World as Parish

I've been thinking lately about the differences in ministry in John and Charles Wesley's day, and the present age. Is what happens through social media at any level near what George Whitefield and John Wesley stirred up when they took to the fields to preach?

Why am I thinking about such an analogy? Well, quite simple really. If you read back in this blog you'll find this little post about the start of a church community through the use of Facebook.

John Wesley found himself stirring up things quite a bit in his day. He often took advantage of invitations to fill a pulpit to preach messages that conflicted the hearers. The established Church of England had become a place for people of wealth and position, but the average man rarely stepped a foot across the sanctuary threshold.

That led to his rather unorthodox practice of preaching in fields, and public spaces on many occasion. Not only did he preach, but he even conducted Eucharistic celebrations to serve the gathered people.

What do some outside the box priests and congregants do today?
They do "Church outside the church". Sometimes to skid row. Sometimes in the subways.
They take rituals of meaning to the people instead of waiting for the people to come to them.

During John Wesley's life he spend a great deal of time visiting the sick and prisoners as well as encouraging members of the Methodist classes to do so. His admonition, "Do all the good you can, as often as you can to as many people as you can for as long as you can."  With more people claiming to be spiritual but not religious, institutional chaplains are more likely to encounter people with a need for someone to listen and offer a ministry of compassionate presence. In my own continuing discernment process I have run toward, away and then returned to this significant place of ministry, recognizing that as a chaplain, I serve from the place of my own spiritual strength, not with an intent to change the existing set of beliefs, only to help the other name them and find strength for their journey.

John was known for his intense daily schedule and his ability to maintain correspondence with a vast number of people both in and outside the Methodist Movement. He was a giant in the field of mentoring in the Christian life for both men and women. He wrote tracts that were published to help the preachers and class leaders, to equip them for their work of forming faithful disciples.

What do we do today?

BLOG! Self-publishing has become easier than ever.

We no longer even have to spend money on paper, ink or printing labor.

All a person really needs to begin to form a community online is to spend time on the computer, and engage with other people.

Being open to the Divine Dance and relevant relationships that the Holy Spirit may be inviting us into seems, at least to me, to be the key.

But one little item still seems incomplete...

Human beings need tangible human contact.

While all this online communication helps create familiarity, when the world around you begins to fall apart at the seams, most people need all their available senses to be engaged. The touch of a hand, the calm presence of another person sitting across a cup of tea or coffee. Even someone that will be moved to offer a prayer of intercession. These things cannot be fulfilled through an online community.

And in this respect, I think that John Wesley would urge each of us to find ways to commune often around a table, with Chalice and Paten, as well as Scripture to complete the work of growing in grace and giftedness to the Glory of God.

How that looks on the ground might look like one of these in the New Monasticism or in might look more like this gathering around the table in Brooklyn.

One thing I am pretty certain of. The missional focus will look beyond just the individual's needs and wants. The missional focus for the core of any such group will have a passionate interest is doing more than "hatching, matching, and dispatching" of people to "meet their maker" at the end of human life, and it won't be entirely consumed in what simply makes the members feel comfortable. It will be a place where people become proficient in listening to the Holy as She whispers and swirls among the people gathered.This kind of community will be a fountain of healing and holy living, inviting all who are thirsty to drink from the well of the Living Water.

Just my thoughts...

What do you think?

How long, O Lord?

"How long, O Lord?"

A timeless cry from deep within.

The ancients, the moderns, the traditionalists, the emergents,


The 99%, and even I, myself, as I lean into my pastoral call

"How long, O Lord?"

I am in a long season of waiting.

While I make myself useful in serving here and there

I have been waiting patiently for the acceptance and

approval of the application for authorization of an

aspiring entrepreneur to commence offering

Hospice services.

Since January....

Ministry Midwifing can be tediously boring;

nearly draining all reserves of patience and hope.

Every day requires revisiting the confident words of the applicant,

"We aren't looking for anyone else. You are our chaplain."

Just in case you have been wondering with me

"How long, O Lord.?"

I am told we are progressing, moving closer to the goal.

"Soon."




to which i think to myself... wasn't that among the famous quotes of Jesus? 

On Call

What does a person trained in pastoral ministry, with four years experience as solo pastor do when the person has one unit of Clinical Pastoral Education, and no full-time employment with the nice little compensation package do to be faithful in serving Christ in the world?

Good question:

The answer: 
First you find a community that will provide you spiritual and emotional support, acknowledge as many of your gifts as possible and then put your whole self into the life and ministry of the community.

Next, you look around, and see if there is anywhere that needs a chaplain, hoping that it will be in a place that intends to provide a fair wage.

Then, when you realize that the industry standard for Acute Health care settings is 4 units of Clinical Pastoral Education. This is 3 more than were required for denominational service prior to deployment as a pastor. So you look for a setting that has the need for chaplains but lacks the financial resources at present to compensate their department personnel.

And that is where I am. For the present I serve as an On Call Chaplain in such a location.

In that capacity I've been called in to serve in some very special and holy events.

I cover Sunday Day, Monday Night, and from time to time covering for another chaplain other days.

15:00 Sunday... reading...
    "chaplain, this is ICU nurse... we have a patient here, her family and she requested pastoral care.. please come"

17:20 Sunday..I just sat down to eat dinner..
    "Chaplain, this is ICU nurse.. we have a family whose mother just passed away. Could you come to be with them?"

10:45 - Sunday... the Great Thanksgiving just about to start...
    "Chaplain, this is ED Secretary.. we have a family, the 19 year old granddaughter just died..Could you come be with the family?"

16:00 - Sunday..just finished writing...
    "Chaplain, this is ED Secretary.. we have a patient in critical condition, his daughter is here all by herself, could you come be with her?"

10:20 - Sunday...our priest is starting the homily..
    "Chaplain, this is Nurse D in the ED... I have a patient who really could use someone to talk to..can you come by today? It's not urgent, just whenever you can come would be fine.."

18:40 -midweek...meeting just about to begin...
    "Chaplain, this is ICU Secretary... we have a terminal extubation about to be performed, and family present. Please come..."

19:05 midweek...class about to start...
   "Chaplain, this is ED Secretary.... can you come be with family. Patient died and daughter with mother, they don't have any faith community to call on."

08:15 Sunday...the Gospel is just now being read...
     "Chaplain, this is ED Secretary....there is a full arrest being brought in..lots of family coming..can you come please?"


Holy places that require quiet calm, an ability to think quickly but speak carefully. Sometimes the discovery phase in the initial minutes are so raw and intense with emotions I wonder, "Lord, what's happening here, really?" "Who are all these people? How do they relate to one another and what is their connection to the admitted patient?"

This is holy and sacred space filled with the raw intensity of emotions of people whose hearts are broken at the very moment they hear the words "I'm so sorry, we tried everything, as long as we could, but we weren't able to revive .." and the wails and keening that rises up in the space sends a gentle shiver through me. But in that space, at that moment, my job is to witness, silently, respectfully, and be fully present to their grief, not to engage in agonizing or shutting them down immediately. Not to force my theological positions upon their experience. Their experience is wholly theirs as one of loss and initial shock.  My task in that time is to listen for every clue that will help me put together some sense of how they relate to some spiritual framework, some belief system that will sustain them through the coming hours and days.Only after I've observed patiently can I begin to ask questions, to dig a bit into history and belief for the family.

This is so different from congregational ministry in one critical way. In chaplaincy, I cannot presume that my spiritual worldview is at all like the patient and family's spiritual worldview. In a parish I've already built a relationship for dealing with the death, through our worship and study together. In the Acute care setting my role is to assist the family in connecting with their chosen pastoral relationship to continue the grieving process. In the hospital I might be able to directly relate words of comfort due to our shared general faith preference, but not always. I must never become offended if the family indicates a desire for help from their own clergy..in fact, my role is really to help facilitate that connection if at all possible.

Only after a respectable space has been given for their emotions to flow will I begin to find words and voice. Every event presents itself as a free form expression of lamentation at the initial announcement of death. Only after listening and observing can I begin to ask them about the sources of strength and hope for themselves and the departed. Never until I hear them name those sources can I begin to engage them more deeply in finding their solace and hope.

Sometimes I falter, and feel that I have failed to wait long enough in silence to them. "Did I flinch?" I might ask myself later. Flinching means that I exhibited a subtle inability to be calm and present in their anguish.

After every call, I'm filled with a sense of reassurance that this was the one important event of the day I for which I set aside the time to be available..to be On Call, to live out my call, to seek and serve Christ in every person.   The yogic greeting NAMASTE clearly fit the unfolding encounter..The Divine in Me acknowledges the Divine in You. 

Rainbow Connection

I started my morning in the usual pattern...

I got a text from Tim, updating me on his schedule...working a 24 hour car we never know if he will be up all night or have the good fortune to catch a few hours of sleep.

"Meet you at the gym"

"Ok" I replied.

I fed the cat, began to make my breakfast, washed the dishes...

felt a momentary wave of sadness about my sense of unfulfilled call to the priesthood...

and shrugged it off... nothing can be done about that now.

Went to check in on email, news media stream and facebook while I ate my oatmeal.

Ready to head out the door...later than I like but in time to synch our schedules at the gym.


At 8:05 I headed out the door, got in the car, drove down my street two blocks and turned west onto
Del Oro.

I look ahead and am struck by this tremendous full arching rainbow. The beauty is so intense I want to take a picture but hate the development that will be captured in the picture so I keep driving slower than usual so that I can continue to soak in the beauty.  And then it hits me

"Do not let your heart be troubled!" Spirit whispered words of comfort and encouragement.

The Gospel of John bringing solace and hope in the midst of my frustration and disappointment.

Suddenly too, something else occurs to me.

I'm two blocks away from our new residence... driving on Del Oro Road, the "Road of Gold".

"What riches "that exceed all that I can desire"  (words from the Collect for yesterday) lies in the future?"

I cannot imagine. All I can do is rest in the hope found in the story of the Covenant of the Rainbow and the Book of Revelation. All that I can do is be faithful in discipleship with that which has been entrusted to me.

Lord in your mercy, make it so.

"I Bind unto my self this day the strong name of the Trinity. 
By Invocation to the same, the Three in One, the One in Three."
The Breast plate of St. Patrick rises in my heart as I continue on toward my destination.

As I turn to the north, the intensity of the rainbow changes, diminishes, as I shift my perspective in relation to the sun and rain that falls in the west.  The momentary transcendence of the encounter with the Holy also begins to recede into my memory as I continue to make my way, by a different route to my destination..

Waiting at the intersection without anyone behind me and streams of traffic to my right and left,  I hear the notification bell on my phone...

I've already missed hearing one notice come in when I glance down.

I have 2 messages from Tim.

"Got Call"..."At st.m. no bed delay"

Onward to the Gym.

As I travel west on Bear Valley I drive right into the rain shower.. a spring rain, gently reminding me of the days spent in Ireland, and the sweet saying Monseignor Murray offered Tim and I on our wedding day.
"Rain, surely a sign that God will be showering you with blessings."

You have to love how an Irishman can highlight the good in the most common of occurrences for the people of the Emerald Isle, and shared that tradition with the descendants of immigrant Irish Catholics.

Surely we will be blessed
and have been blessed
and are called to be a blessing to others.

Let It Be So, Lord.
Amen

Let it be.

Healing Minister

Jehovah Rapha... God who heals

Two and a half years ago I attended a weekend Healing Mission conducted by the Order of St. Luke the Physician.
 
That weekend I committed to engage in a study of the stories of Jesus' healing ministry in the Gospels. The scriptures are full of stories of God's reconciling and restoring work during Jesus' life. What about today?

That weekend in January was one of many places along a five year journey to understand the healing ministry in the Church. It has been a fitful journey, with starts and abrupt stops many times along the way. I signed up as an associate member of the Order of St. Luke but could not make a viable connection.
The obstacles seemed as much directed by the Spirit as anything could. I continued my studies independently, attending many different events named as healing services and classes.

I've always felt a part of my call was to peacemaking, one that included facilitating reconciliation and peace, but struggled relentlessly to find a genuine expression of that call, especially a sacramental expression, something that could be experienced within the context of worship. 

How could I integrate healing into my ministry? Intention to offer oneself as an intercessor for healing ministry is an awesome and scary step. Would I have to be a wild eyed crazy person, like the movie character played by Chevy Chase or those television evangelists? If that's what it would require, there's no way I would submit myself to that type of calling or ministry..no wild eyed evangelist for me!

During Lent in 2011 I had the privilege of framing the question  within a five week course which I taught collaboratively with our Interim Priest, Fr. Paul Price. This course opened up to me the rich tradition the Episcopal Church maintains as a leader in integrating healing ritual into the liturgy.

What I discovered is that Anglicans have been offering a dignified ministry of anointing and healing prayer within worship, at special services, and in pastoral care settings following in the tradition of the early church.

And since collaborating on that course we have offered a weekly healing service with Holy Eucharist. participating in the service offering intercessory prayer and joining in the laying on of hands has been one of the most precious places of ministry during the past year.

This month I asked God, how was I supposed to be faithful to the call that was placed on my heart, and one of the answers was "deepen your healing ministry."

But Lord, do I have enough faith?

The Spirit whispered..."I have given you sufficient faith. Go, be true to the call...you are a minister of healing in my name."

Dry Bones Waiting

To look out the window and read this weeks’ text one might think that God has decided to extend a greater sign of God’s presence among us. If Only….

If only it warmed the body and spirit instead of piercing and shivering us with unsatisfactory cold.

It’s a cold that disturbs and troubles, that disappoints and discourages, leaving my usual inner sense of joy and wonder feeling all the more battered and disabled.

Now more than ever I find myself calling upon the Great I Am to bring restoration and healing to my battered soul. The season of waiting has grown endlessly long, for the limited measure of patience God implanted within my heart. 

 And yet

There is the hope of tomorrow

The red flames and tongues of Pentecost 

Dry Bones rattling and winds restoring life in the community. 

That alone is hope enough to take into the night.

The call will appear clearer, brighter,  after the Spirit of God, blows through our hearts once again.

"Come, thou Holy Spirit bright, 

come with thy celestial light;

come protector of the poor, 

come thou source of blessings sure; 

come within our hearts to shine" 

Latin 12th Century

The 1982 Hymnal, 226

Where the Spirit deposits

Who knows where the Spirit is leading and whom you will touch?

Last Sunday morning the reading from the Book of Acts (8:26-40) was the story of Philip and the work of the Holy Spirit. It is the story of the conversion of the Ethiopian Eunuch. In this story we are told that Philip drops in and drops out of the life of this court official. While he is with this God-fearer, Philip explains the message of text that he has been reading in Isaiah, and how the fulfillment was found in the life, death and resurrection of Jesus. One more is added to the contingent of believers in Jesus Christ, as the Eunuch asks to be baptized, and Phillip responds without hesitation. “And when they came up out of the water, the Spirit of the Lord snatched Philip away.” Wow, now that is blowing in the wind!

It’s a great story, for many reasons, most of which I will entirely ignore today. Bishop Mary Ann Glasspool used it as the basis for her sermon at the Bloy House Graduation on Saturday. It was tough to resist using the message I had just heard the day before as I prepared to preach on Sunday, but I did. (I stuck with the Gospel of John and the image of the vine being the church, and the organic nature of this passage, and my own theological view of pruning not as judgement, just the cycle of life). So, while I was working in my garden, trimming and tending to the roses I was thinking about the truth contained in the text from Acts as a message for me.

Here I am, seeking to be faithful, to serve God as best I can. There are days when I think perhaps I’m seeking something beyond my reach; a fool of sorts. At times, I feel blown around and confused by what I experience as the direction of the Holy Spirit. Am I being faithful and am I discerning clearly? Why am I here now? What lies ahead? Is this how Philip felt when “an Angel of the Lord” instructed him to “get up and go”?

But every so often the Spirit shouts at me; “it’s not just about you!”

Yesterday I recalled the many changes that have occurred in the lives of both Tim, and I. The journey we have traveled thus far has been filled with many places of grace and healing presence. While I continue to think in terms of my calling being the reasons for our itineration to Idaho, for me to assume the authority and responsibility of a ministry as pastor once I completed my M.Div., so much more occurred during that time in Idaho.

While I was fully occupied with the care of the congregation and ministry in the community, Tim had the opportunity to explore a new vocation* as well, in the healing ministry of being a first responder. Rural communities throughout the nation depend almost entirely upon the willingness of neighbors to become equipped and serve, responding to emergencies without pay.**

Since returning to California he has continued to take work as an EMT. Yesterday, I began to recall some of the stories he has told me about calls to which he has responded. I began to realize that the Holy Spirit has been using my calling as a way to draw Tim into his own healing ministry.

Many of the calls he has dealt with have just been usual race track incidents. But then there have been cases where having an EMT present really was a matter of life preserving significance.

He also has stories of responding to accidents where the ending remains a mystery to us. On a ride home after work, when a collision occurred, the driver sitting with the forklift pressed against the throat was in danger of bleeding out waiting for the local EMS to arrive on scene. Remaining calm, assessing the situation and applying pressure made the difference between certain death and possible recovery. 

What neither of us know is what will become of each of the people that are still alive because Tim was equipped, and ready to respond to their emergency. How will God move in each of their lives because Tim was there for just the right period of time and then sent off to another place. This is the mystery we need to embrace as we continue to discern to what place and for what purpose we will go next, and for how long we are to stay in any place.

Every now and then it is helpful to sit under a rose bush and stare into the tangled form to clear out the overgrowth and deadheads. You never know what the Spirit will suggest to you as you work away at the task.

One thing is clear to me, God doesn’t make it easy. And frankly, I think that’s not playing fair. At least Philip had “an Angel of the Lord” telling him what to do, and provided the transportation at the end of the mission too. I could use an encounter with one of your Angels, Lord. 

I promise, I’ll pay proper attention if you do send one, if you make it clear that this is your messenger.

Would you send one to us soon? Picture id included?!

* He has maintained his insurance license in the state of California and, while in Idaho also held current Insurance License in that state as well. 

** There is great inequity throughout the nation’s medical care when the system relies upon volunteers, rather than providing employment. Young people needing to support themselves are drawn away to larger metropolitan areas so that they can earn a living fulfilling their calling because the economies of smaller communities cannot bare the burden.

Great Triduum

Tonight is the beginning of the Great Triduum; three solemn days of remembrance before the great Resurrection Celebration. In these three days, which for me become ever more dear with the passing of each year, we reflect on the final days of Jesus’ ministry on earth.

In the Gospel of John, following the triumphal entry into Jerusalem when the Greeks came to Phillip and Andrew saying they wanted to see Jesus we begin to see Jesus shut down his public ministry. The response to the request which was related to Jesus by Andrew and Phillip sidesteps the request. Jesus begins talking about his “hour”. He talks about the need for death and uses a grain of wheat as his example. The Greeks, on that day, were apparently left with an unsatisfied longing, an unfulfilled yearning to see Jesus. Somewhat oddly the way the lectionary is currently set up, this passage was assigned to the fifth week of Lent, pulled out of the chronology and placed before us to reflect upon those who still long to see Jesus. It provides a call to faithful discipleship for the church in this hour. After preaching on this text John 12:20-33, two weeks ago I presented a challenge to each and all, self included, for us to pray about where we were being called to become broken open, like the grain of wheat Jesus taught about, to bear fruit.

During the Paschal Triduum we are brought to table, the garden, the trial, the cross, and the tomb. We encounter the sinfulness of humanity as well as the heroism. The love and devotion as well as the betrayal which comes from being weak and human are played out for self examination and meditation on the life of the one we claim to be the source of our salvation.

Do you wonder, as I do, how much Jesus “knew” and how much Jesus “intuited” of the coming end to his human life? Did God reveal to him, as centuries later Martin Luther King related his mountain top experience? Was it “just a feeling” that had to be followed, as we so often chart courses for our lives? Did Jesus really and truly remember what he left behind when he “emptied himself of divinity” to become incarnate?

Does it matter to you in your journey of faith as it seems to matter for mine?

The incarnation is interpreted in many ways. Some hold such high Christological formulas that it seems that Jesus never really did suffer. That heterodoxy diminishes the ability for me to find comfort from Jesus, as Great High Priest. Jesus as the pattern and perfecter of our salvation must have had to deal with temptation, but demonstrated the power of the Almighty Father-Mother accessible to all humanity, even you, even me. This is the Jesus I need to encounter in Scripture in order to place my whole faith and trust in the Triune God. .

I favor a view of Jesus growing in wisdom and understanding as a human, gifted with intuition and empowered with a spiritual discipline to grow in grace and love to follow the inspiration of God through the presence of the Holy Spirit in his life. With that I can imagine his wrestling with the decisions of each day, in the same way that I must toss and turn options and speculate upon the results of my actions.
Unlike me, Jesus was so perfectly connected to the Divine Source of all life that each decision served to fulfill the Divine Intentions for all humanity. And yet, El Shaddai withheld the use of any coercion upon Jesus.

It is conceivable that Jesus would have never even sat upon the colt which had never before ridden. Jesus could have chosen obscurity, anonymity and lived a very long life in human form.

But he didn’t and the rest, as they say is history.

In the end he gathered his disciples together and remembered the Saving Acts of God for the children of Abraham and Sarah. He offered a new interpretation for the meal that they shared together that night to provide the way to continue his presence among them, after the fleshy temple was destroyed.

He enacted a parable of servanthood in the washing of his disciples’ feet. He taught them that servants are never greater than their masters.

Then he called them his friends. Thick or thin, good times and bad, they were his friends for whom he prayed and beseeched the Father to grant power to go forth in his name.

This is where the Greeks come in. Only through those who would later receive and use the power gifted to them would the Greeks come to see Jesus. Through the mystery of the community which would repeatedly share the meal in remembrance of Jesus’ death and resurrection until he comes again in Glory, the Greeks and Romans, Celts, Galations, (the list goes on) came to see Jesus, to see and be set free.

Tonight we gather to retell the story and experience the presence of God amongst us. It is a night for reflection upon our own discipleship. Have we picked up the cross, been able to drink the cup, wash the feet, feed the hungry, heal the sick, release prisoners from their peculiar bondages? Have we looked upon all around us and seen the face of God in each person? Have we gone to the places that Jesus would have us go? Have we denied the Lord Jesus?

Tonight is a night to watch and wait with Jesus, either in community through the vigil which follows in the sanctuary with the Blessed Sacrament or in private meditation. For me this will be a solemn time of prayer and reflection upon my ministry and the next turn in my journey.

One month from today, May 5, 2012, I will, by the grace of God, have completed the work and will be presented a certificate that acknowledges my completion of the course Anglican Studies at Bloy House. Beyond that accomplishment, there is a significant amount of uncertainty.

I have colleagues from other places that are preparing to depart for Thailand, and changing posts from Mozambique to parts unknown. A call to church planting begins to resonate with me, though not to a distant place. I have been led back to this place to learn and to grow as well as serve. All around I see signs that I am in a field where the harvest is still plentiful but laborers few. My own calling is a mission to proclaim, to witness, to serve, to teach, to equip, to bring healing and reconciliation through word and sacrament and they await me, though only the Divine Author of all Creation knows the location. I feel it may be very near to where I already am. I know not for sure and wait upon the blowing of the Holy Spirit to direct my path.

Ancestors

Last night was the season premiere of "Who do you think you are?"

Do you ever wonder what it is that drew you into your vocation? What was it that first captured your interest in the work that you do? Was it something in your DNA or just the exposure to something as you were growing up that captured your interest in the work that brings you fulfillment as well as provides your livelihood?

Honestly, I know, it may seem odd to imagine but I do think there is something that we pick up from our ancestors, whether we know their history or not, that has a positive effect on our own lives.

I first was struck with this thought when I learned about my great grandmother Bulachier. She came to North America through the port of Galveston from her homeland of Alsace Lorraine.

But before I learned about her, I had some internal attraction to the French Language. It didn’t matter that living in Texas and growing up in California, I would have been able to put Spanish to use immediately. Something within me insisted that I should learn French.

I did well in the language and for a time thought that I would become an interpreter and travel guide.

But then I fell in love…and got married….and decided that wasn’t a realistic career goal for me.

I worked many jobs, from theatres to retail stores to banking. Then we decided we were ready to start a family, and I became a mother.

And time went on, and I found God working in my life in mysterious ways.

Along the way, I had fallen so deeply in love with Jesus that everything I did began to be viewed through my understanding of my faith and God’s call on my life.

When I finally returned to college to finish my degree I thought I was being called to the profession of law, and so I studied political science as preparation.

But by the time I finished my degree we had also added to the family. And that was a good thing. But I also felt something stir inside me that said law school was not the path I should take. Instead the spirit seemed to press upon me to work in the community and Church at least for the time being.

And as time went along that was very satisfying, until a time when it was not. What I felt stirring in me was the call to return to school, to seminary and the call to ordained ministry.

When I finally trusted that this was a movement of the Holy Spirit and trusted God the way opened for me. And I did well enough to complete the studies and then was called to serve in Idaho. But regardless of how well I did, I somehow didn’t quite fit the denominational mold for where I had followed the call. The resistance that we felt toward each other, the United Methodist Church and I, became so strong that I felt that I had come to the end of the relationship. Not my relationship with Christ. Not my commitment to the Church. It was just my relationship with a particular polity that had reached a conclusion.

In the previous two years I had been introduced to the Church of England and reaffirmed my roots within the Episcopal Church.

During all this time, I knew that back in my mother’s family, following back into my grandfather’s ancestors, there was a three times great grandfather who was listed as Rev. Wright. There weren’t any stories passed down. Just a note on the genealogical charts that said Rev. Thomas Wright was ordained by the Rt. Rev. Ravenscroft. And I didn’t really think a lot about that. It was an interesting fact. Period. I didn’t even know what denomination he was, until I came across a reference to Bishop Ravenscroft in a History book on the Episcopal Church, a couple of years ago.

Now, in all my childhood the only thing I knew about my biological father, was that he had grown up in New York, he was a printer, and died young. I never met his family.

That sort of explains my fascination with words and writing, and computer generated
publicity activities. My mother was a journalist, and my father a printer.

Recently though, my brother and I began doing some more ancestry work.

I didn’t expect to learn much. Did it really matter at this late stage in my life? I didn’t expect to recover a lost fortune, and by now every one of the relatives would probably be dead. But it was an interesting question to pursue. At least I could tell my children and grandchildren something more concrete than what I already knew.

Well, I learned that my paternal grandfather was an undertaker.

Hmm… working with people at the end of life, and officiating memorials and graveside services have been among the most sacred acts of ministry I performed while serving as pastor.

But, then, when I was finally able to trace my father’s family back further I was to discover yet another ancestral depository of church leadership.

The lineage led all the way back to Colonial America and England. It led straight back into the history of the controversies of the dissenting church. I learned that my father’s ancestors descended from the “Mather Dynasty” which started with the Rev Richard Mather.

Who would have imagined?

When I began looking into my family history, finally identifying the ancestors of my father, I never in my wildest imagination could have come up with the thought that I would uncover such rich religious roots.

It was amazing enough to learn about my three times Great Grandfather, a respected Episcopal Missionary Priest. And then we learned that his Uncle was Rt. Rev. William Mercer Green, the first Bishop to Mississippi.

But then to trace back to one of the key dissenting church leaders was simply a bit too much for me to just think it up.

No wonder my theological positions confuse ecclesiastical examiners. Catholic, and Congregationalist, Episcopal and Unitarian; lay and ordained all saints above are part of my spiritual DNA.

If what Richard Piper wrote about his 90 minutes in heaven, I have so many saints watching and guiding, waiting to welcome me when I finally do enter into the glory of heaven.

Until then, I carry forward the message of the faith which has been handed down generation to generation, although sometimes imperfectly, but nevertheless to the glory of God.

SO, with a tip of the hat to Ancestry.com, “Who do you think you are?”


I am a child of God. Called to be a priest.

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.

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.