Wednesday, January 28, 2015

Jan. 28, 2015

Abba Poemen was asked, “How should a man behave?”
He answered, “Look at Daniel: no-one found anything in him to complain about except for his prayers to the Lord his God.”

An article appeared on the St. Luke's Facebook page last week about worship and the dying church.  The article can be found here.  If you can't access it, the author makes the claim that while service, mission, justice and community projects are important for churches to participate in, what is really vital to a healthy church is healthy worship.

As Christians we should be involved in issues that affect our wider community, and in proclaiming the gospel through a variety of means.  But as Christians, we also need to remember and pay attention to that which makes us different from the Elks, Lions, Rotary or any other social/civic club.  Can we serve meals to the hungry?  Yes.  Can we stand up against any number of injustices?  Yes.  Can we collect food and clothing, and offer our space to the local AA, NA and OA groups?  Yes.  But so can any social agency.

What makes Christians, and therefore the Church, different from all those other agencies?  Worship.

Worship is at the core of what we do.  It may not be at the core of what we believe; but worship is at the core of what the Church does.  Worship defines us.  Worship shapes us.  Worship forms us.  No other agency does this.  And, as the author points out, we don't worship for ourselves or to “get something out of it.”  We offer our prayers of praise and thanksgiving in the act of worship for the sole purpose of drawing nearer to God and receiving a foretaste of the heavenly banquet.

The Catechism states that the ministry of the laity is to “represent Christ and his Church; to bear witness to him wherever they may be; to carry on Christ’s work of reconciliation in the world; and to take their place in the life, worship, and governance of the Church.”

The Baptismal Covenant asks a series of eight questions.  The first three are affirmations of our statement of belief as found in the Creed.  The very next question asks, “Will you continue in the apostles' teaching and fellowship, in the breaking of bread, and in the prayers?”  In other words, “Will you be faithful in worship?”

We can all serve our community in a variety of capacities.  We can all stand up for those things in which we believe.  We can all proclaim the gospel in thought, word and deed.  But it is our worship that binds us together as a community.  It is our worship that identifies us as a people of God.

May we remember that we are a worshiping community.  May we strive to follow Daniel's example who, when pressured to conform to the dictates of the world, continued his daily practice of worshiping God.  And, like the psalmist wrote, may we be glad when we hear the words, “Let us go to the house of the Lord.”

Amen.

Wednesday, January 21, 2015

Jan. 21, 2015

If a man understands something and does not practice it, how can he teach it to his neighbor?  – Abba Poemen

I’ve talked about that word “practice” before: the practice of prayer, the practice of worship, the practice of Christianity.  Practice helps develop who we are and it can shape how we respond to things that happen around us.  If we practice enough, what we practice becomes second nature.  But we must guard against practicing improperly.  As an extreme example, it does no good to practice CPR by compressing the stomach area 100 times per minute.

Sticking with that CPR example, if we do understand how to perform CPR, there's more to teaching it than simply telling people, “Yeah, lay them on the ground and push really hard and really fast.”

We need to have both the knowledge and the ability that comes through practice in order to teach others about it.  The knowledge and ability that comes with practice can also develop a sense of confidence and enthusiasm in ourselves to speak with and help teach others.

Christianity is the same way.  There are all sorts of doctrines and disciplines within Christianity, and a lot of them get debated.  Some of them include: Jesus is fully human and fully divine; love God and love your neighbor; confess and repent of your sins; respect the dignity of every human being; proclaim the Good News of God in Christ.

We know this.  We renew our baptismal vows four or five times a year, and four or five times a year we promise to continue on this path.  We proclaim Jesus is the eternally begotten Son of the Father every Sunday.  And every Sunday we ask for strength and courage to love and serve the Lord.  We know this.  We know it so well that, if I removed all the Prayer Books from the pews, you would play your part in the liturgy without missing a beat.

It's one thing to understand all this, but how are we at practicing it?  How well do we love our neighbors and respect the dignity of other people regardless of their race, gender, orientation or social status?  How well do we recognize our sins?  How often do we name those sins, repent and return to the Lord?  How well, and how often, do we proclaim the Good News?

Maybe we need an Epiphany discipline.  In this season of the Epiphany when we recognize the manifestation of Christ to the world, look for that part of your faith that you would like to deepen, to practice more, and work at becoming proficient in that practice.

Maybe, with practice, you will develop the knowledge, ability and confidence to invite a neighbor to come and see.  And with that, you will be playing a part in teaching another person about this thing called Christianity.

Amen.

Sunday, January 18, 2015

Jan. 14, 2015

If a man wants God to hear his prayer quickly, then before he prays for anything else, even his own soul, when he stands and stretches out his hands towards God, he must pray with all his heart for his enemies.  Through this action God will hear everything that he asks.  – Abba Zeno

Do we do this?  Do we pray for our enemies?

When we pray, we praise God for being the giver and author of life.  Holy, holy, holy Lord, God of power and might.  Almighty God, Father of all mercies . . . we bless you for our creation, preservation and all the blessings of this life.  Lord God, heavenly King, almighty God and Father, we worship you, we give you thanks, we praise you for your glory.

When we pray, we confess our sins, known and unknown, things done and left undone, in thought, word and deed, for the evil we have done, and for the evil done on our behalf.  Forgive us our sins, as we forgive those who have sinned against us.

When we pray, we offer our thanksgivings for family and friends, for the good earth which God has given us, for jobs and homes, for birthdays, anniversaries and recoveries, and for all manner of things which give us joy and comfort.

When we pray, we pray for the needs of others as well as ourselves.  We pray for healing, reconciliation, discernment, strength, health and recovery.  We pray for those who travel, for the aged and infirm, and for all manner of things which concern or burden us.

But when we pray, do we pray for our enemies?  Do we even know who our enemies are?  Do we pray for those involved in terrorism, that they may be struck with a spirit of peace?  Do we pray for those with different ideologies, that we may develop a spirit of respect?  Do we pray for those who have harmed us either physically, spiritually, emotionally or financially?  Do we pray for a spirit of forgiveness?

Are we willing to take that first, terrifying step, allowing our enemies to be thought of as humans in need of our prayer, respecting their dignity, and thereby avoiding demonizing them to make us feel better?

Who is your enemy?  Who do you think is your enemy?

Name them.

Pray for them.

Amen.

Jan. 7, 2015

A house is not built by beginning at the top and working down.  You must begin with the foundations in order to reach the top.  – Abba John the Dwarf

I think we forget this.  I think we wish the world didn't work that way.  I think we hope too often for the completed project.  Too many times, I think, we see the spires of a great cathedral and say to ourselves, “I want to be like that.”

And whether those spires are the job of our dreams, a major scientific breakthrough, the next great American novel, or a trophy signifying athletic prowess, too often we desire to be there instead of paying attention to the work that will get us there.  But we don't get to the top, so to speak, by beginning at the top.

Every scientific breakthrough is built on the foundation of basic mathematical functions – addition, subtraction, multiplication and division.  Every great novel is based on the foundation of basic grammar.  Every sports achievement is based on conditioning and hours of practice.  The foundation must be laid, and laid properly, for great works of aspiration to rise.

Unfortunately none of that is very fun.  It's not fun to have to memorize the multiplication table.  It's not fun to sit through grammar classes.  It's not fun to spend hundreds of hours of training for only a few hours or moments of competition.  It's not fun to do the hard work of building a foundation.

It's not fun, but it's necessary.

Looking at the parable of the sower, what if we changed our normal interpretation of that parable.  What if, instead of looking at the sower as God and us as the variety of seed scattered willy-nilly on the ground where some of the seed landed on rocky soil, some on the path and some on good soil, what if we looked at the sower as us.  And what if, instead of simply tossing seed out there and not worrying about where it lands, what if we did the hard work of ensuring every seed was placed in good soil, where its foundation could support growth and eventually yield thirty, sixty or a hundred-fold.

This, in a nutshell, is evangelism.  Evangelism is the hard work of building the foundation of the church.  Sure, we all want to be part of a magnificent church that generates a sense of admiration and awe.  But we can't get there by building it from the top down.  We can't put those magnificent spires in place until we have a good foundation.  Unless we do the hard, foundational work of evangelism, we won't get there.

But evangelism itself also has a foundation.  Like knowing the multiplication table and basic grammar rules before moving on to higher levels of math and prose, we need to know the basics of why we ourselves are here in the first place.  Why are you an Episcopalian?  Why do you attend St. Luke's.  Once you answer those foundational questions, you can begin the hard work of evangelism.  Once you know the answer to those questions, you can begin the hard work of ensuring every seed you sow is placed in good soil so that it, in turn, will have a good foundation in which to grow.

It may not be fun.  It may not be the quick-fix solution.  But according to John the Dwarf, it is necessary in order for us to reach the top.

Amen.

Dec. 31, 2014

Let the same mind be in you that was in Christ Jesus, who, though he was in the form of God, did not regard equality with God as something to be exploited, but emptied himself, taking the form of a slave, being born in human likeness.  And being found in human form, he humbled himself and became obedient to the point of death – even death on a cross.  Therefore God also highly exalted him and gave him the name that is above every name . . . – Philippians 2:5-9

Tomorrow is January 1, New Years' Day.  This is generally the day when people begin working on their resolutions for the new year.  Well, actually, this is probably the day before people begin working on their resolutions for the new year, since a fair number of people are recovering in one way or another from the previous night's celebration and/or spending the day watching the big Bowl Games and eating too much chips and dip.

For us in the church, however, the New Year came on November 30 with the First Sunday of Advent.  I don't know if any of you made New Years' resolutions, be we heard once more the stories of the end of days, the return of Christ, judgment and we prepared for his coming to us as a baby lying in a manger.  The New Year is upon us and we once again enter that great cycle of the church year that moves us from birth to Passion to Resurrection to discipleship.

Tomorrow is January 1, New Years' Day.  But on the church calendar, tomorrow is celebrated as the Feast of the Holy Name – eight days from birth to the traditional day of circumcision and naming.  This is the day we celebrate that event and honor the name of Jesus, the name given by the angel Gabriel before he was conceived.

Names are important things.  In some ancient civilizations, names were thought to hold power; which is why you never told a stranger your real name.  Native Americans gave names appropriate to a persons calling or character – think of John Dunbar being named Dances with Wolves.  We still give thought to the naming of our children or businesses, hoping that name will be successful.  And I've preached on how the name of a church impacts how a particular ethos is developed.

Tomorrow is the Feast of the Holy Name.  Tomorrow the church celebrates the day when the infant born in a manger received the name that is above every name.

On this Feast of the Holy Name, if you haven't made a resolution for the New Year, may I suggest this:

In your hearts enthrone him; there let him subdue
all that is not holy, all that is not true;
crown him as your Captain in temptation's hour;
let his will enfold you in its light and power.
Hymn 435, v. 5

Dec. 24, 2014

Of the Father's love begotten, ere the worlds began to be,
he is Alpha and Omega, he the source, the ending he,
of the things that are, that have been, and that future years shall see,
evermore and evermore!

O that birth for ever blessed, when the Virgin, full of grace
by the Holy Ghost conceiving, bore the Savior of our race;
and the Babe, the world's Redeemer, first revealed his sacred face,
evermore and evermore!

Let the heights of heaven adore him; angel hosts, his praises sing;
powers, dominions, bow before him, and extol our God and King;
let no tongue on earth be silent, every voice in concert ring,
evermore and evermore!

Christ, to thee with God the Father, and, O Holy Ghost, to thee,
hymn and chant and high thanksgiving, and unwearied praises be;
honor, glory and dominion, and eternal victory,
evermore and evermore!

May you have a holy and blessed Christmas,
evermore and evermore!

Amen.

Dec. 17, 2014

“ . . . you have promised through your well-beloved Son that when two or three are gathered together in his Name you will be in the midst of them. . .” – Prayer of St. Chrysostom

The Prayer of St. Chrysostom is the concluding Collect for both Morning and Evening Prayer, and the rubrics state that it may be used before the close of the Office; in other words, it's an optional concluding prayer.  I tend to use this particular concluding Collect on Mondays for no other reason than it reminds us who gather at the beginning of the week that God is in our midst.

When I was in seminary and going through the process of discernment to ordained ministry, one of the questions I was asked was, “Where do you gain spiritual strength?”  My answer to that was along the lines of, “Community worship.”  While prayer is often seen and understood as an individual action in our relationship with God, community worship allows us to be secluded in our own thoughts and prayers while standing in the midst of a great congregation.  It was and is this dual action, private prayer coupled with communal worship in a parish and in the larger body of Christ, that gave, and still gives, me spiritual strength.

Two years ago I committed to being in the chapel every weekday morning at 7:15 for Morning Prayer.  For most of that time, I have been joined by others, as many as eight, but more often as few as one.  Lately, though, it's been just me and God, sitting in the quiet, sharing time together.

The other day a parishioner joined me for this early morning worship service.  As we went through the service, as we read the psalms and canticles in unison, as we participated in the back and forth of versicle and response, I was reminded again of how important corporate worship is.  To pray the liturgy is one thing; to pray the liturgy out loud in the company of another is something else indeed.

This past Sunday we heard the story of John the Baptist and his confrontation with those sent by the Pharisees.  In that confrontation he said, “Among you stands one whom you do not know.”

When you come to worship, whether that's every Sunday, a Sunday and some weekdays, or only when you can seem to find the time, wrap yourself in prayer.  Spend some quiet time before the service settling down and focusing on God.  Use those periods of silence to prayerfully reflect on readings or the sermon just heard.  Honestly reflect on sins committed before saying the General Confession.  Give thanks for the gift of bread and wine, body and blood, which you have received.

But don't let it end there.  When you come to worship, take note of the people in the building and know that they have come to worship with you.  When you make your responses, when you sing the hymns and say the psalms, when you participate in the petitions of the Prayers of the People, and when you recite the postcommunion prayer, take note of the voices around you.  Can you hear wonder?  Can you hear distress?  Can you hear joy?  Can you hear God?

When two or three are gathered in his name, there stands one whom we do know.  We just have to listen.

Amen.

Dec. 10, 2014

A man may remain for a hundred years in his cell without learning how to live in the cell.
Abba Poemen

“What am I doing here?”

While I was at diocesan convention I had the pleasure of hearing the Rt. Rev. Brian Thom, Bishop of Idaho, speak.  He touched on several things, but the one that I continue to ponder were two questions he asked those in attendance.

First, theologically speaking, why are you an Episcopalian?  In other words, liking the people, building or liturgy can't be the answer.

Second, why do you go back to church every Sunday?

The answers to those two questions, he contended, were the recipe or prescription toward creating a vital parish that embodied and exemplified a new spirit.  They were also the keys to evangelism.  If you know why you are here, you are more rooted and comfortable in speaking about your faith and your parish.  And that provides the foundation to talking with others about your faith and practices.

People come to church for a variety of reasons – habit, friends, time with God, music, and the list goes on.  If, however, we aren't growing, if we aren't being challenged as well as comforted, if we aren't drawing closer to God, if what we participate in and proclaim on Sundays makes no discernible difference in our lives, then we haven't really learned to live in our cell.

The goal of the Desert Fathers was to bring themselves slowly, through fasting, prayer and service into a central relationship with God in Christ.  If a monk lived in his cell for a hundred years fasting and praying, but without ever allowing himself to be changed and molded by God, then he had not truly learned to live in his cell.

What am I doing here?  Hopefully learning to enthrone the King of Love in mind and heart, making my body a temple of the Holy Spirit.

Amen.

Dec. 3, 2014

For this is humility: to see yourself to be the same as the rest – Abba Motius

We will never have true civilization until we have learned to recognize the rights of others.
Will Rogers

Ever since I ran across this saying while looking for a Wednesday Word, it has created a variety of reactions from me.  My first thought when I saw it was of the parable of the Pharisee and tax collector at prayer:  “I thank you, Lord, that I am not like this tax collector.”

We would all agree that there is not a lot of humility in the character of the Pharisee.  Besides overvaluing his own position with God, he fails to see an obvious truth that nobody is perfect.  He also fails to see that he and the tax collector probably share more similarities than differences.

At the very least, the Pharisee could have uttered, “There, but for the grace of God, go I.”

To be able to see ourselves the same as the rest can have important implications.  One thing it has the ability to do, I think, is to stir a sense of compassion toward those we might normally ignore or look down on.  If I am the same as them, how might I feel if I were ignored?  If I am the same as them, how might I feel if I were welcomed into places I normally thought off limits?  If I am the same as them, how grateful would I be if I were noticed?

And that reaction of projecting myself into the situation of another person led me to find the quote from Will Rogers.  Once I humble myself and see others the same as me, then it's not too much of a stretch to recognize that they also have rights I need to pay attention to.

But the more I thought about this, the more something kept gnawing at me.  And that something was that I kept referring to those people as just that – some anonymous group of Them and Others who I attempt to humanize by saying, “That could be me.”

By an accident of birth and by the blessing of education, I am granted assumptions and privileges that a whole host of people less fortunate and/or less lucky than myself are not granted.  I think back to that line in Animal Farm: “All animals are created equal; some are just more equal than others.”

Seeing myself the same as the rest can, and is, a good thing.  But it's not complete.  It's not complete because I still project myself with all of those accidents and blessings onto another person who may have never experienced those.

What if I turned Abba Motius and Will Rogers around?  What if, instead of attempting to humble myself to their level, I elevated the other person to my level?  What if I immediately began to bestow on others the same accidental assumptions and privileges granted to me?

Maybe we need to stop trying to see ourselves to be the same as the rest.

Maybe what we need to be doing is to see others as equally privileged as ourselves.

Amen.

Wednesday, January 14, 2015

Nov. 26, 2014

If one works hard, you can lay a new foundation at every moment. – Abba Silvanus

When I was younger, I tried living a week at a time.  Most of you know that I am a cradle Episcopalian, and when I got to be about 14 or so I really started looking at Sunday worship differently.  It was no longer something I had to do, or was forced to do, but I began to see in worship a day of refreshment, a day of renewed strength, a day when I could once again get right with God and move forward in the week.  I began to take the words of Eucharistic Prayer C to heart: Deliver [me] from the presumption of coming to this Table for solace only, and not for strength; for pardon only, and not for renewal.

I began trying to live one week at a time, Sunday to Sunday, Communion to Communion.

When I was in seminary, there was an expectation that you would attend at least one worship service a day.  I usually tried for two – Morning Prayer and the 11:15 Eucharist.  It was during that time when worship became an every day thing, and not just a Sunday thing.  And what used to be a period of weekly renewal slowly became a daily renewal.  Rather than saving up all my sins and transgressions and celebrations and thanksgivings during the week, it became a daily practice.

That daily practice of laying a holy foundation continues today through the Daily Offices.  As I go through the day, I try to remember how it started and to live into that way of being each and every day.  It's not always easy.  Some days are better than others.  But the desire to continually improve and build an ever stronger foundation is there.

Everyone is different in this respect.  For some, a weekly reminder is enough.  Others could benefit from the practice of daily prayer.  Others could be helped by attending the midweek Eucharist.  Still others need hourly reminders of where and how their foundation is to be built.

I think this is what Abba Silvanus was getting at.  Living life is hard.  Being human is difficult.  There are temptations and distractions around every corner and down every road we travel.  It's hard to live in a world that assaults all our senses and to remember to whom we belong.  It's hard, but it's necessary.

Every moment of every hour of every day of every week of every month of every year strive to remember to whom you belong.  Strive to remember that you were created in love and to reflect that love to the world.  And when you become distracted, when you build with some other material than love, when you turn inward, remember to whom you belong and for whom you are building; and then tear down the beginnings of what you began and work again on the foundation of God.

It's not easy, but if you work hard, you can lay a new foundation at every moment if you choose.

Amen.

Nov. 19, 2014

Away.

That word has been on my mind lately.  Over the past five days, I have been away.  I have been away at Convention.  I have been away for the funeral of Joelene's grandmother.  I have been away for a meeting in Cottage Grove.  I have been away.

Sometimes being away is a good experience.  The time Joelene and I spent in Prague was that way.  Sometimes being away is less than good but necessary.  I have known several people who have had to make emergency trips to be with a dying family member.

Regardless of whether being away is a very good thing, a necessary thing or an unpleasant thing, being away always takes one out of their routine and rhythms.  Eating habits get changed, both in time and substance.  Exercise routines may get adjusted or, more likely, ignored.  Sleep patterns are changed.  Worship and prayer practices also tend to fall by the wayside.

But if we are away, then there is a place we are not.  And the place we are not is the place in which we are anchored, the place where we are rooted, the place we call home.  When I am away, I am not home.  When I am away, I know that home is waiting for me.  My routines and rhythms are waiting to be taken up again.  I can eat normally (whatever that means).  I can follow my exercise routine.  I can sleep soundly in my own bed, never confused as to whether the bathroom door swings left or right.  The Daily Offices fit into that routine, as do Sunday and Wednesday worship services.

That connectedness, those routines and rhythms are really what makes home Home.

And I began to wonder . . . Is prayer and worship time spent away?  Or can prayer and worship be home – the place where we are connected, the place where the routines and rhythms inform and shape our lives?

How might we live differently if we saw evangelism, worship, prayer, stewardship and God not as taking place away from our regular weekday lives, but if we saw those things as part of being home?

Over the past five days, I have been away.  It's good to be home.

Amen.

Nov. 12, 2014

Every Monday through Friday morning from 7:15 – 7:45, unless I'm out of town, I read Daily Morning Prayer in the Chapel.  I began this practice just over two years ago on September 4, 2012.  For a brief while, there were as many as eight people who joined me.  Shortly thereafter, it became one; but that one other person and I shared Morning Prayer most every day through 2013.  Schedules changed and the one was gone, but they were replaced by an unexpected two who came most days through this summer.  Sometimes a random third person would join us.  Schedules again changed and most days now it's just me.

I tell you this not in an attempt to guilt any of you into attending Morning Prayer so that I'm not alone, but because of something Bishop Michael said awhile ago:  It takes about two years of a person consistently saying the Daily Offices for it to really sink in.

I am certainly finding that to be true.  Silences are more focused.  Prayers are more intentional.  The rhythm of the service is becoming more ingrained.  Words have more depth.

As I read the Daily Office, what has recently jumped out at me has been joy.

The confession bids us to be strengthened in all goodness.  The Venite asks us to shout for joy to the Rock of our salvation.  The Jubilate asks us to be joyful in the Lord.  Canticle after Canticle talks about singing praises to the Lord, nations streaming to God's light, our spirit rejoicing in God our Savior, singing the praises of God's name, and praising the glory of God in general.  To close out Morning Prayer, the General Thanksgiving is a prayer so full of joy that it is hard to read without feeling like God has wrapped me in a thick blanket on a cold winter's day.

For the vast majority of our congregation, Sunday Holy Eucharist is the only worship service attended; and that's okay.  I am willing to bet that the majority of our congregation have been attending an Episcopal church for more than five years; some probably much longer.  Which means that the words of our worship have had time to sink in and become the fabric of your spiritual lives.

Have you paid attention to this?  Are the times of silence becoming more God-focused?  Are your prayers more intentional?  Have the words of our worship developed depth, taking on a meaning more that what you are reading on the page?

The 9 a.m. adult formation class is currently going through Revelation.  Every time worship is mentioned in that book, it's a joyful and exuberant vision (5:6-14 and 7:9-17 are two examples).  Do we experience our worship as a joyful time?  Do we recognize those joyful words that appear in our worship, or do we read them as just mere words between pages 355-365?  How might you be different if you worshiped with that same sense of joy that Revelation, the Canticles and our prayers offer?

I'm convinced that the routine of the liturgy has sunk in and become part of the fabric of your spiritual lives.  I challenge you to go deeper and let the joyful essence of our worship transform you.

Amen.

Nov. 5, 2014

Abba Poemen's brethren said to him, “Let us leave this place, for the monasteries here worry us and we are losing our souls, even the little children who cry do not let us have interior peace.”

Abba Poemen said to them, “Is it because of voices of angels that you wish to go away from here?”

Today is the first day of the Christmas craft program being headed up by Laurel, and we are both hoping for a good turnout.  Laurel did this last year and I thought it was a success.  Not everyone came to every session, but it was well attended and the kids produced some wonderful gifts that were sold at the Christmas bazaar.  And, more importantly, everyone seemed to have a good time.

Besides the weekly after school Christmas craft program, we are also looking at a way to incorporate those same children into the 5:30 Christmas Eve service.  Some kind of pageant seems to be the main thought right now, but we are unsure of what, if any, form that will take.  If everything works out, we could have a sizable youth presence right around Christmas time; and that's exciting.

Besides the above, if you were here on Sunday, October 26, or if you read the latest Luke's Log, you will recall Michele's talk about why St. Luke's is important to her and how she is looking to be more involved in the life of the parish.  One of the things she said was that she would be praying specifically for families with children to become part of the St. Luke's family.

This would be a good thing.  Not only because we would once again have families with children as part of our parish life, but because it would mean that we are beginning to once again live out the commandment of making disciples of all nations.  If we want families and children to be part of St. Luke's because it would be good for us, we are misguided.  We should want families and children to be part of St. Luke's because it would be good for them.

However, having a parish full of families and children comes with a cost.  Very often I hear, or have heard, people bemoan the lack of children and families in the Episcopal church in general, and at St. Luke's in particular.  Comments usually sound something like, “We aren't getting any younger,” or, “They are the future of the church.”  In response, the church begins a concerted effort to attract those people.

What seems to be a common result, though, is that the same people who the church tried to attract soon become the subject of irreverent behavior, squirmy and wiggly children in pews, unannounced crying by babies during the sermon and the like.  And then, like Abba Poemen's brethren, the established members begin complaining of a lack of peace.

I do not know what will come of these efforts or of Michele's prayers.  If we are to become the spiritual home for families with children, I would encourage you to make an effort to hear angels, not disruptions.

Amen.

Oct. 29, 2014

Unless he keep the commandment of God, a man cannot make progress, not even in a single virtue. – Abba Agathon

What is the commandment of God?  In this Sunday's gospel we heard Jesus lay down the two great commandments:  Love the Lord your God with all your heart, with all your soul and with all your mind; and love your neighbor as yourself.  He closed that discussion by saying, “On these two commandments hang all the law and the prophets.”

At last Wednesday's 12:15 Eucharist, we commemorated James of Jerusalem, the brother of Jesus.  In Acts 15 we are told of the first heated and divisive doctrinal disagreement within the Church.  That disagreement had to do with whether or not Gentile converts to the church needed to be circumcised.  There were vocal factions on both sides of the argument.

Peter stood up and said, “[God] has made no distinction between them and us.”

James supported Peter and the non-circumcision faction and summed up the Church's official position by saying, “My judgment is that we should impose no irksome restrictions on those Gentiles who are turning to God” (15:19; unknown translation).

This is a hard thing to do.  We want boundaries.  We want to know who is in and who is out.  We want, and some say need, heretics so that we can more clearly define the circle that tells us we are inside while they are outside.  Because, let's face it, life is just easier when we have rules and boundaries.  Without those rules and boundaries, life devolves into anarchy and Calvinball, and we can't have that.  Or so we think.

But life is messy.  God is messy.  And when we get involved in both, our hands get messy.

When we love God, we actively work to bless all families.  We work to care for widows, orphans and the least of these.  We work to bring a sense of Gospel Justice to earth; that is, a sense that all people are created in the image of God and deserving of our respect.

And when we do these things, we love our neighbors as ourselves.  If we ourselves would not want to live in poverty, without food, without health care, without shelter, without clothing, without respect, then why would we assume it's okay for our neighbors to live like that?  This is part of the reason why we have adopted Ft. Vannoy Elementary School.  By dropping clothing in one of the two barrels in the parish hall, by purchasing food for the snack packs, or by donating money at the potlucks, we are getting involved.  And that involvement is breaking down boundaries and barriers.

If we follow the letter of the law, but do not have love, then we are making not progress, only noise.

Let us keep the commandments:  Love God.  Love your neighbor.  Change the world.

Amen.

Oct. 22, 2014

I'm running out of plays that don't work – Jr. High Football Coach

My crew and I were driving home from a recent football game and we were doing what we always do after games:  talking about the game.  On a business level, what did we do right and was there anything we did that could be improved upon?  Did we make any mistakes?  Did we manage the game appropriately?

Once we get through that, we begin talking about funny stuff or weird stuff that happened.  Like . . . just before halftime, on their own 5-yard line and up by 26, I informed the quarterback that he didn't need to run a play because the clock would run out.  He ran a play, they fumbled, and the opposing team recovered and giving them a chance to score with 5 seconds in the half.  I talked to the coach about this after the game and teaching the kids to play smarter.

One of my side officials repeated a short conversation he had with the head coach.  His team was getting beat handily.  Things weren't going well, it was raining and frustrations were beginning to rise.  After one particularly bad play, the coach said (more to himself than anyone else), “I'm running out of plays that don't work.”

Last week at Morning Prayer, readings from Jonah were appointed for Tuesday, Wednesday and Thursday.

If you remember, Jonah tried to run from God, but found that even sailing away to a distant country didn't work.  He sacrificed himself for the sake of his shipmates, probably hoping that he might die and avoid going to Nineveh.  Swallowed by a fish and vomited back up on shore, Jonah reluctantly preached a message of repentance to people he despised; but not very loudly, and not to too many people.  And finally, he preferred watching the city annihilated rather than saved.

In the sense that his message was heard, he was successful.  But in all other things he failed.  He failed in his willingness to follow God.  He failed in his attempts to answer God's call.  He failed with his lackluster effort.  And he failed by holding a vengeful attitude.  In the end, in the midst of his frustration, while sitting on that hill waiting to see what would happen to Nineveh, I can imagine Jonah saying to himself, “I'm running out of plays that don't work.”

When do we get to the point when we recognize that we are running out of plays that don't work?  When do we move from being upset that people we don't like aren't annihilated, but instead forgiven and welcomed into God's family?  When do we make the switch from focusing on what we want to what God wants?  Or will we be happy just sitting on the hill, waiting and watching to see what God will do?

If we are running out of plays that don't work, maybe it's time for us, like it was for that coach and for Jonah, to invest in a new playbook.

Amen.

Oct. 15, 2014

If you observe the following, you can be saved:  Be joyful at all times, pray without ceasing and give thanks for all things. – Abba Benjamin

This is a deceptively hard thing to do: to be continuously joyful, prayerful and thankful.

What does it mean to be joyful?  Joy is sometimes used as a synonym for happy.  But that's not always correct.  Happy is a passing emotion.  I am happy it rained after a long drought.  I am happy it's sunny after days of gray clouds.  I am happy when my husband remembers our anniversary.  I am happy when someone does something unexpectedly nice.

Joy, on the other hand, is found in everlasting contentment.  A long relationship can bring joy.  We experience the joy of our children over their lifetimes.  And we find joy in the knowledge that we are children of God, no matter what outside circumstances face us.  Joy asks us to work at that long relationship with God, safe in the knowledge that we are loved abundantly.

Prayer, as I wrote last week, is hard work and a great struggle.  And it is necessary.  We wouldn't think of ignoring our spouse after the wedding.  We wouldn't think of interacting with our spouse only one day a week.  But how often do we interact with God that very same way?  People get baptized and then disappear from the church.  Or people attend church regularly, but relegate their time with God to those few 60 or 90 minutes a week.  If we want our human relationships to deepen and strengthen, we work at them.  Continual prayer is one way to deepen and strengthen our spiritual relationship with God.

Giving thanks for all things can also be difficult.  It's easy to give thanks for the things we think we want and got, or to give thanks when things have a rosy outlook.  But roses have thorns.  Do we give thanks for just the flower, or do we give thanks for the entire plant?  Amid life's daily struggles, amid death and distress and feelings of hopelessness, giving continual thanks is hard work.

It's easy to get bogged down in all the negativity.  If we look around, though, we will find plenty for which to give thanks.  We are children of a loving God who created us and this world out of immense love.  We have families and friends whom we love and who love us back.  We are part of a welcoming parish family that is reaching out to impact lives at Ft. Vannoy.  The trick to giving thanks, I think, is to look for all the many little positive things that continually work to nip away at the few and seemingly overwhelming negative things.  In other words, it's all in our perspective.

Be joyful at all times, pray without ceasing, and give thanks for all things.  Hard work to be sure; but it's that work that helps us live in a better place.

Amen.

Oct. 8, 2014

Caught, not taught

Last Friday I spent the day in Eugene with, as Bishop Michael said, “the largest gathering of clergy and lay people outside of Diocesan Convention.”  This used to be known as Clergy Day, but the bishop has moved to include the laity, and it is now known as the Fall Leadership Day.

Our keynote speaker was Lisa Kimball, Ph.D., who is the Director of the Center for the Ministry of Teaching, as well as Professor of Christian Formation and Congregational Leadership at Virginia Theological Seminary.  During her presentation (which I found very informative), she made a comment that included the above phrase.  I can't remember the exact wording she used, but, in essence, she said something along the lines of, “Faith isn't an intellectual pursuit.  We can't put the Nicene Creed in front of people and expect them to become Christians.  Faith is caught, not taught.”

This idea of “caught, not taught,” is not new.  In The Sayings of the Desert Fathers, from which I find ideas for The Wednesday Word, it is also mentioned as the essence of desert spirituality.  The Desert Fathers were not members of a spiritual movement defined by rules or a systematic approach that could be learned over time at the feet of a master.

What they had instead was a devotion to God and a a devotion to the hard work of a life lived in prayer.  The practice of prayer was not something done for three hours on a Sunday, or for a few hours each  morning and evening.  The practice of prayer was a way of life that directed a person and turned a person continually toward God.  The practice of prayer was a lifetime commitment that was pursued every day through hourly dedication with every minute focusing on drawing near to God.

This practice of prayer, this life of prayer, could not be taught.  Instead, it was such an example and inspiration to others that they became open to catching the Spirit of God.  Caught, not taught.

Abba Agathon said, “Prayer is hard work and a great struggle to one's last breath.”

May your own prayer discipline transform you in such a way that your life becomes a net, gathering people of all kinds together in the kingdom.

Caught, not taught.

Amen.

Oct. 1, 2014

Overheard in the Parish Hall:  “If there's an empty space in the church, people will naturally fill it up.

I was sitting in my office last week on what was a busy day at church.  People were constantly in and out needing this or that.  Hardly any of them needed or wanted to see me, so I was there working on the sermon or bulletin or newsletter and not really paying attention to outside conversations when that comment hit me like a bolt.

If there's an empty space in the church, people will naturally fill it up.

Is this why churches hold onto Sunday school supplies and felt boards from 1967 – because if they are tossed out we will be left with an empty space?  Is this why “youth rooms” are packed with games nobody plays anymore – because churches feel better if their youth rooms aren't empty?

And the more I thought about it, the more I thought that that comment could just as well apply to our liturgy as it did to an actual physical space.

If there's an empty space in the church, people will naturally fill it up.

That empty space in worship is also known as silence.  Have you ever noticed that people become uncomfortable when there's too much silence?  Try going to lunch with a friend and not speaking.

But silence can be a very useful spiritual discipline.  Isadore of Pelusia, one of the Desert Fathers, said, “To live without speaking is better than to speak without living.”  Two old adages state that “Silence is golden,” and, “God gave you two ears and one mouth.”  And in the BCP, the rubrics suggest silence in two places – after the readings and immediately before the General Confession – and mandate a period of silence in one:  after the priest breaks the bread.  Silence may also be used at other times, such as after the sermon, during Communion, and before the service begins in preparation for worship.

It was while at seminary that I discovered the value of silence through contemplative prayer, lectio divina, and in worship.  I carried that to both Montana and here with the incorporation of silence into those parts of the service mentioned above.

Silence can help us slow down.  Silence can help us hear God.  Silence can help us be fully present.

As you enter the church in anticipation of receiving God's holy gifts, remember that this is your time with God, and spend that time in intentional silence and prayer; it's coffee hour that was designed for socializing.  Also remember that silence is called for during the liturgy and can (should?) be used to reflect on what you have heard and to prepare for what is coming.  Don't be surprised if those moments of silence begin to get longer – I will not have forgotten what comes next; but I will be giving you space to listen to what the Spirit is saying to God's people.

Silence is not an empty space that needs to be filled up.  Silence is a space already filled with God.

Sept. 24, 2014

Epiphanius, Bishop of Cyprus (365 - 403), said, God sells righteousness at a very low price to those who wish to buy it: a little piece of bread, a cloak of no value, a cup of cold water, a mite.

Righteousness is an attribute that implies a person's actions are justified.  When we attain to the righteousness of God, we live a life which is well-pleasing to God.  In other words, righteousness is the act of doing what is right in God's eyes.

The righteousness of God is based on the two commandments from which all other commandments derive:  love the Lord your God with all your heart, and with all your soul, and with all your mind; love your neighbor as yourself.  These two commandments are the foundation of righteousness.

As Bishop Epiphanius pointed out, the price of righteousness is sold at a very low price: a piece of bread, a cloak of no value, a cup of cold water, a mite.  And if these things sound familiar, they should; they are from Matthew 25:31-46 – I was hungry and you gave me food; I was thirsty and you gave me something to drink; I was naked and you clothed me.  These are things which many of us have readily available or are taking up space in our closets.

We are working to strengthen our ties with Ft. Vannoy Elementary School.  In doing so we reflect the righteousness of God through a snack pack, clothing for children, and donations collected at our monthly potluck.  A little piece of bread, a cloak of no value to us, a mite.  These things are sold at a very low price to those who wish to purchase them.

And while the price of purchasing these things may be very low, the cost of neglecting them are exceedingly high.  For what will it cost us if we neglect those in need?  What will it cost us if we neglect the most vulnerable in our society?  What will it cost us if we gain the world at the expense of others?

The world is a big place with big problems.  God has never asked us to solve everything; but God has asked us to love our neighbor and provide aid and care on a personal level.  It is these small things that, added up over time, will have a big and life-changing impact.  The ability of a child to be nourished and clothed by strangers can show that God's love transcends man-made boundaries and barriers.

The price of righteousness is low: a little piece of bread, a cloak of no value to us, a cup of cold water, a mite.  The price is low, but the value for the Ft. Vannoy children is beyond measure.

The food basket sits at the back of the church waiting to gather the little piece of bread.  The clothing barrels sit in the parish hall ready to receive a cloak that has no value to us.  The mite collection is out at potlucks ready to accept your donations.

What is the price of righteousness?  A little piece of bread, a cloak of no value to us, a mite.

May these words of Bishop Epiphanius echo in your hearts.

Amen.