We are coming up on Advent, which is the church season that is used to prepare for Christmas and begins four weeks prior to Christmas. I was asked to write a devotional for the church's booklet. My day was December 18 and I chose to write about a particular verse that was in the readings for that day. _____________________________
Be pleased, O lord, to deliver me;
Make haste, O Lord, to help me. - Psalm 40:13
O God, make speed to save us; O Lord, make haste to help us. -BCP, pg. 103
My family was tending to a relative in her last days and we were preparing for the inevitable. I would walk into that hospital room daily and, pausing at the door, I would say to myself, "O God, make speed to save us; O Lord, make haste to help us." The verse is familiar. It is the opening versicle of Noonday Prayers in the Book of Common Prayer and it is also the versicle that opens most of the hours of monastic prayer. When one is praying according to these forms passed down by the Church, one is repeatedly asking for God's assistance throughout the day. Whether we think we need God's assistance or not, to open prayer with a reminder of our own limitations is appropriate. On our best days we are reminded of the changes and chances that are part of life on earth...our very human condition...we ask God to be attentive to what we cannot see. On our worst days we are asking God to be present, to provide the help we so desperately need. In lieu of specific requests, it was the perfect verse that summed up my intercession to God. Standing at that hospital door, there was no way of knowing what the "perfect" resolution would be and no way of knowing what I would be called upon to do in the course of the day. And so my most honest prayer for all of us was "O God, make speed to save us..."
You may know that my Aunt Mable passed away on Sunday night. Barry and I were the ones in the room when she stopped breathing. There was no sign of struggling that was out of the ordinary for the breathing that she had been doing for the past five days. It just slowed down over the course of an hour, then stopped.
The five days between her being given a matter of hours (perhaps a day) were difficult for our family. Someone from the family was always at her bedside to call others when the end came. I took night shifts since I was the only person that did not have to be at work the next day. I spent those nights shifting from hand holding to reciting Psalms, praying the offices, and trying to study for the classes I missed. I was there some days as well. During the days the phone calls would come...people calling to check, some not knowing that we were following a living will and wishing a recovery that would not come. The worst calls were the ones in which someone would say "it's God's plan." That's bullshit. God doesn't hand out aneurisms or trip old ladies. Nature does that (not out of cruelty, but out of process), and we can't escape it. So, where was God? In the room, with the family, and welcoming Mable into Light Perpetual. I hope St. Brigid is right about the lake of beer in heaven.:-)
After I arrived in Mobile, Gil (my priest) reminded me that I wasn't just there for Mable, but for the rest of my family too. They needed the support. As the days passed it became harder on my mother and my aunt Beth. They were executing Mable's living will which meant that Mable received only hydration and oxygen. It reached a point at which it wouldn't be her injury that killed her, but exhaustion and starvation. Coupled with the knowledge that "recovery" meant a vegetative state, Mom and Beth faced a drawn out process that gave them time to have second thoughts. Mom and I spoke of this briefly. There wasn't a resolution, but she needed a vent and that is what I made myself available for.
On Tuesday night, Mom, Dad, and Beth (and with Uncle Ricky's knowledge) asked if I would perform the graveside portion of Aunt Mable's funeral. It started out as offering a prayer, but quickly became the entire graveside. I accepted, telling them that Aunt Mable meant a lot to me, and if I get up and bawl my eyes out for five minutes, that would be what they got. I thumbed through the Book of Common Prayer and made some choices of prayers, keeping in mind that it would be a Baptist funeral. I then called Gil to ask for advice since he's done services in both denominations and he greenlighted my suggestions.
On Wednesday, I met with Fr. Jim at All Saints to talk, and he made some suggestions. Some I took (a very good prayer he showed me from Rite II) and some I didn't. He offered me a cassock and surplice (I can't wear a stole yet) and he made some suggestions about gestures; After considering my audience, I knew that there were some things I couldn't do because of the sentiments of those there. I agreed with all of the suggestions and I wish I could have done them but it seemed to me that they would detract from the service and put people out of the mindset that they were supposed to be in. He told me, regardless of the particulars, at the moment the pallbearers bring the casket out of the Hearse, it is my show, I am in charge, I am responsible for Mable. Meet the casket and walk it to the grave. {I count myself lucky to have such good mentors}. I wrote out my remembrance/homily and then took numerous practices in the yard to get my volume, intonation, enunciation, and inflections right.
On Wednesday we had the services. During the visitation I met with Ricky to talk shop. He told me that he knew we were playing by different rules denominationally, but he would help if I needed it...just signal him if I couldn't go on. I thanked him for his offer, hoping I wouldn't need to do it. I wanted to get this right for Mable. He and I both walked the casket to the grave, where I took up my place at the head. When the Funeral director cued me I began.
PREFACE I am the resurrection and the life, saith the Lord; he that believeth in me, though he were dead, yet shall he live; and whosoever liveth and believeth in me shall never die.
I know that my Redeemer liveth, and that he shall stand at the latter day upon the earth; and though this body be destroyed, yet shall I see God; whom I shall see for myself and mine eyes shall behold, and not as a stranger.
For none of us liveth to himself, and no man dieth to himself. For if we live, we live unto the Lord. and if we die, we die unto the Lord. Whether we live, therefore, or die, we are the Lord's.
Blessed are the dead who die in the Lord; even so saith the Spirit, for they rest from their labors.
Please Listen to a reading of the 23rd Psalm.
The LORD is my shepherd; * I shall not want. He maketh me to lie down in green pastures; * he leadeth me beside the still waters. He restoreth my soul; * he leadeth me in the paths of righteousness for his Name's sake.
Yea, though I walk through the valley of the shadow of death, I will fear no evil; * for thou art with me; thy rod and thy staff, they comfort me. Thou preparest a table before me in the presence of mine enemies; * thou annointest my head with oil; my cup runneth over. Surely goodness and mercy shall follow me all the days my life, * and I will dwell in the house of the LORD for ever.
The Remembrance
As Mable would frequently say, her funeral is supposed to be a celebration.That is a hard thing to ask of us.Goodbyes are never easy.And as I look around today, I see the fruits of Mable’s ability to affect deeply the lives she touched.New and fast friends from University Oaks and Hearthstone are here with those whom she has known since birth.Gathered here are representatives of four generations that she had a hand in raising or that grew up with her.Truly, this assembly is a testament to her exceptional grace, friendliness, and hospitality.
We mourn our loss, for we know, and feel so overpoweringly, the gaping hole that is left in our soul.Today is the day for that mourning.But perhaps…
Perhaps tomorrow, or in a week, or later, when we think of Mable, we may think of how impoverished our life would have been without her.On that day, we may think of the blessing her life was to us instead of how painful her absence is.On that day, dear people of God, Celebrate.
COMMITTAL
In sure and certain hope of the resurrection to eternal life through our Lord Jesus Christ, we commend to Almighty God our sister Mable.; and we commit her body to the ground; * earth to earth, ashes to ashes, dust to dust. The Lord bless her and keep her, the Lord make his face to shine upon her and be gracious unto her, the Lord lift up his countenance upon her and give her peace. Amen.
(A recording of Amazing Grace on Bagpipes)
(Expression of the family's gratitude and an invitation for all to join us at Mable's church for lunch)
Let us Pray,
O God, whose days are without end, and whose mercies cannot be numbered: Make us, we pray, deeply aware of the shortness and uncertainty of human life; and let your Holy Spirit lead us in holiness and righteousness all our days; that, when we shall have served you in our generation, we may be gathered to our ancestors, having the testimony of a good conscience, in the confidence of a certain faith, in the comfort of a religious and holy hope, in favor with you, our God, and in perfect charity with the world. All this we ask through Jesus Christ our Lord. Amen...
Pretty much, it went off without a hitch. Many people said that I did a wonderful job, including my uncle and another Baptist preacher in attendance. Over the course of the day and into this morning, my mom and dad frequently told me how proud they were of me and that they were thankful that I came into town. My dad didn't want me to come at first because of the work and the time I missed; even he took a few occasions to thank me for coming.
One thing Jim mentioned to me on Tuesday was that the funeral was an opportunity (not in an exploitative sense) to live into the role of a priest. I think he was right, and I think the entire time I was in Mobile was that opportunity. I freely put myself out there to minister to other's needs and to be present.
And I've come to realize that this past week, as hard as it was, felt more right to me than teaching, and much more than career academia.
Saturday was the Feast Day of Mary, mother of God. Here's to the woman whose song is powerful enough to start revolutions.
My soul proclaims the greatness of the Lord, my spirit rejoices in God my Saviour;
he has looked with favour on his lowly servant.
From this day all generations will call me blessed;
the Almighty has done great things for me and holy is his name.
He has mercy on those who fear him,
from generation to generation.
He has shown strength with his arm
and has scattered the proud in their conceit,
Casting down the mighty from their thrones
and lifting up the lowly.
He has filled the hungry with good things
and sent the rich away empty.
He has come to the aid of his servant Israel,
to remember his promise of mercy,
The promise made to our ancestors,
to Abraham and his children for ever. - Magnificat (Luke 1:46-55)
O God, you have taken to yourself the blessed Virgin Mary, mother of your incarnate Son: Grant that we, who have been redeemed by his blood, may share with her the glory of your eternal kingdom; through Jesus Christ our Lord, who lives and reigns with you, in the unity of the Holy Spirit, one God, now and for ever. Amen. (BCP 243) ____________________________
Quote of the day/food for thought:
"I am not in a position to state who is guilty and who is innocent. I am not a judge or a magistrate. Worse still, I am a priest; my duty towards believers is not to try them or sentence them, but to help them find their way." -Andre Sibomana, Rwandan priest who survived the 1994 genocide ____________________________
Some general observations: I love to post links to things I find interesting. It was terrible during the election and has fallen off since then, but there it is. I like posting. Part of the fun (and anxiety-breeding) aspects of posting is never knowing what will strike a chord with my very talkative (typetive?) friends. This particular post petered out after 18 comments...I unilaterally declared the discussion over when the personal attacks started.
Now particular observations on the link.
Beck is displaying a troubling strain in the conservative evangelical tradition (he is LDS, by the way), namely the overemphasis on the individual to the detriment of the social. The mentality manifests as at least an apathy toward the poor. Frequently, though, there is a conscious loathing of the poor or anyone deemed unworthy. The poor/unworthy obviously deserve their state. The interesting, and sad, thing about the statement is that Beck is overlooking the (at least) eighteen individual healings and (at least) two mass healing sessions that are found in the Gospels. [I know that some of my readers do not believe in the efficacy of the healing stories or miracles, that isn't the issue. The issue is the Christian concern that should be given to healing and suffering if one were to want to follow Jesus' example and teachings.] Further, there is Jesus' admonition to care for the sick (Matt. 25:36). Such statements should leave a Christian with a sense that there is an inherent worth to a human life, well-lived, healthy. Perhaps it doesn't follow under a Constitutional purview of a "right" as conservatives understand it, but it does seem to follow as a moral imperative and a good value. It could even reach to the level of divine command...I tend to think so.
Also, from the point of view of conservative Christianity, this particular kind of statement that Beck made is in bad form. He is clearly putting Jesus to the test (Luke 4:12) on an issue about which Jesus, and by extension God, are very clear: care for others, love them as you love God and yourself. He needs a personal demonstration before he believe God's word.
Finally, I find it grating when conservatives use particularly bad theology to make a political point. But, as my brother-in-law so aptly put it in the Facebook comment thread, " i fail to see how Jesus' miracles equate to "everyone in America has a right to health care." Jesus showing an act of love, mercy, and compassion does not equal "everyone who has money, pay for health care for all those who can't/won't." Liberals and those who follow a social gospel are guilty of the the same thing that conservatives are: putting God to use for political ends. Sometimes they do it well, but they are also sometimes guilty of some poor theology.
My brother -in-law is correct. There isn't a straight line between Jesus' words and actions and universal healthcare for all Americans. Jesus didn't leave a step-by-step political program but a vision of what the Kingdom of God would look like and a promise that it is at hand (Mark 1:14, 15). It could be that close. A poor, imperfect substitute of that Kingdom could be realized here in America, in which the suffering of "the least of these" is alleviated. I'd much rather see the Church (large C) take up the responsibility since it is God's representative on Earth, but too many members feel that they must judge the worthiness of those they would choose to serve. In short, the church has fallen down on the job. The government/ state might be the only entity left with the power and the clout to fulfill the Church's mission. It is ironic that a significantly more secular Europe is closer to God's vision of how people should treat each other.
Universal health care requires a shift in culture to realize it here in America. It is shameful that the change needs to occur precisely where the custodians of such a Utopian vision reside: the Church.
On my facebook profile, I recently saw a quote that I had put up that got me thinking again... like I was looking at it through fresh eyes .
A man said to the universe: 'Sir, I exist!' 'However,' replied the universe. 'The fact has not created in me a sense of obligation.' -Stephan Crane
That quote has been on my profile since my time at North Georgia. I've frequently revised my profile and the quote has often made the cut without much thought from me. Now I'm ready to overthink the quote.
I've mentioned before that in the beginning of my college career I was leaving the Southern Baptist fold. I probably would have made an awesome deist. I read this quote for the first time in Todd Campbell's English 102 course, my second semester at NGCSU, and it resonated very deeply with me. There was a sense that God's work could not be found on Earth in the Church, that Christians had gotten something profoundly wrong. I appreciated that this quote acknowledged that there was some universal consciousness that could be engaged. The poem would have been rather short otherwise..
A man said to the universe: 'Sir, I exist!' The nearby cow looked at him oddly and the sky was silent.
Well, I have no pretension to being a poet, but you perhaps get the drift.
Anyway, it seemed to fit with my own sense of the divine at the time that there was some sort of universal consciousness that could be credited with the mecanisms of the universe, who then stepped away to not interfere with all of the laws necessary to keep the universe running. The quote also seemed to fit with my feeling that, since we are on our own, perhaps acknowledging the universe would be fine, but there isn't much point in a long conversation. "Gee, universe, it'd be nice to pass this test." The universe does not feel obligated. I also didn't want to impose on the universe.
Tonight, after five years of life and the beginning of a formal process of discerning , I feel like I can jettison the quote. It no longer captures the complexity of my concept of the universe/God. Yet it still has merit as a succinct expression of a particular type of theodicy that shaped my views about where God is in my life. Others more ably than I have summarized the problem of evil and where that leaves God (see, for instance, Eric Reitan's Is God a Delusion?) I'll not go into it here.
How do I now rewrite this quote to match my present view? When I affirm my existence to God, what do I hear? What do I see? I look at Matthew 25:34-40 : Feed the hungry, visit the sick and the prisoners, give water to the thirsty, clothe the naked. I look at Galatians 3:28: There is neither Jew nor Greek, there is neither slave nor free , there is neither male nor female; for we are all one in Christ Jesus (absolutely no exceptions). Through the mess of human history, I see the long arc of justice that is present, the Kingdom of Heaven that is at hand, ready to be realized, not merely awaited. I listen to the people of God who want to realize this vision. A very influential friend made the point that God will do what God does, we only need show up and realize the possibility. We may be all God has got to count on... when he improvises, will you be ready to be his instrument? Cornel West's voice spins in my mind asking me, personally, "How deep is your love? What is the quality of your service to others?"
It is not merely enough to exist; the universe, God, makes a claim on our talents.
Who do we pray for?Is it for the saints or the sinners?
Brandon Sigler was a Mobile Police officer who died on June 3rd after being shot in the chest.He was off-duty, responding as a courtesy officer to a domestic call in an apartment complex.The shooter, Richard Hollingsworth, claimed to not know that Sigler was a police officer.He was caught after a car chase.Brandon Sigler also graduated from MurphyHigh School in 2001.My father, a Mobile Police Lieutenant, was at the hospital when Sigler was pronounced deceased.Sigler was not attached to his squad, but my father felt that he had to be there.
I was in Mobile at the time of the shooting.I heard from my father and my mother that Hollingsworth had said "Ya'll pray for me" to the news cameras, as he was being transported from police headquarters to jail.This was recounted to me in a sneering tone of voice, as if my parents were asking who that motherfucker thinks he is to ask for prayers.
Hollingsworth could be lying when he says he didn’t know Sigler was a cop.He may even likely be lying.He could also just be trying to create some kind of sympathy for himself by asking for prayer.
Many seem to think he isn’t serious.The Press-Register’s Sound-off column seemed to carry only condemnations, with people commenting that they would, in fact, not pray for Hollingsworth…That they would instead pray for Brandon’s family and his fiancée.
“Why Brandon?” people ask.Why did this happen to someone so wonderful, with so many things going right for him?It’s unfair…Hollingsworth is a waste of life.With pot in his pocket he murdered a police officer with a gun stolen from a sheriff’s deputy’s personal vehicle.As one close to me asked, why couldn’t Hollingsworth have just died in the crash that terminated his car chase (a car chase that also risked other police officers’ and civilians’ lives) instead of surviving?
By his act, Hollingsworth has taken an innocent life and profoundly hurt Sigler’s family and friends, the Police Dept. and individual officers, and the larger community.As we reel back from the pain, we seem to offer only condemnation.Justice requires that he pay for his crime.The state will surely see to that in its own way; he is charged with capital murder and could get the electric chair. We now hope for a vengeful God that will right the weighty wrong of Sigler’s murder and redeem the suffering Hollingsworth has caused.Some may think that Hollingsworth has forfeited his own life in the taking of Sigler’s.He is now a non-person and a villain.We do not pray for villains.I think this is what the person in Sound-Off was saying.
I do not seek to diminish the nature of Hollingsworth’s act but I do find myself asking what the Christian response to this tragedy should be.I don’t have all of the answers yet, but I do know that the approaches I mentioned above are wrong.We should indeed be fervently praying for Richard Hollingsworth.He should not even have to ask for prayer, so why is it that the loudest voices seem to deny him this?I think it is the pain I mentioned.The person in Sound-Off shows a very narrow view of the role of prayer and seems to show little imagination in prayer’s possibilities.It is not as if one must choose to either pray for the comforting presence of God for Sigler’s family or to pray for Hollingsworth.
In my Baptismal Covenant (reaffirmed at every baptism in the church) I promise to seek to serve Christ in all persons, which is an allusion to Matthew 25.What this means to me is that Hollingsworth is (indeed all people are) made in the image of God; that fact is fundamental to his being.His status as a criminal is contingent upon his acts and behavior, but it does not negate his personhood.We must keep that personhood in mind.He is in need of repentance and redemption with his neighbor.The state, with a retributive justice system, may take revenge but it will not bring reconciliation.
So I will pray for Hollingworth…and Brandon…and the families of them both.They all deserve it…they all need it.I submit that Christians should do no less.
I was going to write on this subject yesterday, but I decided instead to wait until Gil had posted his sermon...I'm rather shamelessly riffing off of it.
Yesterday's Lectionary reading came from Acts10:44-48:
44While Peter was still speaking these words, the Holy Spirit fell upon all those who were listening to the message. 45All the circumcised believers who came with Peter were amazed, because the gift of the Holy Spirit had been poured out on the Gentiles also.46For they were hearing them speaking with tongues and exalting God. Then Peter answered,47"Surely no one can refuse the water for these to be baptized who have received the Holy Spirit just as we did, can he?"48And he ordered them to be baptized in the name of Jesus Christ. Then they asked him to stay on for a few days. (NASB)
Gil's sermon, wonderful in it's own right, highlights two theological implications of the expanded version of the story above.
"First, the Holy Spirit fetches us into the sacred space of the sacramental. In other words, God draws us into the Presence of the Holy.
The Holy Spirit is not confined by the rules of the Church. God was teaching Peter that the rules and laws of the Church would not confine God. Somehow the Church is still in the process of trying to learn that concept.
The Church seems to be able to find countless ways to keep people away from the sacrament of God’s Presence. I cannot find any reason to prevent someone from being baptized nor from receiving communion. God is the One who is doing the fetching; the Church is the one that should be dancing in ecstasy with anyone who is hearing the Spirit.
Second, hospitality is critical to community. The last line in the story is, “They invited him (Peter) to stay for several days.” Why? So they could get to know one another, to hear one another’s stories. Holy listening forms community (Sr. Joan Chittister).
Holy listening creates holy transformation. Transformation will create space for God to form, shape and call the people into the work of the Community of God. God’s calling will create transition. Our parish is a university parish. A parish that is called to pray, discern and provide hospitality. When we go about doing this holy spiritual and mystical work of God, holy transitions will happen. God is breaking down the barriers of the religious to liberate the work of the Spirit. We are experiencing the work of the Spirit in our congregation. We are currently sponsoring five discernment committees who are doing the work of holy listening. With that much holy listening going on we can expect God to be calling – calling more than just those in discernment. God is calling all of us into holy transformation."
I specifically want to expand on the notion of an open table. The House of Bishops' Theology Committee of the EC is working on a theological study of open communion right now, I think the results are expected in 2010. What has been going on recently is that congregations in the Episcopal Church, perhaps other denominations, have not been restricting communion to only baptized Christians. This directly contradicts the canons of the Church. To not restrict the sacrament is where the phrase "open table" comes from. All Saints' in Mobile is open, St. Augustine's in Tempe is open.
Open tables strike me as the right thing to do. To get back to the Bible story, the Holy Spirit moved first, to which Peter (the Church) was deft enough to react. The Holy Spirit continues to do her work in the world, which I believe involves calling people into Communion with God through the sacraments that the Church administers. What the Church has been doing is creating a sense of exclusivity where the Holy Spirit calls people to attend and commune (no Baptisms in Lent, no non-Catholics at the Catholic table, no non-Christians at the tables other denominations). Churches then become obstacles to God in the name of legalistic formalities. If one comes into a Church and feels moved enough to sense that something profound has occurred at the table, that God has called them together and they feel compelled to participate in this communion, who is the Church to require a membership card?
Some say that open tables cheapen the sacrament. I disagree; Something can be "special" without being exclusive and to welcome the stranger into our midst is the essence of the radical hospitality that is the root of the best of the Christian tradition. Some say the uninitiated do not understand what happens at the table. I'm not sure anyone really knows, so that strikes me as a silly reason to keep someone away. This is particularly true of the Episcopal Church, which enforces no doctrinal belief in what is thought to happen at epiclesis...and that is assuming one believes something actually happens as opposed to a simple memorial.
But regardless of the theological spats through history, I do think Communion holds power....radical hospitality...a tangible expression that the Church and God are open to all and imparts a sliver of the peace and love of God which passes all human understanding. Never underestimate the power of a shared meal, especially the Eucharist.
NPR's All Things Considered had a military psychologist on today to defend torture, or rather to present "the other side of the debate." It turns out that the interrogator, Bryce Lefever, doesn't like the way that they are being portrayed. In the interview, he argues that the psychologists' charge to do no harm does not apply to those captured in the formerly named "war on terror." He instead considers America to be his corporate customer and that he must do what is best for the "good of all." What's more, the techniques work. Further, if you are going to complain about the techniques, you better offer an alternative from your "ivory-tower" level of criticism or STFU.
Note to self: Maybe I should just watch some of the more gut-wrenching services before I volunteer to participate in them. Then again, I had the best seat in the house for all of the action.
I have never been to a Maundy Thursday service before. And I had never seen a service that included feet washing. I thought the idea was so weird until I was there. After our priest washes the congregants feet, he blessed the person, and Gil tailors his blessing to the person. There is no cookie-cutter way of doing the blessing and he seems to know exactly what one needs to hear. My job was to hold the cross behind the person whose feet Gil was washing, so I heard all of the blessings. Maundy Thursday can be an emotionally wracking service because one is symbolically left with the sense of Christ's absence. After communion, all of the host is consumed, there are no consecrated elements left in the tabernacle (special attention is paid to showing the congregation that the ciborium is empty), the presence candle nearby is snuffed, and the ciborium's veil is replaced by a black shroud. The altar party then processes out of the sanctuary, and the altar guild then strips the altar. The altar lights are extinguished, not to be burned again until the end of the Easter vigil.
So, I was at this emotionally draining service for the first time, verge of tears for most of it. And I was the crucifer and acolyte. The closest I came to breaking down was watching the altar being stripped after we had processed out. I felt a true sense of loss. Walking back into the sanctuary afterward, I tried to say something. I opened my mouth and nothing came out. I left in silence.
Sunday was my first discernment meeting; it's Palm Sunday at that. The Day of Information (ordination orientation) is May 9th and Gil and I wanted me to have one or two meeting completed by then. ______________ I'm getting in touch with bishops on the General Convention's Theology Committee of the House of Bishops to ask them questions about the statement on just war theory that was released a week ago. I've e-mailed the chair and I'm still waiting for a response. ______________ The dinner with Richard Cizik was a great event. It occurred to me that I need to be more mindful about how I answer the question about what I'm studying. Studying "Christian questions of war and peace" sounds more neutral than saying that I study "Christian justifications for violence." The latter betrays my pacifistic leaning, but I'm slowly coming to appreciate a very curtailed version of the just war theory. ______________ There are those who think that being elected to office grants a politician a special type of charism (spiritual gift) of prudence in office. I certainly haven't seen evidence of such charism. Most American Christians have rejected the notion of the divine right of kings, so it is a bit disconcerting to see others claim that elections bestow this charism upon politicians. The Episcopal Church has not fallen for this line of argument, which is refreshing to see considering how much the denomination has functioned as an establishment church. ______________ Upon doing research, I found that the EC actually called its people to consider doing penance for the evil of the Iraq War.
"Resolved, That the 75th General Convention call upon all Episcopalians as an act of penitence, to oppose and resist through advocacy, protest, and electoral action the continuation of the war in Iraq,and encourage the President and Congress to take proactive steps to end our participation as soon as possible."-2006 General Convention Resolution 2006-D020.
One of my classes this semester is more practice-based, Religion, Violence, and Conflict Resolution, than the other more theoretical class Religion, War, and Peace.
Two weeks ago the topic in the former class was the Bosnian wars. One particular tactic in the war was to rape women and intentionally impregnate them, holding them in detention until the allowable window for abortion passed. Since it is believed that the male is responsible for the ethnic line, it looks like genocide to the men whose women were raped. Noel, I'll try to send you the study we read.
Relatedly, this past week we talked about trauma, triggers, and how to rebuild a lasting and just peace after trauma knowing that in many cases it's frequently impossible to completely heal. We also talked about the stigma that PTSD and the like triggers in those who do not have it. Part of the problem is that when someone with symptoms tries to tell the story, those who listen cannot comprehend the level of pain, so they downplay it. Picture this physically, two people sitting across from each other; It is like the person telling the story holds it out for the other, and the other rejects it. "That doesn't sound so bad." "You should get over it." Bullshit.
The military seems to be putting returning soldiers through diagnosis for COS/PTSD upon return from deployments, which is good, but it can also take years for some symptoms to present.
Something that struck me as a good sign is that we (meaning the people of a nation that sends our brothers and sisters into hell on our behalf) are learning that there is a cost to fighting that inscribes itself onto and into the body and soul of the soldier. While I was living in the South (though it's a common argument elsewhere) I frequently heard people say that "we" have become too soft and that we are no longer suited for warfare. I do not accept that argument. It is more accurate to say that we are now allowing our soldiers to admit that there is a cost taken on by them, no matter how "glorious" or "necessary" the war. It's also worth mentioning that the great majority of the people who gave this diagnosis of modern America's weakness were never in the military.
Watching Ken Burns' latest documentary on World War Two brought the point home to me, that even the quintessential "war that we had to fight," the war against the "ultimate evil of Hitler" had a cost on the soldiers. They just came home and did not talk about it until now...now that we have allowed it to be acceptable to talk about. (Yes, World War Two was a just war although it was fought with some unjust tactics.) We do not want to know the cost, so we call war necessary and say that soldiers should not feel sorry for anything. Some do not feel sorry at all, but some still do feel sorry. Why don't we take that seriously?
I think that this is a critical element of the national dialogue when we are preparing for war: Are we prepared to intentionally traumatize a significant portion of our population? This directly relates to just war theory; it should be part of the criterion that seeks to address whether the harm to be done by fighting will outweigh the harm that we seek to end through war.
The ASU campus ministry went down to the border for Spring Break. I'm still processing all that I saw but I wanted to tell you a bit of what happened.
Gil is my priest. Seth is the mission priest for two parishes in AZ and the border area. Please don’t call the Feds on us. :-)
Tuesday 10:00 am. Gil, Cassandra, Erin, and I gathered at St. Augustine 's in Tempe for a celebration of Holy Eucharist and prayers before we packed everything we were taking (men's pants, shoes, bandages and medical tape) into suitcases, which we hoped would look less suspicious to Customs. We had gathered the supplies by asking the congregation, who are very supportive of the young adult ministry, and by holding a concert in which the admission was either money or donations. The medical supplies were donated by a worker in a local hospital, with the permission of the hospital.
The trip down was uneventful; we stopped at a wonderful Mexican restaurant in Tucson.
5-ish pm. We arrived in Douglas , AZ , checked into our hotel, and met up with Seth, Mark, and others to participate in a weekly prayer vigil for those who have died trying to cross the border. Seth is the Episcopal border missioner and runs two parishes in the area, Mark is a Presbyterian missionary. The vigil starts at the intersection about half a mile or a mile from the border. The participants hold up crosses bearing the names of those who have died in the desert in Cochise County since 2000, shout out the name, and everyone yells "Presente!" There are over 300 crosses and this is the only memorial for those whose body could not be identified. The crosses were left resting over the curb as we worked our way down to the border crossing. After we had laid out the crosses, we stopped to remember two people in particular. As we were starting this part of the vigil a border patrol van came around the corner into the straightaway, slowed down to about 5-10 miles per hour, and ran over two of the crosses. He waved at us as he sped through the entrance to the border crossing.
I had a hard time concentrating on the rest of the vigil. One member of the group walked to the van, which had stopped just short of the checkpoint; Seth followed to cool the situation down. I was watching to see if there would be trouble. Seth took down the agent's information and returned to the group, although he was not planning on reporting the agent. Seth said he believed the agent when the agent said it was an accident; Mark did not. I agree with Mark that it was not an accident but I agree with Seth that it is better not to report it. Even if the agent ran over the crosses on purpose, he did look remorseful when talking to Seth. Seth also does not want to report it because he wants to build some type of good relationship with the border patrol. Reporting the agent would be counterproductive to that.
After the vigil, we all crossed into Agua Prieta (Dark Water, or AP), Mexico, leaving the rental van on the U.S. side. The first thing you notice is that there was significantly less light at night. Roads are a mixture of paved and dirt, and there are many more people walking around than in, say, downtown Mobile. We went to a local Catholic Church that provides meals and beds to migrants and those just down on their luck. It is a men-only shelter and takes a great commitment from the church's congregation to provide this volunteer service every night since they are never sure in advance how many they will be serving. We also met a few men and women who use the church as a place to practice their crafts, furniture-making and leatherwork.
We then ate a dinner of lentil soup and tuna tacos with four migrants. They were either making their way back into Mexico, getting ready to cross, or there just to look for the possibility of work on either side of the border. Those that were getting ready to cross heard that there was work in Chicago, or at least NOT in AZ or CA due to crackdowns. One man, 63 years old, had ridden his bicycle from south of Mexico City to Agua Prieta, about 3,500km to look for work; the trip took 59 days. He had merely heard that there was work picking tomatoes nearby. One man had been in the U.S. for a while, but had gotten pneumonia because he was caught in a flash flood sleeping in the desert. He lost all of the money he had made paying for a hospital stay. He broke down crying telling his story; he had to decide whether to try to cross again or return to his family empty-handed.
After dinner, we made our way back to the U.S. As we were waiting in the line at the crossing, Seth recognized a car in another lane; it was a young parishioner and his fiancée(?). The young parishioner got out of his car to talk to Seth, walking to keep up with us in the traffic. They had crossed for dinner, but the young man told us that, because of the violence in Juarez and Nogales getting so much coverage in the media, his mother had told him not to go into Mexico anymore. He lives there. He knows the situation. AP is much safer compared to Juarez and Nogales. It seems that most people forget just how large the border really is when they watch the news and hear about the violence.
Back in the U.S., we had to plan how Wednesday was going to work and how to get our supplies across the border (men’s pants, shoes, rudimentary medical supplies, and money) to a migrant center. All of it could be confiscated, including the rental van which wasn't supposed to go into Mexico. So as we sat with our beers, we decided that we would leave our supplies with Seth, who would take stuff over the border piece by piece. We then decided that after our tour of ministries in AP, Gil would drive the rental van to Naco on the U.S. side and the rest of us (Seth, Cassandra, Erin and I) would go to Naco on the Mexican side. After that we called it a night and headed back to the hotel.
Wednesday
8:00 am. Cassandra, Erin, and I met up in Gil's room for morning prayers, which were taken from a Benedictine Breviary. After praying, we went to the Gadsden Hotel for breakfast. The Gadsden Hotel makes a decent breakfast, hosted our "home base" bar, and has a very beautiful lobby. Unfortunately, the rooms there have a very bad reputation. One hotel rating says "see the lobby, then run."
9:30-ish. We met up with Seth at his Douglas parish, St. Stephen's, and received the tour. We then drove to the border crossing's parking lot, left the rental van, and piled into Seth's Honda Civic to get across the border. Our first stop was the migrant center right inside the border. When migrants are released at the border, they find their way here. The Border Patrol confiscates most of the stuff that migrants take with them, especially back packs and such; they are frequently released with only their ID and the clothes on their back. The migrant center provides a little food, clothes as needed, and helps people search for their family members.
The border patrol does a few things once they capture migrants. If they find out the migrants are related, they may be separated and released in different places. So, if a husband is released in Agua Prieta, they may release his wife in Juarez. Other options include flying separated members deeper into Mexico (they are dropped off at night without being told where they are), or prosecuting them in the U.S., sentencing them to prison, and then releasing them into Mexico after the sentence. These migrant centers try to locate separated family members and deal with rights violations.
10:00 am. We made our way to Just Coffee (Café Justo). It’s a pretty small operation on both sides of the border that roasts fair-trade organic coffee from Chiapas, Mexico. I got to meet the owner and his wife and take a look at the workshop. I highly recommend ordering coffee from there, since I think that this is a small part of the solution to poverty by letting the small farmer profit from their work directly. We made a small stop at a local Presbyterian mission, which gives medical care to those in need and provides other services. It seems that the Presbyterians and the Catholics are the dominant denominations in Agua Prieta, but there is a sense of ecumenism in that they and the other denominations often work together on various projects. Other than the Episcopal Diocese of AZ, the nearest Anglican presence is 400 miles away.
Noon. Lunch at DouglaPrieta Trabajan (Works). This is a cooperative on both sides of the border but we met the director on the Mexican side, Jose. As we sat down to eat the best chile rellenos I’ve ever had, we conversed through Seth, who translated. The goal of the Works is something akin to vocational training; the director wants to encourage self-sufficiency in the community by teaching skills and providing education, but he also wants the center to provide for the community so that they aren’t solely relying on the impersonal “capitalist system.” In essence, they want to build a self-sustaining community. The cooperative hosts woodworking, ESL classes, a computer lab, sewing, and agri-permiculture. Jose has a workable vision and I expect we will looking for ways to support his ministry.
After lunch we took Gil back to the border so he could pick up the van and take it to Naco. Seth, Cassandra, Erin and I made our way to Naco on the Mexican side. We passed many roadside shrines. I wished we had stopped in one in particular, the shrine to Santa Muerte, “Holy Death,” but we didn’t have time. Imagine the Lady of Guadalupe…now imagine her shrouded in black with a death’s head. Santa Muerte is a patron of members of some of the drug cartels, and the cult is growing. She is a reminder and a warning to me that where the influence of Good is lacking, Evil will take hold. In this case I define evil as the poverty which takes away a person’s choices and the dignity of work. There are few jobs in these border towns, so the unthinkable option of working for a cartel becomes a necessity.
2:30 pm. We came into Naco, arriving before Gil, and stopped at the migrant center at which we were supposed to deliver our supplies. Actually, “center” is an overstatement. It is a wood and masonry building in questionable condition about 7 ft wide by 30 ft long. The worker at the center that day was an American that lived in Bisbee, AZ, which was about ten minutes north of the border. The Naco center does the same job as the slightly larger center in Agua Prieta but Naco is a smaller crossing. The thing is, even though they are a smaller center, they may see just as much migrant traffic because the Border Patrol drops people off wherever they want. Some things this particular office sees are injuries from people making the trip; one man there that day had a sprained ankle. The director also told us about pregnant women who have tried to scale the wall only to break their ankles from the 20 foot drop in the U.S. side.
There was a group of men there giving their information to the worker of the center and maybe a dozen other men milling about. They had just been released from detention (15 hours in holding) and had no idea where their sister was going to be dropped off. They feared that she may be one of the ones who would be prosecuted stateside.
Gil eventually walked across the border along with a bunch of school children. Naco actually straddles the U.S./Mexican border; the fence, which is doubled-up there, divided the town when it was built. Kids from the Mexican side attend school on the U.S. side.
I’m not sure who got up the courage first, but Gil and Seth conversed for a minute and then decided to go ahead and try to drive the van and the supplies across the border. The center was low on supplies, which I think increased the sense of urgency. If they got caught, it could at least mean confiscation of the van and the supplies and possibly detention for Gil and Seth. Erin, Cassandra, and I stayed at the migrant center to learn about the operation.
As Gil was driving the van, Seth threw out four or five quick possibilities for explaining 6-7 suitcases and a large box of men’s pants and shoes. Though, if caught, the medical supplies would be the nail in the coffin; no way to explain that kind of “contraband.” (The reason it’s illegal to take them in is because medical supplies are illegal to sell, and Customs doesn’t bother to ask if you are going to just give them away.) Finally, about twenty yards from the red/green light which would determine if they were getting stopped, Gil asked Seth which story they were going with. Seth then said he was just going to pray for a green light.
They got the green light.
As they pulled up to the center, we quickly started to bring in the suitcases and unload them, mindful that we could see the U.S. border less than 100 yards away, which means that Customs could see us if they looked. Thankfully, they were not looking. Actually, the director of the center has street vendors in the area who also look out for trouble; we would have had plenty warning. We loaded the empty suitcases back into the van and walked back down to the migrant house to get the tour. The house can house six men and six women as well as receive people at all hours. They have kitchen and shower facilities. It was incredibly clean and well taken care of, brand-new. What struck me most was the sign of rules, particularly “no Polleros.” Polleros are human traffickers, otherwise called coyotes. They offer to help people cross the border, but it’s a crooked business. We saw a few of them in Agua Prieta. One may be just as likely to die from trusting a pollero as going alone. Polleros could leave a migrant to die in the desert, taking the money, or holding for ransom a migrant they lure into trusting them. In any case, if a pollero is found to work out of any migrant center, the government then has cause to shut the center down. Keeping them out of the centers is just as much about protecting the centers as it is about protecting the migrants.
4:00 pm. We drive our van back across into the U.S. and head to Bisbee, AZ, where Seth’s other parish, St. John’s, is located. He had a vestry meeting and Gil would be hosting a Lenten program on prayer and spirituality that night. St. John’s is a wonderful space, and after touring Bisbee a bit, we arrived for the Lenten program. However, before it started, I snuck into the sanctuary for some pictures; Erin and Cassandra joined me. After a good look around, we scattered ourselves in the sanctuary and sat in silence and prayer. The silence was marvelous and I took the opportunity to go through the rosary. After that we ate dinner with the congregation of St. John’s and had our discussion. After the discussion, some congregants pulled out a labyrinth, which I walked.
7:30 pm. With our goodbyes said to Seth and his very friendly congregation, we drove from Bisbee to Douglas, stopping at the bar in the Gadsden Hotel to reflect on all we had seen before retiring for the night.
Thursday
9:00 am. We drove to St. Stephen’s in Douglas to celebrate Eucharist before starting back to Tempe, AZ. Seth could not join us, but had arranged for an altar guild member to prepare the table.
After we celebrated, we found a local eatery for breakfast and got on the road. Between Douglas and Tombstone, we came across two bicycle club members who had a flat. We gave them a ride into St. David, 20 miles down the road, where they met the rest of their club and fixed their bikes. We then visited a local Benedictine monastery, praying in their garden and sitting in silence in their chapel.
4:00 pm. Back at St. Augustine’s in Tempe. I stuck around to help prepare for the young adult worship service that night.
Overall Impressions
This trip started out for me to be fact-finding, but it quickly came to be about building relationships and opportunities to support worthwhile ministries. The “us” and “them” mentality was immediately obliterated, becoming “you” and “me,” sharing meals with those whose crime is crossing a line while wanting to pick tomatoes and sharing meals with those who envision a better Mexico.
Never underestimate the power of a shared meal.
My Spanish improved a bit.
Our morality trumped our sense of legality and I’m fine with that. The logic of the state is different from the logic of the Church and God has no borders. Still, we are certainly going to look for a better way to get our donations into Mexico.
It is so easy to make this problem of borders and immigration political and huge and impossible to deal with as an individual. But this trip shows small acts of mercy go a long way and I have absolutely no remorse for doing mercy.
Our country is wasting untold amounts of money at the border. We spend millions to make the wall higher, but taller ladders are built. Do we really think a wall will stop a man who, at 63 years old, rode his bicycle over 3,500 km to find a job? Simply put, we are fighting a symptom at the border of a problem that is pervasive, but fighting symptoms does not end the problem, it just makes the problem less visible.
If one wants to fight the problem, find and support the solutions…and a larger wall is not a solution. I met a few of the solutions this week (Café Justo and DouglaPrieta Trabajan) and they need all the help they can get.
Saturday, February 28, 2009
Today I started reading :
I have a feeling that I'm going to enjoy it. I'm only a chapter in and I've found much to identify with. This is mostly because part of the first chapter has a comparison of the Benedictines (the rule I follow) to the Jesuits. The book notes that, to help us to see how God breaks through the mundane and into their lives, the Benedictines follow a rule of work, prayer, and hospitality while the Jesuits heed their own experiences in the course of their ministry in the world. I was glad to see the Benedictines get a shout-out, especially since the authors remembered the hospitality part of the rule. Benedictine spirituality is normally summarized to "work and prayer," to the overlooking of how important hospitality is. Without hospitality, Bendictines in cenobitic living can become irrelevant to the outside world. In Benedict's culture, which was the splintering of the Roman Empire, monasteries could provide shelter for travelers. The Benedictine commitment to hospitality ensured that this vital service was provided. In fact, chapter 53 of the Rule is devoted to the very charitable reception of guests, whose presence nullified the observance of fast days for whoever ate with the guest (unless it's a really important fast day). A guest would never suffer for the spirituality of the brothers and sisters.
It just occurred to me how I've been affected by that Chapter, I now habitually bow as a greeting to everyone. This is especially true with GIl since I consider him to be my Prior. That probably looks very strange. Oh well. I've been told that hospitality may be one of my gifts, even if I'm fairly introverted when meeting new people.
Yesterday was our church's day to feed the homeless (dinner and a packed breakfast). I take particular pride in the fact that we may be the only church in our network that cooks a hot complete meal instead of just making sandwiches. There were a lot of new faces in the group of 37.
Laura and I are going to Chapel Rock (the Episcopal retreat center in Arizona) this weekend. It's our first time going and the occasion is a young family retreat. The days are modeled after the hours of prayer in the BCP, which means 3-4 short prayer services a day as opposed the the 6-7 monastic hours a day. A few participants are leading discussions that are relevant to families, myself included. I think the subject I'm going to kick-start is living the ideal of nonviolence and gentleness in today's world.
"If we are committed to personal nonviolence, how do we see our responsibility to protect our family..." something along those lines. I've spent the last two weeks reading about Christian nonviolence in one of my classes, so the subject is forefront in my mind.
There will be a recap once I'm back from the retreat, though probably after I finish the work load for school (Thursday?). __________________
I have been asked to join a discernment committee for a parishioner feeling called to the deaconate. I accepted the invitation. __________________
Lent starts next week and I'm not sure what to do yet. I don't want to give something up, although denial is part of the traditional understanding of the season. It just seems that it is treated as little more than a new year's resolution. I'm thinking that I will add something to my disciplines. My schedule is such that I find it difficult to get up for morning prayer and when Laura announces bedtime, well, she can't really get to sleep without me being in bed too. I'm always awake at noon though. So I think I'll add daily Noonday prayer (Sext for the Benedictines) to my discipline. Maybe I'll keep it after Lent. __________________
I found something interesting: an E-book of common prayers from a Catholic forum. The tagline "'Cause you want to talk to God, but sometimes you're at a loss for words," describes me perfectly. I'm not good at unorganized prayer, but I find that I'm getting better because I'm letting the common prayers in the BCP guide my own thoughts and words. __________________
Speaking of Catholicness, A friend (thanks Alyson!) is sending me a box of books on Catholic theology. Considering that I'm swinging from hard Protestantism to the Via Media of the Episcopal faith, Catholic theology serves as the counterbalance. Even though I disagree with some doctrines, there is something to be said for 1,900 years worth of work. And with the little I have seen, I'd put anyone with an M.Div in Catholic theology against Rick Warren. __________________
A friend from church recently asked if there are any progressive Christian musicians. I honestly do not know. If there are, I don't think that they make it onto mainstream Christian radio...maybe they do. But that got me to thinking about music. I consider myself a traditionalist in that I am not a fan of the vast majority of contemporary Christian music. I like the old hymns of both the English (and Celtic) church and the Baptist hymnal with which I grew up. Furthermore, I love the tradition of chant, both elaborate and plain, in the Catholic tradition. If a become a priest I will intone the Eucharistic prayers.
(Tangent: As Gil (my priest) and I were ending our procession out of the sanctuary last Sunday (I was crucifer), he said to me that the hymns sounded very Baptist. I agreed. I don't think that was intentional, but both of us and the choir director are refugees from the Baptists.)
Am I bothered that there are few "liberal" songs? Not really; we have a rich enough tradition to pull from (see the St. Francis song below). There is so much theological complexity that cannot be articulated in songs, and if someone were to try, well, the song would be boring to me. My personal rule is to sing loud and proud and theorize it all later. Sometimes I'm uncomfortable with what we sing but it must be confronted instead of ignored and buried.
I also think that the realm of wonderful spiritual music is not limited to religious artists. Some of my favorite spiritual pieces come not from "praise bands," but from secular artists who share their faith with us. I don't know why, but they seem more real to me. I think it is because I don't buy into the overly sentimental nature of modern "praise" music. That's not to say that I doubt their sincerity, but it seems shallow.
Consider Sarah Maclachlan's rendition of the prayer of Saint Francis.
The old is made new in an exciting way.
How about Elliot Morris's "Faultline"?
Powerfully prophetic. Is he a modern day Elijah? Well, I wouldn't go that far but I believe he is in line with the Spirit in a day where the chaos of war is considered comforting and necessary.
Or "Starlight" by the Wailin' Jennys (not to mention the rest of their work). This particular song so multi-layered that it's accessible to many. It exemplifies brokenness, a universal feeling from which Christians are not immune, and it echoes the Psalms in which the Psalmists are yelling to God "Where are you!?!?" The song also ends with that ambiguity, which is also a fact of life that I think the sentimentality of much of today's Christianity (and its music) ignores.
Yesterday I applied for my passport; I'll have it with time to spare before my trip to Mexico. Assuming that there will be a few others joining us, the Episcopal Campus Ministry will be going to cross the border March 10-12th. We will be almost recreating the trip my priest took a few weeks ago, detailed here. A few facts about the border:
1. A more and more common injury seen at the border are broken ankles and legs, particularly those of pregnant women trying to scale the 20+ foot fence (see picture below). 2. Drug cartel violence is on the rise. 3. If a Mexican is caught crossing, the border patrol takes everything from them except the clothes they are wearing. They then separate families and take people to different border towns for release. The hope is that the family will try to reunite instead of making another run on the border. 4. There are mercy centers that run solely on donations and try to track down separated family members through the network of drop-off points. St. Brigid's community has decided to help support a mercy center in Naco.
In addition to recreating the trip that Rev. Gil took, we may also visit a Catholic monastery on the way back to Phoenix.
Grant, O God, that your holy and life-giving Spirit may so move every human heart [and especially the hearts of the people of this land], that barriers which divide us may crumble, suspicions disappear, and hatreds cease; that our divisions being healed, we may live in justice and peace; through Jesus Christ our Lord. Amen. (BCP)
I'm about two weeks late (by the Revised Common Lectionary) in posting this video. Father Matthew does a wonderful job with the Jonah story, a story that people think is simply about disobedience and the inability to run from God. But there is also mercy, compassion, and love.
I've always liked candles, perhaps that's why I have been so quick to pick up on using them in worship (a sentiment that almost sounds heretical or Pagan to Baptist ears). _______________________________________ One order of evening service in the BCP begins with a darkened church. The officiant says:
Almighty God, we give you thanks for surrounding us, as daylight fades, with the brightness of the vesper light; and we implore you of your great mercy that, as you enfold us with the radiance of this light, so you would shine into our hearts the brightness of your Holy Spirit; through Jesus Christ our Lord. Amen.
The candles are then lit in the church. ___ A priest once told me of how one time, when he was in seminary, he and the other students had prepared for performing the service carefully, but as they started the procession their professor yelled out "STOP!!!!!"
Pointing to the altar, the professor said something to the effect of, "The candles are not lit! God isn't here!" ___ In a similar vein, some people at the church at which I serve do not leave their pews until the altar and office candles are extinguished after the service. ___ Every Mardi Gras, my grandmother (Roman Catholic) lit a candle at her church for my father; it was a prayer for protection during the most stressful time of year for the Mobile Police Department. ___________________________________
Fire holds a special place in many religious rites and traditions, signifying presence, purity, etc.
I've begun using them in my own daily prayers for a sense of presence, but also for vigils. I light them both at church and at home to remind me of those for which I constantly offer prayers. The candle bank at St. A's.
My little prayer corner at home. The woven cross is the cross of Saint Brigid of Ireland, my patron.
If you would ever like prayers offered or a candle lit, just let me know.
Two Sundays ago in the lectionary was story of Samuel's call to serve God. Calling is frequently the theme for the sermons on that particular Sunday and All Saints' in Mobile and St. A's in Tempe were no exceptions.
“How do you know you are called to be a priest?” You will have to answer that very question or some variation of it more times than you can count. There’s the Bishop. Every person on the Commission on Ministry. Friends. People at church you know well, and people you hardly know at all. The psychologist you have to talk to as part of the entrance requirements for seminary. Every member of the faculty, every semester, for your evaluation. The psychologist you have to talk to as part of the graduation requirements to get out of seminary. The Commission on Ministry when they approve you for ordination. The priest and maybe the Vestry at your first job. Almost every job after that...When I was asked the question for the first time, I stumbled through what I thought was a totally inadequate explanation of my call, but with only slight deviation from my first answer, I have said the same thing for the last 33 years – sure I am doing what I should be doing, but not really sure how I know it.
...We, the community, are the incarnation of God in the world the Church is the presence of God’s action in the world. The community calls people out for service. The Church calls people out for service. Just this week the Commission on Ministry in our Diocese affirmed our community in hearing that one of our own is called out to be Deacon, God willing... Not only does the Church call out people to be Bishops, priests and deacons, but also all of us are called into the priesthood of all believers. We are all called to serve the altar and care for the people of our community. God continues to call.
I am trying to answer the Question (capital Q) Mary mentioned: “How do you know you are called to be a priest?”
I don't exactly know. It isn't a very reassuring answer to give, especially when something so otherworldy could have profound consequences on the lives of me and my wife. I certainly identify with Mary when she says her answers at first felt inadequate.
Still I think I've closed in on one aspect of why I feel called. I feel what seems to be a irrepressible draw to the Altar, which feels a bit like walking a labyrinth. It started with me, in my childhood, bi-yearly sitting in a Baptist church with a small piece of bread (a Christ-chex looking-thingie) and a shot glass of grape juice, to my first Communion in an Episcopal church (Dec. 24, 2006) which started my weekly partaking, to bringing forth the element at my Confirmation (Nov. 4, 2007), to serving the altar at St. A's and taking Communion at least twice (frequently thrice) a week. I feel more complete on God's side of the rail even though I'm still not quite sure what happens there. I want to be closer still, but I'm as far as I can go without taking Orders in this Church. (I think part of my discomfort at being home over the holiday was that I missed such frequent Communion. I don't know an Episcopal priest high-church enough to hold daily Eucharist, and I can't commune in a RC Church.)
It isn't just Communion either, I also think highly of the other six sacraments of the Church. That will be another post.
I know there is much more to the vocation of priest and I feel ready to take on those duties, but I find the sacramental nature of the work very attractive.
Tuesday, January 20, 2009
A prayer for our new President from the BCP.
"O Lord, our Governor, whose glory is in all the world: We commend this nation to your merciful care, that, being guided by your Providence, we may dwell secure in your peace. Grant to the President of the United States, Barack Obama, wisdom and strength to know and to your will. Fill him with the love of truth and righteousness, and make him ever mindful of his calling to serve the people; through Jesus Christ our Lord. Amen."
Sunday was Bishop Gene Robinson's invocation during the pre-show of Obama's inauguration. I've linked it below.
A transcript is here...and if it sounds familiar, he riffed off of a Franciscan blessing I've posted here.
Well done, + Gene. _______________________________________________
Yesterday, a friend of mine got to explain explain Martin Luther King Day to her 8 and 10 year old children with a bonus of putting Obama's inauguration in that context.
I listened to the full "I Have a Dream" speech, once again with the bittersweet realization that we have come so far but still have far to go. It, to me, somewhat functions as a checklist.
NPR had a wonderful interview with Joseph Lowery. I was touched. _______________________________________________
Also yesterday, St. Brigid's Community held a service event that we had planned through Obama's day of service website. We participate in IHELP, which is a coalition of Tempe churches to provide food and lodging for the homeless every night of the month. We are slotted 4th Fridays. Our service was to set up as a drop-off point and collect food and clothing for both IHELP and for St. Matthew's food bank. In four hours, we collected, by conservative estimate, 1,000 lbs of food and 500 lbs of clothes. Just about everyone that came in to give wanted to know more about IHELP, some wanted a greater involvement. We'll probably ask those who signed up via the website if they wish to be put on a listserv about our part of the program, and maybe more about St. Brigid's.
A comparison was made to George Bush and his lack of asking us to service and Obama's calls to service. One person couldn't think of anything Bush had done but to call us to more shopping after 9/11. I respectfully begged correction. Bush's at least had the rhetoric, particularly in the first inaugural address. It might be more accurate to say that Obama is more serious in a call to service and made it so easy to help by networking people with events to people who wanted to participate.
But it also occurred to me that Bush called for people to pray more than he called people to service. Thing is, in this life and world we are all God has got. If we do not actively feed, quench, clothe, visit, and comfort, then who the hell will?
But in the end, I'm 1,500 lbs closer to realizing the Kingdom of Heaven than I would have been if I had simply hit my knees to utter words.
