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.
Thursday, April 5, 2012
Saturday, February 4, 2012
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.
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.
Monday, January 16, 2012
Disciplined walking
It was cold and windy last night!
When I went to bed I remember thinking “I don’t want to go walking in that cold wind.”
I even thought that it was going to snow overnight, it felt so cold when I came home in the dark evening.
So, this morning, when I awoke, the thought of rebellion came up to the surface again.
While I love the routine of walking early in the morning, this was one of those mornings where I really wasn’t eager, enthusiastic or delighted with the prospect of stepping out into the cold morning.
Instead, I put it off, and went to check email…
And facebook….
And search the web for ideas for a paper…
And read an article about Rabbi Abraham Herschel and Martin Luther King which told about their roles together working in the civil rights movement and Vietnam War opposition of the 1960s.
Finally, something Abraham Heschel* wrote began to ignite my motivation to get up and walk.
Heschel wrote of his participation in the civil rights marches, “my legs were praying.”
Thanks God, that was the kick I needed.
Morning walks are my time of Morning Prayer. I step out the door and collect my thoughts, recalling the people my life touches that are in need of prayer. Psalm 100 is my opening verse. Holy, Holy, Holy is frequently on my lips. I dispense with the prayer book, and rely on the words of songs, prayers and scripture which have become deeply embedded to rise up as I appreciate the beauty of my surroundings.
This morning, the prayers included people that now have difficulty, due to their health, to enjoy the simple pleasure of walking. I confessed my own reluctance to face this morning’s wind and cold and offered thanks for the extra layers of clothes I could put on to keep me from shivering.
Morning walking is an important component in my spiritual life. It is both physical and spiritual care. When my schedule limits my ability to maintain this discipline, I feel deprived. I can understand why the Gospels tell us that Jesus went off alone because my soul, my very being also requires this active time of prayer.
In this season of epiphany, we are all invited to look for God manifest around us. How are you experiencing God’s presence, and how do you replenish your spiritual well?
Do you need a partner to help you find time for discerning God’s presence in your life?
May you be blessed to discover that this month is filled with opportunity and delight in God’s ever expanding presence in the world.
* January 13 is the anniversary of the death of Rabbi Heschel. Rabbi Waschow explains that in Judaism the tradition of remembering the departed is done on the anniversary of the death, rather than the birthday because “only at one’s death do we know the entirety of the person.” Anglicans also use the date of one’s death to remember our saints, which is why Martin Luther King is in our cycle of Holy Women, Holy Men on April 4th.
When I went to bed I remember thinking “I don’t want to go walking in that cold wind.”
I even thought that it was going to snow overnight, it felt so cold when I came home in the dark evening.
So, this morning, when I awoke, the thought of rebellion came up to the surface again.
While I love the routine of walking early in the morning, this was one of those mornings where I really wasn’t eager, enthusiastic or delighted with the prospect of stepping out into the cold morning.
Instead, I put it off, and went to check email…
And facebook….
And search the web for ideas for a paper…
And read an article about Rabbi Abraham Herschel and Martin Luther King which told about their roles together working in the civil rights movement and Vietnam War opposition of the 1960s.
Finally, something Abraham Heschel* wrote began to ignite my motivation to get up and walk.
Heschel wrote of his participation in the civil rights marches, “my legs were praying.”
Thanks God, that was the kick I needed.
Morning walks are my time of Morning Prayer. I step out the door and collect my thoughts, recalling the people my life touches that are in need of prayer. Psalm 100 is my opening verse. Holy, Holy, Holy is frequently on my lips. I dispense with the prayer book, and rely on the words of songs, prayers and scripture which have become deeply embedded to rise up as I appreciate the beauty of my surroundings.
This morning, the prayers included people that now have difficulty, due to their health, to enjoy the simple pleasure of walking. I confessed my own reluctance to face this morning’s wind and cold and offered thanks for the extra layers of clothes I could put on to keep me from shivering.
Morning walking is an important component in my spiritual life. It is both physical and spiritual care. When my schedule limits my ability to maintain this discipline, I feel deprived. I can understand why the Gospels tell us that Jesus went off alone because my soul, my very being also requires this active time of prayer.
In this season of epiphany, we are all invited to look for God manifest around us. How are you experiencing God’s presence, and how do you replenish your spiritual well?
Do you need a partner to help you find time for discerning God’s presence in your life?
May you be blessed to discover that this month is filled with opportunity and delight in God’s ever expanding presence in the world.
* January 13 is the anniversary of the death of Rabbi Heschel. Rabbi Waschow explains that in Judaism the tradition of remembering the departed is done on the anniversary of the death, rather than the birthday because “only at one’s death do we know the entirety of the person.” Anglicans also use the date of one’s death to remember our saints, which is why Martin Luther King is in our cycle of Holy Women, Holy Men on April 4th.
Thursday, December 22, 2011
Along the pilgrims road ... Anglicanization continues
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.
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.
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!
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