Praying for the condemned

Who do we pray for? Is it for the saints or the sinners?

Brandon Sigler was a Mobile Police officer who died on June 3^rd 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 Murphy High 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.

Of the Holy Spirit and Hospitality

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.

On Utilitarianism and Torture

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.

The interview reminded me of this exchange.

Maundy Thursday

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.

Various thoughts, then war.

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.

The rest of the resolution can be found here http://www.episcopalarchives.org/cgi-bin/acts/acts_generate_pdf.pl?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.

More to come later...

The Trip to Mexico

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.

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.

Lent, Dust, and Fraction

I realized earlier today that I do not get to say "Alleluia" again until Easter.

Lent: nothing given up, adding daily Noonday Prayers.

I expect I will feel this Lent more deeply as a penitential season than any other (of the two) I've done .

The two videos below were produced at the Episcopal Cathedral in Phoenix.

"Dust" is very apropos for the season.


"Fraction"

Weekly Musings

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.

Trip to Mexico

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)

Jonah and Ninevah

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.



More in depth work here.

Candles

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.

Calling

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.

From Rev. Mary

“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.

From Rev. Gil

...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.

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.


"Preach the Gospel at all times and when necessary use words."
St. Francis of Assisi

On privilege

2002

I'm sitting in the office of the civilian campus recruiter of North Georgia College and State University. We are discussing my future: the army, my degree, the classes I'll have to take to get up to speed since a regular Alabama high school diploma just doesn't cut it. Then came the conversation that only white males get to have with other white males.

"Robert, in looking over your paperwork I am not sure you should simply get a degree in criminal justice. In this world, you have two marks against you when it comes to employment: you are white and you are male. This means that law enforcement agencies looking to hire you will pass you over immediately for a minority or a woman with the same degree. You need to try finance or something that will make you more valuable to an agency...something with analysis."

I now wonder what he told minorities and women he recruited.

Such was the reality of living in the South, and I an uncomfortable participant. White people are quick to say that affirmative action is unfair. Many white people in the South hold the conversation. They have an anecdote of some unqualified minority or woman gaining a promotion over a more qualified person. They believe there is some type of quota system (and there isn't). But when one listens to the conversation, facts emerge and go by without comment. I was essentially told that my privilege was lessening, so I would have to work harder. It is an implicit acknowledgment of a privilege that many are quick to claim does not exist. Also, the very fact we had the discussion shows that there is an unorganized conspiracy of trying to maintain power. White males are not given a card to carry, but many feel safe conversing in the above fashion.


2009

I'm sitting with my priest, discussing the future: possibly ordination, Laura's thoughts and feelings, how the process works. Then came the conversation thathonest white males should have more often.

"In getting ordained, you unfortunately have two things going for you. You are white and you are male. That means that a congregation may consider you to be a safer pick than someone who is out, or a woman, or a minority. You look like what people expect a priest to look like. It is lamentable in the church and we are getting better at this, but the fact is that the bishop will have an easier time placing you somewhere than he would with others."

As lamentable as it is that the Church is slow to fully welcome its members (I mean ordination and vestry, full participation in the life and work of God), the conversation is now getting closer-to-honest. We are acknowledging the problem, and we can now work on distributing the authority instead of conspiring to keep power in a gentrified, white, male hierarchy. It is a faint glimmer of hope that the church can positively act as a counter to a culture infatuated with power.

The Episcopal Church will be holding its General Convention this year. Of those going, there are

• more females (among the clergy an all-time high)
• more deputies of color
• more out lgbts.
  

But it is still a long way to go.

In which right-wing Christians manufacture a false crisis

In South Carolina, there is a row over a license plate. This license plate:

A judge has ordered an immediate end to production of this license plate. Now, conservative Christians in South Carolina are up in arms and actively damning the judge and the ACLU to hell.

Red-faced and angry, shaking his fist alongside his Bible, [Rev. Arnold] Hiette told the congregation [assembled at a Baptist church] that the four complainants - especially the Unitarian - and one judge who took away the people's right to witness via their vehicle tags "along with the ACLU, they're going to burn in hell."

Well, isn't that precious? Here is why I think this issue is complete and utter bullshit. The license tag was originally created by an act of the State Legislature, which brings up an issue with the separation of church and state. The creation of the license tag by the legislature was deemed improper. I think the judge's ruling was correct.

The good news for the folks that want this license tag is that they can go through the SC DMV and get it made with no problem; they just need to find an organization to sponsor the tag and find 300 people to pledge to buy the tag. If you're interested, here are the full guidelines. It took me about three minutes to find them via Google.

But that is not good enough, and it seems clear to me that the issue is not whether people can "witness via their car tags." Since I could find the guidelines from the SC DMV so quickly, I'm left wondering if everyone who wants the tag is profoundly ignorant of the bureaucracy or if they simply want a legal battle based on the principle that the government should officially make it, tag be damned. The news article makes it clear that they want to challenge the court injunction. In other words, they aren't looking to get the tag made, they want to fight so that the state will mandate the production of the tags. I wonder how many people could be fed and clothed with the money these Christians will waste on a court battle that needs not be fought since there is another way to get that damn car tag made.

And I'm troubled, but not surprised, that these Christians seem content to use their religious faith as a weapon in a culture war.

By the way, South Carolina does have an "In God We Trust" tag, so the anti-Christian argument is difficult to maintain.

Holiday Review 5- Introspection

Part of the unsettling experience of going home is the discrepancy between the me of six months ago and the me of now. It was greatest around my friends for what I think are issues of maturity and because I'm at a different state in my life. Bachelorhood has been left behind. More than that, I'm trying to incorporate the Rule of Benedict into my everyday life and it is sometimes dissonant with life as I live it.

You know those cartoons that show a devil and an angel on one's shoulders? I'm growing a St. Benedict and I try to view my life and actions through the Rule.

Over the break, I found myself angry at my inability to conquer my outward arrogance, an arrogance that those most close to me know to be a facade anyway a facade that covers some minor self-esteem issues. I'm too arrogant about my own knowledge of Christianity (still so incomplete) and I when I should remain silent until asked, I lecture. So, I'm working on tearing down a facade of unearned arrogance. I want to replace it with a humility that is both comfortable and accommodating to others. I've made progress, but part of going home seemed to unconsciously regaining the old habit of showing my ass.

That is not the only thing I need to work on. I talk a good game about the Christian duty to the poor, but I'm trying to deprogram myself of my accumulated sense of who is deserving of help and who is not. Today I was given an opportunity to see how far I still have to go.

Our service was over today and as I was locking up with Gil and waiting for a friend to finish choir practice, we met a man at the door of the church. Gil opened the door that he was blocking, trying to stay dry, out of the rain storm that has threatened all day. The bottom had fallen out of the clouds and the rain was coming down. Gil asked him if he needed help; he responded that he needed a new life. Gil invited him in and excused himself to collect something for the man (James, originally from Michigan, homeless, hoping for a temporary job bricklaying and registered with a local labor service).

I helped him roll up his large sleeping bag and as we were standing there the little Saint Benedict in my head started talking.

---You don't need your umbrella. You have a car and you've been considerably wetter for longer periods of time than an uncovered walk to the car will make you. Give it up.---

He asked if I had a few dollars and I said no. I had given all the cash I had at the offertory, but I told him GIl might be able to provide some. On cue Gil walks in with a bit of cash and a bag containing various easy-to-carry snacks and drinks. He asked Gil to pray with him; I silently joined from the background that I retreated to. Gil then offered to let him stay until the choir practice was over, warm and dry. He accepted and planted himself in the narthex to drink what had been provided. I stepped into the chapel close by; I thought I'd do the rosary while I waited for my friend to finish choir. St. Benedict returned.

---Why in God's name are you in here practicing some form of personal piety when you have a mission to that man! YOU HAVE SEVEN DOLLARS IN YOUR POCKET!!---

I did. I had kept it separate from what I was offering in church and honestly had forgotten that I had it. I rarely carry cash. I immediately walked out and gave it to James. I wish I could have done more. I frequently feel a sense of impotence in the face of many of the hard problems people have. At least in Mobile I knew some shelters but at the moment I know nothing about this area that I am in.

So I did a little, and I have a long way to go. It makes me mindful of how I have just started on a journey with neomonasticism and the distance I must go.

Holiday Review 4- Saying Goodbye

I have two great aunts. Both have been on this Earth for more than 90 years. Both are ready to leave. When they said goodbye to me over the break, it wasn’t the “see you next time” goodbye, it was the “see you on the other side” goodbye. It was very close to those exact words. We were at my parent’s house after lunch and doing the gift exchange.

One of them, the older of the two (Nellie), well, I hadn’t been prepared for how much she had deteriorated in my absence. She can no longer hold up her head when she is standing. It was at my parent’s house that she started saying her goodbyes, she in a recliner lying down and I at her side kneeling. There was nothing for me to say. Anything would seem trite. I did what I could and I’m not sure how to explain what I did. I held one her hands, kept my other on her head, kept eye contact and…exuded as much love as I could muster.

Watching my priests I’ve learned that there are times when words fail and that I should be comfortable with not having to resort to mere words. Mary hugged me before my wedding and I felt a strength and love that mere words failed to convey; Gil simply sat and listened as I talked of my Grandmother when he took me through the burial rite, and I felt a comfort and a closure that I would lack without presence. Presence is underrated and perhaps it should be more often distinguished from mere closeness.

We should have been walking out. We had two other households to visit that day but I couldn’t bring myself to go until I felt excused by her; I was with her for 15 minutes and it seemed to be just me and her in that house. At times everyone else was completely blocked out. My mother couldn’t hear anything that was going on between us, but she said my aunt looked more at peace than she had been in a long time. I left her with a blessing.

…And then there was the younger aunt (Mable), who was struck speechless (and she is not often speechless) by my incredibly simple gift.

What could I have said? “Keep fighting!”? No, that just shows my own selfishness. Part of my silence was to avoid saying “go with God.” They want to go home and they are both occupied with thinking about Heaven (whatever that actually is). Their own apparent eagerness to leave this world shows me how I should feel about their own passing when it happens: joy. I’ll be pained, certainly. But I can imagine their joy and I am strengthened.

Holiday Review 3- The Friends and Family

I need to give a disclaimer. I love my family and friends greatly. I don’t want to give the impression that there is some sort of great divide or sense of conflict. There is not. It is also certainly not the case that I get or return anything but unconditional love to my friends and family. Now that that is done…

I’m getting a growing sense of distance friends due to what I perceive to be a greater amount of maturity on my part. I’m a married man now, but even before then my friends were doing things that I would not join them in. I’ve never had any real desire to drink until the sun rises, and I am a man of quiet habits.

The most distressing event over the break in this respect was a night out with a few friends and my sister and her husband. We were going out, when a friend, whom I’ll call Ed, offered to drive. While I don’t have a squeaky clean driving record, his driving has scared me in the past. I offered to drive, to which he replied that his driving had improved. This was without me mentioning my dis-ease with his skills. I took his word for it only to be disappointed. I don’t remember him being so reckless. He was going 65 mph in a curvy 40 mph zone, passing without using a blinker and straddling the lane line. If it had been only me, I’d be slightly annoyed, but my wife was with me and I was quietly outraged. We were able to leave the festivities with my sister’s ride, avoiding riding with him again. I’ll not ride with him again.

Since I’m thinking about priesthood, I was often invited to give blessing at meals, including the big Christmas lunch. I did so, giving thanks for the food, friends and family, and a remembrance for those less fortunate. As soon as I was done with my direct 30-second-long blessing, a friend admonished me to keep it under five seconds. My Mom told him to not be flippant and I let it roll off since it was a joke; he wasn’t the only one in the room and others needed to hear it for a variety of reasons even if it inconvenienced him.

Maturity aside, another reason for a growing distance my family, friends and me is my immersion in a different denomination. I almost speak another language with the Episcopal Church. My Mom has asked if we have an “Episcopal Bible” and she has asked me about saints, particularly my patrons. I can’t really explain the intricacies of trying to be a monastic to her since the concept is pretty foreign in the Baptist denomination. It is a completely new vocabulary. Dad gets a little bit of it with his Catholic background.

My family joined us for the Sunday after Christmas. Yay, baptisms! It was a good service but I prepared myself for what I saw coming. I came home apprehensive about a possible theological showdown. Would I have to defend progressive Christianity? I didn’t really. But my sister did mention, at my asking, doubt in the sincerity of the Anglican style of worship. I expected this and I appreciate her honesty, though I dislike the implication that I am locked in a dead style of worship. I understand, though, that the formal liturgy does not work for some. What she didn’t know was that there were probably some in the congregation that were not totally pleased with the wording of the service. Jim and Mary were using a West Syrian Rite from the 4^th Century instead of the standard Eucharistic prayers from the Book of Common Prayer; they had the bishop’s approval. So, my sister (a Baptist) saw dead ritual where some long-time Episcopalians may have seen an aberration from the rubric. God speaks different languages.

The greatest surprise on the family/theology front was that the only thing my mom says that she did not agree with is actually in the Nicene Creed! The line is “I believe in the holy, catholic, and apostolic Church…” When she reads small-c catholic, she thinks Roman Catholic instead of “universal,” as the word is actually meant. She didn’t know what apostolic was.

But my family is supportive. My Mom doesn’t understand the language, but she wants me to order her a Book of Common Prayer (done) and she wants me to be sure I’m called by God. My sister is supportive in their way, humor.

“Would I have to call you ‘Father?’ Because I won’t!”

You won’t.

Holiday Review 2- The Clergy

Before I start what will either be an incredibly long post or a series of smaller posts about the break, I want to start with two meetings I had with priests in Tempe, AZ and Mobile, AL.

I met with Gil on the Tuesday before I left for Mobile. It was our first spiritual direction session and he asked what I wanted to get out of spiritual direction. At the moment I’m looking for more confidence in what Marcus Borg calls the “emerging paradigm” in Christianity. Knowing that I’d be in Mobile for the next few weeks, Gil suggested that I add nothing else to my disciplines, but to see simply see if I could maintain what I do. He also suggested a few exercises in concept mapping to solidify what I think about different aspects of Christianity. I have not done so yet; I had no peace to do so over the break. I will start this soon. Later that week he also loaned me a book by Susan Howatch called Glamorous Powers. The book is a fictional work about a priest (an ex-monk) in the Church of England. I immensely enjoyed reading it over the break.

He also suggested that I meet with Jim and Mary (not knowing I had already made an appointment) as a way of getting people who had known me longer than he in on the priesthood conversation.

I could not wait to meet with Jim and Mary when I arrived in Mobile. They had also made themselves available to me when I wanted to talk about Christianity or theology, assisted in my confirmation, and married me and Laura. Thus, they have played a major role in my spiritual formation.

I expected the meeting to a take an hour; it lasted for two. From the meeting I gained the following:

1. My sense of disconnect from the secularization of the world was affirmed.
2. Don’t be afraid of counseling if Laura and I need it when the time for hard decisions comes.
3. If possible, go to seminary for the full three years. Alternative ordination may get me ordained sooner, but they both sense that I’d better serve parishioners by living the rhythm of seminary. This seems based on Jim’s sense that we are kindred spirits in academic settings and will love the immersion in study and worship; I think he is right.
4. Take the affirmations of my calling seriously. Both Jim and Mary said that my sense of calling does not surprise them; they felt it had been coming since the weekend of my confirmation. So far, everyone whose spiritual life I trust has affirmed this call. Also, about fifteen minutes after Jim recommended taking affirmations seriously, Kathy (my student teaching mentor) stuck her head in the office, saw me, and asked “Are you going to seminary yet?” Jim looked at me and said, “That’s the affirmation I was talking about.”
5. Be aware of the increased sense of poignancy in everyday life (it took hearing this to realize that it has already been going on).
6. Vary the liturgy.
7. Build my library. I left with book recommendations. BTW, Laura’s grandfather is sending me a box of books on theology and exegesis.
8. Don’t fret that I wasn’t ready to respond to the call until now or that I didn’t see something that others apparently did.
9. God sometimes has an unscrupulous sense of humor and I’ll be thrown curveballs occasionally.
10. The work is hard, but very rewarding (kind of like teaching).

After two hours, I thanked them for their time. They saw me in the middle of preparations for the Christmas services, a very busy time from which to take two hours. Before I left the church I stepped into the chapel to do my Noonday prayers and left with a sense of peace. The meeting is still fairly foremost in my thoughts even now.

Unsettled- holiday review 1

I'm back in Mesa and I'm reflecting on the trip home over the holidays. There were no unpleasant experiences to mention but I spent quite a bit of time in an emotionally and spiritually unsettled state. No single event sent me into a slump; it was the totality of a few things.

One reason for the slump was a change in routine, actually, it was the lack of a routine. To compare:

My disciplines in Mesa

1. daily reading from the Rule of Benedict
2. two weekly Eucharists, sometimes three
3. the Daily Lectionary (sometimes playing catch-up if I miss a day)
4. Tuesday Noonday Prayers
5. Church/ Theology related reading
6. Rosary/meditation about 5 times a week

My Disciplines in Mobile

1. daily reading from the Rule of Benedict
2. one weekly Eucharist
3. the Daily Lectionary, but only half of the days
   
4. Tuesday Noonday Prayers
5. Church/ Theology related reading / one wonderful fiction
   
6. Rosary/ meditation once the entire trip
   

It was to be expected that the routine I have would be hard to keep. I apparently do a lot at the daily level. I had obligations and demands on my time from friends and family that took some of the time I would spend in my disciplines. I don't regret any moment with my loved ones though. The situation was what it was. I wasn't about to tell the people that loved that I required at least 30 minutes a day in solitude. I at least faithfully kept to the requirements of St. Brigid's Community.

Other reasons for my unsettled nature

1. My conversation with Jim and Mary
2. The growing gap between me and my friends at home
3. I was expecting a theological showdown that did not happen
4. I'm displeased with my own lack of humility
5. Being given a final goodbye by my great-aunts
6. My sister doubting the sincerity of the Anglican style of worship. I expected this and I appreciate her honesty, though I dislike the implication that I am locked in a dead style of worship.

The next few posts will deal with the above in detail.