December 23, 2020

Yesterday I sent out a message saying that in-person worship services had been suspended indefinitely. I immediately received a text from a parishioner asking if I was canceling the Parking Lot Lessons & Carols. I responded, “Only if the weather is really bad.”

A weather app that I've come to trust is predicting approximately one quarter of an inch of rain beginning at 3:00 and continuing through the five o'clock hour. But it is also calling for temperatures in the upper fifties. So, unless that temperature changes, or the wind kicks up and it's raining sideways, I'm going to go out on a limb here and say that the 4:00 Parking Lot Lessons & Carols will go on as planned.

Bring an umbrella – or two or three or four. Bring your rain coats. Bring your flashlights.

On this Christmas Eve let us gather to read the story and sing the songs of Christmas. The weather may not be perfect, but I think it will do us good to gather safely and to see our friends and family of our parish who have become so important to us over the years.

And then let us celebrate the birth of Christ with our families to the best of our ability. Maybe that means we change some traditions, or start new ones, or create temporary ones to get through this season. Hopefully it also means joining us on our Facebook page at 10:45 tomorrow night for the late Christmas Eve service.

I titled this edition of the Wednesday Word “Defiance.” It was at this time, this first Christmas, that, as the Gospel of John says, the light of God broke through the darkness to shine on the world, and the darkness did not overcome it.

These are, no doubt, dark days. And some days it feels like the darkness is closing in. In-person worship is indefinitely suspended. It's going to rain on Christmas Eve during a planned Lessons & Carols. Our inability to gather and celebrate with friends is becoming weary. And any number of other dark, depressing things are piling up around us.

It is at this time that we need to shine some of the light of God into the world. Come and sing in the rain. Come worship online. Invite others to participate in our online worship.

Defiance isn't always grand acts of courage. Defiance certainly isn't not wearing a mask and rebuking the virus in the name of Jesus. Sometimes all it takes to defy the darkness is to shine even a little light.

Let us defy the darkness, shine our light, sing with joy, and proclaim to the world that God is with us, even and especially in dark times.

Blessings,

December 16, 2020

“I cannot be an optimist, but I am a prisoner of hope.” – Dr. Cornel West, Harvard University

In an article from TrinityNews (Trinity Church, Wall Street) back in 2014, Dr. West explained how he saw the difference between optimism and hopefulness by saying that hope allows us to see the darkness in the world while generating actions, work, and witness to bring an end to that darkness. Optimism, on the other hand (and in his opinion), is a naive belief that everyone will see a happy ending.

If you have been watching our worship services online you may have noticed that every Sunday the Advent wreath has a different banner facing the camera. Those four banners are Hope, Love, Joy, and Peace. They coincide (roughly) with the themes of that particular Sunday of Advent. For instance, this past Sunday was Gaudete Sunday, the Sunday of the pink/rose candle, and the Sunday where the traditional introit of the service has been, “Rejoice in the Lord always.” So the Joy banner is hung.

The theme of the First Sunday of Advent is Hope. In the gospel reading for that Sunday Jesus talks about the end of days. The sun will be darkened, the moon will not give its light, and stars will fall from heaven. Nations will be in distress and people will faint from fear of what is coming. We are to keep awake and be alert, for the Son of Man will come at an unexpected hour. We are given a glimpse of the coming darkness, but that admonition to remain awake and alert also gives us hope.

Our faith isn't based in optimism; it doesn't promise that everyone will see a happy ending. Instead, our faith is based in hope. Our faith tells us straight up, “There will be dark days ahead.” But our faith also gives us the hope of bringing light to a darkened world. Our faith gives us the hope to cast away the works of darkness. Our faith gives us the hope to, as Dr. West said, generate actions, work, and witness to bring an end to the darkness.

In Advent we are both preparing and waiting for the coming Messiah. That preparation comes from Jesus' warning to keep awake and alert. The waiting comes from the fact that no one knows the day nor the hour. So we wait. And we prepare. And in that waiting and preparation there is hope.

In these dark days of COVID, separation, and gathering restrictions, how are you shining the light of Christ and Church? How are you preparing to bring an end to the darkness? How do your current actions testify to both the need to wait and the need to prepare?

In this season of Advent, I hope you are not passively waiting for better days, but working to shine a light in the darkness.

Blessings,

December 9, 2020

 Advent is the season of waiting and preparation. It is the season of active quietness.

Sometimes we know exactly for what we are waiting and preparing. Right about now most of us are waiting and preparing for Christmas. Decorations are going up. Mailing lists are being reviewed. Cookies and mom's fudge are being made. Or maybe this year we have scaled back on all of the above because, to be honest, COVID has taken a toll on our ability to be joyful or productive. But however we are preparing for Christmas, we know it's coming and so we wait and prepare in our own way.

Sometimes we wait and try to prepare for the unpreparable. But how can we prepare for that of which we only know will be life-changing? How can we prepare for something of which we have only seen from the outside and for which we wait to be ushered into the inside? How can we prepare to take on something that will ultimately lead us into a new way of being?

I suppose all of the above can be applied to any aspect of our lives. Everything from getting married to accepting a new job or making a career change to deciding which college to attend will, if we think about it, lead us into a new way of being. We really aren't prepared for all that marriage throws our way. New jobs and careers have challenges we didn't see coming. And so it goes that we wait and prepare as best we can for what we think is coming.

I think all of this came to mind today because a friend and seminary classmate is one of the Final Four nominees for Bishop of Chicago. Their electing convention is this Saturday, so it's very possible that the Seabury Class of '04 will have its first bishop.

This week is probably the ultimate Advent week for my friend. He (and the other three nominees) will be patiently waiting for the outcome of the election. They are all preparing for Saturday. But how does one exactly prepare for the possibility that you might be a bishop by the end of the week? How does one prepare to not be shocked when you open your closet and see a row of purple shirts instead of black? How does one prepare to lead a diocese, not just a parish, and have canonical authority and oversight of possibly a few hundred other clergy?

My friend is preparing for the unpreparable.

So on this Wednesday and through this week, I would ask that you keep the Rev. Dr. Fulton Porter, his family, and the Diocese of Chicago in your prayers as they wait in preparation for the outcome of an election guided by the Holy Spirit that will determine their next bishop.

And regardless of what we are waiting and preparing for, may we always wait in prayer and be prepared to be changed into a new way of being.

Blessings,

Todd+

November 25, 2020

 “You keep us waiting. You, the God of all time, want us to wait. For the right time in which to discover who we are, where we are to go, who will be with us, and what we must do. So thank you . . . for the waiting time.” – John Bell

We are at the end of Ordinary Time, and quickly approaching the season of Advent – that season of patient activity and active waiting. We also continue to be in the season of COVID-19 – or the season of coronatide, as some of my friends have labeled this particular time, a tongue-in-cheek reference to the Church's naming of seasons like Christmastide, Eastertide, or Whitsuntide.

We became unfortunately familiar with the coronavirus this past spring, Lent in particular, and we tried to tie that in somehow with what we were experiencing. We are called to prepare for the days of Holy Week and Easter through a season of penitence and fasting. During the Lenten season we are asked to fast from something and use that time for self-examination, repentance, prayer, self-denial, and by reading and meditating on God's holy Word. As we moved through Lent, and then into Holy Week and Eastertide, many clergy put forth the idea that the coronavirus was gifting us with an extended Lent. We were being given a time to fast from certain church activities, to reevaluate what we did and why we did them, and to consider new ways of accomplishing the mission of the church.

That season extended well past Eastertide, past Whitsuntide, and into the Season after Pentecost. And it wasn't until the Ninth Sunday after Pentecost when we were finally able to regather as a congregation, even though in limited numbers. That lasted until just after November 1 when we were forced to once again limit worship to online only with just a few people in the building.

It has been a long Lenten season, this coronatide.

But as we prepare to move into Advent, it occurred to me that maybe this coronatide isn't a Lenten season or experience after all. Yes, it is causing us to fast from corporate worship. Yes, it is causing most of us to fast from participating in Holy Communion. But more than causing us to fast, it's causing us to wait.

We are a resurrection people. But we are also an Advent people. We are waiting for the coming of the Messiah. We are waiting for the fulfillment of the kingdom. We are waiting for the time of regathering. We are waiting to feel the touch of a friend, a hug, a handshake.

Coronatide isn't an extended season of Lent; it's an extended season of Advent. As we wait, let us wait actively. Let us prepare ourselves for the joyful coming of connections, of friendships, of touch, of regathering. Let us be like the five wise bridesmaids who were wise not because they gathered together apart from everyone waiting for the bridegroom to arrive now, but who were wise because they gathered to wait and were ready with enough oil to shine through the night when finally called by the bridegroom to gather.

May we give thanks for the waiting, and may we be ready to enter the festival hall when called.

Blessings,

November 18, 2020

 This past Sunday the Welcoming/PR team put up a post on our Facebook page that said:

Church Online – Not Canceled

Quiet Time with God – Not Canceled

Praying for the Sick – Not Canceled

Checking on a Friend – Not Canceled

Helping Others – Not Canceled

Being the Church – Now More Than Ever

We have entered another phase of increased COVID cases. We have once again limited people in the church building for worship to only those necessary (clergy, musicians, lector, videographer). Mark and I are making alternative plans for both the bishop's visitation next month and the Christmas Eve services should the COVID numbers continue to be high. We are working at being flexible in this unusual time. Although to be honest, I did tell Mark that I was tired of being flexible.

But the Facebook post I referenced above and the worship planning Mark and I do reminded me that I need to remind you – We have not stopped being the Church. Just because we can't gather and worship God in the beauty of holiness does not mean that we are being stopped from being God's people and living into the mission of Saint John's.

We are still able to worship by gathering online. One of the joys I experience from this is seeing people interact with each other in the comments during the service and offering prayers, thanksgivings, updates, and support.

We are finding ways to welcome people. Whether that is reaching out to new people who have attended our worship in person when able, or checking up on people through phone calls and letters, we are still working at maintaining our connections.

We are finding ways to serve. The Service and Outreach commission oversaw a food giveaway, is involved in the distribution of Bester Christmas shoeboxes, and serving lunches at Potomac Towers.

Deacon Sue and I host a bible study and discussion on Tuesday nights and Sunday afternoons respectively. Bob Ayrer hosts a discussion about the early church on Thursday nights. Heidi McCusker and Rebecca Connor provide Sunday school programs following the 9:30 worship service. Joelene Young leads an active and engaged teen program (J2A) for the high school students.

I write all this to let you know that we haven't stopped being the Church. We are still doing things. Is there more we could be doing? Probably. Have we stopped being the Church, or have found ourselves unprepared like the five foolish bridesmaids? No.

So thank you for your participation. Thank you for your flexibility. Thank you for your support. Thank you for continuing to be the Church. Thank you for continuing. And as we move forward through these difficult times, let us always continue to continue.

Blessings,

November 11, 2020

 “Holiness, then, is personal but not individualistic or turned in on itself.” The Rev. Paul Hunter, The Living Church, October 19, 2014

Fr. Hunter was addressing the Feast of All Saints back in '14 when he wrote this sentence. He pointed out that the saints of the church were rarely saints through individualistic behaviors. Saint Francis worked in communion with the monks of the order that would eventually bear his name. Saints Basil of Cappadocia, Gregory of Nyssa, and Gregory of Nazianzus worked together to defend orthodoxy and defeat Arianism. Saint Patrick worked with local people to help build churches on existing sacred sites. Julian of Norwich, even though living as an anchoress, was visited by many people as a spiritual counselor. And there are many more.

I got to thinking about this sentence today as we begin dealing with another round of closures. Not in the context of the saints of the Church, but in terms of our spiritual and faith lives in the here and now.

In this time of church closures and continuing worship via online streaming, we run the risk of turning our worship and spirituality in on itself and making personal holiness individualistic.

One of the beauties of the Episcopal liturgy is exactly this – it's personal but not individualistic. When we worship, we are experiencing holiness on a personal level but it is not individualistic. You can see this in various parts of the Eucharist: we worship, we believe, we confess, we lift our hearts, we give thanks.

As we continue to live in these uncertain times, let us always remember that holiness is personal and that our spiritual lives inform our personal lives; but let us never forget that holiness is not individualistic. It does us no good to live a life of perceived holiness when that life only cares for the self. Our holiness should extend to the community and the communal.

When we can finally regather as this part of the body of Christ, one of the things we will celebrate will be the personal holiness of our people manifested through the wider community.

Blessings,

November 4, 2020

“I wonder what tomorrow has in mind for me . . .” from Crystal Ball by Styx

People often ask me, “How have you been?” My standard answer is, “Oh, you know . . . get up, go to work, come home, eat dinner, go to bed, rinse and repeat.”

That's not a complaint as much as it is an observation. I'm one of those people who like routine. I would be okay with things running according to schedule without deviation. For the most part, I am able to stay true to the schedule – get up, go to work, come home, eat dinner, go to bed.

But there are days . . . and yesterday was one of them.

What was originally supposed to be a day in the office finishing up a few things and beginning to look toward Sunday went totally off the rails. Well, that's not exactly right – it wasn't so much “off the rails” as much as “not according to plan.” A home Communion visitation got moved from Monday to yesterday, and that backed up into a second post-surgery home visitation. My Tuesday meeting with Mark delved into a few areas, followed by a legal phone call and then several other phone calls having to do with HARC and a conversation about coronavirus adjustments.

And before I knew it, it was 4:00.

This song came to mind because I thought how helpful it would be if I knew in advance what tomorrow had in mind for me. It would be so much easier to plan and organize if I knew what was coming.

Unfortunately life doesn't work that way. We never get tomorrow's script today. Sometimes we don't even get today's script today.

I may not always know what's coming. Some days are more reactive than proactive. But as a good friend of mine is fond of saying, “You wouldn't want to be bored, now, would you?”

Yesterday didn't go according to plan. But there were conversations that needed to happen, people who needed to be called, and situations that needed to be dealt with. And what wasn't done today will be there tomorrow.

We may not know what tomorrow has in mind for us, but it just might be what was needed at the time.

May you have the wisdom, grace, and strength for the unknown days ahead.

October 21, 2020

 “Where were you when we needed you?”

This question was posed in a 2013 issue of a publication called Congregations, and it was part of an article regarding a totally different topic than what I'm discussing here. But this is a question we could ask ourselves today.

The COVID pandemic has changed our lives in so many unforeseen ways. We were separated from each other for a long period of time, and it seems that we are just now finding our way back together.

This is a time when we need each other. The pastoral care team has been making phone calls to check up on people, but after several months, those are beginning to understandably slow down as people find new rhythms to their lives. At the beginning of the pandemic, we were forced to only offer online worship in the form of Morning Prayer. We then moved to what is called “Spiritual Communion,” and now, for about three months, we have had limited in-person worship, allowing people to gather and receive Communion. And now, with permission from the diocese, I am once again allowed to visit people in their homes and bring Communion to those who can't or are uneasy about coming in person.

During this time of a pandemic and uncertainty of all kinds, know that the Church is here when you most need it.

But this is also a two-way street. For just as we need the Church in this time, the Church also needs us. One way you can be there for the Church is to return pledge cards and let the Church know how you will continue to support it through your time, talent, and treasure. Another way we can be there for the Church is through personal evangelism – talk with friends and neighbors and let them know of the good things we are doing in the name of Christ, because it is only through you that the Church can live into its mission. Just as Jesus invited people to join him in revealing the kingdom of God, we must also work to reveal the kingdom of God and invite people to join us.

This is a time when we need each other. Let us remember to not only look for what we can receive, but let us look for what we can also give.

Blessings,

October 14, 2020

 There's a long history of how fishing is tied to the Gospel story. Depending on which story you read, fishermen were the first four people Jesus called to be his disciples. There are several stories about Jesus being with his disciples while they were fishing. In one of them, Jesus tells the fishermen to let down their nets on the other side of the boat (as if fish new the difference between one side or the other) and they ended up catching many fish. And Jesus tells Simon, “From now on you will fish for people.”

The pastor of the Methodist church across the street from us in Montana was (and is) fisherman. He uses fishing stories and the gospel like I use football. And the only time I ever wanted to be a Methodist was on the Third Sunday of Easter in Year C when the assigned Gospel came from John and Jesus is cooking fish for the disciples. Pastor Ben would designated this as Communion Sunday and he would use fish he caught and smoked for the event.

We are in the fishing business, so to speak. We are charged by Jesus to go out and fish for people, bringing them into the net of the kingdom. This is about where this analogy breaks down though, because, unlike fishermen, we don't kill the fish we've caught. Instead, we work to nurture them as disciples. So maybe we participate more in the “catch and release” variety of fishing rather than the “catch and keep.” That is, we catch, nurture, feed, and grow the fish so they can become fishers of people themselves.

But this world has a way of taking something good and misusing it, turning it from its intended purpose to sinful purposes. And that has happened with fishing.

Fishing has been hijacked to become phishing. Instead of fishing for people to become disciples, phishing has become a new way to scam people. The idea behind phishing is to cast as wide a net as possible, usually with a “oh poor pitiful me” or a “poor pitiful person in need” story in an attempt to get people to bite and steal their money.

Some of you received an e-mail from “me” a few weeks ago asking for some kind of emergency assistance. Thankfully enough of you questioned that request, brought it to my attention, and I was able to get word out about the scam. You may have received an e-mail from “Bishop Sutton” requesting assistance in the form of purchasing gift cards. As a matter of fact, I received one of those e-mails myself while in a clergy meeting with the Bishop this past Monday.

Be wary of anyone asking for financial help via e-mail or other virtual formats (a player in Words with Friends tried to pull the “I need gift cards” scam on me recently).

“Again, the kingdom of heaven is like a net that was thrown into the sea and caught fish of every kind; when it was full, they drew it ashore, sat down, and put the good into baskets but threw out the bad.” – Matthew 13:47-48

We are in the business of fishing. Honest fishing will yield good results; dishonest phishing, however, will result in the bad phish being thrown out. Know the difference.

Blessings,

October 7, 2020

 

Do nothing from selfish ambition or conceit, but in humility regard others as better than yourselves. Let each of you look not to your own interests, but to the interests of others. Let the same mind be in you that was in Christ Jesus – Philippians 2:3-5

These verses were part of the assigned reading from two weeks ago. A parishioner asked me about this, saying they had trouble seeing others as “better than” themselves; equal, yes, but not necessarily better than.

One of the ways to look at this is to, as Paul said, “let the same mind be in you that was in Christ Jesus.”

In various places Jesus talks about himself coming to serve others, not to be served by them. When two disciples try to secure their place of honor, Jesus pointed out that whoever wants to be great must serve others. When he says, “The last shall be first,” he's reiterating this position of servanthood. And on the evening of his betrayal and arrest, one of the last things the eternal, omnipotent, God-incarnate did was to humble himself and wash the feet of his twelve disciples, including the feet of the one who would betray him to the authorities.

It may be difficult to see others as better than yourself, and that's understandable. But if that feels problematic, try having the same mind that was in Christ – and that is to see yourself as a servant. As it so happens, this idea of servanthood is built into our own mission statement: Worship, Welcome, Serve, and Encourage. How, especially now in this pandemic, can we position ourselves to serve others? This probably means more than giving away food and/or clothing, although those things certainly help. But how can we look to serve others in ways that have long-term effects?

Part of being able to do that, I think, is to be willing to humble ourselves in such a way that we see ourselves as servants, not necessarily as the ones with all the answers. By humbling ourselves, by emptying ourselves as Christ emptied himself, we can be in a position to both take in the other as well as give ourselves to the other. As Ilia Delio said in, The Unbearable Wholeness of Being, “A self that is 'full of itself' can neither receive the other nor make genuine movement toward the other” (p. 134).

Serving others requires that we humble and empty ourselves in order to build others up. Serving others can be difficult when we are asked to make sacrifices or give up things to which we've grown accustomed to having.

When we are asked to empty ourselves, let us not focus on what we are losing, but instead let us focus on what the served and server are gaining.

September 30, 2020

 Three weeks ago I was invited to be interviewed for a podcast having to do with technology and the church during the COVID pandemic. Because I wanted to be prepared, I asked you to give me your thoughts to a few questions the interviewer had given me ahead of time.

As it turns out, I was only asked one scripted question as we spent most of the time discussing how the liturgy was/is impacted during this time We finished up by talking about a few blessings and challenges.

All in all it was a good conversation that lasted about 35 minutes.

So today, your Wednesday Word is an all-audio event. Click the link to listen, or copy and paste into your web browser.

https://lakelandsinstitute.com/?powerpress_pinw=1140-podcast

September 23, 2020

The Episcopal Diocese of Maryland has been dealing with the topic of reparations for possibly 20-some years, although that number could be wrong since I've only been here four years and have only heard a few discussions about how long this conversation has gone on. Regardless, 20, 10, or 5, the Diocese of Maryland has been dealing with this topic for some time.

Maryland itself was a slave state, but had divided loyalties between pro- and anti-slavery. Many of the churches in the diocese were purchased and built with slave labor. And in our own history, the Rev. Thomas Pitt Irving, who served this parish from 1813 – 1816, owned two slaves when he arrived and purchased one more during his time here.

Slavery in Maryland has a long history. This state and the churches of this diocese benefited greatly from that evil institution. Much of what we have today is a direct result of that free, forced labor of people whose lives were valued less than their owners pets.

And so we have been talking about reparations.

Reparations is a word that has its roots in repair. We are working at repairing the damage done by one group of people against another group of people; damage done based solely on skin color. When we talk about reparations, we are talking about a system of reconciliation that leads to restoration. Reparations, as the Diocese of Maryland envisions it, is a systemic solution to a systemic problem.

It's important to know how the leaders of our diocese view reparations. Reparations is not apologetic. That is, there is a recognition that nobody alive today participated in the institution of slavery, so therefore nobody alive today needs to apologize for slavery. Reparations is not a system of paying back. That is, the leaders of our diocese have not placed a dollar figure on slave labor and committed to paying back that amount to descendants of slaves.

Reparations, as the leaders of our diocese see it, is based in a theology of new beginnings. It is based on the fact that people have been taken advantage of, disrespected, abused, and marginalized for far too long and it is time to put God's justice into play. It is time to recognize that there is no more Jew or Greek, slave or free, male or female, black or white in the kingdom of God. It is time to recognize that, moving forward from here, those who have benefited from systemic inequalities must now step up to help eliminate those inequalities and work to make things better.

At our diocesan convention earlier this month, Resolution 2020-06 was overwhelmingly approved. This resolution called for the initial establishment of $1,000,000 to begin the work of reparations. It also called for all congregations and affiliated schools to consider committing a percentage of their endowments to this work (percentages to be determined by each individual congregation/school).

Why do this now? Because it is past time that we who have benefited from systems of discrimination begin doing the work of repairing that damage and begin doing the work of God's justice. It reminds me of planting trees: the best time to plant a tree was 20 years ago; the second best time is now.

This is certainly not the end of the story, but only the beginning. Today we are planting a tree of justice, and today we are beginning the work of repairing centuries of damage.

Blessings,

September 16, 2020

 “Information has come to define reality.” Quoted from Being Digital in The Unbearable Wholeness of Being, by Ilia Delio, p. 160

I'm currently in Chapter 9 of this book about how God and evolution are intertwined, and this chapter has to do with how evolving technology is shaping our lives and our world. As I read through it, I couldn't help but think of movies like, The Matrix and Surrogates, or the Star Trek episodes, “The Gamesters of Triskelion” and, “Return to Tomorrow,” among others, where physical bodies have been replaced through technological evolution.

And while the chapter focuses on how humanity and technology are intertwined and adapting together, this short sentence got me thinking about the environment in which we are currently living.

We are now living in a world where disinformation, alternative facts, and conspiracy theories have become mainstream. People no longer even pretend to care about the actual truth, they simply spout blatant lies and conspiracy theories so loudly and so often that people eventually take them as truth. Planes full of black-robed armed militia coming to take away your freedoms, political parties and agencies that actively work to kidnap children into sex trafficking rings, Q-Anon conspiracies of an international cabal of satanic-worshiping baby eaters, and more, have entered regular conversations.

The thing is that these unfounded conspiracies and outright lies have been stated, repeated, and spread through the internet so often that they have begun to pass for fact and taken as normal. This “information” has come to define reality for many, many people.

The one thing I've noticed about all of these conspiracy theories and lies is that they are based in fear – fear of losing property, fear of losing status, fear of losing a way of life, fear of just about anything new and everything different.

But as Christians, we are called to live beyond fear. As Christians we are called to love our neighbors as ourselves and respect the dignity of every human being. As Christians we are called to welcome the stranger, the outsider, and work for justice and peace. As Christians we are called to live in love, not fear. As Christians we are called to recognize that which is fearful and hateful and call it out for what it is: antichrist.

As things heat up, pay attention to the information you are paying attention to. Are you letting that information define your reality? At the very least, we should be asking ourselves how the information we're being fed aligns with the life of Christ. And we should probably do a lot of research.

We can either be defined by the information and reality of the life, death, and resurrection of Jesus Christ, a life and death based in love; or we can be defined by misinformation and alternative realities that are based in fear.

Blessings,

Todd+

Wednesday, September 9, 2020

 Shameless Plug

I'm part of a Facebook group called, “Online Worship – Best Practices/Sharing.” Unlike some other worship groups I'm part of, there's no sniping at each other about rubrics, what bishop is committing heresy, why a liturgical practice should be banned, or where the BCP is all wrong. This particular group is solely concerned with, “What have you found to be helpful during COVID?” So it's a place where people share, get ideas, ask about equipment, and the like.

One member of the group, the Rev. Steven D. Martin, is the founder of The Lakelands Institute and is highly involved with helping churches cope and succeed in this new COVID world of technology and worship. Last week he put up a post asking if anyone would be willing to be part of his podcast, Online Ministry Mastermind. Well, I bit and said yes.

So this afternoon at 4:00 he will be interviewing me about how we are handling our worship and technology at Saint John's. I won't know exactly when it will be put up for listening until after the interview, but when it is, I will let you all know.

He sent me a list of questions he wants to get to, and I want to share two of those with you in the hopes that you all will be willing to help me answer:

1. If money was not object, how would you handle things? Dream a little.

2. Thinking about the recent experience, what has been an unexpected gift?

Normally I write the Wednesday Word to give you something to think about or to provide something positive during the week. Today, though, not only I am making you think (see question #1) and giving you something positive to ponder (see question #2), but I'm also asking you to share those thoughts with me. And then I will take some of those thoughts and blessings and use them in the interview.

But remember – the interview is at 4:00 today, so please e-mail before 3:00 eastern.

Blessings,

Todd+

September 2, 2020

There Are No Correct Answers

Every once in awhile I listen to a podcast. The time I choose to listen most often is usually when I'm putting in a longer time on my elliptical machine. One of those I listen to is called, “The Areopagus,” and is hosted by an Orthodox priest and Protestant pastor. The show's description says, “This podcast is about the encounter of historic Christianity with other religious traditions.” It's also long, most episodes are 1-1/2 hours, or longer, so it's perfect listening for those long days on the clothes rack.

In their most recent episode the hosts were talking about how churches in general, and their congregations in particular, were dealing with worship in the era of COVID. How do we as leaders and parishioners deal with things like neighboring churches being opened when ours isn't? Or one bishop authorizing limited in-person worship while another one hasn't (which is more of an issue in places close to diocesan boundaries)? How do we “do church” in a virtual setting? How do we maintain our faith community when we can't physically gather together? And many more questions that, I'm sure, we've all asked ourselves at one point or another.

At one point Fr. Andrew said, “I've learned that there are no correct answers.”

I think he's mostly right. Through all of this we – the broader 'we' of church, state, corporate, and home – have made decisions based on the best available information at the time. As we've seen, there are many different thoughts about how best to proceed. And I say he's “mostly right” because things like wearing masks, limiting the number of people in one gathering, washing hands, and other things along those line are clearly correct answers to dealing with our situation.

But he was talking more about the big picture of COVID in the life of the church. Do we live-stream? Do we prerecord? Do we not offer the Sacraments? Do we offer Sacraments in limited numbers? In other words, “How in the world do we do this??”

Each of us has some thought or idea about how to best “do this.” We may agree or disagree about those thoughts/ideas, and we may agree/disagree with the same person at different times. But we must all remember that there is no one correct answer sheet, so in that respect there are no correct answers.

Most of what I've seen and heard from people arguing against decisions made, or arguing for decisions not made, are done strictly from an individualistic point of view – how did that decision or non-decision affect me personally? The problem with that, though, is that we forget we are part of a larger community and most decisions made are made with an eye toward doing what is best for all, not just the one. Any leader will make incorrect decisions at times; and in this time of COVID, that incorrectness seems to happen more often.

We are all in different leadership positions – at home, at work, or in public. Please remember that there are no correct answers. But also remember that we are all doing the best we can with what we've got, so be gentle with each other.

Blessings,

August 26, 2020

 Have you noticed?

Have you noticed it's getting darker earlier? Have you noticed it's staying darker longer? A few weeks ago, I mentioned on my Facebook page that the weather in central Maryland felt absolutely perfect to this western boy: it was a little cool in the morning, had a high of 78-81, and cooled down nicely in the evening. Have you noticed the weather is beginning to feel a little more like fall than summer?

The leaves haven't quite yet begun to turn, but they can't be far behind; and by now I would have had three football meetings, with the season fast approaching.

Things are changing. Kids are going back to school, or gearing up for a school year at home. The weather is starting to cool. The light is starting to fade. The seasons are beginning to change and there's a feeling of freshness in the air – at least there is with me. Fall just feels . . . fresh.

But that freshness, that feeling of new beginning – with new school years, new sports seasons (even though most aren't being played), the traditional start of a new program year at church – can lull us into a sense of complacency. Have you noticed that?

Stores are opening up. Restaurants are opening up. Movie theaters are reopening. Other businesses are following suit. Have you noticed?

As we move into the new season, pay attention. Pay attention for the need to continue wearing masks. Pay attention for the need to continue to exhibit extraordinary compassion. Pay attention to the desire, in you and in others, to “get back to normal” more quickly than is safe. Pay attention to what we are doing right to help keep people safe, and work to continue those efforts.

In all of this – the seasonal change, the return to school, the slow opening of businesses, the continued presence of the coronavirus – have you noticed God working in and around you?

In this season of change, try not to get too carried away with the newness of everything, but notice the consistent presence of God. And then maybe ask yourself, “Am I noticing the right things?”

Be observant,

Todd+

August 19, 2020

 Clare of Assisi (d. 1253) wrote about the cross as a mirror and the necessity of studying our face within it.

The cross was an instrument of violence. It was used by Romans as a means of torture and to advertise the power of Rome. It was a very visible and morbid way of saying, “If you cross Rome, Rome will cross you.” That pax romana, the famed peace of the Roman Empire, was partly established through this very violent means of torture.

We often think about violence as being done to us. Whether it be physical or mental abuse, a home invasion, a robbery, or some other crime, violence is something that happens outside ourselves or against ourselves. But when we gaze upon the cross as a mirror, we begin to see the violence of the cross within ourselves.

During the reading of the Passion, we all shout, “Crucify him! We want Barabbas. Crucify him!” And a Holy Week hymn points out, “Twas I, Lord Jesus, I it was denied thee: I crucified thee.” We are the ones committing violence against Christ.

But as we gaze upon the cross as a mirror and consider our own complicity in the violence against Christ, we might also begin to recognize other acts of violence we have participated in and committed. How are we complicit in humanity's violence against nature? How are we complicit in violence against others based on their income level or skin color? How have we violated the dignity of other human beings? The list, unfortunately, is endless.

I don't write this in an attempt to make anyone feel guilty; but I do write this in an effort to say we could all do better. As we gaze on the mirror of the cross, Clare asks us to consider where we fail in love and where we find freedom in love.

And if we do this long enough, this gazing at the cross as a mirror, it just may be that we can move from seeing the cross as an instrument of violence and death to an instrument of life-giving love.

Be well,

Todd+

August 12, 2020

On the news the other day I saw a brief story about a church holding services at full capacity, defying the state's guidelines on the number of persons allowed to gather in one place. Unfortunately I can't remember what state, city, or church this was, but that really isn't important here. What's important are the two different reactions that were presented.

The video showed two groups of people: one group wearing masks and holding signs saying, “Love your neighbor,” and the other group going into the church without masks and proclaiming that their civil liberty to gather and worship as they saw fit was being violated by that state's mask and gathering orders.

A female parishioner being interviewed said, “I get the whole mask thing and not wanting to gather and that's fine for you. But what about me? My civil liberty to worship is being violated and that's not right.”

And that pretty much sums up where our society as a whole has devolved to: What about me?

Wearing a mask to help prevent the spread of the coronavirus has somehow morphed into a flashpoint for people claiming their individual rights are being violated and claims of masks hampering their ability to breathe. Which, when compared to people who truly couldn't breathe like Eric Garner, Javier Ambler, Manuel Ellis, Elijah McClain, and George Floyd, is sad, ironic, and completely oblivious.

For those claiming their civil liberties are being violated by not being able to worship as they see fit, it's not all about you. A huge disconnect has developed between what I want and what is good for the body. Paul wrote about the necessity of a healthy body. Jesus' whole life was focused on others and, at one point, said, “Not what I want, but what you want.” Scripture is full of examples and admonitions to care for others. Loving your neighbor sometimes includes doing that which is personally uncomfortable. Being in a worshiping community means we do what we can to ensure the health of that community – whether that's wearing a mask, following gathering guidelines, or both.

Worship is part of what we do as a church, and there is no doubt that worship edifies and sustains us spiritually and emotionally. Worship is also the primary and most visible way we honor God, but it is not the only way. We can also honor God by caring for those who are hungry, homeless, abused, and otherwise in need. We can honor God by respecting the dignity of every human being; and in this time, respecting them enough to wear a mask so as not to inadvertently spread the coronavirus. We can honor God by seeking justice, exhibiting kindness, and living humbly. We can honor God by focusing less on our own desires and more on the needs of God's creation in its entirety.

As a whole, we would do well to spend less time focusing on what individual rights we seem to be losing and more time losing ourselves in the will of God. So as we move forward through the pandemic and quarantines, how might we find new ways to honor God and shift our focus to others?

Be mindful,

Todd+

August 5, 2020

The first one is in the books.

This past Sunday was our first Sunday with in-person worship since March. In preparation for that service we had to evaluate and plan for a variety of issues, which, thanks to the hard work of the Parish Reopening Committee, were well-put together. Everything from which doors shall we open to a reservation system to ensuring extra masks were available to cordoning off pews and removing books was discussed and planned for.

We made plans for an August 2 restart and all seemed in place. I thought last week was the storm before the calm (as I wrote in the last Wednesday Word), where everything was a beehive of activity and stress seemed to increase as we prepared to have people in church again. But even with all of that, I did manage to get a good night's sleep on Saturday.

Then Sunday came and there wasn't much calmness. I was hoping that Sunday morning would sound a little like the theme song to Welcome Back, Kotter – somewhat slow, a little jazzy, and very comfortable. Instead it was more like The Boys are Back in Town by Thin Lizzy – fast, loud, rambunctious, and slightly out of control.

By 9:05 I was already exhausted, but everything that needed to be done was done and the only thing left to do was to take some time, relax, and stand over the A/C vent to cool off. By the time we got to 9:30, we were ready to worship. And we did and it was glorious.

As Dcn. Sue and I made our way from the High Altar to our seats I was overwhelmed with joy at seeing all of the people in the pews. As we made our way through the liturgy, it was both thrilling and comforting to hear the congregational responses. I was reminded of how different it is to preach with a church full of people as opposed to preaching to a camera. And being able to administer Communion, the Body of Christ, to people who had not received that blessed Sacrament for close to five months, was a truly special moment.

Just like those first few Sundays of online-only worship were stressful and different but settled into a routine, these first few Sundays of limited in-person worship will also be stressful and different; but they will also be good as we come together to the best of our ability and worship the Lord in the beauty of holiness.

I've said this before, and I'll say it again: despite everything going on in the world around us, and despite having to continually adjust to this new way of being, there is no other place I'd rather be going through all of this than right here with the people of Saint John's.

As we move forward, let us continue to remain calm, connected, and church. Let us worship together both with our limited in-person presence and unlimited online presence. And let us continue to work to spread the light and joy of Sunday morning to the world around us.

Blessings,

Todd+

July 29, 2020

The calm before the storm.

I understand why people say that. I've said it myself. We say it because there oftentimes seems to be just that – a period of relative calm before things get really crazy, hectic, out of control, or whatever. During the football season, it's that time when the officials are all gathered together in one place, apart from everyone and everything else, between the time we've finished dressing and the time we walk out onto the field, when there's a feeling of calm.

I'm sure we all have our own examples of that period just before things get crazy when we have a moment or two where we can gather our thoughts, take a deep breath or two, and then off we go.

Right now should feel like that – it should feel calm before we begin to regather for in-person worship this Sunday. It should, but it's not.

All of the planning and discussion the PRC did toward this moment is finished and we are ready to go. The petition to the diocese was made and accepted. But now we are working to ensure that everything we put down on paper gets addressed and lived into in person.

Do we have enough hand sanitizer? Did we get tables and chairs where they need to go? Do we have the right signage? Will our thermometers work? Will the reservation process go as planned? Will we have enough bulletins? And, and, and, and . . .

So this time isn't the calm before the storm, but it is the storm before the calm.

We have prepared as well as we can. Things will be as ready as they can. And on Sunday we will welcome both people into the building and those watching online as we worship together. It will be there, with our gathered community, online and in person, where the calmness of our worship will wash over us. It will be there where we will pray together, hum together (no singing yet), and feast together. And it will be there when the words of Julian of Norwich will echo in our collective minds, “All shall be will. All shall be well. All manner of things shall be well.”

This Sunday, what will be will be, and that will be enough.

If you have made reservations to join us in person, I look forward to worshiping with you. If you will be joining us from your home, I look forward to worshiping with you. Wherever you are on this journey, know that we are gathered together; and I hope that brings a bit of calm into your life.

Be well,

July 22, 2020

Joelene and I were on vacation last week, and we had a nice getaway. We headed over to Lewes, DE, and spent three days in a wonderful B&B near downtown on the main street and less than a mile from the beach. We also spent some time at Rehoboth on the beach and wandering through some shops.

In general it was a good time away where the only thing we really had to worry about was making sure we were up and out of our room by 9:00 so we could be served breakfast. We read a little, played some cribbage, did a little sight-seeing, ate well, and not much else.

That said, it was also good to come home; it's always nice sleeping in your own bed. Vacation continued through Sunday when I made pancakes before getting online to watch Sunday service.

And then it was back to work on Monday – no sleeping in, no relaxing breakfast prepared for us by a doting staff, no leisurely strolls through downtown or along the beach. It was back to regular mornings, returning phone calls and e-mails, working on the Wednesday Word, the monthly Ramblings, sermon prep, and seeing to any number of other things needing attention.

At some point during the day I went into the church to drop off a few bottles of hand sanitizer and then walked back to the sacristy. And as I made that walk up the center aisle looking toward the High Altar and the Mark 16 window I let out a little sigh and said to myself, “It's good to be home.” For indeed, this is a special place, and it is a place, as I said two weeks ago, where we gather engage with each other and God. Not that we must do that within the walls of Saint John's, but every group needs a gathering place, and this is ours.

With that feeling of good-to-be-home and the deep sense of holiness that embraces you when you are in the nave, either alone or with our community, I looked ahead ever so slightly to when we might once again regather. Because, while I have been able to worship in the beauty of holiness every Sunday, as well as weekday Evening Prayer, most of you reading this have not, and I look forward to the day when parishioners of Saint John's can once again join me in this holy place.

The Parish Regathering Committee has a meeting tonight to discuss this very thing. We have been working to get protocols in place for regathering, looking at the COVID infection rate in Washington County, and being guided by diocesan policies. I will send out an update tomorrow as to where we are and what was decided at tonight's meeting.

This has been a long stretch for all of us. I want to thank you for your continued support, dedication, and understanding, as well as all your prayers. My hope is to be able to provide something positive for us – for you – to look forward to once again being in our sacred space, to once again be able to gather in community and worship, and for us to say, “It's good to be home.”

This is home, and I believe we are close to returning.

Be hopeful,

July 8, 2020

“The church building is not, per se, the place where God dwells. Rather, it is a meeting house where the community engages with God and one another.” – The Shackles of the Present, Matthew Alderman, The Living Church, September 21, 2014.

We have been doing this COVID thing now for about four months. It seems a lot longer to me, and maybe it does to you as well. And over that time we have lost some things, but we have also gained some things.

We have lost our ability to come together and worship God in the beauty of holiness. We have lost our ability to come together and be with each other over a Monday morning breakfast, Sunday coffee hour, or any number of times and places where we had normally gathered.

We have also gained a new understanding of what church is or can be. We have learned to connect with people in different ways. Some of us have been calling others on a regular basis to check in and keep up. People who didn't normally cross paths have gotten to know each other in new and meaningful ways. We have developed our online presence and are continually working to improve that aspect of worship.

But still . . . we miss our building. I get that. Episcopalians love their buildings. Sometimes, though, that love of building can fall into a type of idolatry. I have a friend who, when he was having a particularly bad week at the church, would say, “Maybe we just need to burn the thing to the ground so we can learn what church is all about.” I don't really know anything about that congregation other than what he told me, but it seemed like that group of people had fallen into the trap of building idolatry.

I don't think we suffer from that here at Saint John's. We certainly love our building, and we do our best to care for it so that future generations may appreciate its beauty. But we also know that there are plenty of times and places and circumstances where we encounter God, and others encounter God through us, outside of our building.

We know that God is not confined to a building. We know that we don't need a building to do a lot of the things we do. But the church building is the place where the Beloved Community gathers to intentionally engage with each other. We have learned that worshiping alone is hard, worshiping with others via the internet is hard, connecting with others outside of this space is also hard. That's why our building is important.

The good thing about the COVID quarantine is that we have learned we can do this. We can be church without the church, so to speak. But it has also taught us just how precious and important our communal engagement with each and and God is to us.

The building isn't where God dwells. The building isn't where church happens. But the building is where we intentionally engage with God and others.

Through all of this, I want you to know that I am hopeful that, sooner rather than later, we will once again be able to engage with God and others in that sacred and holy space we all love.

Be hopeful,

July 1, 2020

Joelene and I are going on vacation in just over a week. I put a post up on Facebook asking for recommendations of where to go and got all kinds of responses. If you were one of the people who responded, thank you. We opted for a beach excursion and will be spending three days by the ocean.

Coordinating vacations for the two of us can be difficult. She needs to worry about how much time she has available and if a particular time-slot is available. I'm easier on that front, but I need to worry about whether or not I can find supply clergy to cover those Sundays I want to be gone. The good news is that we made it work – at least for this particular week in July.

So we're going to take some time, get away, walk on the beach, explore the town, and generally just relax. We'll spend some time in silence listening to the sound of the ocean. We may take a short road trip and go explore. I'm sure there will be a few other things that will make themselves available (crab shacks are high on that list), but I'm particularly looking forward to listening to the ocean.

Listening to the ocean is something along the lines of holy silence. There's really nothing you can say to the ocean, you can only sit and listen to the never-ending sound of waves coming to shore. It's a sound that hasn't changed for billions of years, ever since the first ocean wave crashed ashore on the first mass of land it encountered. We just sit and listen.

I know people who like to vacation in the mountains or other parts of nature who also enjoy listening – listening to the birds, other animals, gurgling brooks, the wind, or maybe a waterfall. There's something about listening to these things, spending time in that holy silence, that is calming. There is something there reminding us that, no matter how crazy, hectic, or chaotic things get, all will be well. But we need to take the time to sit. We need to take the time to be still. We need to take the time to listen. We need to take time to sit in holy silence.

Wherever you are, however you are coping with the stress of COVID, whatever busy-ness has been showing up in your life, take some time to spend in holy silence. What can you hear? What do you want to hear? Listen.

Sometimes in that listening we discover answers to our questions. Sometimes in that listening we discover answers to questions we never knew we were asking. Sometimes in that listening we are comforted. Sometimes in that listening we just listen and nothing is different.

All of those are okay. It's not about finding answers. It's not about discovering some deep, previously unknown answer to life. It's simply about being available to listen to the God who has been here for billions of years singing a song as never-ending as the waves crashing onto shore.

And maybe, if we spend time in that holy silence just listening, we can also learn to be present with others, offering to them the holy silence of ourselves as we listen to what they are saying.

Be well,

June 24, 2020

“Seek him who made the Pleiades and Orion, and turns deep darkness into the morning . . .” BCP 115

This is part of one of the options to begin Evening Prayer and it is probably my favorite beginning. The whole verse is taken from Amos 5:8, and it goes on to proclaim the wondrous power and glory of the Lord.

It's always hard for me to pick a favorite anything, because I tend to like a lot of different things in different ways and at different times. Things like, “What's your favorite food?” or, “What's your favorite Beatles song?” or, “What's your favorite place?” are always problematic for me because it depends . . . what time of year is it? What's my mood at the time? What's happening in the world? All of these factor into making the choice difficult.

“Here comes the sun,” is up there on that list, but that plays better after a long, cold winter than in June or July. Cannon Beach, Oregon is also up there, and probably very near the top; but driving through the Cascade Mountains after two years of seeing nothing higher than the Sears Tower is also good. And pie . . . well, it's always pie – blueberry cream cheese to be exact.

“What's your favorite scripture verse?” is one of those questions. Where am I spiritually? What's going on? What day is it? All this and more play into that decision. But this one from Evening Prayer is at the top of the list.

In times of difficulty, in times of stress, in times when I'm overly tired and want to just lie down and stop, there's this verse. Seek him who made the Pleiades and Orion, and turns deep darkness into the morning.

This is a reminder that God is not only the Lord of everything, but that God is all around. It's a reminder to continually seek him, because he wills to be found. It's a reminder that the deep darkness – whether the dark of night or the dark night of our soul – God will turn that darkness into the light of morning. It may take longer than we want or expect, but it will happen.

And for me, in this time of unrest and pestilence, that is something I desperately need to hold onto.

God is everywhere. Let us seek him who made the Pleiades and Orion, and let us live in hope that the deep darkness will turn to the light of morning.

Be hopeful,

June 17, 2020

“Come away to a deserted place all by yourselves and rest awhile” – Mark 6:31

There are several places in scripture where Jesus withdraws away from the crowds and pressure of being Jesus to pray, recharge, and renew. Even though he was God, he was also human; and he needed to find time to rest so that he could do those things he needed to do effectively. He needed to find time to rest his human body so that he wouldn't burn out and give up. The interesting thing for us to remember here is that even God rested on the seventh day. Both Jesus' humanity and divinity needed to rest every so often.

I was talking with a friend yesterday and she suggested that maybe it was time for me to take a rest.

I went back through the calendar and discovered that I have written a Daily Meditation almost every day since March 15, excluding most Sundays and the time Dcn. Sue took over. As we were talking, I said something about my brain being empty. To which she said, “So take a break.”

I started writing these meditations as ways for you all to remain hopeful and connected. I wanted to offer a piece of light and certainty in a time when things seemed dark and uncertain. I hope I did that.

But now, after three months of almost daily writing, my brain feels empty. It's not writer's block so much as it is writer's fatigue. I'm tired. And the pressure to write daily has now outweighed the ability to produce. So after wrestling with this, I've decided to stop writing daily meditations.

I know this may come as a shock to some of you who have looked forward to, and maybe relied on, these little daily messages, and I'm sorry for that. I suppose I could have begun the process by whittling down from daily to three times a week to twice a week to none, but I probably would've forgotten to write at all.

So I'm going away to a deserted place, at least as far as the Daily Meditations are concerned. The Wednesday Word will still happen. We will still look for ways to stay connected, stay calm, and stay church. The people making phone calls will continue to do so. I will continue to call people on birthdays and anniversaries. And we will continue to work to keep everyone updated with where we are in regards to COVID and how we're handling it. But it's now time to take a rest from daily writing.

We all need to take time to rest every so often. During everything that is and has been going on, I hope you are also finding time to rest.

Be well,

June 10, 2020

Support

No man is an island . . . We are all in this together . . . It takes a village to raise a child . . . All for one, and one for all.

These are just a few sayings having to do with the understanding that . . . well . . . we are all in this together. Whether that be in careers, church, school, or society in general, we rely on other people for a whole lot of things, some of which we may not even know we are relying on other people.

Sometimes that reliance is frustrating and tenuous. I'm thinking back to group projects in school where it always seemed that one person didn't contribute much of anything, thereby either dragging the whole group down with him/her, or setting the other members into overdrive and reaping the benefits of their labor for his/her good grade. Some office teams are that way, being a team in name only.

On Monday I sent out a Daily Meditation expressing my frustration with technology that failed mid-service. And while I normally don't use this forum to express frustrations, I wanted to let you all know how that negatively affected me, especially during a service that so many of you had asked for – Holy Eucharist.

The upside to all of this for me was the number of e-mails and texts I received from various parishioners. Those were messages of support. They were messages reminding me that we are all doing the best we can with what we've got. They were words of encouragement to not give up. And I was reminded yet once again why I am so blessed to be part of this community of Saint John's.

Through everything we have been through in the past several months, we know that we are all in this together. We work to ensure that nobody feels alone on a deserted island. We are a beloved community even though we are scattered about unable to gather together in-person.

I am thankful for everyone associated with the production of Sunday services. I am thankful for the words of encouragement I receive from any number of people when I have one of THOSE days. I am thankful for the assistance and presence so many of you offer to so many of you.

As we move into the fourth month of the COVID pandemic, as we continue to be physically separated and distanced from each other, as we continue to work toward doing our part to help stop the spread of this pestilence visited upon us, let us never forget to continue to support each other. If someone has been on your mind lately, call them, or maybe write a note and mail a card. If you are feeling frustrated with whatever situation you are in, call someone and ask to vent.

We are all in this together and we can come out of it stronger than when we went in if we remember that we are a beloved community linked to each other in good times and bad.

So, in the words of Bartles & Jaymes,

Thank you for your support

Wednesday Word: Holy Communion

Holy Communion is central to who we are as a church. It hasn't always been that way, as many parishioners probably recall Holy Communion only being celebrated once a month, or even only once a quarter. But since 1976 with the arrival of the Proposed Book of Common Prayer, and certainly since 1979 when the proposed book became THE Book of Common Prayer for this church, Holy Communion has been central to our worship. As is stated in the BCP, “The Holy Eucharist, the principal act of Christian worship on the Lord's Day and other major Feasts . . . [is] the regular service[s] appointed for public worship in this Church.” (p. 13)

Holy Eucharist, and thereby Holy Communion, is meant to be celebrated in community. While the Episcopal church has no clear guidelines as to how many people must be present, it is clear that there must be more than one, and is why a priest doesn't celebrate Eucharist by him/herself in a side chapel. This is all well and good and obvious, but we are now in different times where some of the old assumptions about how we worship are, if not being tossed out, most definitely being critiqued and creatively adjusted.

Ever since COVID took hold and began shutting down church gatherings, there have been a myriad of theological and liturgical discussions in various circles about how Eucharist should be celebrated, if it should be celebrated, alternatives to it being celebrated, and even down to arguing whether or not bread and wine at home could be consecrated by the priest over the airwaves/internet feeds. It's a long, deep, and convoluted discussion.

As you are well aware, since the shutdown of in-person worship, I have opted to preside at Morning Prayer services that are (to the best of our abilities) live streamed via our Facebook page. My reasoning for this is because we cannot gather as a community to participate in Holy Communion. We are unable to share in the physical Body and Blood of Christ that will spiritually nourish us. For a more detailed explanation, I suggest you read my sermon on this very topic (Sermon Easter 6A).

That said, it has been brought to my attention that there are several (I don't know the exact numbers since until recently I had only heard from three) people who would prefer a service of Holy Eucharist, even if they can't physically participate. Generally speaking we don't make liturgical changes because someone thinks it's a good idea. But that doesn't mean that I don't, or won't, listen to input from people about our worship.

So while I don't agree with the practice of Spiritual Communion in our current situation, I do recognize that some people find it meaningful and beneficial. In our current context of COVID closures and physical separation, in our current context of finding new and creative ways to keep our parish connected to each other and with God, it would be foolish of me to ignore those who have a strong desire to witness the celebration of Holy Eucharist, even if they can't physically participate. After all, I did take a vow to “nourish Christ's people from the riches of his grace, and strengthen them to glorify God in this life and in the life to come.” I can't do that if, in this context, I ignore the spiritual needs of parishioners in an effort to maintain what I see as my own personal theological correctness.

So, beginning this Sunday, June 7, I will offer Holy Eucharist on the first Sunday of the month for the time being. This will have elements that are familiar to you, but it will also have some elements that, due to our separation, will necessarily be different. And then, sometime next week, feel free to send me an e-mail letting me know what you think and how you received this Spiritual Communion.

Blessings,

Todd+

May 27, 2020

Stepping Out

Monday was the rare day in my household when all three of us had the day off. We could have opted to spend the day sleeping, which, given our recent schedules, would have been totally appropriate. We could have opted to meet with some new neighbor friends who apparently have the skills and tools to put in a patio/fire pit. Given how long the bricks have been in our driveway, that would have been even more appropriate. Instead we opted for a spur-of-the-moment, 4-hour drive up to Kinzua Bridge State Park in Pennsylvania.

The Kinzua Bridge spans the Kinzua Creek and gorge, and was originally 301' high and 2053' long. Up until about 2001 it was used as a rail excursion. But then the middle section of the bridge was destroyed by an F-1 tornado in 2003, and now the bridge ends mid-span with a viewing area and clear Plexiglas floor to see down to the bottom of the gorge. It is now known as the Kinzua Bridge Skywalk, and the remains of the bridge have been left as-is to show the power of nature.

There were a few places on that walk that gave several people pause. Looking over the edge can induce a bit of vertigo, as can looking down through the Plexiglas. And climbing up one of the supporting towers for pictures could be a bit dicey.

I began thinking about this bridge and our faith. The bridge is sturdy enough, but there can be forces at work which may cause severe damage. After that damage, though, the bridge was reworked from a railroad excursion into a sky bridge for pedestrians. And even though the bridge is sturdy enough (it doesn't sway and you won't fall through the cracks), it does take some bit of courage to step out there, peer through the Plexiglas down below, or lean over the edge a bit to get a good picture.

Sometimes our faith is the same way. Our faith may be sturdy enough, but there can be forces at work which may cause damage, sometimes severe, to our faith. COVID19 is one we are experiencing right now. Questions about what is church? How can we be church? What is the relevance and meaning of our building? How will we continue? And more, come up over and over again. But, like the bridge, our faith will not be totally destroyed. We will probably have to rework some of our old things and habits into new ways of doing and being the church. It may take a bit of courage to step out and see how things have changed, or to peer out past the safety barrier to see how things are different.

The attraction of the Kinzua bridge is not gone, it's just different. Likewise, coming through this time of pandemic will not make our faith disappear, but it may change it in some way; and that's okay. Sometimes those changes, though, feel like we've been hit by a tornado and leave us twisted and battered. But those scars are all part of our story. We are just being reworked into something new and different.

Through it all, remember those final words of Jesus and the beginning words of the Church, “I am with you always, even to the end of the age.”

In this time of stress and change, I hope you are doing well,

May 13, 2020

Structured for Holiness

I found an old article from The Living Church dated April 17, 2016 written by Zachary Guiliano detailing the spirituality of holy living while living in the midst of a PhD desert. In the article he describes what it was like to be sequestered away while he traveled, researched, and wrote his dissertation, and how that experience shaped his spiritual life.

In discussing Anglicanism, he quoted a saying he often heard: 90 percent of Anglicanism is just showing up (this mirrors Woody Allen who said, “80 percent of success is showing up,” and Yogi Berra who said, “90 percent of baseball is mental, the other half is physical”). What the author was getting at in that quote is that coming to church on a regular basis, participating in the liturgy, and praying at specific times – regardless of your state of mind, whether or not you are distracted, angry, depressed, happy, or joyful – has a way of shaping you and molding you into a state of holiness. The tenacity to worship on a regular basis, the patience to wait upon the Lord, the endurance to run the race to the end, all work to shape holy virtues.

To do this, though, requires a willingness to structure our lives around worship and faith. Faith and worship aren't (or shouldn't be) just something we get up and do if we feel like it or if we have time. The things in our lives that are important will find ways to make it into our calendar. But sometimes the things we feel are important get pushed to the side because “they'll always be there,” like family, relationships, worship.

When the author found himself floundering and being easily distracted from what was important (his dissertation), he discovered advice given to St. Antony of the Desert encouraging him to find a pattern, and within that pattern he would discover holiness.

And so, he says, he structured his days. From the time he woke up to morning coffee and prayers to working on the dissertation to lunch to household chores to more work to evening prayers and, finally, to bed, he structured his life. It was within that structure that he found productivity. It was within that structure that he also discovered holiness.

As we continue our life in quarantine, or sheltering-in-place, or limited activity, or whatever you want to call it, I'm hopeful that, by now, you have found a structure to your days. That structure may be what keeps you productive. That structure may be what keeps you sane. That structure may just lead you to a state of holiness.

The advice given to St. Antony of the Desert is certainly applicable now: “Work, pray, rest, repeat. This is the way to quell temptation. Do this, and you will be saved.”

Be well,

May 6, 2020

"To be sent as Jesus was sent is to be part of that community of learners and at the same time to do life-giving signs.  And the signs are not just for his own community, they are about abundant life for all -- whoever was at the wedding, whoever turned up as part of the five thousand needing food."  David F. Ford, Who is Jesus Now? Maxims and Surprises, Anglican Theological Review, Vol. 101, Number 2, pp. 222-223.
This article by David Ford, in his own words, attempts to "articulate seven maxims in answer to the question, Who is Jesus now?"  As you would imagine, there's a lot packed into his article, so maybe it was because we've had several Sundays where the gospel reading has come from John that I found it particularly timely.  Especially since we are dealing every day with the fallout from COVID.
We are followers of Christ.  We are part of a community of learners.  The disciples learned from following Jesus as he walked hither and yon, having conversations with men and women, Jews and Gentiles, Pharisees and Samaritans.  They saw him perform miracles and signs not only for them, his disciples, but for those outside that community.  The wine at Cana wasn't only for the disciples, but for all the guests.  The loaves and fish were not only meant to be shared among the disciples, but with everybody gathered together in that place. 
One of the things we are grappling with during this COVID pandemic is how to be a community that offers abundant life for all.  We are trying to maintain our community as best we can during these times, everything from online services (which have continually improved) to thinking about various small groups and studies to virtual coffee hours.  And, of course, finances are bound to come up in any of these discussions with the concern that, as people's income dwindles so too will our donations.  And we wonder how that will impact us.
But we also must consider the wider community.  How can we, as followers of Christ, as a prominent church in Hagerstown, as a Christian community in a particular area of Hagerstown with a surrounding population in need, proclaim and live a message of abundant life for all?  Now more than ever we must not become so inwardly focused that we are of no outwardly good. 
Christ appeared in difficult times, and it is in these difficult times today where we must reflect the image of Christ not only to our own community but to those around us.  We have work to do with each other, and this is where we shall stay.  But we also have work to do with the 5000 who are desperately looking for the face of God, and this is where we must go.

Be well,

April 29, 2020

A Gathering of Leaders

Several years ago I attended a few conferences of Episcopal clergy called the Gathering of Leaders. This was designed for clergy who were under 50-years old, and it was the brainchild of the former bishop of Texas. The overall goal of these conferences was to help shape clergy leaders, make contacts, and help us help our parishes move forward.

While I am well-past being under 50, and I no longer attend these gatherings, I still find myself surrounded by a gathering of leaders here at Saint John's. You're probably tired hearing me tell this story, but one of the biggest reasons I submitted my name to be a part of the search process here was because, as I read the profile, it was clear to me that the people of Saint John's “got it.” Worship was a big part of the life of this parish, but so was the variety of outreach efforts. The people here knew that “church” meant more than Sunday mornings. I still find that to be true.

This COVID pandemic has been tiring for us all. Many of us have been stuck at home for longer than we would care to be. Reports of the infection rate declining are then followed by reports of outbreaks because people got careless, or were allowed to gather prematurely, or, or, or. And as of now, we are limited to gatherings of 10 or fewer, maintaining a 6-foot distance between people, and we have a target date of May 17 when we might be allowed to worship at church again (but, based on current trends, I'm not holding my breath about that timeline).

But even so, as this pandemic has dragged on and we have lived with stay-at-home orders, and are unsure of a realistic time of regathering, leaders of this church have begun to surface. A few people have contacted me about starting a book study, or bible study, or some other adult study. The J2A group meets regularly on Sundays for a game night and again on Thursdays for Compline (affectionately dubbed Zoompline). The Community Cafe group is having a brainstorming session next Tuesday, May 5, to discuss how they can effectively get food and toiletries to those people who have come to depend on the Cafe. And yesterday morning I had a long conversation with Peg Brown about how we might utilize various leaders to help keep us connected, involved, and engaged.

Peg will be reaching out to a few people to see about being the point person for a few small groups. I don't know who those people are, but I am confident that, with the leaders that are gathered here at Saint John's, they will be more than capable. If you get that call, don't be shocked. Instead, think of it as an opportunity to help the people of Saint John's remain connected, involved, and engaged during this time of disconnection, isolation, and loneliness.

As I think about all of this, I am reminded that we are a gathering of worshipers. We are a gathering of disciples. We are a gathering of servants. And we are a Gathering of Leaders.

May we all look for ways to help lead the people around us through this pandemic.

Be well,

Todd+