.
In “Whose Music?” I found it interesting to think about how music has influenced my own faith. My first official place of service within the church was in choir. I have long held to the idea that to sing is to pray twice. Through the singing of hymns, I have both said Amen and been left with a strange and uncomfortable feeling. I think we have all experienced an internal rejection of one hymn claim or another as we have participated in Ecumenical gatherings. Of course not all hymns are prayers. Some pieces of music serve, as Weil points out, essentially to fill the silence which would otherwise occur due to the liturgical actions taking place at the altar. The music serves to fill silent space, and asking “whose music?” is to respect the diversity of contexts in which the Episcopal Church lives out a faithful presence. Respecting creative diversity which arises as a result of cultural diversity is important in the work of extending the reign of God in the world.
“Whose Sacraments?” was very thought provoking, helping me reflect on the influence of individualistic thinking upon the Christian life. Louis Weil writes, in A Theology of Worship “Sacramental actions always pertain to the corporate life of the whole Christian community and their purpose is to build up its unity in a common life and faith. That is why I emphasize so strongly the importance of a shared recognition of what these actions mean within a Christian Community. That meaning is never a private or individual matter.” (125) As I was reading these words I found myself saying both yes and no. Yes, because I see that Baptism is a communal action. And yes because I also could not imagine Holy Communion, the Eucharist, being something one did alone. The no arises as I reflect on the words I remember saying often as a part of the liturgy which asks of God that we “would not take (of communion) for solace only but also for strength.” These words have always seemed to me to be spoken as an individual request. Yes, as we say the words together, a corporate request is being formed as well as an individual supplication. This idea, of thinking of communion not as an individual pietistic expression, but as a communal recognition and strengthening will be a place of continuing reflection for me. It will probably significantly influence my preaching, as I have often spoken of receiving communion as a means of grace, thinking in terms of the relationship between the individual and God. So the question I would ask of Weil is, aren’t the sacraments both individual and communal?
Today and tomorrow I will be posting from my liturgics class.
Reading Reflection A Theology of Worship
There are two things that especially struck me as important as I was reading A Theology of Worship this week. The chapter on Music and the chapter on the Sacraments each provided much to think about as I think about planning worship in a particular context.
In “Whose Music?” I found it interesting to think about how music has influenced my own faith. My first official place of service within the church was in choir. I have long held to the idea that to sing is to pray twice. Through the singing of hymns, I have both said Amen and been left with a strange and uncomfortable feeling. I think we have all experienced an internal rejection of one hymn claim or another as we have participated in Ecumenical gatherings. Of course not all hymns are prayers. Some pieces of music serve, as Weil points out, essentially to fill the silence which would otherwise occur due to the liturgical actions taking place at the altar. The music serves to fill silent space, and asking “whose music?” is to respect the diversity of contexts in which the Episcopal Church lives out a faithful presence. Respecting creative diversity which arises as a result of cultural diversity is important in the work of extending the reign of God in the world.
“Whose Sacraments?” was very thought provoking, helping me reflect on the influence of individualistic thinking upon the Christian life. Louis Weil writes, in A Theology of Worship “Sacramental actions always pertain to the corporate life of the whole Christian community and their purpose is to build up its unity in a common life and faith. That is why I emphasize so strongly the importance of a shared recognition of what these actions mean within a Christian Community. That meaning is never a private or individual matter.” (125) As I was reading these words I found myself saying both yes and no. Yes, because I see that Baptism is a communal action. And yes because I also could not imagine Holy Communion, the Eucharist, being something one did alone. The no arises as I reflect on the words I remember saying often as a part of the liturgy which asks of God that we “would not take (of communion) for solace only but also for strength.” These words have always seemed to me to be spoken as an individual request. Yes, as we say the words together, a corporate request is being formed as well as an individual supplication. This idea, of thinking of communion not as an individual pietistic expression, but as a communal recognition and strengthening will be a place of continuing reflection for me. It will probably significantly influence my preaching, as I have often spoken of receiving communion as a means of grace, thinking in terms of the relationship between the individual and God. So the question I would ask of Weil is, aren’t the sacraments both individual and communal?
Wednesday, August 31, 2011
Saints-You Saint-Me
Last Sunday’s epistle lesson is still rattling around in my head.
That’s not a bad thing. In fact it’s quite good to have a passage keep working within me. That, for me, is a sign that I am encountering the Logos, the WORD, and being ever so softly and gently prodded to take note of the message for the world today.
The lesson from Romans 12:9-21,(Found here) was used at our Eucharist Service at Bloy House on Saturday as well as at the principle worship services Sunday.
I was the lay reader for the lesson on Saturday, but was not fully prepared for the day’s assignment. Small communication issues, and only cursory reading of the text on Saturday, along with the reality that as a reader, one is more concerned with performance, articulation and pronunciation, than comprehension and engagement of the text itself meant that the Word was not yet fully heard by my own ears or received in my heart.
Sunday morning, however, it was an entirely different matter. Now, seated in the chancel during our early service, I was fully present to the word. I was one with ears and ready to hear to the word of the Lord.
In hearing the text read by another voice, one phrase jumped out at me.
“Contribute to the needs of the saints; extend hospitality to strangers.”
I was grabbed by the Holy Spirit to hear, and remember the original context.
The saints the Apostle Paul was referring to weren’t those dead and gone to glory saints we think of. NO, not those!
The saints were the faithful. They were the followers of the way. Those servants of God that shared Eucharist week by week, or perhaps even some shared it day by day. The saints were those who labored for the master to increase the harvest of souls for the kingdom of God on earth.
This is an experience of Lectio Divina. Encountering the living Word, through the hearing of the reading of the text. Lectio Divina works to shift our attentions and senses. It works by forcing us not to rely on our eyes and to allow the ears to work to engage the Holy. It wasn’t a casual statement that Jesus would make as he gave instruction; “Let those who have ears, listen.”
But I digress, a bit.
Back to the great aha for me.
I was remembering a brief encounter with the Editor of St. Timothy’s Newsletter. She commented on the article (posted below) submitted for September’s issue that explained my process toward ordination. Her word was to say, there was no “shameless begging” in writing the reality of costs and need for support. It was important for the members to understand the breadth and depth of commitment and resources required in order to raise up the ordained ministers needed for God’s work on earth. At the time I nodded in agreement, but maybe not fully believing, on a personal level that I should expect that support.
Now, I hear the letter to the saints in Rome, and by extension to all of us in the present age and realize, I am a saint deserving support.
For years I have spoken on behalf of the saints in service to missions abroad asking for support.
I have asked for contributions to build homes with people who desire a simple decent place to live.
I asked for money to help bring immediate comfort in times of disasters, and for funds to rebuild after devastations from fire, floods, tornados, hurricanes, and earthquakes.
I asked for food contributions to aid seniors, homeless and unemployed.
I reminded people that the children of the world need full bellies in order to learn about the love of God and to grow in wisdom and knowledge to become self-sufficient.
I have pleaded for the widows and orphans, and along with my small financial resources encouraged others to support the work of the church around the world.
I could list on and on the causes I have asked for support for, and missioners I have encouraged through the support of congregations. Suffice it to say that it has always been for someone else, some other saints, that I have made the case, not for my own benefit.
Never once did I do so, with the expectation that at some point I too would become the object of a plea for support, thus acting in some sort of proactive quid pro quo manner.
But, in hearing the text this past Sunday, the Word reminded me that I am a saint, faithful in following the commands and invitations of Christ. I am also worthy of the support that the saints, the faithful of God, (that would be you, the reader) can offer to bring glory to God in our shared ministry. I also must state my needs as so many have before, making my needs known.
In fact, it seems that the lesson Tim and I are being urged by the Holy Spirit to learn is one about interdependence. It seems pretty clear that relying solely upon our own resources is not part of God’s design. Independence is a mirage. Learning to find support through the community has been part of the model for the followers of the way since the beginning of the Way, at least that is the model found in the Book of Acts.
We need prayer support. We desire an opening of the way that he would once again see success in his work. I require your prayers for energy and focus to complete the course of study that is laid out before me. We desire to be faithful in following the call that has been placed upon us as a couple to be servants in ministry with a congregation and within a community.
“DO not lag in zeal, be ardent in spirit, serve the Lord.”
Sunday, August 28, 2011
Seminary Week One
The first week of classes is in the can.
Friday I arrived in Claremont and proceeded through the rituals of student life.
Pay tuition installment #1.
Pick up the last of the texts needed for the semester at the Huntley Bookstore. (or so I think.)
Check in at Myra House, do a quick orientation tour to the premises and meet the other ETSC Bloy House student who will be staying at Myra House throughout the semester.
Back down the hill to the campus to community supper, worship and class.
Sitting in the first class, comparing the book lists in the syllabus to the early edition, discover there is still one more book to purchase. <3 Class ends pretty much on time, and now we (carpooling from Myra house with my retreat house co-resident.) get back to the house to discover arriving in the pitch black after the All Lights Out hour is a bit of adventure.
Saturday Morning early rising, after a less than perfect night's sleep we dress, and then drive to the campus and head out for an "early" walk to the Village before class starts at 8AM. OOPS. Seems we need to allow more time. (Why don't classes start at 8:30AM?)
The classroom just seemed to be getting hotter by the minute in the morning. Good introduction to the material, and a few new faces in this class but my new Myra House friend is in all three of the classes I'm in.
Worship in Kresge Chapel is a refreshing break from the heat of the class. Of course it has all the comfortable features of our Episcopal worship. Dean Sweeney reminds us that the texts of this week all carry one theme, being grown-up Christians. Not milk texts, this is real meat for the mature follower of Jesus. Oh, and a special service to acknowledge all matriculating students (that would include yours truly, and our Sr. Warden who has just begun the Fresh Start Course for Lay Leaders :-))
...pictures for library card...(thank goodness I had my hair cut and no stupid permanent this time around ;-))
Lunch in the Broken Loaf....
And back to class.
(Oh my ever loving Lord, does it really have to be this hot!) Craig Building air inconveniently does not work on the weekends. Really, CST, can't that timing system be adjusted?
By the end of the day I think I sweated away every ounce of water from my body. But it was a great first week of classes.
Ten years ago September 11, 2001 after watching and listening to the news of the Twin towers and Pentagon attacks I sat down in Craig 110 to start my first class in the first semester of seminary studies. That day I felt overwhelmed by all of what was occurring around me and scared to death I would never make it through any of the classes. I had started with a load of 5 classes and would recognize within a week that it would be best to cut back to the standard 4 classes if I was to make it through all the reading and writing requirements.
So different was the first day of classes this time around. I "know" the language of theology. I think in theological terms now, and have the basis for reflection well anchored. The mood of the week was friendly, and intimate. We are a small cohort, compared to the cohort I started with at CST, which seems a bit unimaginable because I thought that was a nice size entering class, about 40 of us in 2001.
Saturday was a very busy day in the life of our congregation and I was sorry to miss the memorial service for a very dear and gifted person, Stuart Kellogg. Yet, I am blessed and grateful that I have the opportunity to be supported and encouraged by the members of St. Timothy's Episcopal Church, my church home. It was a wonderful way to conclude my first week back in seminary, by joining for the fellowship of the Annual Luau. I confess I was completely exhausted by the time I arrived home, and could only think just barely enough to bring in my things and toss them on table.
Sunday services, catching up with correspondence, and just trying to get organized.
Tomorrow is another day...for reading!
Friday I arrived in Claremont and proceeded through the rituals of student life.
Pay tuition installment #1.
Pick up the last of the texts needed for the semester at the Huntley Bookstore. (or so I think.)
Check in at Myra House, do a quick orientation tour to the premises and meet the other ETSC Bloy House student who will be staying at Myra House throughout the semester.
Back down the hill to the campus to community supper, worship and class.
Sitting in the first class, comparing the book lists in the syllabus to the early edition, discover there is still one more book to purchase. <3 Class ends pretty much on time, and now we (carpooling from Myra house with my retreat house co-resident.) get back to the house to discover arriving in the pitch black after the All Lights Out hour is a bit of adventure.
Saturday Morning early rising, after a less than perfect night's sleep we dress, and then drive to the campus and head out for an "early" walk to the Village before class starts at 8AM. OOPS. Seems we need to allow more time. (Why don't classes start at 8:30AM?)
The classroom just seemed to be getting hotter by the minute in the morning. Good introduction to the material, and a few new faces in this class but my new Myra House friend is in all three of the classes I'm in.
Worship in Kresge Chapel is a refreshing break from the heat of the class. Of course it has all the comfortable features of our Episcopal worship. Dean Sweeney reminds us that the texts of this week all carry one theme, being grown-up Christians. Not milk texts, this is real meat for the mature follower of Jesus. Oh, and a special service to acknowledge all matriculating students (that would include yours truly, and our Sr. Warden who has just begun the Fresh Start Course for Lay Leaders :-))
...pictures for library card...(thank goodness I had my hair cut and no stupid permanent this time around ;-))
Lunch in the Broken Loaf....
And back to class.
(Oh my ever loving Lord, does it really have to be this hot!) Craig Building air inconveniently does not work on the weekends. Really, CST, can't that timing system be adjusted?
By the end of the day I think I sweated away every ounce of water from my body. But it was a great first week of classes.
Ten years ago September 11, 2001 after watching and listening to the news of the Twin towers and Pentagon attacks I sat down in Craig 110 to start my first class in the first semester of seminary studies. That day I felt overwhelmed by all of what was occurring around me and scared to death I would never make it through any of the classes. I had started with a load of 5 classes and would recognize within a week that it would be best to cut back to the standard 4 classes if I was to make it through all the reading and writing requirements.
So different was the first day of classes this time around. I "know" the language of theology. I think in theological terms now, and have the basis for reflection well anchored. The mood of the week was friendly, and intimate. We are a small cohort, compared to the cohort I started with at CST, which seems a bit unimaginable because I thought that was a nice size entering class, about 40 of us in 2001.
Saturday was a very busy day in the life of our congregation and I was sorry to miss the memorial service for a very dear and gifted person, Stuart Kellogg. Yet, I am blessed and grateful that I have the opportunity to be supported and encouraged by the members of St. Timothy's Episcopal Church, my church home. It was a wonderful way to conclude my first week back in seminary, by joining for the fellowship of the Annual Luau. I confess I was completely exhausted by the time I arrived home, and could only think just barely enough to bring in my things and toss them on table.
Sunday services, catching up with correspondence, and just trying to get organized.
Tomorrow is another day...for reading!
Friday, August 26, 2011
Anglican Studies
I’m on the road toward ordination, and I’m going back to school! 
This is the class of students I met for the first time at the Bloy House orientation on August13. Does the scenery look familiar? Yes it's the campus of Claremont School of Theology, with Butler Building and Kresge Chapel.
Many questions have been asked about just what exactly is entailed before I will be ready for ordination. I hope this will help everyone understand what I will need to do before reaching the place of being available to search for a call to any parish or mission in the Episcopal Church.
Much of the usual seminary education is already complete but there are specific classes which are required before I will be eligible to take the General Ordination Exam (GOE). Bishop Bruno calls this being “retread” as an Anglican. I prefer to think of it as “Finishing School”. Either way, the purpose is to provide the specific knowledge base required to effectively serve as a priest in the Episcopal Church. The course work is called Anglican Studies.
There are five classes for certain which I will need to take. Two courses called Anglicanism I and Anglicanism II provide a foundation of the History, Theology, Polity and Spirituality of the worldwide Anglican Communion. Liturgics provides training in worship specific to the Episcopal Church. Church Leadership provides training in leading and administration for parish ministry. Latino Spiritualities is a requirement for all LA Diocese postulants for priesthood. Additional courses may be required by Bishop Bruno. I won’t know for certain until after I have attended the Retreat for Nominees and met with the Commission on Ministry on November 3, 4.
Classes meet on Friday evening and Saturday at the campus of Claremont School of Theology. I will spend the night at a local retreat center, Myra House, to reduce the mental and physical wear of commuting. The expense of gas and wear on our vehicles would be about equal to what I will spend per night for the housing, a $30 contribution to Myra House for each night. Seminary students form community through shared meals, fellowship, and worship as well as our time in class. I’m looking forward to the bonds that I will make with postulants, nominees and lay members from Los Angeles and San Diego Diocese.
Since Bishop Bruno granted permission for me to begin studies before meeting with the Commission on Ministry there is a bit of a catch 22 economically. I am entirely responsible for all costs, but allowed to beg upon the charity of all who might be willing to offer financial support. Tuition and books for seminary education is comparable to the costs for any Master’s level course work, $450 per unit plus the expense of all books. This semester I am enrolled in a fulltime course load, 9 units at a cost of $4050. Required texts would be over $400. There are no student loans available for students enrolled in Bloy House and scholarship funds are very limited for non-postulant students. Postulants of the LA Diocese do receive scholarships covering 40% of the tuition. The catch is that if I were to wait to start in the winter, I would further delay being eligible to take the GOE which is only administered once each year. So it’s a scary decision, a matter of faith and trust in the Lord that Tim and I will be provided for to meet our living expenses. Please cover us in prayer for our financial needs. The economy hasn’t been very cooperative for us at present. Okay... well shameless begging goes here... If you can see fit to send financial support you will be blessed and I will be eternally grateful.
Some questions have been raised about how individuals might be able to help me with expenses. Our interim priest at St. Timothy's is Father Paul Price. Please speak with Father Paul about your interest. He has explained to me that he will be able to help me using his discretionary fund and will be able to instruct you on how you can receive a tax deduction. Thankfully, our Deacons Nicholas and Liz, have many of the required texts and are loaning them to me for the semester. Fr. Paul is providing me guidance on which texts I really should make a priority to add to my own library, for purpose of ministry and to prepare for GOE.
Timing is one of the big questions I get frequently. “How soon before you are ordained?” Short answer, I am working with a goal to eligible to take the GOE in January of 2013. Ordination as a deacon is first. Then after a minimum of six months service as a deacon I would be eligible for ordination as a priest.
From time to time I will be writing and posting to the blog as a way of sharing my journey.
Note to readers: I was asked to write something for the church newsletter. This is a slightly revised edition of what will appear in the September edition of St. Timothy's Times
This is the class of students I met for the first time at the Bloy House orientation on August13. Does the scenery look familiar? Yes it's the campus of Claremont School of Theology, with Butler Building and Kresge Chapel.
Many questions have been asked about just what exactly is entailed before I will be ready for ordination. I hope this will help everyone understand what I will need to do before reaching the place of being available to search for a call to any parish or mission in the Episcopal Church.
Much of the usual seminary education is already complete but there are specific classes which are required before I will be eligible to take the General Ordination Exam (GOE). Bishop Bruno calls this being “retread” as an Anglican. I prefer to think of it as “Finishing School”. Either way, the purpose is to provide the specific knowledge base required to effectively serve as a priest in the Episcopal Church. The course work is called Anglican Studies.
There are five classes for certain which I will need to take. Two courses called Anglicanism I and Anglicanism II provide a foundation of the History, Theology, Polity and Spirituality of the worldwide Anglican Communion. Liturgics provides training in worship specific to the Episcopal Church. Church Leadership provides training in leading and administration for parish ministry. Latino Spiritualities is a requirement for all LA Diocese postulants for priesthood. Additional courses may be required by Bishop Bruno. I won’t know for certain until after I have attended the Retreat for Nominees and met with the Commission on Ministry on November 3, 4.
Classes meet on Friday evening and Saturday at the campus of Claremont School of Theology. I will spend the night at a local retreat center, Myra House, to reduce the mental and physical wear of commuting. The expense of gas and wear on our vehicles would be about equal to what I will spend per night for the housing, a $30 contribution to Myra House for each night. Seminary students form community through shared meals, fellowship, and worship as well as our time in class. I’m looking forward to the bonds that I will make with postulants, nominees and lay members from Los Angeles and San Diego Diocese.
Since Bishop Bruno granted permission for me to begin studies before meeting with the Commission on Ministry there is a bit of a catch 22 economically. I am entirely responsible for all costs, but allowed to beg upon the charity of all who might be willing to offer financial support. Tuition and books for seminary education is comparable to the costs for any Master’s level course work, $450 per unit plus the expense of all books. This semester I am enrolled in a fulltime course load, 9 units at a cost of $4050. Required texts would be over $400. There are no student loans available for students enrolled in Bloy House and scholarship funds are very limited for non-postulant students. Postulants of the LA Diocese do receive scholarships covering 40% of the tuition. The catch is that if I were to wait to start in the winter, I would further delay being eligible to take the GOE which is only administered once each year. So it’s a scary decision, a matter of faith and trust in the Lord that Tim and I will be provided for to meet our living expenses. Please cover us in prayer for our financial needs. The economy hasn’t been very cooperative for us at present. Okay... well shameless begging goes here... If you can see fit to send financial support you will be blessed and I will be eternally grateful.
Some questions have been raised about how individuals might be able to help me with expenses. Our interim priest at St. Timothy's is Father Paul Price. Please speak with Father Paul about your interest. He has explained to me that he will be able to help me using his discretionary fund and will be able to instruct you on how you can receive a tax deduction. Thankfully, our Deacons Nicholas and Liz, have many of the required texts and are loaning them to me for the semester. Fr. Paul is providing me guidance on which texts I really should make a priority to add to my own library, for purpose of ministry and to prepare for GOE.
Timing is one of the big questions I get frequently. “How soon before you are ordained?” Short answer, I am working with a goal to eligible to take the GOE in January of 2013. Ordination as a deacon is first. Then after a minimum of six months service as a deacon I would be eligible for ordination as a priest.
From time to time I will be writing and posting to the blog as a way of sharing my journey.
Note to readers: I was asked to write something for the church newsletter. This is a slightly revised edition of what will appear in the September edition of St. Timothy's Times
Tuesday, August 23, 2011
Pinch My Nose
I walk from my car, parked in a lot a short planned community block away.
I turn the corner and half way up the next block I see the screen to the front door open.
Judith steps out on the small porch and greets me with her usual smile as I approach.
Today I met with my spiritual director. I look forward to these meetings. We have developed a deep spiritual connection over the course of our two years together. Each meeting encourages me to look within and toward the Holy that binds us together. I marvel at her quiet attention to the holy. I observe that she is always so still, peaceful, kind and loving. I wonder to myself, does she ever burn with a fury at injustice? Shout at the top of her lungs “Stop the madness!”? If she does, I never see that carry into our meetings. She seems the perfect peace pilgrim, always calming, the result of years following the habits of the Society of Friends, the Quaker tradition.
Stepping into the cool of her living room we hug momentarily and exchange greetings, a familiarity that has grown over time. This embrace was not always a part of our relationship, evolving only after trust had been well established between us.
Spiritual direction is a unique relationship, established between two people with the expectation that there will be deep regard and concern for the directee, but not a friendship in the sense of sharing large quantities of time in activities outside the sessions of spiritual direction. Physical affection is not what drew me into this relationship, nor what Spiritual Direction is primarily about. Maintaining healthy physical boundaries is tremendously important in ministry. I am, in fact, by nature quite stand offish regarding hugging in the congregation. Serving as a pastor for four years I learned that in spite of my own preference, a cautious behavior toward hugging, there are certain times and also certain people that do have a deep need for hugs. Hugs seem to serve as assurance of the other persons’ regard for them. This is a place of regular internal examination for my ministry.
After an hour drive to reach her home/office she offers simple hospitality. Judith offers a glass of water, and allows me time to stop into the restroom before we start our session.
When I reenter the living room she is already seated in her usual place and I take my place. After two years there is no longer need for words about where to sit. It is a comfortable routine, much like finding one’s pew in the sanctuary of the family church.
As I settle into my seat I observe the candle, in a simple holder, a small statue and flowers in a vase. I comment that the colors seem to predict fall. The table cloth and the flowers are deep rich colors; orange daylily with a spike of blue Agapantha; a deep rich green and black weave on the table anticipate the arrival of Fall to which she acknowledges she is prematurely pushing the last edge of summer toward autumn, her favorite season of the year.
As we begin to shift attention to the “work” of our time, she asks my preference for how to move forward. Never is a meeting scripted in advance. That is one of the joys of being in spiritual direction. Each meeting presents itself as an open invitation to the Holy in relationship with joined hearts, minds and spirit. It is Holy conversation and prayerful connection. Prayerful listening is the hallmark of her practice.
For today we started with a time of quiet. For myself, it was an attempt at centering prayer.
I close my eyes and rest comfortably in the oversized chair with my feet on the ottoman. With my eyes closed I listen and barely hear a sound. For a few minutes I am distracted by my body. I have an itch at nose, and a twitching in my thoughts. I remind myself of the intention of centering prayer, to be in the presence of God, but not to talk. This is a time for listening, and being. I shift my attention to this being, recalling my sacred word. Shalom.
All around it seems perfectly quiet, and then I realize the quiet is my own inner ears being closed over. Like my grandson diving into a pool holding his nose, I reach up to my nose and pinch it.
I pinch my nose, gently blow and now, all at once I can hear. The pressure that built up in my ears as I traversed down the mountain pass has been released and I am now aware of the gentle movement on the other side of the front door.
Not a person, who would interrupt the quietude, but the movement of the wind around the wind chimes that hang in her front yard. In this movement surrounding us I sense the Holy Spirit’s presence. Again I must remind myself that I am trying to rest in the presence of God, not think about things good or bad, or to converse with God. Centering prayer is an emptying of self to allow the presence of God to speak.
I am still for a time and then begin to see a purple glowing on the inside of my eyelid. Is this God? I know not, but feel at peace in this time. I continue to observe this pulsating purple light for a few more seconds and then realize it has subsided. Where are you God? Was that you on the inside of my eyelids? Where are you now?
I settle more deeply into being. I never am sure about how much time has passed since I bring no wrist watch to the session and tuck my cell phone out of reach. I trust Judith’s sense of timing will be sufficient for our time together.
Eventually I begin to open my eyes and observe. Judith is still as a statue. I wonder, briefly, for no real good reason, “is she okay?” This passes. I wait silently for her to rejoin me. I think to myself, in awe, what great ability to be perfectly still, at peace, and receptive to the Holy. I ask of myself and God, why am I not able to do that.
When she returns her outward attention to me she asks me to name words for what describes where I am at the present time. Transition, gratitude and peace are my words. I share about transitions, as returning to school, this time at Bloy House, to begin my Anglican Studies program on Fridays and Saturdays. I share about the blessings of having a supportive community, assisting me in obtaining my books for the semester and also about the housing through Myra House; it’s asthetic appeal and more frugal price for each weekend.
There are many reasons someone engages in Spiritual Direction. All clergy are encouraged to have a spiritual director. Read histories of the ancients and monastic communities and you will encounter references to one’s spiritual director with regularity.
For me it spiritual direction serves multiple purposes. Nominees for Holy Orders in the Episcopal Church are expected to establish a relationship with a spiritual director as they engage in the discernment process. Spiritual directors have their own spiritual director as a form of supervision. Judith is my spiritual director with the intention that she is also my supervisor for any spiritual direction I provide to directees.
My relationship with Judith was established upon my return to California from Idaho. I was aware of a need for a neutral place to engage in conversation in discerning God’s direction for my life. At that time I was exploring vocational options to parish ministry. I was curious about spiritual direction as a vocation, exploring the possibility of Chaplaincy and considering the idea of returning to the Episcopal Church. I was suddenly and quite unexpectedly unemployed and looking for answers to where God was leading me to be engaged in the work of the church in the world. I learned of Judith through the Still Point Center for Christian Spirituality as I investigated various training programs for career transition.
In our time together through the past two years I have retained an interest in the becoming a spiritual director and yet, in all reflections the essential part of my call to ministry has been the call to parish as a priest. I’ve navigated the waters of changing denominations with Judith serving as my spiritual director and find satisfaction in learning through the experience how to guide others in their experience of the holy and discernment. This has been a great blessing.
Meeting with Judith regularly provides me an opportunity to reflect on what has been happening in my life during each intervening period. She raises questions which provoke self-examination. There may be a specific connection to what I say and some words of wisdom which she feels led by the Holy Spirit to impart to me for my own spiritual growth. She may offer a suggestion of a spiritual practice, or suggest a place to be in reflection. When I leave at the end of the session I know that I will not simply be a name filed away until our next meeting. I am not a “case”. I am someone for whom she has accepted a special responsibility. I will remain in her daily prayer concerns, because that is the nature of spiritual direction.
As is true for most clergy relationships, our time together is held as a confidential relationship; all usual caveats remaining. Judith retains the right, the moral duty to break confidence if a directee indicates a potential desire to cause harm to self or others.
As we conclude our time together she suggests a revision in our schedule, a time for our next meeting which will correspond to my schedule for classes in Claremont.
I leave her cottage and head to my car for the return ride home, savoring the reality of God’s presence, the gift of quiet peace and hopeful about the transition back to seminary work and new ministry endeavors in the parish.
I turn the corner and half way up the next block I see the screen to the front door open.
Judith steps out on the small porch and greets me with her usual smile as I approach.
Today I met with my spiritual director. I look forward to these meetings. We have developed a deep spiritual connection over the course of our two years together. Each meeting encourages me to look within and toward the Holy that binds us together. I marvel at her quiet attention to the holy. I observe that she is always so still, peaceful, kind and loving. I wonder to myself, does she ever burn with a fury at injustice? Shout at the top of her lungs “Stop the madness!”? If she does, I never see that carry into our meetings. She seems the perfect peace pilgrim, always calming, the result of years following the habits of the Society of Friends, the Quaker tradition.
Stepping into the cool of her living room we hug momentarily and exchange greetings, a familiarity that has grown over time. This embrace was not always a part of our relationship, evolving only after trust had been well established between us.
Spiritual direction is a unique relationship, established between two people with the expectation that there will be deep regard and concern for the directee, but not a friendship in the sense of sharing large quantities of time in activities outside the sessions of spiritual direction. Physical affection is not what drew me into this relationship, nor what Spiritual Direction is primarily about. Maintaining healthy physical boundaries is tremendously important in ministry. I am, in fact, by nature quite stand offish regarding hugging in the congregation. Serving as a pastor for four years I learned that in spite of my own preference, a cautious behavior toward hugging, there are certain times and also certain people that do have a deep need for hugs. Hugs seem to serve as assurance of the other persons’ regard for them. This is a place of regular internal examination for my ministry.
After an hour drive to reach her home/office she offers simple hospitality. Judith offers a glass of water, and allows me time to stop into the restroom before we start our session.
When I reenter the living room she is already seated in her usual place and I take my place. After two years there is no longer need for words about where to sit. It is a comfortable routine, much like finding one’s pew in the sanctuary of the family church.
As I settle into my seat I observe the candle, in a simple holder, a small statue and flowers in a vase. I comment that the colors seem to predict fall. The table cloth and the flowers are deep rich colors; orange daylily with a spike of blue Agapantha; a deep rich green and black weave on the table anticipate the arrival of Fall to which she acknowledges she is prematurely pushing the last edge of summer toward autumn, her favorite season of the year.
As we begin to shift attention to the “work” of our time, she asks my preference for how to move forward. Never is a meeting scripted in advance. That is one of the joys of being in spiritual direction. Each meeting presents itself as an open invitation to the Holy in relationship with joined hearts, minds and spirit. It is Holy conversation and prayerful connection. Prayerful listening is the hallmark of her practice.
For today we started with a time of quiet. For myself, it was an attempt at centering prayer.
I close my eyes and rest comfortably in the oversized chair with my feet on the ottoman. With my eyes closed I listen and barely hear a sound. For a few minutes I am distracted by my body. I have an itch at nose, and a twitching in my thoughts. I remind myself of the intention of centering prayer, to be in the presence of God, but not to talk. This is a time for listening, and being. I shift my attention to this being, recalling my sacred word. Shalom.
All around it seems perfectly quiet, and then I realize the quiet is my own inner ears being closed over. Like my grandson diving into a pool holding his nose, I reach up to my nose and pinch it.
I pinch my nose, gently blow and now, all at once I can hear. The pressure that built up in my ears as I traversed down the mountain pass has been released and I am now aware of the gentle movement on the other side of the front door.
Not a person, who would interrupt the quietude, but the movement of the wind around the wind chimes that hang in her front yard. In this movement surrounding us I sense the Holy Spirit’s presence. Again I must remind myself that I am trying to rest in the presence of God, not think about things good or bad, or to converse with God. Centering prayer is an emptying of self to allow the presence of God to speak.
I am still for a time and then begin to see a purple glowing on the inside of my eyelid. Is this God? I know not, but feel at peace in this time. I continue to observe this pulsating purple light for a few more seconds and then realize it has subsided. Where are you God? Was that you on the inside of my eyelids? Where are you now?
I settle more deeply into being. I never am sure about how much time has passed since I bring no wrist watch to the session and tuck my cell phone out of reach. I trust Judith’s sense of timing will be sufficient for our time together.
Eventually I begin to open my eyes and observe. Judith is still as a statue. I wonder, briefly, for no real good reason, “is she okay?” This passes. I wait silently for her to rejoin me. I think to myself, in awe, what great ability to be perfectly still, at peace, and receptive to the Holy. I ask of myself and God, why am I not able to do that.
When she returns her outward attention to me she asks me to name words for what describes where I am at the present time. Transition, gratitude and peace are my words. I share about transitions, as returning to school, this time at Bloy House, to begin my Anglican Studies program on Fridays and Saturdays. I share about the blessings of having a supportive community, assisting me in obtaining my books for the semester and also about the housing through Myra House; it’s asthetic appeal and more frugal price for each weekend.
There are many reasons someone engages in Spiritual Direction. All clergy are encouraged to have a spiritual director. Read histories of the ancients and monastic communities and you will encounter references to one’s spiritual director with regularity.
For me it spiritual direction serves multiple purposes. Nominees for Holy Orders in the Episcopal Church are expected to establish a relationship with a spiritual director as they engage in the discernment process. Spiritual directors have their own spiritual director as a form of supervision. Judith is my spiritual director with the intention that she is also my supervisor for any spiritual direction I provide to directees.
My relationship with Judith was established upon my return to California from Idaho. I was aware of a need for a neutral place to engage in conversation in discerning God’s direction for my life. At that time I was exploring vocational options to parish ministry. I was curious about spiritual direction as a vocation, exploring the possibility of Chaplaincy and considering the idea of returning to the Episcopal Church. I was suddenly and quite unexpectedly unemployed and looking for answers to where God was leading me to be engaged in the work of the church in the world. I learned of Judith through the Still Point Center for Christian Spirituality as I investigated various training programs for career transition.
In our time together through the past two years I have retained an interest in the becoming a spiritual director and yet, in all reflections the essential part of my call to ministry has been the call to parish as a priest. I’ve navigated the waters of changing denominations with Judith serving as my spiritual director and find satisfaction in learning through the experience how to guide others in their experience of the holy and discernment. This has been a great blessing.
Meeting with Judith regularly provides me an opportunity to reflect on what has been happening in my life during each intervening period. She raises questions which provoke self-examination. There may be a specific connection to what I say and some words of wisdom which she feels led by the Holy Spirit to impart to me for my own spiritual growth. She may offer a suggestion of a spiritual practice, or suggest a place to be in reflection. When I leave at the end of the session I know that I will not simply be a name filed away until our next meeting. I am not a “case”. I am someone for whom she has accepted a special responsibility. I will remain in her daily prayer concerns, because that is the nature of spiritual direction.
As is true for most clergy relationships, our time together is held as a confidential relationship; all usual caveats remaining. Judith retains the right, the moral duty to break confidence if a directee indicates a potential desire to cause harm to self or others.
As we conclude our time together she suggests a revision in our schedule, a time for our next meeting which will correspond to my schedule for classes in Claremont.
I leave her cottage and head to my car for the return ride home, savoring the reality of God’s presence, the gift of quiet peace and hopeful about the transition back to seminary work and new ministry endeavors in the parish.
Saturday, August 20, 2011
Peace filled Pruning
I love my garden.
When we first moved into this house, I spent almost the entire first year just studying the way the sun and rain played on the property.
After the first couple of winter rainfalls, I tried to walk in the back yard and quickly learned the foolishness of trying to walk in wet desert soils. I ruined a couple pairs of shoes sinking into the slimy mud that caliche soil makes.
I have a whole shelf in the bookcase dedicated to gardening books complete with a gardening encyclopedia but my favorite book was always the Sunset Gardening for Western States. I looked up every favorite plant I had to see if it would survive in the harsh high desert climate. I was disappointed to learn that Jacaranda Trees and Bougainvillaea were no match for the extremes. Instead I learned to love the native plants and drought tolerant plants. I was delighted to learn that roses love the dry heat and do pretty well with proper nourishment.
Over several years I worked to create a large drought tolerant band along the perimeter of the back. Lots of bulbs were planted in the first years and they produced very reliably year after year, until we moved to Idaho and let the plants fend for themselves when the automatic watering system failed during our absence.
The roses managed to survive despite the prolonged neglect.
Roses require work. Pruning is something of an art. Make a cut in the wrong direction and your bush grows all wrong. Leave a bush unpruned and it becomes over grown and the blossoms shrink for competition of nutrients. Prune it at just the right time and you reap the benefits of an additional blooming cycle.
Today I spent half a day pruning the roses and trees. It was a perfect day for it. The wind was strong but not blistering hot. Deceptively cool with the brilliant desert sun baking my un-protected neck and shoulders. A folly to forget sunscreen before talking my morning walk leaves me with a crisp red reminder of the intense burning power of the sun at these high altitudes.
One of the delights of any day in the garden is to stop and admire the beauty of all Gods creatures that come into the garden. Today's delight was to see brilliant yellow butterfly feasting on the silk mimosa. I tried to capture the moment on video with my cell phone but it didn't do justice to the real thing. Some moments really are kodak moments. This time my kodak was out of reach so my memory will have to do.
August pruning before school starts feels like the perfect way to get my house in order before classes start. Soon I will have to steal time away from the books to keep up with any gardening. But gardening is a creative process for me. Funny thing is when I was recently asked to name things I do to relieve stress, I completely forgot about my love for gardening.
This fall I plan on starting a small kitchen garden using the planter boxes around the patio. Nothing large. Something easy to maintain and accessible from the patio; no worries about sinking down to my knees in slimmy mud.
When we first moved into this house, I spent almost the entire first year just studying the way the sun and rain played on the property.
After the first couple of winter rainfalls, I tried to walk in the back yard and quickly learned the foolishness of trying to walk in wet desert soils. I ruined a couple pairs of shoes sinking into the slimy mud that caliche soil makes.
I have a whole shelf in the bookcase dedicated to gardening books complete with a gardening encyclopedia but my favorite book was always the Sunset Gardening for Western States. I looked up every favorite plant I had to see if it would survive in the harsh high desert climate. I was disappointed to learn that Jacaranda Trees and Bougainvillaea were no match for the extremes. Instead I learned to love the native plants and drought tolerant plants. I was delighted to learn that roses love the dry heat and do pretty well with proper nourishment.
Over several years I worked to create a large drought tolerant band along the perimeter of the back. Lots of bulbs were planted in the first years and they produced very reliably year after year, until we moved to Idaho and let the plants fend for themselves when the automatic watering system failed during our absence.
The roses managed to survive despite the prolonged neglect.
Roses require work. Pruning is something of an art. Make a cut in the wrong direction and your bush grows all wrong. Leave a bush unpruned and it becomes over grown and the blossoms shrink for competition of nutrients. Prune it at just the right time and you reap the benefits of an additional blooming cycle.
Today I spent half a day pruning the roses and trees. It was a perfect day for it. The wind was strong but not blistering hot. Deceptively cool with the brilliant desert sun baking my un-protected neck and shoulders. A folly to forget sunscreen before talking my morning walk leaves me with a crisp red reminder of the intense burning power of the sun at these high altitudes.
One of the delights of any day in the garden is to stop and admire the beauty of all Gods creatures that come into the garden. Today's delight was to see brilliant yellow butterfly feasting on the silk mimosa. I tried to capture the moment on video with my cell phone but it didn't do justice to the real thing. Some moments really are kodak moments. This time my kodak was out of reach so my memory will have to do.
August pruning before school starts feels like the perfect way to get my house in order before classes start. Soon I will have to steal time away from the books to keep up with any gardening. But gardening is a creative process for me. Funny thing is when I was recently asked to name things I do to relieve stress, I completely forgot about my love for gardening.
This fall I plan on starting a small kitchen garden using the planter boxes around the patio. Nothing large. Something easy to maintain and accessible from the patio; no worries about sinking down to my knees in slimmy mud.
Friday, August 19, 2011
Training
Training for life
One step, one step
Left foot, right foot
step step step
life flows step after step
Memorials
Steps taken with love
Intention to mention
To Remember the departed
Climbing 110 floors
Walk in love
This is the call
One hand, one arm
Reaching out now
Embracing others as Christ
Training for life
One step, one step
Left foot, right foot
step step step
life flows step after step
One step, one step
Left foot, right foot
step step step
life flows step after step
Memorials
Steps taken with love
Intention to mention
To Remember the departed
Climbing 110 floors
Walk in love
This is the call
One hand, one arm
Reaching out now
Embracing others as Christ
Training for life
One step, one step
Left foot, right foot
step step step
life flows step after step
Thursday, August 18, 2011
August & Origami Cranes
August is Origami Month and I’m folding cranes.
It’s a challenge to the members of St. Timothy’s to join me in a fundraising effort for Episcopal Relief and Development’s work to rebuild Earthquake ravaged Haiti and to contribute to a memorial project initiated by the Riverside Museum of Art. 1000 cranes and 1000 dollars.
Origami cranes have long been associated with the month of August. They are a symbol of concern and hope for the future of the planet among peace and justice ministry workers of America. All this connection seems to have arisen about twenty years after the bombing of Nagasaki and Hiroshima near the end of World War II.
The link to Peace and Justice Ministries begins with one child. Sadako Sasaki was dying of leukemia which developed as a result of the exposure to radiation. She had one goal; to fold one thousand paper cranes before she died. An unusual goal to Americans but it made perfect sense within the Japanese traditions. Sadako was inspired by the gift of one paper crane folded for her school friend while visiting her in the hospital. In Japan the tradition held that anyone who folded one thousand paper cranes would receive their wish from a crane. While Sadako did achieve her goal of one thousand cranes, she died at the very young age of 12, in October of 1955. According to the exhibit at the Hiroshima Peace Memorial Museum, school friends helped her achieve her goal before her death.
Paper cranes have been folded as a symbol of the prayers for peace on earth, and the elimination of nuclear weapons around the globe. They have also become a symbol in the Japanese American community used to commemorate the lives of the 120,313 Japanese Americans interned in America during World War II, following the bombing of Pearl Harbor. Several different paper crane collections have been initiated over the years. One currently in process is called the California Paper Crane Peace Project which was launched by the Riverside Metropolitan Museum. This project has a goal of collecting 93,785 cranes; one for every person from California who was sent to a Japanese American Internment camp during World War II.
This spring, following the earthquake and tsunami in Japan, the paper crane gained a new place of meaning among youth around the United States. Shortly after the earthquake and tsunami a campaign to raise funds for relief to Japan was launched where donations of folded cranes where matched by financial donors with a $2.00 donation. Youth groups around the nation participated in that effort and collectively raised 1.4 million dollars within a matter of weeks. I, like many paper crane folders, was glad to send off a flock of 20 cranes to a youth group in Idaho Falls, Idaho to help them reach their goal of 1000 cranes to contribute toward the redevelopment of Sendai, Japan.
Paper folding is a calming activity. In my own life, I have developed an attitude toward folding paper cranes which incorporates prayer. When I worried about our son while he was deployed in Iraq, I would stop the negative effects of worry by folding a crane and lifting up a specific intention to God with each fold. Over one period of time I found myself folding daily, and placing them on my bookshelves as a reminder that I had placed him in God’s care. The visual reminder stemmed my worry. I folded many, and still have a portion of that collection of cranes, but have since tucked them away in a box. Our son is now on American soil.
In the Episcopal Church we are aware that the work of response to disasters that occur in any area is a multi-stage process. Episcopal Relief and Development provides not only immediate relief, but also looks at each situation to provide long term reconstruction and development. The work of rebuilding Haiti is in year one of a long term project, probably ten years of work to fully develop and restore hope to our Caribbean island neighbor. The prayers we offer for peace and hopes of restoration will not be enough. Money and human power will also be needed.
So, I proposed a modest goal for the St. Timothy’s Parish; one thousand cranes and one thousand dollars to be collected, and raised within our congregation.
A table is set up in the Fellowship Hall each week with instructions and paper supplies. You are invited to make an offering for the paper and learn the art of paper crane folding.
Join me in prayer and action for the healing of the world and for the recovery of Haiti.
Our 1000 cranes, once completed will be contributed to the Riverside Museum’s California Paper Crane Peace Project, and the money collected will be sent to Episcopal Relief and Development, designated for redevelopment projects in Haiti.
Shalom,
Barbara
post script... one way you can painlessly contribute to Episcopal Relief and Development is by signing up to use the Charitable Online Shopping mall Igive.com found HERE and then do your online shopping and see the donations add up.
It’s a challenge to the members of St. Timothy’s to join me in a fundraising effort for Episcopal Relief and Development’s work to rebuild Earthquake ravaged Haiti and to contribute to a memorial project initiated by the Riverside Museum of Art. 1000 cranes and 1000 dollars.
Origami cranes have long been associated with the month of August. They are a symbol of concern and hope for the future of the planet among peace and justice ministry workers of America. All this connection seems to have arisen about twenty years after the bombing of Nagasaki and Hiroshima near the end of World War II.
The link to Peace and Justice Ministries begins with one child. Sadako Sasaki was dying of leukemia which developed as a result of the exposure to radiation. She had one goal; to fold one thousand paper cranes before she died. An unusual goal to Americans but it made perfect sense within the Japanese traditions. Sadako was inspired by the gift of one paper crane folded for her school friend while visiting her in the hospital. In Japan the tradition held that anyone who folded one thousand paper cranes would receive their wish from a crane. While Sadako did achieve her goal of one thousand cranes, she died at the very young age of 12, in October of 1955. According to the exhibit at the Hiroshima Peace Memorial Museum, school friends helped her achieve her goal before her death.
Paper cranes have been folded as a symbol of the prayers for peace on earth, and the elimination of nuclear weapons around the globe. They have also become a symbol in the Japanese American community used to commemorate the lives of the 120,313 Japanese Americans interned in America during World War II, following the bombing of Pearl Harbor. Several different paper crane collections have been initiated over the years. One currently in process is called the California Paper Crane Peace Project which was launched by the Riverside Metropolitan Museum. This project has a goal of collecting 93,785 cranes; one for every person from California who was sent to a Japanese American Internment camp during World War II.
This spring, following the earthquake and tsunami in Japan, the paper crane gained a new place of meaning among youth around the United States. Shortly after the earthquake and tsunami a campaign to raise funds for relief to Japan was launched where donations of folded cranes where matched by financial donors with a $2.00 donation. Youth groups around the nation participated in that effort and collectively raised 1.4 million dollars within a matter of weeks. I, like many paper crane folders, was glad to send off a flock of 20 cranes to a youth group in Idaho Falls, Idaho to help them reach their goal of 1000 cranes to contribute toward the redevelopment of Sendai, Japan.
Paper folding is a calming activity. In my own life, I have developed an attitude toward folding paper cranes which incorporates prayer. When I worried about our son while he was deployed in Iraq, I would stop the negative effects of worry by folding a crane and lifting up a specific intention to God with each fold. Over one period of time I found myself folding daily, and placing them on my bookshelves as a reminder that I had placed him in God’s care. The visual reminder stemmed my worry. I folded many, and still have a portion of that collection of cranes, but have since tucked them away in a box. Our son is now on American soil.
In the Episcopal Church we are aware that the work of response to disasters that occur in any area is a multi-stage process. Episcopal Relief and Development provides not only immediate relief, but also looks at each situation to provide long term reconstruction and development. The work of rebuilding Haiti is in year one of a long term project, probably ten years of work to fully develop and restore hope to our Caribbean island neighbor. The prayers we offer for peace and hopes of restoration will not be enough. Money and human power will also be needed.
So, I proposed a modest goal for the St. Timothy’s Parish; one thousand cranes and one thousand dollars to be collected, and raised within our congregation.
A table is set up in the Fellowship Hall each week with instructions and paper supplies. You are invited to make an offering for the paper and learn the art of paper crane folding.
Join me in prayer and action for the healing of the world and for the recovery of Haiti.
Our 1000 cranes, once completed will be contributed to the Riverside Museum’s California Paper Crane Peace Project, and the money collected will be sent to Episcopal Relief and Development, designated for redevelopment projects in Haiti.
Shalom,
Barbara
post script... one way you can painlessly contribute to Episcopal Relief and Development is by signing up to use the Charitable Online Shopping mall Igive.com found HERE and then do your online shopping and see the donations add up.
Tuesday, August 16, 2011
Vacation Bible School
It's all said and done.
In the can.
A wrap.
Wonderful work.
Fun and games.
Sweet treats under the shade of the big tree
Crafts and games, making new friends and fellowship as each station team worked to complete their daily assignments.
THANK YOU GOD! PandaMania 2011 was a great success. 38 children attended, 9 youth and 25 adult volunteers throughout the week worked to make it a wonderful experience as everyone learned about God's great love. Together, we delighted in the knowledge that God is wild about us!
MUSIC CLIP HERE
postscript....photos selected from over 400 images
In the can.
A wrap.
Wonderful work.
Fun and games.
Sweet treats under the shade of the big tree
Crafts and games, making new friends and fellowship as each station team worked to complete their daily assignments.
THANK YOU GOD! PandaMania 2011 was a great success. 38 children attended, 9 youth and 25 adult volunteers throughout the week worked to make it a wonderful experience as everyone learned about God's great love. Together, we delighted in the knowledge that God is wild about us!
postscript....photos selected from over 400 images
Saturday, July 2, 2011
Saturday
A Saturday Flashback
For the first time in two years I found myself standing at the copier on Saturday morning getting ready for Sunday morning worship. There I was printing off a last minute insert for the Sunday Morning Bulletin, and it just struck me as déjà vue. In four years as solo pastor, I must have spent at least a third of the total number of Saturdays doing the last minute preparation of the worship bulletin because the week just had too many little emergencies and more pressing relational work to do.
Now I’m back in the role as a lay member, in a congregation with an outstanding Administrative Assistant to keep us all organized. So, I’m wondering to myself, how did I end up doing this on this Saturday?
Well, it’s countdown time for Vacation Bible School. I took on the role as Vacation Bible School Director this year. We are down to the tasks of collecting all the props and supplies. As hard as I tried to get my act together to get a final list together, I just couldn’t get it done within her timeline.
So, the opportunity today, to remember how grateful I am for the years I spent as pastor to a wonderful congregation, people who understood that the church is not a building, the church is the people.
I am grateful for the years of serving, after so many years of waiting and then preparing to step into the office of pastor. I am grateful for the sacred moments that I experienced, at death, with the grieving, at marriages, consecrating Eucharist, on pilgrimage, engaging with youth. I miss the fond friendships formed during our time of service. Most of all, I am grateful for memories of Vacation Bible School (always affectionately called VBS) each year.
VBS is like no other ministry experience. Part drama, part school, part circus, all FUN!
Well, of course VBS is also all about sharing God’s love, praising God, learning new songs, meeting new people and building relationships. But what I love most about VBS is that we tackle the great commission “Go and make disciples, teaching them to do all things that I commanded” and show that being the church is not all about saying “Shhhsh”, somber sounds and high sounding words.
All in all, that makes standing at a copier a few minutes and stuffing about one hundred bulletins with inserts on a Saturday morning well worth the time spent.
23 days and counting down to PandaMania!
For the first time in two years I found myself standing at the copier on Saturday morning getting ready for Sunday morning worship. There I was printing off a last minute insert for the Sunday Morning Bulletin, and it just struck me as déjà vue. In four years as solo pastor, I must have spent at least a third of the total number of Saturdays doing the last minute preparation of the worship bulletin because the week just had too many little emergencies and more pressing relational work to do.
Now I’m back in the role as a lay member, in a congregation with an outstanding Administrative Assistant to keep us all organized. So, I’m wondering to myself, how did I end up doing this on this Saturday?
Well, it’s countdown time for Vacation Bible School. I took on the role as Vacation Bible School Director this year. We are down to the tasks of collecting all the props and supplies. As hard as I tried to get my act together to get a final list together, I just couldn’t get it done within her timeline.
So, the opportunity today, to remember how grateful I am for the years I spent as pastor to a wonderful congregation, people who understood that the church is not a building, the church is the people.
I am grateful for the years of serving, after so many years of waiting and then preparing to step into the office of pastor. I am grateful for the sacred moments that I experienced, at death, with the grieving, at marriages, consecrating Eucharist, on pilgrimage, engaging with youth. I miss the fond friendships formed during our time of service. Most of all, I am grateful for memories of Vacation Bible School (always affectionately called VBS) each year.
VBS is like no other ministry experience. Part drama, part school, part circus, all FUN!
Well, of course VBS is also all about sharing God’s love, praising God, learning new songs, meeting new people and building relationships. But what I love most about VBS is that we tackle the great commission “Go and make disciples, teaching them to do all things that I commanded” and show that being the church is not all about saying “Shhhsh”, somber sounds and high sounding words.
All in all, that makes standing at a copier a few minutes and stuffing about one hundred bulletins with inserts on a Saturday morning well worth the time spent.
23 days and counting down to PandaMania!
Saturday, April 23, 2011
Black, Crosses and Confessions; Reflecting on Good Friday
I am reflecting on Good Friday while waiting for tonight’s Easter Vigil.
Good Friday is about confessions, the cross and obedience unto death.
It is said that confession is good for the soul. I tell others that practicing what you teach builds authenticity and integrity in community.
I confess that I feel I deprived my children of some of the most poignant opportunities for learning about the core of our faith as Christians. I don’t take all the blame for this failure of parenting in the religious traditions. The decision to find a community of faith that would provide for the weekly religious instruction of the boys while we attended worship felt like the appropriate thing at the time. In almost all their years growing up, we attended worship weekly. We were not just Christmas and Easter Christians. We taught them through our shared experience, that participation in Christian community was a core family value. Nevertheless, I feel that in an important way our children missed out on some important religious experiences, and I doubt that can be corrected on my part. They knew that grandparents on both sides attended “kneeling Church.” But rarely did they actually experience worship on their own knees. Now, they will have to discover for themselves some of the lesser practiced traditions of the Catholic Church; things like veneration of the cross, and Easter Vigils, if they are ever to know what it is to follow the traditions of the highly liturgical Catholic streams in the Body of Christ.
For years I had seen the telecasts of the Vatican commemoration of Good Friday, observing the Pope’s journey with the cross. I watched masses of people engage in the veneration of the cross and find myself thinking how strange that seemed. Initially I questioned this practice thinking it suspect and verging on idolatry, as most who are instilled with the attitudes of the protestant reformation will assert.
After our children came of age and moved out of the home, Tim and I began to reclaim some of the practices of his childhood. When our United Methodist congregation did not offer a Good Friday Service, we would check the schedules and attend the service at the Roman Catholic Church. But in attending those services, we came almost as guests to the community, visitors and therefore more as observers than full members of the church, despite all that is said about us belonging to the one body of Chris universal.
When time came in the service for the veneration of the cross, we sat with reverence, not engaging in the display of affection and veneration.
Speaking for myself, I felt rather frozen to my place in the sanctuary. It was one thing to reflect on the significance of Jesus’ death on the cross; his obedience to our Heavenly Father, and my culpability and vicarious participation in his crucifixion. It was an entirely different thing to move from my place in the sanctuary and step toward the altar to participate in such a public demonstration. Now I can say, “What a pity for me, a missed opportunity.”
Even as a pastor for a small congregation, while I began to push and challenge my members, adding a Good Friday service to the Holy Week schedule in the first two years, still, the idea of including veneration of the cross to our worship was inconceivable. Attendance at our service was so feeble in year one and two that subsequently I encouraged members to join with our Lutheran Brothers and Sisters in Christ in marking the Holy Day. This was one of those places were I realized that perhaps I was more Catholic than Methodist.
It is good to reflect back on these places of learning. The Missouri Synod Lutheran congregation held a somber enough service, reflecting on the passion of Jesus Christ. It avoided those “popish” practices of veneration of the cross. It filled much of my need to mark the life and death in final preparation for the much anticipated celebration of Jesus’ resurrection. I don’t know that I would have felt at ease to participate in any act of veneration of the cross among the beautiful people of Ashton. I think I would have probably observed and refrained from approaching a cross that lay at the front of the sanctuary if it had been included in the service. This because I believe I was still largely trapped and frozen within an intellectualized faith, lacking full body participation in terms of worship, yet being pulled by the Holy Spirit to recover what the early church fathers had passed on from generation to generation.
This year, with the change of Priest at St. Timothy’s, I have been blessed to experience liturgical design and leadership in a new way. Fr. Paul has filled our week with the ancient practices for the modern day. Timeless and timely ritual for the body, mind, and spirit, including an opportunity to venerate the cross within our Good Friday worship service. For the first time, I was able to see and feel this practice as a member of the community gathered. In this way, I was able to come with my whole self in devotion to God, in reverence to Jesus Christ, and with openness to the work of the Holy Spirit; without inhibition or embarrassment.
As I remained in silent meditation following my time at the cross and altar, I also reflected on those who followed. Many very senior members of the congregation, with painful and unsteady joints, approached and kneeled, displaying humility and devotion in their approach. But the most moving of all that I observed, were those that came together as a unit, parent and sons, grandmother and grandson. These are the ones whose devotion and faithfulness to their baptismal vows the Holy Spirit used to prick my conscience and expose the deprivation of my own past.
Lamb of God, that takes away the sin of the world, have mercy on me, a sinner.
When one enters seminary to prepare for ordained ministry, one goes thinking they are sure about their place in the household of God. One merely goes with trust that God will mold and form us in the image of Christ, to bring others to faith, and to tend to the souls of those placed in our care. When I said yes to the call of Christ to follow that path, I never expected that the Holy Spirit would be leading me back toward the church of my youth. I only knew that I must follow the command, to pick up the cross and expect to be built up by the Holy Spirit for the work which lay before me. How I thank my Lord for leading me to this time, place and community, to continue to grow in grace and love for the work to which he is ever and always preparing ahead of me.
“For the message of the cross is foolishness to those who are perishing, but to us who are being saved it is the power of God.” 1 Corinthians 1:18
Good Friday is about confessions, the cross and obedience unto death.
It is said that confession is good for the soul. I tell others that practicing what you teach builds authenticity and integrity in community.
I confess that I feel I deprived my children of some of the most poignant opportunities for learning about the core of our faith as Christians. I don’t take all the blame for this failure of parenting in the religious traditions. The decision to find a community of faith that would provide for the weekly religious instruction of the boys while we attended worship felt like the appropriate thing at the time. In almost all their years growing up, we attended worship weekly. We were not just Christmas and Easter Christians. We taught them through our shared experience, that participation in Christian community was a core family value. Nevertheless, I feel that in an important way our children missed out on some important religious experiences, and I doubt that can be corrected on my part. They knew that grandparents on both sides attended “kneeling Church.” But rarely did they actually experience worship on their own knees. Now, they will have to discover for themselves some of the lesser practiced traditions of the Catholic Church; things like veneration of the cross, and Easter Vigils, if they are ever to know what it is to follow the traditions of the highly liturgical Catholic streams in the Body of Christ.
For years I had seen the telecasts of the Vatican commemoration of Good Friday, observing the Pope’s journey with the cross. I watched masses of people engage in the veneration of the cross and find myself thinking how strange that seemed. Initially I questioned this practice thinking it suspect and verging on idolatry, as most who are instilled with the attitudes of the protestant reformation will assert.
After our children came of age and moved out of the home, Tim and I began to reclaim some of the practices of his childhood. When our United Methodist congregation did not offer a Good Friday Service, we would check the schedules and attend the service at the Roman Catholic Church. But in attending those services, we came almost as guests to the community, visitors and therefore more as observers than full members of the church, despite all that is said about us belonging to the one body of Chris universal.
When time came in the service for the veneration of the cross, we sat with reverence, not engaging in the display of affection and veneration.
Speaking for myself, I felt rather frozen to my place in the sanctuary. It was one thing to reflect on the significance of Jesus’ death on the cross; his obedience to our Heavenly Father, and my culpability and vicarious participation in his crucifixion. It was an entirely different thing to move from my place in the sanctuary and step toward the altar to participate in such a public demonstration. Now I can say, “What a pity for me, a missed opportunity.”
Even as a pastor for a small congregation, while I began to push and challenge my members, adding a Good Friday service to the Holy Week schedule in the first two years, still, the idea of including veneration of the cross to our worship was inconceivable. Attendance at our service was so feeble in year one and two that subsequently I encouraged members to join with our Lutheran Brothers and Sisters in Christ in marking the Holy Day. This was one of those places were I realized that perhaps I was more Catholic than Methodist.
It is good to reflect back on these places of learning. The Missouri Synod Lutheran congregation held a somber enough service, reflecting on the passion of Jesus Christ. It avoided those “popish” practices of veneration of the cross. It filled much of my need to mark the life and death in final preparation for the much anticipated celebration of Jesus’ resurrection. I don’t know that I would have felt at ease to participate in any act of veneration of the cross among the beautiful people of Ashton. I think I would have probably observed and refrained from approaching a cross that lay at the front of the sanctuary if it had been included in the service. This because I believe I was still largely trapped and frozen within an intellectualized faith, lacking full body participation in terms of worship, yet being pulled by the Holy Spirit to recover what the early church fathers had passed on from generation to generation.
This year, with the change of Priest at St. Timothy’s, I have been blessed to experience liturgical design and leadership in a new way. Fr. Paul has filled our week with the ancient practices for the modern day. Timeless and timely ritual for the body, mind, and spirit, including an opportunity to venerate the cross within our Good Friday worship service. For the first time, I was able to see and feel this practice as a member of the community gathered. In this way, I was able to come with my whole self in devotion to God, in reverence to Jesus Christ, and with openness to the work of the Holy Spirit; without inhibition or embarrassment.
As I remained in silent meditation following my time at the cross and altar, I also reflected on those who followed. Many very senior members of the congregation, with painful and unsteady joints, approached and kneeled, displaying humility and devotion in their approach. But the most moving of all that I observed, were those that came together as a unit, parent and sons, grandmother and grandson. These are the ones whose devotion and faithfulness to their baptismal vows the Holy Spirit used to prick my conscience and expose the deprivation of my own past.
Lamb of God, that takes away the sin of the world, have mercy on me, a sinner.
When one enters seminary to prepare for ordained ministry, one goes thinking they are sure about their place in the household of God. One merely goes with trust that God will mold and form us in the image of Christ, to bring others to faith, and to tend to the souls of those placed in our care. When I said yes to the call of Christ to follow that path, I never expected that the Holy Spirit would be leading me back toward the church of my youth. I only knew that I must follow the command, to pick up the cross and expect to be built up by the Holy Spirit for the work which lay before me. How I thank my Lord for leading me to this time, place and community, to continue to grow in grace and love for the work to which he is ever and always preparing ahead of me.
“For the message of the cross is foolishness to those who are perishing, but to us who are being saved it is the power of God.” 1 Corinthians 1:18
Friday, April 22, 2011
Vigil of a peculiar people
“Could you not stay awake for just one hour?”
Holy week is the most passionate time in the life of the Catholic Church. Within the span of eight days the church reenacts the significant events in the life of Jesus of Nazareth. Having spent many years in churches of the Protestant Reformation, away from the Anglican Episcopal tradition of my youth, and the Roman Catholic tradition of my husband’s youth, I marvel at how much I missed of being able to experience with my whole self the teachings and ultimate sacrifice of Jesus.
On Palm Sunday and again from Thursday evening through Friday night, we retell the passion story and act out the dedication and love that Jesus demonstrated to his disciples. In so doing, through several acts and actions, we write the words of Scripture upon our bodies.
Liturgy comes from a Greek word. It means “the work of the people.” During Holy week, more than almost any other time, the services truly are the work of the people. A Maundy Thursday service with a foot washing service as well as celebration of the Eucharist act out the story told through the voice of John the Evangelist. This service is humbling and tender. It allows much time for sitting in silence with the Holy while others are served. In this service one really must dispense with any interest in monitoring time. For this service is one of kairos, God’s time, not chronos, time of human understanding and measurement.
Last night, at the conclusion of our service, the stage was set to reenact the night in the Garden of Gethsemane as a vigil attending the consecrated Bread and Wine was held.
As I was driving home between the service my scheduled time at Midnight I had an amusing thought. I was thinking about Jesus’ words of tender rebuke to the ones who fell asleep during prayer. I was thinking about how I could prepare to stay awake. Should I have a cup of coffee? Stop at Starbucks on the way home?
What if Peter had said to Jesus, “ Lord, why didn’t you tell us you planned on staying out all night in the Garden? We could have drunk less wine, had a cup of coffee instead.”
Peter couldn’t tell Jesus, “Hey, Messiah, let’s stop at Starbucks on our way to the Garden.”
Peter said a lot of things that Jesus shook his head at, but suggesting stopping for coffee wasn’t one of them.
So I figured that took Starbucks out of the equation for me last night. I didn’t even make special preparation during the day, by taking a nap. So I came home, spent a few minutes preparing what clothes needed for Friday and then, sat down to read, but skipping my usual pot of Chamomile tea, hoping to stay alert enough through the night.
But just like the disciples in the Garden, I couldn’t remain alert.
My body insisted on a short nap. Without that nap I would have been a greater danger to others on the road as I returned to take my watch at the Lady’s Altar in the rear of the sanctuary.
Last night will hold a special memory for me. During those hours I reflected on the earnestness of the disciples, and their frail ability to be fully present in the company of Jesus during his last hours of earthbound life in human form. In their story I saw my own inability to remain attentive to God’s presence. Yet, never once did I feel that Christ felt any bitterness or distaste for me, only a tender and compassionate love.
“Forbid it Lord that I should boast,
save in the death of Christ, my God;
all the vain things that charm me most,
I sacrifice them to his blood.”
Isaac Watts
Holy week is the most passionate time in the life of the Catholic Church. Within the span of eight days the church reenacts the significant events in the life of Jesus of Nazareth. Having spent many years in churches of the Protestant Reformation, away from the Anglican Episcopal tradition of my youth, and the Roman Catholic tradition of my husband’s youth, I marvel at how much I missed of being able to experience with my whole self the teachings and ultimate sacrifice of Jesus.
On Palm Sunday and again from Thursday evening through Friday night, we retell the passion story and act out the dedication and love that Jesus demonstrated to his disciples. In so doing, through several acts and actions, we write the words of Scripture upon our bodies.
Liturgy comes from a Greek word. It means “the work of the people.” During Holy week, more than almost any other time, the services truly are the work of the people. A Maundy Thursday service with a foot washing service as well as celebration of the Eucharist act out the story told through the voice of John the Evangelist. This service is humbling and tender. It allows much time for sitting in silence with the Holy while others are served. In this service one really must dispense with any interest in monitoring time. For this service is one of kairos, God’s time, not chronos, time of human understanding and measurement.
Last night, at the conclusion of our service, the stage was set to reenact the night in the Garden of Gethsemane as a vigil attending the consecrated Bread and Wine was held.
As I was driving home between the service my scheduled time at Midnight I had an amusing thought. I was thinking about Jesus’ words of tender rebuke to the ones who fell asleep during prayer. I was thinking about how I could prepare to stay awake. Should I have a cup of coffee? Stop at Starbucks on the way home?
What if Peter had said to Jesus, “ Lord, why didn’t you tell us you planned on staying out all night in the Garden? We could have drunk less wine, had a cup of coffee instead.”
Peter couldn’t tell Jesus, “Hey, Messiah, let’s stop at Starbucks on our way to the Garden.”
Peter said a lot of things that Jesus shook his head at, but suggesting stopping for coffee wasn’t one of them.
So I figured that took Starbucks out of the equation for me last night. I didn’t even make special preparation during the day, by taking a nap. So I came home, spent a few minutes preparing what clothes needed for Friday and then, sat down to read, but skipping my usual pot of Chamomile tea, hoping to stay alert enough through the night.
But just like the disciples in the Garden, I couldn’t remain alert.
My body insisted on a short nap. Without that nap I would have been a greater danger to others on the road as I returned to take my watch at the Lady’s Altar in the rear of the sanctuary.
Last night will hold a special memory for me. During those hours I reflected on the earnestness of the disciples, and their frail ability to be fully present in the company of Jesus during his last hours of earthbound life in human form. In their story I saw my own inability to remain attentive to God’s presence. Yet, never once did I feel that Christ felt any bitterness or distaste for me, only a tender and compassionate love.
“Forbid it Lord that I should boast,
save in the death of Christ, my God;
all the vain things that charm me most,
I sacrifice them to his blood.”
Isaac Watts
Saturday, April 9, 2011
Forty two cents
Sometime in January I began to recognize some frustration. There were questions hanging, waiting for answers. Employment opportunities have been less than abundant given my education and training.
I needed to refocus on gratitude.
There was this mite box from the St. Nicholas Center, kicking around after all the paraphernalia of Christmas had been stored.
And then it came to me. I remembered the idea that a person was wealthy if one could end the week with change in their pocket. The idea of course is based on the understanding that wealth is relative. The comparison was being made to the circumstances of people in countries around the globe.
I also remembered that the studies prove that charity triggers the positive chemical firing in our brains.
I thought “Six cents a day. I bet I have at least 42 cents of loose change in my purse at the end of the week. That would be just six cents a day. Why not use the box and put in forty two cents each week, just six cents a day to use for an outreach or mission project in the coming year.”
There is nothing particularly dramatic in this action. It’s certainly not real sacrifice. No spectacular amounts, but it’s something more than lint and dust. It’s tangible and allows me to demonstrate to myself gratitude, compassion, and charity regularly. It fills a need that I believe we all have, a need to be able to respond to the needs of those less fortunate than ourselves. What project the money will fund is immaterial at the present. The significance is finding a way to concretize my awareness of having my needs provided for and still having some surplus.
I needed to refocus on gratitude.
There was this mite box from the St. Nicholas Center, kicking around after all the paraphernalia of Christmas had been stored.
And then it came to me. I remembered the idea that a person was wealthy if one could end the week with change in their pocket. The idea of course is based on the understanding that wealth is relative. The comparison was being made to the circumstances of people in countries around the globe.
I also remembered that the studies prove that charity triggers the positive chemical firing in our brains.
I thought “Six cents a day. I bet I have at least 42 cents of loose change in my purse at the end of the week. That would be just six cents a day. Why not use the box and put in forty two cents each week, just six cents a day to use for an outreach or mission project in the coming year.”
There is nothing particularly dramatic in this action. It’s certainly not real sacrifice. No spectacular amounts, but it’s something more than lint and dust. It’s tangible and allows me to demonstrate to myself gratitude, compassion, and charity regularly. It fills a need that I believe we all have, a need to be able to respond to the needs of those less fortunate than ourselves. What project the money will fund is immaterial at the present. The significance is finding a way to concretize my awareness of having my needs provided for and still having some surplus.
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