January 26, 2022

“You can't sink one end of a boat.” – Officiating Wisdom

Unbeknownst to most people, a football game is played with three teams: the dark jerseys, the light jerseys, and the striped jerseys. This is actually true of most sports where two teams vie against each other, but since I'm a football guy . . .

During a game the lights and darks strive to defeat the other team by scoring more points. The stripes are there to ensure that the two teams play by the rules and don't gain an unfair advantage by using, shall we say, creative interpretations of the rules.

During that same game you may very well see one member of the lights yelling at teammate. Or you may see a coach of the darks yelling at a particular group of his team. This is understandable, as football is a very emotional game. As the game goes on and the clock ticks down, the pressure to win goes up. We may have seen clips of Tom Brady yelling at his receivers for running wrong pass routes. Or maybe you watched Matthew Stafford screaming at his teammates to hustle downfield as time was winding down. I saw a clip just recently of normally calm Peyton Manning screaming at his center, Jeff Saturday, about the offensive line's inability to block the defense.

But you know what you will never see during a football game? You will never see one member of the stripes yelling at another member of the stripes. You will never see one member of the stripes trying to show-up another member of the stripes. If the back judge makes a questionable call, the side judge may ask him if he's sure of what he saw. If so, then the crew lives with that decision. If not, then the crew supports the one who made a mistake to keep him from dwelling on past errors so that he can focus on getting other calls right.

This is because, in a football game, the only people who care about the striped team are its members. We do not have the luxury of yelling at or berating our teammates for mistakes made. I, as a back judge, cannot – MUST NOT – throw a flag in the referee's area the prove a point. I cannot – MUST NOT – tell a coach, “Well, you know, that referee really doesn't know the rules and I'm pretty sure you're getting screwed.”

The officials are all in the same boat. If I don't like what the referee is doing, I cannot go to his end of the boat and put a hole in it to teach him a lesson, because you can't sink one end of a boat.

Jesus spent a fair amount of time with his disciples in boats; and for often as they “didn't get it,” he never once got frustrated enough to sink Peter's end of the boat.

In this thing known as Christianity, may we remember that, ultimately, we are all in the same boat.

Blessings,

January 12, 2022

 Many are saying, “Oh, that we might see better times!” *  Lift up the light of your countenance upon us, O Lord. – Ps. 4:6

Psalm 4 was one of the appointed psalms for Evening Prayer on Monday, and it is a psalm that I have heard many times over the years.

As the COVID pandemic of 2020 moved into 2021 and now stretches into 2022, I hear or read sentiments along the lines of Ps. 4:6. People are tired. Tired of the pandemic. Tired of trying to make ends meet with part-time, minimum wage jobs that provide no benefits. Tired of wondering why we have money to create and maintain a fifth branch of the military but no money for universal health care or reducing the cost of life-saving drugs. Tired of flipping from in-person to online venues. Tired of arguments about vaccinations and masks. Oh, that we might see better times!

The psalmist, and most likely all of us, cry out for better times. We cry out for God to pour some sunshine into our lives. Because, really, wouldn't that be wonderful if God would just wave a magic wand (or finger or whatever) and put an end to the pandemic and restore everything to something that we felt good about?

But this been the cry of the faithful forever – “How long, oh Lord, how long?”

Sometimes that cry is necessary. But sometimes it only serves to shift the blame or the responsibility to God for things that we could very well take care of if we worked toward those goals.

I know we are all tired of the pandemic. We are all feeling any number of pressures and stressors. These past two years haven't been ideal, and 2022 doesn't seem to be off to a bright, shining start. But in the midst of the psalmist's lament, there is also a shift from asking God to provide better times to seeing better times in the world around him.

The next verse of the psalm reads, “You have put gladness in my heart, more than when grain and wine and oil increase.”

May we not be so focused on verse 6 that we miss out on verse 7. In the dumpster fire of 2020 and 2021, and continuing to burn into 2022, let us recognize that not everything is bad. Let us recognize that God has put joy and gladness in our hearts – we just need to be willing to actively pursue God's goodness in a manner that shapes how we view the world around us.

Let us recognize that God has put gladness in our hearts; more gladness than all the good things of the earth.

Blessings,

December 29, 2021

We are always the 'stable' into which the Christ is born anew. – Richard Rohr, quoted by Prior Aelred in the Abbey Letter of St. Gregory's Abbey, number 288, Christmas 2021

The Episcopal monks of St. Gregory's Abbey, located in Three Rivers, MI, send out a little newsletter about once a quarter giving updates on what they're doing, what they've read, and some meditations here and there. In his meditation on Christmas, compassion, and love, Prior Aelred mentioned the above sentence from Richard Rohr.

Jesus Christ the Son of God was born of a woman in a stable (or barn, or cave, or outbuilding) because there was no room for the family in the main house (inn). The eternal, omnipotent God, creator of all that is, seen and unseen, humbled himself to become incarnate of the virgin Mary and made man. This person Jesus, whom we refer to as King of kings and Lord of lords, was born not in a castle, not in a place of power, nor in the city of prophets and kings, but in a small town, in a back room where animals were kept, and laid in a feeding trough.

There are people who have prayed, and will pray, that Jesus come into their lives. As Episcopalians we invite Christ into our lives every Sunday by our participation in the liturgy of Holy Eucharist and with our consuming of the bread and wine become his Body and Blood. I would imagine there are many ways that Christ is invited to dwell within us, and in each way we are the stable into which Christ is born anew.

In one sense this is a good thing – we are constantly asking Christ into our lives, we are constantly working to be more Christ-like. As our baptismal covenant says in part, we strive to continue in the apostles' teaching and fellowship, in the breaking of bread, and in the prayers.

But the above sentence also got me thinking . . . Jesus Christ was born in a back room or outbuilding or cave or stable because the inn, the main building, had no room. Is the Christ born in us anew in our stable because we have no room in our main building? Do we relegate Jesus Christ to the backrooms or outbuildings of our lives because we are too full of other things?

“Away in a manger” is a lovely Christmas hymn, but how would our lives look if we made space for the Christ to be born anew in our primary life building rather than relegating him to our personal stables?

Merry Christmas,

December 22, 2021

Where is God in this? How can I find grace in even the worst of circumstances? – From the Fourth Wednesday of Advent meditation, I Witness, by the Rev. Kate Moorhead.

This has been a rough week.

On Sunday I took Communion to a person on hospice. She was alert but due to a stroke at some point in her life it was extremely difficult to communicate with her. On Sunday afternoon my normal discussion group for the above book was sabotaged by a computer that decided to not recognize any internet connections, thereby making it impossible to hold that discussion; and I was ultimately unsuccessful in getting the group up and running on my phone. Later that evening I was informed that one of our parishioners suffered a major heart attack and the prognosis is not good. The office is abuzz with activity as we finalize bulletins, try to wrap up pledge/budget issues, and whatever other end of year business needs to be worked on. I fielded two calls from people looking for shelter due to being evicted. Soundings articles and reports were due yesterday. There's a Vestry meeting tonight.

It has been, and continues to be, a rough week.

In reflecting on the events of this week so far, the meditation questions for today are particularly apt: Where is God in this? How can I find grace in even the worst of circumstances?

There was grace in that simple Communion service with an uncommunicative person. Even though we couldn't connect through speech, there was a throaty, raspy cadence as I recited the Lord's Prayer, and there was a sense of understanding as I placed a small, wine-dipped host on her tongue. God was present.

When my computer was being difficult and I was unable to get the Zoom meeting going for our weekly discussion, there didn't seem to be much grace around. But when I came into the office on Monday and opened up my e-mail, I found several messages from participants who were concerned that I was sick, having another bout of vertigo, or that some other unfortunate event had befallen me. Grace was in their concern for my well-being.

When I was informed of a parishioner's heart attack, hospitalization, and poor prognosis, I'm sure his wife was asking, “Where's God?” But even in that awful event, grace could be found in the support she is receiving from any number of people.

Things are not always easy and sometimes things can be extremely difficult – especially when they happen in the midst of a holiday that's touted as “the most wonderful time of the year.” But in those difficult times, or in the worst of circumstances, if you are able, take a step back, slow down, and ask yourself, “How can I find grace in the midst of this?” It may not make things any easier, but it will help remind you that, even in the worst of circumstances, God is with you.

In whatever you are doing, or whatever you are going through this week, may you have a blessed Christmas.

December 15, 2021

Bear fruits worthy of repentance – Luke 3:8

In the gospel from this past Sunday, John speaks to the crowd “with many exhortations” proclaiming the good news. He also calls the crowd a brood of vipers, which I said indicated that they were the offspring of corrupt systems and people that preyed upon those living on the margins, or the less fortunate, or others not of the right race, gender, or religion. We also are a brood of vipers because we are the offspring of corrupt systems which relied on stolen land and stolen labor to build this country.

But John makes the point that, even though the crowd is a brood of vipers, it doesn't mean that they, or we, are destined to become vipers. John points out that there is still time to change. Our past sins don't have to define who we are, but it is necessary to repent of those past sins whether or not we actually participated in them, because we still benefit from them. John reminds us that there is still time to repent, still time to turn to the Lord, still time to repair the damage done to bring good news and joy to the world.

He told the crowd to bear fruits worthy of repentance. If you have two coats, share with those who have none. Treat everyone equitably. Don't use unfair methods when dealing with others. If we do these things, and the things of Jesus, then our words and actions will promote the good news of the kingdom of God and we will be that much closer to seeing it on earth as it is in heaven.

All of these things are good fruit, things that build up the kingdom of God on the outside. But it is just as important to think about those things which build up the kingdom of God on the inside. While John didn't address this, Paul did. In his second letter to the Corinthians, Paul writes, “I fear that there may perhaps be quarreling, jealousy, anger, selfishness, slander, gossip, conceit, and disorder.”

These things Paul wrote about are real life examples of “what you sow is what you reap.” If we sow seeds of dissension, quarreling, slander, gossip, and the like, these things will grow up to choke off the good news of the kingdom; and no matter how good we look on the outside, we will surely be rotten on the inside – dried up, withered, decayed, and easily toppled.

The counter to the above is to sow another kind of seed – the seeds of love, joy, peace, patience, kindness, generosity, faithfulness, gentleness, and self-control. These are seeds which can be sown on the outside, but it is just as important to sow them on the inside. In dealing with our fellow Christians and fellow parishioners, let us work to sow the seeds of the Spirit which will strengthen us and lead us to produce good fruit.

We all have the ability to sow any number of seeds. We all have the ability to sow seeds of two kingdoms – the kingdom of Satan or the kingdom of God. The problem is that sowing the seeds of Satan is easy. It's easy to quarrel, to become jealous or angry, to be selfish and conceited, or to slander and gossip. It takes a little more work to spread love and joy, to work for peace, to have patience, to be kind and generous, to remain faithful and gentle, and to maintain self-control.

As we begin another year, let us resolve to sow seeds worthy of the kingdom of God, bearing good fruit, and living the good news in thought, word, and deed.

Blessings,

December 8, 2021

In the fifteenth year of the reign of Emperor Tiberius, when Pontius Pilate was governor of Judea, and Herod was ruler of Galilee, and his brother Philip ruler of the region of Ituraea and Trachonitis, and Lysanias ruler of Abilene, during the high priesthood of Annas and Caiaphas, the word of God came to John son of Zechariah in the wilderness. -- Luke 3:1-2

This was the opening sentence to our gospel this past Sunday. Every Monday morning I meet with a few other clergy in the area to discuss the upcoming readings (primarily the gospel), and this gospel was our primary point of discussion.

I don't know how many times over the years I've heard or read this passage, but I have always seen it as a time stamp. Out of the four Evangelists, Luke was the historian. He opens his version of the gospel by writing, “Since many have undertaken to set down an orderly account of the events that have been fulfilled among us . . .” So it makes perfect sense, in a time when records were kept based on what year of whose reign, to hear Luke the historian state that John's ministry began “In the fifteenth year of the reign of Emperor Tiberius, when Pontius Pilate was governor of Judea . . .”

One of the beauties of studying scripture with other people is hearing different insights you may not have heard before. One of my colleagues wondered if these two verses were simply a time stamp, and I asked him what he meant by that.

“Look at the names . . . the emperor, the governor, two rulers, and two high priests. Powerful people. And yet, the word of God came to JOHN in the wilderness.”

This would be like us today saying, “In the second year of Joe Biden's presidency, when Lawrence was governor of Maryland, and Emily was mayor of Hagerstown, during the episcopate of Eugene, and Michael was presiding bishop, the word of God came to Bob.”

Maybe these two verses are not simply a time stamp. Maybe these two verses are to remind us that the word of God doesn't necessarily come to those in power and those with authority, but that the word of God comes to the least expected. Maybe this is a reminder that the word of God is not tied up with the powers and principalities of this world, but that the word of God is to be found elsewhere.

That's not to say that powerful people are immune to hearing the word of God. It's not to say that ecclesiastical authorities are unable to hear the word of God. But it does point out that the word of God comes to unexpected people in unexpected places. More importantly, these two verses reiterate that the power of God is not dependent on (and in most cases is utterly opposed to) the powers of the world.

As we move through the wilderness of Advent and prepare for the coming of the Messiah, how are you hearing the word of God? As we move through the wilderness of Advent and prepare for the coming of the Messiah, how are you proclaiming the coming of the good news to those around you?

Because in the end, God does not rely on emperors, rulers, and others who wield earthly power; God relies on people like you and me to proclaim that the kingdom of God has come near.

Blessings,

December 1, 2021

Can we ever know what God has in store for us? -- I Witness, First Wednesday in Advent meditation

In the Advent discussion group which began this past Sunday, we did some looking back and looking forward. We started with the meditation for the First Sunday of Advent and talked about the process of waiting and discernment. Not all waiting is discernment, but all discernment contains a lot of waiting.

We talked about the process of waiting for a child that Zechariah and Elizabeth had been subjected to over the years before the arrival of John. We talked about times we had to wait and times we were discerning which way we might go in our own lives as we waited to figure things out.

In today's meditation, the author writes about Elizabeth that “she has no idea God has a plan.” That is immediately followed by the opening sentence of today's reflection.

I will confess that I get a little dubious when things happen and there is a response along the lines of, “It's okay . . . God has a plan and everything happens for a reason.” Yes, God does indeed have a plan, and we say as much in the Catechism. But not everything happens for a reason. Some things are simply accidents and some things are evil. God may work through various accidents and acts of evil, but to say those accidents and evil acts are the result of God's plan implies that God is pulling all the strings in our lives and we have no free will on which to act. But I digress . . .

As Christians, we believe that God's plan included the birth of Jesus, which also included the birth of John ahead of him to proclaim his arrival – to be that voice crying in the wilderness. And because of that, Zechariah and Elizabeth had to wait, unbeknownst to them, until the right time.

How would they have reacted if Gabriel had appeared to Zechariah when he was a newlywed and told he would have a son, but only after he was “an old man and his wife getting on in years?” How would I have reacted if, when discerning my own call, God had told me that I would have to sit with a family whose father and just been killed by a drunk driver, or be present with a new father whose baby died of SIDS? How would you have reacted if God had told you about a significant event in your life years ahead of time?

It may just be that the reason God's plan seems so slow in coming isn't because God is slow, but that God is waiting for us to grow enough to handle what we will be asked to do.

This Advent season, may you see this time of preparation and waiting not only as a time of preparation and waiting for the coming of the Messiah, but as a time of giving thanks for when you had to wait, only to learn that God was using that time to prepare you for what God had in store for you.

Blessings,