December 28, 2016

Receive, we pray, into the arms of your mercy all innocent victims; and by your great might frustrate the designs of evil tyrants and establish your rule of justice, love, and peace . . .

Collect for the Feast of the Holy Innocents

Today is the feast day of the Holy Innocents. It is that day on the Church calendar when we remember the Holy Family's terror-driven night flight from Bethlehem to Egypt in a desperate attempt to escape the murderous rampage of an out-of-control despot. It is that day when we read from the Gospel of Matthew of Herod's attempt to eliminate his preordained successor by killing all the children in and around Bethlehem who were two years old and younger.

Unfortunately Scripture isn't all rose petals and people playing nicely with each other. We tend to overlook those nasty bits of Scripture, especially Christians who want to focus on the nice, loving God of the New Testament. But in the second chapter of Matthew we hear of a loss of life that shocks us. We hear of innocent children being killed for no other reason than that they were born at the wrong time. We hear of the Holy Family's skin-of-their teeth escape from persecution, themselves becoming homeless refugees seeking shelter in a foreign country.

This is a hard day to celebrate. Questions abound as to why this had to happen? Couldn't God have foreseen this and done something to stop it? Did Jesus and Mary ever suffer from PTSD or the Why Me syndrome that causes one to wonder why they got to live while everyone around them died?

Within this story we need to understand that this wasn't God's doing. God can't stop people from doing evil things. God never promises to wave a magic wand and make everything all better.

What God does, as I've said earlier, is promise to be with us. It then becomes our job to understand that God's desire is for a rule of justice, love, and peace; and it becomes our job to work for those things.

Can we read this terrible story of the Holy Innocents and see it played out today? Are there children suffering at the hands of unjust rulers and laws? Are there people persecuted simply for being who they are? Are there innocent people dying because they were in the wrong place at the wrong time? Are there systems in society that allow for innocent people to be mistreated? Are people of God fleeing persecution, on the run, and looking for asylum?

If this story of the slaughter of the Holy Innocents does anything for us today, may it open our eyes to any number of problems and injustices still faced by people today; and may it help us to, in the name of God, resist evil tyrants and work to establish systems of justice, love, and peace.

Amen.

December 21, 2016

Merry Christmas.

It's the fourth week of Advent. More often than not this fourth week of Advent gets shortened to a few days, which can cause all kinds of additional pre-Christmas stress. This year, however, is one of those rare years when we have a full week of Advent before Christmas; and that, for me, is a good thing.

It means we have a full four weeks of Advent in which to prepare for Christmas in a new place, with new friends, in a new parish, far from what we have known. Thank you to everyone who has helped, knowingly or unknowingly, get us settled and welcomed here. Merry Christmas.

But “Merry Christmas” also has baggage associated with it. It has become a battle cry in a non-existent “war on Christmas” that some people want to inflict on all others, regardless of their religious leanings. During the campaign, our president-elect promised to mandate everyone say, “Merry Christmas,” much to the delight of a certain segment of people and totally ignoring this country's religious diversity.

Sometimes those words that have as their foundation a sense of hope and peace and goodwill brought into the world through a young woman and fulfilled in the Christ child lying helpless in a manger fall on deaf ears. I was at a Christmas event when I was approached by a man who associated me with everything wrong with the church and why he would never grace the doors. I wished him well in his new endeavor and we parted. I happened to walk past him at the end of the event and said, “Merry Christmas.” He harrumphed and brushed me aside.

And sometimes this time of year, and those words, ring hollow or painful. How do the people who will attend our Community Cafe this week view this time of year and those words? Or the people who are left lonely, homeless, or on the verge of homelessness? We have three parishioners who have had less-than-happy times this holiday season: a daughter's cancer diagnosis, the death of a brother, the death of a spouse. “Merry Christmas,” can be far from merry.

There's a lot that “Merry Christmas” can conjure up this time of year. But with all of that said, I pull words from Sunday's sermon and the Gospel of Matthew: Emmanuel, God is with us.

In this holiday season when we celebrate so much, may you have a blessed Christmas. May family and friends uphold you and give you strength. May the colors of the season bring a smile to your face. May the birth of our Lord in a lowly manger to parents unsure of their place in life give you hope. May the glory of the angels brighten your dark nights.

May you remember these words – Emmanuel, God is with us.

In all of your joys and sorrows, in all of your good encounters and trials, I wish you the best in this season and in the coming year.

Merry Christmas.

Amen.

December 14, 2016

Dear People of God: In the season of Advent, it is our responsibility and joy to prepare ourselves to hear once more the message of the Angels, to go to Bethlehem and see the Son of God lying in a manger.

Bidding Prayer for Advent Festival of Lessons and Music

This coming Sunday, December 18, will be a Sunday of Advent Lessons and Carols at the 10:15 service. We will hear a variety of scripture passages that span from Adam and Eve disobeying God in the garden to the Annunciation of Christ to Joseph. In the re-telling of those stories, we will be reminded of the A to Z arc of the scripture narrative in which God is working toward the return of all his people.

In the above bidding prayer we are reminded that Advent is about preparation. We certainly get a sense of that preparation as we gear up for Christmas – buying gifts, planning for parties, baking cookies, sending out Christmas cards. We see the preparation of the season as Mary and Joseph draw steadily closer to the manger scene. And we prepare theologically for the coming of the Messiah as we count down the days to his first arrival in Bethlehem while also actively waiting for his coming again in glory.

But notice something about what this bidding prayer is asking us to prepare for. We are being asked to prepare ourselves to hear the message of the Angels. We are being asked to prepare to go to Bethlehem. We are being asked to prepare to see the Son of God lying in a manger.

What is the message of the Angels? The first message of the Angels to the shepherds, and the first message spoken to almost everyone whom Angels meet is this: Be not afraid. The world, then as now, can be a scary place, full of violence, disarray, and problems of every kind. But all these things must come to pass and no one knows the hour or the day; so remain steadfast in the Lord and be not afraid.

We are asked to prepare to go to Bethlehem. And what was Bethlehem like at this point in the story? It was a place inundated by outsiders. It was a place that couldn't offer housing for everyone who entered the city. It was a place where at least one person offered shelter to the unknown outsider. Are you prepared for, or can you help St. John's prepare for, the arrival of unknown outsiders needing assistance?

And we are asked to prepare ourselves to see the Son of God lying in a manger. For me, this means understanding that God chose to break into our world in the form of a helpless child. It means that we are required to care for this child, feed this child, educate this child, and introduce this child to the world. If we can see that child as the Son of God, how might we do those things for God in the world today? And furthermore, what would it look like to the world if we cared for God the way we cared for an infant?

The overall theme of Advent is preparation. As Christians we have a responsibility to prepare ourselves and the world for the coming of the Messiah. But as Christians, let us never forget that we make these preparations with joy.

Amen.

December 7, 2016

God is whatever [you] put above other things.

St. Augustine, Teaching Christianity, Book 1, Section 7

In the sermon this past Sunday I said that Advent was about four things: preparing, staying awake and alert, actively seeing the in-breaking of God into this realm, and change. It's possible that the first three are relatively easy to focus on. We can work at preparing for the coming kingdom of heaven, we can take steps to stay awake and alert, and we can use both of those as a basis for seeing the incarnate God breaking through into our realm in new and exciting ways.

But that last one . . . change . . . that is another matter altogether.

It's difficult to change our habits. It's difficult to commit to things that require us to give up that which we've become accustomed. It's difficult to change life patterns that have slowly built up over time to such an extent that we can't imagine life differently. It's difficult to change routines that have become ingrained into our daily lives.

As I examine my life, there are habits, attitudes, and vices that have risen to a level where they begin to take precedence over other more healthy and beneficial things, sometimes even over God himself. It can be the difference between opening up the cookie jar instead of the vegetable bin for a snack because the cookie jar involves fewer steps. It can be the difference between watching TV instead of reading because watching TV doesn't require as much thinking. It can be the difference between spending time on the computer instead of in the Bible or in prayer because I want to mentally check out.

But it is those very things, those habits, attitudes, and vices, that I have put above other things that, at one time or another, become my god of the moment.

Don't get me wrong . . . I'm not trying to guilt anyone into a more pious life or shame people for not being focused on God every second of every day. As the saying goes, “When you point a finger, there are three pointing back at you.”

In this season of Advent when we are asked to examine our lives and make changes in preparation for the coming of the Lord, what might be one thing, one habit, one routine, you can change in order to draw closer to God? As John said, “Bear fruit worthy of repentance.”

This Advent, how might the changes you make be fruitful? And more importantly, how might the changes you make restore God to his rightful place in your life?

Amen.

November 30, 2016

All in

Moving is a hassle. And this move in particular has seemed to be more of a hassle than my previous moves. There was the 3500 mile trip from Oregon to Maryland. There was the three weeks of living out of suitcases in a different place seemingly every other night, hauling stuff to and from the car, and figuring out what we were doing with the cats. And then there was receiving all our goods, finding a place for them, getting the utilities hooked up, new drivers licenses, and I'm still dealing with the MVA to get the cars licensed.

And then there was the office. The moving company delivered the office goods the same day we received our household goods. I spent the next week unofficially in the office figuring out where to put everything, where to hang my pictures, and Joelene helped me hang my cross collection above the fireplace. I did some pondering and decided I needed to move furniture around, which was more work than it originally sounded like. And for the remainder of the month, the office has been one good bookcase shy of being finished.

That bookcase arrived today courtesy of Roger and Ellen Collins.

Since I didn't really have anything on my schedule for Monday, I spent the majority of the day getting the shelves in the right spot, moving books around from one bookcase to another, and reorganizing the space left over. That included getting the last of the books and clutter that have decorated my office floor during November off the floor and up where they belong. It also meant moving the conference table to a more appropriate spot and placing my files in the file cabinets.

The only problem with all of this is that the mess that is my desk and conference table are all that more noticeable. But, if you look past the mess on the desk and the tabletop disaster, you'll notice something important . . . I'm all in!

My office basically looks like I am a permanent fixture at St. John's . . . I'm all in.

I have easy access to both doors . . . I'm all in.

People can stop wondering when I'll get settled . . . I'm all in.

This little adventure in the office reminded me of Advent. We spend Advent preparing for an arrival. Sometimes it's hard to focus on that arrival when there is so much to do around us. Sometimes it's hard to focus on things that need to get done when you'd rather it were all over and here. Advent reminds us that we need to focus on both. We need to focus on preparing for the arrival, but we also can't be so focused on the arrival that we miss what needs to be done in the present.

This Advent may God grant you the grace to see how your preparations are important to the arrival, and the wisdom to focus on those things which are most important.

And if you can do that, if you can be present and patient, if you can anticipate what's coming without anxiety, if you can live with a few areas of disorganization while being mostly ready, then you'll be able to live comfortably in this time of Advent. In other words, you'll be able to look at Advent and say, “I'm all in!”

Amen.

November 23, 2016

All good gifts around us are sent from heaven above; then thank the Lord, O thank the Lord for all his love.

Hymn 291, chorus

This is probably my favorite Thanksgiving Day hymn, even though it doesn't really fit for the people of most churches, what with its verses of plowing fields, scattering seed, and sending harvests. However, it's a catchy tune, and somebody has to scatter, plow, and reap. But what I really like are those words of the chorus.

Thanksgiving Day is tomorrow. Some will be with family. Some will be with friends. Some will be with friends and family. Some will be with neither. Some will be invited. Some will be ignored. Some will go elsewhere. Some will have nowhere to go. Because of this, Thanksgiving can be a stressful time of year for many of us.

But, just for today, I would like to put on my Pollyanna glasses and hope that everyone reading this will be involved in a drama-free, food-full Thanksgiving Day celebration. And as you are participating in this uniquely American event that officially kicks off the holiday season, take some time and reflect on the words of Hymn 291.

There are good gifts all around us. From friends and family, to homes and jobs, to the food we eat. Pay attention to those good gifts and remember that they are but peripheral items in our God-centered lives, and remember to give thanks for all those gifts and all God's love.

For my part, I am thankful for the Profile and Search Committees – for their dedication to getting it right, for their days and nights working on a vitally important task, and for their willingness to look outside generally accepted parameters. I am thankful for the parishioners of St. John's who were willing to follow the necessary steps in calling a new rector. I am thankful for everyone who took the time to listen to the whisperings of the Holy Spirit.

I am thankful for those who made this move possible. I am thankful for those who made this move, if not perfectly smooth, tolerable and mostly painless. I am thankful for those who are helping me and my family get adjusted to life on the other side of the country. I am thankful for a moving company that only broke two things and lost none.

I am thankful for a junior and senior warden who worked to see we were cared for. I am thankful for Mark who not only oversees a fabulous choir, but who works to ensure every liturgy is well-crafted. I am thankful for Melonie who does more than anyone knows. I am thankful for Margaret and her work with the children. I am thankful for all of the liturgical ministers and altar guild who have kept me on track these first few Sundays. I am thankful for the enthusiasm of everyone in the pews.

I am thankful for my wife and daughter who have taken this move in stride and are learning just where it is they fit in. I am thankful for the people who remember to include them.

All good gifts around us are sent from heaven above. I am thankful God sent me here.

Happy Thanksgiving.

November 16, 2016

It is not the strength of your faith but the object of your faith that actually saves you.

Timothy Keller, The Reason for God, pg. 245

On my last Sunday at St. Luke's, the parish held a farewell party where they gifted us with a gorgeous quilt (that will eventually be hung on one of our walls) and a coffee table book about the Rogue River (the author being a former student of my deacon) that was signed by everyone in the parish. It was a lovely party hosted by lovely people.

My senior warden also, in his quiet, unassuming way, presented me with two books by Timothy Keller; The Reason for God being one of them. I began reading it on the move to Maryland, and had every intention of finishing both of them before we arrived. I figured I'd have plenty of time what with changing drivers every so often, and quiet times at hotels and other places. I figured wrong, and I just finished the first one last week.

Timothy Keller is a Presbyterian minister and pastor of a large New York City congregation. The book is basically a recounting of how he has presented the Gospel to the people of NYC, the skepticism with which they view the church and Jesus, and how, by sticking to one message, that church has grown over time. And it is at the end of the book where this sentence appears. I don't agree with everything he says, but there are things he says that are valuable and insightful. This is one of them.

So often we wish or hope for a stronger faith. We see it in the Gospel of Mark when the father of an epileptic boy cries out, “Lord, help my unbelief!” We hear it when people lament, “If I only prayed harder.” Or we feel it within ourselves when we wonder if we really have the faith required to be saved.

But faith, like discipleship, is a journey. If we only focus on the end results, we may miss important events along the way. The two disciples on the road to Emmaus were so focused on one thing in particular (wondering how they could be disciples of Jesus now that he was dead) that they missed seeing Jesus among them.

There is also the possibility that we may injure ourselves. If we compare faith to exercise, we all want to be in the best shape possible. But if we begin our exercise routine by trying to bench press 250 pounds, well, you get the idea. We need to work up to that. Likewise, sometimes we might enter faith with unrealistic expectations and when things take a turn we don't expect, there's a possibility that we give up; thereby injuring, sometimes fatally, our faith.

This is why this sentence from Timothy Keller is so important. We are all at different places in our faith journey. If we begin to focus only on how strong or how weak our faith is, we have stepped away from God and have begun the process of relying on ourselves for salvation. If, however, we understand that our faith centers on God in general, and on Jesus in particular, then it doesn't matter if we have a “weak” faith or a “strong” faith – our faith, weak or strong, is centered on God, not us. When we allow that to happen, it is then we can faithfully sing, “Surely it is God who saves me; I will trust in him and not be afraid.”

November 9, 2016

A wise lover regards not so much the gift of the lover, as the love of the giver.

The Imitation of Christ, Book 3, Chapter 6, Thomas a Kempis

The drawing is crude by artistic standards. Uneven circular blobs with gaping holes for eyes, and the four sticks that impale the head to serve as arms and legs, look nothing like the people they are supposed to represent. In fact, a microscopic amoeba is better formed than what has been portrayed on this piece of paper. But this ill-formed piece of art will be treasured forever because it was given by a three-year old to a mother who was loved dearly.

Or take the story by O. Henry about a young, struggling couple deeply in love. He sold his gold pocket watch to purchase a set of beautiful combs for his long-haired wife. She sold her long hair for a platinum pocket watch chain. The gifts are now both meaningless and eternally meaningful.

These are two examples of what Thomas a Kempis was getting at. How many times do we receive a gift and wish it were bigger, smaller, a different color, more useful, more pretty? Might this be the reason that giving gift cards at Christmas has come into fashion – because the receiver won't have to suffer the indignity of the exchange line while the giver won't have to worry if the receiver likes it or not.

But gift cards and second thoughts miss the point. We give gifts to people mainly because we love them. There are, of course, exceptions – a housewarming gift to our new neighbors, for instance; but even that could be classified as, “Love your neighbor.” But on the whole, we give because we love. And if we evaluate the gift more than we value the love behind it, we are missing the point.

The point is this:  we are loved enough by another to warrant a desire by the other to give us a gift that represents their love for us.

If we take the time to look around us, we will see a variety of gifts that we have been given; and no gift is greater than that of the love of God bestowed upon us and exemplified in the person of Jesus Christ.  Through the creative powers of God, and through the life of Jesus, we can see that we have been gifted with hospitality, acceptance, forgiveness, and a desire to be brought within God's loving embrace.

On this day when it seems as if the forces of division, hate, exclusion, and fear have won, let us remember that we have never lived in a perfect world.  Let us remember the words of former Presiding Bishop Edmond Browning, who said, "There will be no outcasts in this church."  Let us remember that God so loved the world.  Let us remember to follow the example of God and continually offer a place of hospitality, acceptance, inclusion, welcome, and love.  Let us continually offer our poorly drawn stick figures that aren't so much about the perfectness of the gift but represent the quality of love.

Amen.

November 2, 2016

For to your faithful people, O Lord, life is changed, not ended

            Preface of the Commemoration of the Dead, BCP 382

Today, November 2, is the Commemoration of All Faithful Departed, otherwise known as All Souls’ Day.  This may be stating the obvious, but today falls after November 1, All Saints’ Day.

As with any commemoration and tradition in the Church, the origin of All Saints’ Day has been clouded over time.  A form of remembrance of martyrs is attested to as early as 270 and John Chrysostom referenced a festival of All Saints in the late 4^th or early 5^th Century.  This practice evolved as a way for the members of the Holy Church to remember and commemorate those people who, through virtuous and godly living, and especially those who had professed their faith through a heroic death, were the heroes and exemplars of Christian living.

Over time people came to realize that there were many virtuous and godly people who had lived faithful lives worthy of commemorating in the life of the Church, but who were known only to God.  In other words, people just like us – people who were virtuous, godly, and faithful; people who had problems and issues and trials; people who were a mixture of success and failure; but people who, through it all, remained faithful.

Today is the day we honor all faithful departed; today is the day we honor all souls.  We will do some of this on Sunday, November 6, during our celebration of the Feast of All Saints when we read the necrology of those who have died this past year.  We will remind ourselves that, even though they are no longer with us on this earthly pilgrimage, they are alive in Christ.  We will be reminded that, for those who have died and for us yet to die, life is changed, not ended.

Today I am reminded of Mary, Bobby, Lester, Lucille, Paul, Tom, and others whose names I can no longer recall.  I am reminded of those people who have no Feast Day in the Church year.  I am reminded of people who gave of their time, talent, and treasure for no other reason than a sure and certain hope in the resurrection.  And I am reminded that, for the vast majority of us, we toil for the gospel and mission of Christ in anonymity or, at best, short-lived recognition. 

But that’s okay.  We don’t strive for the recognition of men.  We don’t give of our time, talent, and treasure for the sole purpose of putting our name on a plaque.  We do this, as those plaques say, for the glory of God.  Everything those saints of old did, everything those souls whom we commemorate today did, everything we do today, was and is to be done for one reason – to proclaim the message of Christ crucified and resurrected.

Today we remember all those people who have passed before us into glory.  Today we give thanks for their lives and witness that provided the foundation of this church we love.  Today we also remember that what we do now will become the foundation for the church of tomorrow, because at some point we will also pass into glory.

Gone but not forgotten; changed but not ended.  On this day let us remember that we are indeed surrounded by a great cloud of witnesses, and let us give thanks for their lives in Christ.

Amen.

September 28, 2016

Hiatus

This is a Latin word meaning an opening or a gap.  We most often use it for a break in some regular aspect of our lives.  Today I’m using it to reflect the status of the Wednesday Word.

For the past several years I have written one of these brief meditations every week.  But it's now time for a break.  That break, that hiatus, isn't due to being worn out or to writer's block or to a lack of material, but to my upcoming move from one side of the country to the other.

This week we are scheduled to have our belongings loaded onto a moving van and sent back east.  For our part, we will be leaving the place we have called home for close to six years on October 1 and head east to Maryland and a new home, new town, new beginning.  We have said our goodbyes here (or will be saying the last of them shortly), and will be making our eastward trek via Washington, Montana, Illinois, Michigan, Ohio, and finally to Maryland.  The whole thing will take us about three weeks.  If everything goes according to plan, the moving van will show up the day after we arrive in Maryland.  That will give us just under two weeks to unpack and settle into the new place.

While we are traveling I will be taking a break from writing the Wednesday Word.  I'm sure that this time on the road will offer plenty of inspiration for future writings, but it will also be good for me to not worry about producing a weekly message while traveling across the country.  I do promise that I will begin writing these brief meditations in November.

For those at St. Luke's, you will no longer be receiving them via e-mail (see the October Luke's Log and my Ramblings regarding the proper protocol for a departing priest).  However, I have created a blog where I post each piece every Wednesday.  You are more than welcome to read them there.

For those at St. John's, you will have to wait to begin receiving them again during this October hiatus.  And if you want to know what I’ve written about in the past, you are also welcome to visit my blog.

I'm looking forward to the break.  I'm also looking forward to sharing mid-week meditation beginning in November.

Until then,

May the Lord bless you and keep you;
May the Lord make his face to shine upon you
and be gracious to you;
May the Lord lift up his countenance upon you,
and give you peace.

Amen.

September 21, 2016

“Bring Your Heart to the Altar”
The Living Church, September 18, 2016

This was the title of an article in the most recent edition of The Living Church, and it had to do with all of the various liturgical ministers and how people in those roles could keep from falling into a rut.  One of the beautiful things about the Episcopal church are the rhythms of the year: the patient but active waiting of Advent; the all too-short joy of Christmas; the proclamation and renewal of Epiphany; the self-examination and penitence of Lent; the unbounded joy and new life of Easter; and our continual working out how to grow as disciples during Ordinary Time.  There are ups and downs, fits and starts, periods of excitement and periods of boredom.  These rhythms keep us on track, keep us focused on our Lord, and help us avoid becoming a passing fad or the Church of What's Happening Now.

But, besides allowing us to experience the year in rhythm, besides allowing us to become lost in the familiarity of it all, it can seem as if we do the same thing week after week, month after month, year after year, with no real change at all.  We run the risk of seeing these rhythms as a rut.

Members of the altar guild might see their service as chores.  Acolytes might see their role as a place the adults put children to stay out of the way.  Lectors might see their role as unimportant because what they read is rarely the subject of a sermon.  And the list goes on.

But these roles – altar guild, acolyte, lector, and others – are not just something devised to keep people busy on Sunday.  These roles are an integral and vital part of how this branch of Christianity worships God.  The altar guild isn't simply washing dishes and doing laundry, they are prayerfully making preparation for people to worship God in the beauty of holiness.  Acolytes aren't there to make the sanctuary look impressive or to give parents hope that they won't misbehave, they are there to help the great drama and mystery of the Holy Eucharist unfold before our eyes.  Lectors don't read lessons so that the people can hear another voice other than the priest's, they help draw us into the stories of God's people in a way that allows the Bible to become alive and meaningful.

Another risk we face is in seeing only the visible, vested people as “liturgical ministers.”  Never forget that the question, “Who are the ministers of the Church?” in our Catechism is answered thus:  “The ministers of the Church are lay persons, bishops, priests, and deacons.”  On Sunday morning, everyone is a liturgical minister, and everyone has an integral and vital role to perform.  So instead of asking, “What do I get out of church?” we might want to consider asking, “What might God be getting out of my participation in worship?”

This Sunday, how might you bring your heart to the altar?

Amen.

September 14, 2016

We adore you, O Christ, and we bless you:
Because by your holy cross you have redeemed the world.

Crosses are everywhere.  I have two that I wear when celebrating Holy Eucharist.  Somewhere along the way people started giving me crosses as gifts, and now my office walls are filled with crosses of every sort.  Members of the DOK pledge to wear a cross every day.  There's a cross at the end of my prayer beads.  And crosses have become a sort of fashion statement, worn by both men and women who most likely have no religious affiliation or knowledge.

But the cross is more than a pretty piece of jewelry or lovely piece of artwork, no matter how beautiful it may appear.  The cross is a powerful symbol of our faith.  In fact, it may be the most important symbol of our faith.

We must never forget that the cross was in instrument of terror, power, and pain inflicted upon a conquered people by the victorious Roman army.  The Pax Romana, the Roman Peace, was a period from 27 BCE to 180 CE which reflected a period of relative stability and peace throughout the Roman Empire.  One of the things that held that peace in place was the swift actions of the army to stamp out any threat to the empire – this included state sponsored terrorism in the act of crucifixion.

Crucifixion is a brutal, painful way to die.  Various aspects of crucifixion include breathing difficulties, fluid in the lungs, heart arrhythmia, loss of blood and drops in blood pressure, hypoglycemic shock, as well as the overall bodily shock of being beaten beforehand and coping with the pain of having nails driven through hands and feet.  Add to that the very public nature of the event and this was not a good way to die.

And yet the cross has become the universal symbol of Christianity.  It was on the cross that Jesus died for our sins; and not for ours only, but for the sins of the whole world.  It was at the cross that Jesus said, “I'll take the weight of this sinful world upon me so that you don't have to.”  It was on the cross that Jesus stretched out his arms of love so that everyone might come within the reach of his saving embrace.  It was on the cross that Jesus redeemed the world.

The cross was a symbol of the ghastly practice of state sponsored terror in order to keep the masses of conquered people in line.  But we don't dwell on that aspect of the cross.  We shouldn't dwell on that aspect of the cross.  The crosses we wear are empty.  The cross at the front of the church is empty.  They are empty because we don't dwell on the crucifixion, we dwell on the fact that Jesus defeated death.  It was Jesus who was victorious, not the cross.  There's a reason we sing, “The cross stands empty to the sky” on Easter.

On this day when we celebrate the Feast of the Holy Cross, take some time and reflect on something you probably see every day.  If you aren't sure where to begin, begin by asking yourself this question:

What does the cross mean to me?

Amen.

September 7, 2016

“For you created everything that is,
and by your will they were created and have their being;
And yours by right, O Lamb that was slain,
for with your blood you have redeemed for God,
From every family, language, people, and nation,
a kingdom of priests to serve our God.”
Canticle 18:  A Song to the Lamb

Canticle 18 is appointed to be read at Morning Prayer on Tuesdays and Thursdays after the lesson from the New Testament.  It is one of my favorite canticles that we say during the course of the week, which is a good thing since we get to recite it twice.

There are a variety of reasons this is a favorite canticle – channeling my inner Statler and Waldorf, it's short; it has a nice flow; it gives praise and honor to our God.  But the thing that really makes this my favorite canticle are the lines quoted above.

There is an acknowledgment that God created everything, and everything's very essence is wrapped up in the creative powers of God.

Because we were created by God, we rightfully belong to God.  As any artist, author, or someone holding a patent, what was created by them belongs to them.  God holds the patent on our lives and we rightfully belong to God.

Through the sacrificial act of Jesus' crucifixion, we have been redeemed.  We live in a world of God's creation, but we participate in a fallen and sinful world of our own making.  Jesus' Passion, his willingness to sacrifice himself, his dying so that we might live, his dying for our sins is that great redemptive act that makes us worthy to stand before God.

It was not only for our sins he died, but for the sins of the whole world.  The.  Whole.  World.  From every family, language, people, and nation, Jesus sacrificed himself so that everyone might become part of the kingdom of priests to serve God.

It just might be that last line that I appreciate, treasure, and ponder most of all:  every family, language, people, and nation.  When I wonder why certain families are the way they are, I need to remember that every family is welcome to be part of God's family.  When I begin to distrust people speaking different languages, I need to remember that all languages reflect the language of God.  When I get annoyed with certain people, I need to remember that all people rightfully belong to God.  When I fear people of other ethnicities, I need to remember that God has laid claim to all nations.

The Episcopal Church Welcomes You.

This canticle that is recited every Tuesday and Thursday reinforces that statement.  We are all part of a kingdom of priests, and you are all welcome here.

Amen.

August 31, 2016

Stuff

I say, “stuff” a lot.  The Bible study talks about how stuff in the Bible relates to stuff today.  The sacristy is full of liturgical stuff.  I am currently boxing up all kinds of stuff in my office.  And, of course, there's the ever present stuff at coffee hour (which, by the way, someone suggested that all future priests at St. Luke's be informed that “stuff” was to be part of the formal dismissal).

In last week's sermon, I touched a little on the stuff in our lives.  In the Letter to the Hebrews we are admonished to share what we have.  “How much stuff do we have?” I asked.  “How much is too much?”  And I gave a couple of examples of how we could share some of the abundance of stuff we have with others.

Last week I got a phone call from a woman needing help paying for two nights at a motel.  After informing her that that is not something I do, and her trying to negotiate me down to a single night, we came to an agreement that I would take her to a grocery store and help purchase a few groceries.

To make a very long story short, we weren't able to connect.  But she called me this week telling me that she needed to move from the motel where she was currently staying to another motel where, she assured me, someone from another church was willing to pay for her room.  I agreed to pick her up and take her to the new motel.

When I arrived at her room, I was absolutely astounded at sheer volume of stuff she had.  There was so much stuff that I was unable to comprehend how this small woman moved from place to place.  She had three large boxes weighing well over 50 pounds each.  She had six or seven smaller boxes.  She had five large garbage bags full of stuff.  She had three knapsacks of clothes.  She had two large cushions.  She had a combined four plastic bags and one box of vegetables.  She had another plastic bag filled with scraps of phone book pages, pens, paper, and whatnot that she referred to as her purse.  She had one walker and awheelchair.

Between myself, the motel manager, the unnamed person from the church who was supposedly paying for her next room, and the woman, we arrived at a very temporary and not very satisfactory solution to that day's problem.  And it took me five trips with the car to deliver all of her stuff.

As I was preparing to leave, she was inventorying everything, making sure I hadn't left anything in the room or left any of her stuff in the car.  She was very adamant that everything . . . EVERYTHING . . . was with her.

How much stuff do we really need?  And of the stuff we do possess, does that stuff hold primacy in our lives?

Maybe it takes a homeless woman in a wheelchair to show me how easily my life can become ruled by stuff.

Amen.

August 24, 2016

Almighty and everlasting God, who gave your apostle Bartholomew grace to truly believe and to preach your Word . . .
Collect for St. Bartholomew, BCP 243

Today is the feast day of St. Bartholomew.  As with most early saints of the Church, what we know of Bartholomew is a mixed bag.  There are several stories about his life (he may have gone to India and/or Armenia), he has been conflated with Nathanael, there is more than one story about his martyrdom (beheading or skinned alive being the two most popular version), and there are several churches around Europe claiming to have various relics of the Saint.

We are in no danger of being flayed alive for believing in Christ and preaching the Good News.  And thankfully it was not his martyrdom that caught my attention.  What caught my attention about Saint Bartholomew was the Collect that we read today at Morning Prayer, specifically the first part of that Collect that I referenced above.

We talk about receiving grace in a variety of contexts; most notably, I think, in terms of a gift from God that bestows good things on us.  By the grace of God I survived an accident, cancer, or some other possible deadly event.  By the grace of God I married the right person.  But for the grace of God, there go I.  And those all can be, and are, appropriate ways to think about the grace of God.

But within our Christian theology is an understanding that belief comes from God.  We love because God first loved us.  We believe because God called us to that belief – “No one can come to me unless drawn by the Father” (John 6:44).  That is also another understanding of grace: that through God's grace we have come to believe.  Today's Collect recognizes that part of our theology by stating it was through God's grace that Bartholomew came to truly believe.

It was also through God's grace that Bartholomew was able to preach the Good News.

As the sermon this past Sunday pointed out, it is God who bestowed his grace upon Jeremiah to believe his holy word and called him to the role of a prophet.  From the Collect today, we understand that it is God who bestowed his grace upon Bartholomew to believe his holy word and to preach the Good News.

But God not only works in ages past, God works in the here and now.  Today it is God who bestows his grace upon us to believe his holy word and calls us to preach the Good News of God in Christ.

When you look upon the graces you have received, “grace upon grace” (1 John 1:16), remember to look upon the grace you have received to truly believe and to preach God's word.

Like St. Bartholomew before, God is calling us to a new life in Christ.  I pray we have the courage of St. Bartholomew to answer that call.

Amen.

August 17, 2016

Keep Calm and . . .

In 1939, as WWII loomed on the European horizon, the British Minister of Information commissioned a series of posters to help boost the morale of English citizens.  One of those original posters was, Keep Calm and Carry On.  If you have spent any time on the internet, you have probably seen a knock-off version of that at one point or another.  And if you haven't, here are a few that I've seen:

Keep Calm and Avoid Zombies; Keep Calm and Write On; Keep Calm and Carry On 'cuz Stuff Happens; Keep Calm and Hakuna Matata; Calm You Shall Keep and Carry On You Must.

We have entered a period of deep change, stress, and uncertainty.  For my part, it revolves around managing some important details of two parishes, being inundated by moving company sales reps, working with my wife and daughter to get organized, cleaned, and begin the packing process.  Mrs. Ref is saying goodbye to people at her office and hoping to be there long enough to help train her replacement.  She is also resigning from her chorus, and will be making a trip to Hagerstown to go house hunting over Labor Day weekend.

For your part, it revolves around finding the next priest for St. Luke's.  Will there be supply clergy?  Will there be an interim priest?  What work do we need to do to prepare for that?  What will the Vestry be doing?  How involved will Cn. Neysa and Bp. Michael be?  And there are probably many other questions that I'm not thinking of.

This swirl of change, stress, and uncertainty will revolve around us for some time, I think.  Eventually we will all settle into a new normal where some things remain the same while others are simply recognized as different.

All change is stressful.  And we've probably all heard about good change and bad change, good stress and bad stress.  We've heard of various ways to manage that stress; I have more than a few books on my shelf written about that very topic.  What I've come to realize is that there are really two ways to manage stress:  proactively or reactively.

My prayer for St. Luke's is that you, as a body, will choose to be proactive during this time.  Instead of focusing on loss, focus on areas of growth.  Instead of focusing on problems, work to reframe this time as offering opportunities.  For instance, instead of focusing on the potential loss of a Morning Prayer service, the two people who attend regularly are seeing this as a way to be challenged and grow with the opportunity to lead that service themselves, hopeful that their faithfulness will attract others to join them.

And so, as Jesus probably should have said to his disciples upon his departure, “Keep Calm and Carry On – You have much to accomplish.”

Amen.

August 10, 2016

Religious disciplines and devotional practices are the scaffolding that supports us, especially in our darkest hour.
“God and the Paraphernalia of God”, Michael Downey, from Weavings, Vol. 30, Num. 2, 2015

Weavings is a publication of the United Methodist Church, much like Forward Day by Day is a publication of the Episcopal Church.  I’m not sure where I picked up this particular copy, but it's been on the table in the chapel next to where I sit for Morning Prayer and Eucharist.  It was the other morning when I came across this particular quote.

Oftentimes we (or maybe just “I”) hear the words “religious/spiritual disciplines” and “devotional practices” and we get an image of a lonely, bearded monk dressed in a cassock and tucked safely away in some monastery far removed from civilization.  Or we think about people who manage to pray, as the psalmist said, “seven times a day.”  We tend to think of these disciplines and practices as something difficult to attain and mostly impossible to continue on a regular basis.

If that is how you view spiritual disciplines and practices, may I suggest you take a step back and consider them as the scaffolding that supports you.

Scaffolding, by definition, is a temporary structure on the outside of a building used while building, repairing, or cleaning the building.  Ignore for a moment its temporary nature and let's focus on the other part of the definition: used while building, repairing, or cleaning the building.

For us to grow in our spiritual knowledge and health, for us to become what God desires for us, we need to spend time learning and praying.  We need to work to build ourselves up as healthy, productive, knowledgeable members of the body of Christ.  A spiritual discipline helps to build us up.

Every once in awhile we become damaged and in need of repair.  Everything from the loss of a job or loved one to careful consideration of where God might be calling us next can cause us to wonder, or can cause us to face pains we have never faced before.  A spiritual discipline can help to soothe those wounds, calm our fears, and repair the damage we have sustained.

And over time we have places in our lives that need to be cleaned up.  Whether that is bad habits that have become vices or areas in our lives that have been neglected so long they are dark with pollution, a spiritual discipline or practice can help us shed light on those dark and stained areas so that we might clean them.

A spiritual discipline or practice doesn't have to feel like the fun of life is being sucked from you.  Nor do you need to feel like you need to keep up with St. Ignatius in order for your practice to be valid.  A spiritual discipline or practice is simply the scaffolding that is used to build, repair, and clean a person looking to deepen their relationship with God.

Scaffolding may not be used every day, but it's nice to have it in good shape when you need it.

Amen.

August 3, 2016

A wise lover regards not so much the gift of the lover, as the love of the giver.
The Imitation of Christ, Book Three, Chapter 6, Thomas A'Kempis

We've all seen this in action at various times in our lives.  It is displayed in the artwork or the arts and crafts project a young child presents to his or her mother for Christmas.  It shows up when a child wants to make his or her dad proud by washing the car or helping (unasked) with yardwork.  It shows up when a partner offers an unexpected gift.

We probably all recognize the opposite of this as well – the wedding ring isn't big enough; the gift doesn't convey the right image; or the movie scenario where the woman is overwhelmed with extravagant gifts that have no meaning.

In The Princess Bride, the only gift that poor stable boy Westley can offer Buttercup are the words, “As you wish.”  This obviously isn't much of a gift, but eventually Buttercup realizes that it's not the gift of a lowly stable boy submitting to a person of higher rank as it is that those words express Westley's deep and abiding love for her.  And when she finally makes that realization, all is right in her world . . . well, for a bit anyway, as Westley is killed by the Dread Pirate Roberts and Buttercup is set to be married off to the evil Prince Humperdink.

As a person in love, we can focus on the wrong thing.  As a person in love, we might be tempted to focus on the gift we are giving, making sure it is appropriate, rather than on the reason we are giving it.

As the object of affection, we can fall into the same trap.  As the object of affection, we might be tempted to receive the gift with an, “It's nice, but . . .” attitude.

As Thomas A'Kempis pointed out, it is the wise lover who can look past the gift itself and appreciate the true meaning behind the gift.

In our lives, what gifts have we received where we focused on the wrong thing?  In our lives, what gifts have we received where it really wasn't about the gift, but about the love of the one who gave us the gift?  And if we can learn to see the love behind the gift, if we can learn to see the love of the person giving the gift, then maybe we can see the gift of bread and wine not as simple gifts, but as the greatest expression of love that God can bestow upon us.

Amen.

July 27, 2016

Aggressors can maintain security because they do not allow any other perspectives into the images that define the self except those that are securely controlled:  the idea that some portion of moral substance is invested in the uncontrolled histories and discourses of others is something to be ignored or resisted..
Lost Icons: Reflections on Cultural Bereavement, Rowan Williams

This is a particularly dense book that I'm currently reading.  Nevertheless, there are a few things here and there that catch my attention, and this is one of them.  Maybe it was because of the push-back that #blacklivesmatter is getting from #alllivesmatter.  Maybe it was because of the recent tenor of the RNC convention in Cleveland.  Maybe it was because of the people screaming, “We want our country back!”

Whatever it was, this quote from a book written sixteen years ago struck home.  When I read it, I first thought of the current state of affairs with police shootings, retaliatory shootings, and the political rhetoric from all sides.  But the more I sat with sentence, the deeper it got.  This quote not only reflects our current state of affairs, but it reflects oppression throughout all of history:  Men controlling women by limiting equal pay, denying the vote, denying positions of leadership, forcing women to take sick-time after childbirth (among others things); white realtors funneling minorities into “appropriate” neighborhoods; former slave owners getting Jim Crow laws passed; conservative Christians boycotting Target for that company's decision to remove Boy and Girl labels from toys; Nazis carefully crafting anti-Jewish propaganda and laws that led to the Holocaust; the list goes on.  It wasn't that long ago that magazine advertisements were populated solely by white models, while interracial couples were never seen on TV.

It would appear that Rowan got it exactly right.  When faced with the idea of equality, those in power, the aggressors, fight tooth and nail to keep those asking for equality oppressed.  When the Black Lives Matter popped up, I noticed it was a white reactionary counter movement that created All Lives Matter.  If all lives matter, then why aren't we working for equal pay, livable wages, universal health care, an end to sexual abuse and harassment, or free education for those in poverty?

The stories of the helpless, the outcast, the powerless, minorities, and victims must be allowed to be told through their voices – not through the voices of the dominant class who want to gloss over their own complicity in how those others have been, and continue to be, treated by society.  Unfortunately the people in power don't want to hear those stories.  What they want to hear, I think, are their own narratives that silence the Other so that they can continue not thinking about the issues.

Those stories of the Other are then continually ignored and/or resisted, because when the others start talking about equality, those in power don't see and hear calls for equality – they see and hear a loss of power for themselves and a loss of “what's rightfully mine.”

Our Baptismal Covenant asks us to “respect the dignity of every human being.”  For us to do that we need to begin listening to the perspectives and stories of others.  For us to do that, we need to stop trying to control those who are not like us.

Amen.

July 20, 2016

The Bible is not intended to be a mere chronicle of past events, but a living communication from God, telling us now what we need to know for our salvation.
Being Christian, Rowan Williams

I came across this quote in the book review section of The Living Church.  The reviewer writes that this book “stands as a deeply Benedictine model for catechesis.”  Consequently it's on my ever-growing list of books I need to purchase/read.  I can't tell you anything about it other than that it sounds interesting and might make for a good read and tool if you are looking for a way to deepen your faith.

But that's not why I focused on this quote for this particular edition of the Wednesday Word.

As most of you know, one of the things I do is to lead a Bible study every Monday afternoon at the Rogue Valley retirement complex.  We are currently working our way through Hebrews at the breakneck pace of one chapter a week.  This past Monday we dove into Chapter 11, one of the more famous chapters in the New Testament.

It begins thus:  “Now faith is the assurance of things hoped for, the conviction of things not seen.”  And from there the author launches into the history of faith, beginning with Abel and going on down the line through Enoch, Noah, Abraham, Isaac, Jacob, Moses, Rahab, Barak, David, and others.  This list reminds us that the Bible is not a book of rules.  The Bible is not a seamless, perfectly aligned account of humanity's interaction with God.  The Bible is not a science book, nor is the Bible a history book.  Instead, the Bible, as Rowan Williams writes, is “a living communication from God, telling us now what we need to know for our salvation.”  Or, as the author of Hebrews shows us, it is a compilation of acts of faith looking forward to the promise of things yet unseen.

That's the thing about a living faith – it is constantly looking forward.  Lot and his daughters looked forward to a new life outside of Sodom.  Lot's wife looked back and was turned to a pillar of salt.  Moses looked forward to freedom.  The Israelites looked back to Egypt, and only Joshua and Caleb lived to see the Promised Land.

Our faith has pillars and foundations that support and inform us, but those pillars and foundations aren't there to drag us down or keep us looking back, they are there to inspire us and support us as we move forward.

Where is your faith leading you?

Amen.

July 13, 2016

Ours is an associated worship: there cannot, therefore, be a more erroneous opinion than that upon which the practice of some seems to be founded, that the people are to be only hearers or spectators during the service of the Church.  Our excellent Liturgy is so constructed, that it can neither have meaning nor effect in some of its parts, unless the people join in it with interest and devotion.
Pastoral Letter to the Diocese of Maryland by Bishops Claggett and Kemp, 1816

This coming Sunday we will hear the gospel story of Mary and Martha.  If you need a refresher, Jesus comes to visit the two sisters and Martha, distracted by her many tasks, asks Jesus to intercede for her and have Mary get to work because she has been quietly listening to Jesus.  This story has, through the ages, prompted people to ask, “Are you a Mary or are you a Martha?”  The implication, of course, is that you are either one who chooses to listen to Jesus above all else (thereby being a “good” disciple) or you are one who chooses to push Jesus aside in favor of listening the the cares and distractions of the world.

But that binary thinking, that either/or way of presenting Mary and Martha, is problematic.  It presents the question as having only one right answer.  It requires us to make a choice between this and that.  It can lead people to begin seeing everything in this either/or way that can be detrimental in the long run.  Think, for instance, of the current state of affairs in our political parties – the ability and willingness to negotiate and compromise is hindered on all levels by a demand for “either this or that.”  This either/or way of thinking can also have a negative aspect on our worship and spiritual lives, as Bishops Clagget and Kemp wrote.

Two hundred years ago these two bishops wrote to the people of the Diocese of Maryland in response to what they saw as an either/or theology of worship.  Two hundred years ago these two bishops wrote to the people of the Diocese of Maryland in an attempt to get people beyond binary worship.  Apparently the good people of Maryland had come to see themselves as Mary worshipers; not worshipers of the Blessed Virgin Mary, but worshipers in the style of the above Mary, sitting quietly and passively listening to the words being spoken by the teacher.

But this has never been the goal of our liturgy.  Our liturgy is not something that we “attend.”  Our liturgy is not a performance for your entertainment.  Our liturgy is not passive.

Our liturgy is, properly, “the work of the people.”  It is something that we work at.  It is something we strive to perfect each time we participate in it.  Our liturgy is active.  It is a corporate performance where we are all the actors, having specific roles to play, with God as our audience.  In our liturgy, we are both Mary and Martha; we are both hearers and doers.  It is something where we should actively listen at times, and join in with interest and devotion at other times.

And here you thought that when I said, “Let's do that again” I was being cynical when, in fact, I was actually channeling my inner bishop from 200 years ago.

This Sunday when you come to church to sit, listen, and pray, also remember that there is work to be done.

Amen.

July 6, 2016

Blessed are the ears that hear the Divine whisper, and give no heed to the whisperings of the world.
The Imitation of Christ, Book Three, Chapter 1, Thomas A'Kempis.

One of the problems we have as humans is our seemingly constant need for newer, bigger, and better.  Advertisers are constantly trying to get our attention with flashier ads for new and improved products.  We get bored with the same ol' same ol'.  A cell phone that worked well two years ago is now beyond obsolete because it can't take pictures or download apps.  In 1979, “Escape,” the song about finding a new lover who liked pina coladas, talks about a relationship that has committed the unforgivable crime of becoming routine.  If last week we watched a man juggling swords, this week we want him to juggle chainsaws, and next week we want to see him juggle chainsaws on fire.

It seems our relationship with God suffers from the same problem.  The Israelites were freed from bondage by God, and they complained of no water.  God brought water from the rock, and they complained of no bread.  God rained down manna, and they complained of no meat.  God sent quail, and they complained yet again.  The people of the New Testament are no better as Jesus is confronted with cries of, “Do here what you did there,” and other instances that essentially equate to, “What have you done for me lately?”

How often in our lives are we driven by the desire to have the latest and greatest thing?  Or the desire to “keep up with the Jones'?”

These are the whisperings of the world.  Whisperings that say, “You deserve this,” or “You're falling behind,” or “Everyone else has one,” or “It's just a little white lie,” or “No one will know.”

Very rarely do we ever commit first-time sins on a grand scale.  We don't decide to arm ourselves and rob banks, but we might very well decide to mention something we did at work over a nice dinner and then use that for a deduction on our taxes.  More often than not we sin in small, whispering ways that take us off the path ever so slightly until, before we realize it, we're in over our heads struggling to get back on the right path.

God works in the same way.  More often than not, God doesn't hit us over the head with a holy 2x4.  More often than not, God doesn't address us with angelic hosts, visitations from archangels, or other spectacular heavenly light shows.  More often than not, God speaks to us in silence and gentle calls.  As Hymn 550 says, “Jesus calls us o'er the tumult of our life's wild, restless sea . . . saying Christian, love me more than these.”

The Divine whisper isn't concerned with flashy presentations.  The Divine whisper isn't concerned with whether or not we can keep up with the Jones'.  The Divine whisper is only concerned with reaching the heart of God's people over the din and misleading whisperings of the world.

We live in a world of sensory overload.  We live in a world of multiple messages telling us how to be new and improved.  It is through that noise and those messages where God whispers, “Follow me.”

What message are you paying attention to?

Amen.

June 29, 2016

The Wednesday book group is currently reading The Harlot by the Side of the Road: Forbidden Tales of the Bible.  It has been an interesting read of some less-than-savory stories not normally addressed in “good church company.”  The book is divided up into seven stories.  The format is that the author will retell the story he is addressing in a sort of contemporary midrash (we might call it 'historical fiction'), which is then followed by his critique-deconstruction-commentary on the story.

Last week we read and discussed the story of Jephthah's daughter.  If you aren't familiar with that story, it can be found in Judges 11.  But in short, Jephthah is a mercenary who gets hired for a particular battle.  He prays to God, vowing to sacrifice to God the first person to come out of his tent to greet him.  As it turns out, it's his only daughter who becomes the victim.  As you would expect, we had an interesting time discussing this story and one of the questions asked of me was, “Why is this story even in the Bible?  What can we possibly learn from it?”

My answer then was, “Because if anything, it makes the words of Jesus even more important – let your yes be yes and your no be no.  By making over-the-top vows, you'll just get yourself in trouble.”

That answer is still valid; but I later read a blog post that put a new spin on this story and made it relevant for today.

On the blog FreedHearts, the author of this post was discussing the situation of a stereo-typical conservative Christian pastor in dealing with LGBT people.  In this situation the only acceptable answer is, “Because the Bible says so,” and any open questions, or questions that challenge a particular understanding, are not allowed.  The hypothetical question then became, “What if the pastor's child comes out as gay or trans?”

There are two possible answers.  Either the pastor reevaluates his position regarding LGBT people, which will most likely result in his dismissal from the congregation, or the pastor “sacrifices his own child to preserve [his understanding of the Bible and the doctrine of his church].”

This is a modern-day example of the story of Jephthah's daughter.  Jephthah's vow to sacrifice whoever came out of his tent put him in a terrible predicament.  Jephthah's vow put him in a position of either sacrificing his daughter in blind obedience to that vow, or of ignoring that vow and running the risk of being damned for all eternity by a wrathful God.  People in the pastor's position are faced with the same dilemma: they either sacrifice their own children in blind obedience to their vow of biblical inerrancy, or they face eternal damnation by a wrathful God because they ignored the “clear teaching of the Bible.”

What I see in the story of Jephthah's daughter and the story of so many LGBT people at the hands of the church are extremely similar:  in both stories, the children who challenge the vows made to God are sacrificed on the altar of blind obedience; some tragically.

We can do better.  We should do better.

And the only person we should be sacrificing is ourselves when we willingly step up and speak out in the name of love.

Amen.

June 22, 2016

I and my immediate family have always been drawn to water.  From the time before I was married I would take trips to Cannon Beach where I could be close to the ocean.  Before that I would climb up onto my favorite rock at the diocesan summer camp located on Lake Coeur d'Alene and look out over the water.  Mrs. Ref, The Kid, and I made annual pilgrimages back to Cannon Beach to be near the ocean and walk on the beach.  As a priest in Montana, Mrs. Ref and I both looked forward to my annual stint as chaplain to the diocesan family camp located on Flathead Lake.  And whenever we head east, we almost always stop at Multnomah Falls.  We usually walk up to the bridge, sometimes walking up to the top of the 620' waterfall.

Whether it's sitting with my feet dipped in the lake off the dock, walking along the beach with the low rumbling of the ocean, or watching the power of a waterfall, there is something peaceful, frightening, and awe-full in that water.  Peaceful because the noise of the water, whether lapping at your feet or the constant noise of the ocean and waterfall seem to have a way of taking me to a different place, or at least driving out troublesome and irrelevant thoughts.  Frightening because, for as much as I feel drawn to water, I don't like to be in it; and being in a place where the edges are far away, or where there's a possibility of being swept downstream, or where storms can wash you away in an instant can be worrisome.  Awe-full in that the beauty of the place, the sheer expanse of the water, and the immense power generated all remind me that I am but one small part of God's creation.

Peaceful, calming, challenging, frightening, awe-inspiring – these are just a few words to describe my complicated relationship with water.  They also, as it happens, are the same words that describe my relationship with God.  I am drawn to both water and God.  There are times when both water and God are peaceful and calming, such as a lazy day on the beach or at Morning Prayer.  There are times when both water and God are challenging, as when I find myself needing to swim farther than planned or in dealing with a sick, homeless person on the kitchen porch.  There are times when both water and God are frightening, as in a storm or when being felt called into a new ministry.  Both water and God are awe-inspiring, as when entranced by a majestic waterfall or when meditating on the presence of God.

And, coincidentally, when I am fully immersed in either there's a chance I might die.  If I swim too far from shore, if I walk along the beach during a raging storm, if I allow myself to get pulled into the waterfall, there's a possibility I might die.  If I immerse myself in God, if I listen to where God might be calling me, if I allow myself to get pulled completely into the presence of God, myself as I know it might die.  And, quite honestly, I kind of like myself.

But that's where the similarities end.  Death in the water is death, and there's no coming back from it.  Death in God is a death of our old ways wherein we are resurrected, coming to life in new ways we cannot even imagine.  But sometimes I get hung up on that word death, and rather than see it as a part of growth, as an event that leads to new life, I see it as an end of who I am, and that can be scary.

We probably all have something that is keeping us from immersing ourselves totally in the presence of God.  There comes a point, though, when I need to let go of my fears and jump into the peaceful, challenging, frightening, awe-full presence of God with both feet.  After all, the worst that could happen is that I die; and that can't be a bad thing.

Amen.

June 15, 2016

This past weekend several of the D.O.K. women gathered at The Bishop's Close for a quiet day.  The Close was donated to the Diocese of Oregon in 1957 and it includes an old, quirky, beautiful house and the Elk Rock Gardens, 13 acres of wonderfully landscaped paths and plants.  The weather was not “perfect,” but it didn't rain, it wasn't cold, nor was it blistering hot.  Despite overcast skies and a few spittles of raindrops that never lasted, the women spent their time in the garden in silent prayer, meditation, or soaking in the beauty of the place.

The theme of the day was Eden Among Us, and I led them through various phases of contemplation on garden themes in scripture, particularly at creation, resurrection, and at the end of the age.  It was in a garden where God breathed life into humanity, instilling in all of us a piece of God's grace.  It was in a garden where Mary reached out to grasp the new creation found in the risen Christ.  And it will be in a new creation where we are invited to partake of both the Tree of Life and the Water of Life.

At the end of the day I sent them forth with these words:  May you find healing in God's creation, may you see the face of God in others, may others see the face of God in you, and may we help all people answer God's invitation to come and receive the gift of the water of life.

Do we find healing in God's creation?  Can we see the face of God in others?  Can they see the face of God in us?  Where do we draw the water of life?

I didn't know it then, but those questions would have much more meaning for me early this past Sunday morning as I began to hear of yet another massacre of innocent people.  Once again we heard of a man, armed with automatic weapons, who decides it's a good day for killing.  Once again we hear of “thoughts and prayers” for the victims and their families.

This has become the liturgy of the United States:  kill, pray, deflect, double-down.  Rinse and repeat.  Once again we hear hear any number of excuses – from, “This is the price we pay for the freedom to own guns,” to, “This is no time to politicize the issue,” to, “If the victims were armed, fewer would have died.”

“Thoughts and prayers for the victims and their families” has become, in my opinion, a hollow and meaningless statement.  We need less thoughts and prayers and more willingness to put an end to the national tragedy of valuing our weapons fetish over the lives of God's children.

Today I wonder if God's creation has become just another commodity to use.  Today I wonder if people even try to see the face of God in others.  Today I wonder if the face I present to the world is godly in any way.  Today I wonder if the water of life has become so tainted with the blood of innocent victims that we want no part of it.

It is hard to find the beauty of the world around us when the world around us is hell bent on killing us off.  And yet, it's there.  We may need to look a little harder, but beauty is there.  The kingdom is at hand, but it has not yet arrived.  Maybe our job is to be a little more bolder about the kingdom of God and a lot less tolerant of business as usual.

Amen.

June 8, 2016

“Even we ourselves are subtle versions of our refrigerator door.”
A Table in the Desert: Making Space Holy, W. Paul Jones

It's taken me longer to get through this book than I had originally thought it would.  I still have about 40 pages to go.  But I've been interrupted here and there – Holy Week and Easter, and there was the seven-step discipleship series I just finished, to name a few.

This entire book revolves around the topic of holy spaces, where we find them and how we make them.  In this particular section, Fr. Jones discussed sacred spaces of religious buildings and where we find or make sacred spaces in the various spheres of our lives – home, work, school, church, car, and casket.  We have various personalities and traits and attitudes in each of those arenas, and it was in this context that he made the above quoted comment.

It originally struck me as funny as well as accurate; but the more I thought about it, the more I began to think that we are not just subtle versions of our refrigerator door, but versions of our refrigerators themselves.

Our refrigerator doors tend to be a display area for the proud artwork of a child or grandchild.  They hold photos of family and friends, both near and far.  They may display a photo or two of our favorite places.  Our refrigerator doors more often than not display the very best of our lives, images of which we are proud, that we want to show off to others, or that we want to be reminded.

Open those doors up, though, and we might find something else entirely.  Up front there's the usual food stuff we use on a regular basis – milk, juice, eggs, sandwich fixins, and dinner ingredients.  But dig a little deeper, go back a little farther, and you might run into the forgotten container of cottage cheese with a February “sell by” date, dinner leftovers from December that you wanted to eat for lunch, a moldy cucumber that got buried under other things and forgotten, or any number of ingredients that never got used because something came up or you just didn't have the time to prepare.  Take a look at the shelves and drawers and notice how many things have spilled that didn't get properly cleaned up.

We aren't just a version of our refrigerator door, we are a version of our refrigerator.  We put all the best stuff out where people can see it.  We show off all the goodness of our lives.  But if we open up the door, things aren't always as neat and tidy as we make them out to be.  Sure, there are things we get right and do well; but there are also things we intended to do but forgot, leaving it in back, untouched.  Or maybe there's a piece of us that was once wholesome and good, but we neglected it, so it sits deep inside of us, turning moldy or rotting away.

We aren't just a version of our refrigerator door, we are a version of our refrigerator.  What inside needs to be used more often?  What needs to be cleaned up?  What needs to be tossed out?  More importantly, what would it take to have our sometimes messy inside be more in line with the displayed goodness of our outside?

Amen.

June 1, 2016

I am continuing to examine the seven-step discipleship process that was originally published in 1934 by Forward Movement, and today we arrive at Step 7. As a reminder, the first six steps in this process were Turn, Follow, Learn, Pray, Serve, and (corporate) Worship.

The final step in this discipleship process is Share.

To share is, at its most fundamental level, offering what we have to others. In this process of discipleship, the act of sharing has two specific meanings.

The first can be considered as charitable acts – the sharing of our abundance and stuff with those less fortunate than ourselves. The gospels and epistles provide us with numerous examples of and admonitions to share food, clothing, and other resources with people in need. And there is no shortage of people in need and ways to reach them in our own community – from food banks and the people who rely on them to our own association with Ft. Vannoy Elementary School – we who have much have both the opportunity and obligation to share our abundance and stuff.

The second is the act of evangelism. Evangelism, as I've said many times before, is not standing out on the corner of 6^th & G accosting people with your big, floppy Scofield Reference Bible, or with free tickets to hell or heaven that a parishioner recently found in his coat pocket and gave to me this past Sunday (no, I'm not kidding; it's in my office and I'll show it to you if you ask). Going back to the original definition, evangelism is offering to share what we have with others. It's offering to share our faith. It's offering to share our traditions. It's offering to share the meal that is Holy Communion. We have an amazing faith, and we have a particular way of living out that faith, and those are things that need to be shared.

The act of discipleship is a life-long endeavor. As fallible humans, we have many (perhaps too many) opportunities to turn back to Christ. As a disciple, we need to put our trust in Christ and follow where he leads us. As disciples, we need to recognize that we don't know everything and are constantly challenged to learn. As people of faith, we need to deepen our bond with God and practice daily prayer. As disciples, we need to be open to serving, in the sense of answering a call to serve within the church and in our actively reaching out and serving others. As people of faith, we need to participate in corporate worship on a regular basis, because it is through this act that we participate with the whole host of heaven as well as developing relational ties among those who worship with us. And as apostles, we share both of our abundance and of our faith.

These are the seven steps of discipleship. I'm sure there are others, or that other actions can be added or substituted, but this is a good list from which to begin. Seven steps of discipleship. What do you do well? What do you need to work on? What hadn't you considered, but now seem drawn to?

I’ve talked about moving from discipleship to apostleship in recent sermons – may I suggest that that journey begins with seven steps.

Amen.

May 25, 2016

I am continuing to examine the 7-step discipleship process that was originally published in 1934 by Forward Movement, and today we arrive at Step 6.  As a reminder, the first five steps in this process were Turn, Follow, Learn, Pray and Serve.

Today we examine Worship.

In our baptismal covenant, we are asked, “Will you continue in the apostles' teaching and fellowship, in the breaking of bread, and in the prayers?”

This question has to do with worship.  More importantly, only one of those things can be done alone – prayers.  All the rest – teaching, fellowship, the breaking of bread – all happen corporately.  We learn together, we live together, we break bread together.  And while those things can be done in a variety of contexts (bible studies are not necessarily worship, neither are potlucks), there is a clear implication that worship is at the core of these activities.

I’ve heard many people tell me that they don't need church; they can, in fact, worship God just as well, or better, when they are up on a mountain, or by a river, or at the beach, or anywhere other than church.  I would argue that that really isn't worship.  What that is is more likely adoration of God, appreciation of God, thankfulness to God, idolization (in the best sense) of God, or even prayers to God, but it isn't worship.

Worship certainly involves all of those things, but worship is also more than those things.  Worship takes us on a journey of prayer and praise, meditation and vocalization, repentance to forgiveness, hunger to satiation.  And worship is done in community.  Visions of heavenly worship involve angels, archangels, cherubim, and Seraphim.  Our worship joins us with that heavenly chorus, as well as with prophets, apostles, and martyrs, and those in every generation in our unending hymn.  Worship is something we do together.

Together we sing.  Together we hear God speak to us.  Together we pray.  Together we acknowledge our sins.  Together we reiterate our beliefs.  Together we share the peace of God.  Together we share a meal.  Together we are sent out into the world to love and serve the Lord.  Worship is something no other social service agency or advocacy group does.

Our worship of God should be joyful.  I'm not saying we need to always be like those screaming Beatles fans you see in old clips, but we should certainly act like we want to be there.  In our worship, we should offer our best, our first fruits of our being, to our God and creator.  In our worship, we should see ourselves as actively participating with the whole host of heaven in that great mystery we call Holy Eucharist.

There's a reason that we worship in the morning on the first day of the week.  Our worship should reflect our desire to reflect the primacy of God in our lives.  Our worship should reflect our desire to come together in community to celebrate our relationship with God.  Our worship is important.

How do you see worship?

Amen.

May 18, 2016

I am continuing to examine the 7-step discipleship process that was originally published in 1934 by Forward Movement, and today we arrive at Step 5.  As a reminder, the first four steps in this process were Turn, Follow, Learn, and Pray.

Today we examine Serve.

This seems like a natural progression from the first four.  We have turned back to Christ, and we have committed to following Christ.  In that following we learn about discipleship and our relationship with God.  As we learn about those things, we pray daily (which also may develop over time as we may first pray for an easing of our circumstances, we begin to develop prayers for personal strength).

As we choose to Turn and Follow Christ, Learning to become better disciples, never forget that daily Prayer will help keep us grounded in our relationship with God.  And as we develop in our relationship with God, we (hopefully) will come to an understanding that that relationship is not just a quiet, spiritual experience between ourselves and God, but that that relationship is meant to actively involve God and others; which is one way of saying that our relationship with God requires us to Serve.

This thing we call discipleship is not a passive, indifferent, or uninvolved undertaking.  Discipleship calls us into some kind of action.  It calls us to be responsive.  It calls us to be involved.  It calls us to be those things in response to, or on behalf of, both God and those around us.

Discipleship in response to God is found in answering a call.  What is God calling you to do and be in the life of the Church?  How is God calling you to serve in the life of the Church?  Sometimes that's answering a call to ordained ministry, but we fall short if that's the only way we see to serve.  And we fall short if we only see the process of discernment as the process to ordained ministry.  Are you good with plants?  Maybe God is calling you to work with the Gardening Angels?  Are you good with numbers?  Myrna has hinted that it might be time for her to retire as treasurer, so a time of discernment to explore how your skills could serve the Church in that capacity would be helpful.  Singing, reading, quilting, and so many others are ways that you can serve God and the Church with the gifts you have been given.

Another way of serving is in relation to others.  This could be done in a myriad of ways – volunteering at the library, helping to serve lunches at St. Vincent de Paul's, running errands for parishioners who are confined to home, or helping your Senior Warden organize activities in the parish hall for the senior citizens of our town.  One of our biggest and longest running service projects has been our connection to FVES in providing snack packs and clothing.  When was the last time you helped fill up the food basket, or dropped off clothes in either the “New” or “Used” bin?

When we Turn back to God, when we Follow the ways and examples of Christ, when we Learn what Christ has to say about God and others, when we deepen our relationship with God through Daily Prayer, then it should come as no surprise that you are being called by God to Serve.

The question is this:  How are you answering that call?

Amen.