March 9, 2022

When I was in driver's ed I remember being told to “drive defensively.” In other words, I should be ready to react to any possible situation that might lead to an accident. But the more I thought about driving defensively, the more that didn't make sense to me. In almost every sport the defense reacts to what the offense does. Or, to put it another way, the defense has to wait for the offense to do something before it can act. So I began driving offensively. That is, instead of waiting for something to happen and reacting to it, I would be proactive in anticipating what might happen and plan my moves ahead of time.

This has actually saved me on more than one occasion where I was able to plan ahead so that I could proactively avoid an accident instead of being surprised and reacting to a situation, possibly making things worse.

Lent is the season of self-examination and repentance and of making right beginnings as we turn back to the Lord. In Lent we confess our sins at the beginning of the service as a way to both symbolically and honestly begin our worship in a state of absolution and grace. At other times in the year the Confession happens immediately before the Peace as a way to symbolically and honestly examine our lives and conduct so that we may share rightly in the celebration of Holy Communion.

I got to thinking about Lent and driver's ed. In a sense, the Confession is reminding us that we live our lives treating sin defensively. We react to sin by reciting the Confession: we have sinned against you in thought, word, and deed, by what we have done, and by what we have left undone. We have not loved you with our whole heart; we have not loved our neighbors as ourselves.

This is living defensively. This is reacting to sin.

But, instead of playing defense and reacting by confessing our faults after we have sinned, what if we attacked sin offensively? What if, instead of using the Confession as a clean up after the fact, we used it as an offensive game plan? We obviously can't do this all the time; but I'm willing to bet there are a few places in our lives where we know sin lies in wait for us. Maybe, as I've said before, we know our car is possessed by the devil and we drive and/or gesture in very un-Christ-like ways. Or maybe we know our phones or computers are fertile grounds for straying from God's ways.

It might be helpful to place a copy of the Confession in those places where we know we struggle. Tape a copy to your steering wheel or to the top of your laptop. Maybe make the Confession your home/wallpaper screen on your phone. By doing this, you just might be able to proactively avoid sinning in your immediate future. By doing this, you just might be able to put sin on defense.

May you have an offensive Lent,

Todd+

February 9, 2022

Last week I touched on the dust-up created by a New York Times op-ed piece about why online worship was invalid and the call for churches to stop streaming their worship services because worship needed to happen as a physically gathered body that met in the same space. As a response of sorts, I said, “whether you worship in person or online, if you are fully present then I believe that you are worshiping with all those gathered, whether in the pews or in their homes.”

I did some more reading about the issues brought up by the original piece and the various responses, and, from what I've seen, there is a whole slew of arguments as to why churches must not cease their online presence and/or worship offerings. I won't get into the details of all that, but know that those who worship online are just as present, just as valuable, just as much a part of our corporate body as those who are gathered together in the church.

All this got me thinking about words. In high school and college football, there is a rule against roughing the passer. Words are important, as the passer may or may not be the quarterback, and most coaches/fans don't understand how there can be a penalty against someone who is not the quarterback. The answer: because the penalty is for roughing the passer.

After reading and thinking about all of this, I realized that all of us who worship – whether we worship at Saint John's or whether we worship at home – worship in-person. When we worship, we worship in-person in the presence of the ever-present God.

As I said last week, I think we all would prefer to worship together in the holy space that is Saint John's. That may not be possible for some of us, whether due to illness, physical constraints, or distance. But when we worship, we are all worshiping in-person and together in whatever form that happens to take. As our bulletins have said for a year or so, “Gathered Separately – Worshiping Together.”

With that in mind, and with know the importance of words, I will stop referring to our worship as “in-person or online.” Instead I will begin referring to our worship as “on-site or online.” This will let everyone know that worship is available on-site within the physical building of Saint John's as well as worship being available online through our Facebook live-stream.

Over time and through any number of events we learn to see things a little differently, even if it's something we thought we have known for awhile. Last week I was reminded that, no matter where you are when we gather to worship, we are all worshiping in-person.

I look forward to sharing my Sundays with you as we worship together in-person; whether you are worshiping with us on-site or worshiping with us online.

Blessings,

February 2, 2022

I have an old book on my desk called, Thoughts on the Services, copyright 1900, by the Rt. Rev. Cleveland Coxe, Bishop of Western New York. I have no idea when or where I got this book, but I do know that Bp. Coxe wrote it as an introduction to all forms of Episcopal liturgy.

He writes: “Common Prayer is so called in distinction from private or special prayer. It comprehends those needs . . . which are common to all God's children who come together to worship.”

You may or may not have read an Op-Ed piece in the New York Times this week by (if I have all this right) a priest in ACNA (the conservative Anglican group that split from the Episcopal church over the place of women and LGBTQ people). I didn't actually read the piece, but from what I've gathered from a number of sources it put forth the idea that online church/worship was invalid because people weren't gathered together, and that if you want to properly worship, you need to get off the couch and get to church.

I won't get into the arguments this piece generated on various platforms here, because that would take longer than this format was designed to do.

But I will say this: whether you worship in person or online, if you are fully present then I believe that you are worshiping with all those gathered, whether in the pews or in their homes. Would I prefer that people gather for worship in person? Yes, because there is something tangibly present about the gathered body. There is the sense that the body of those gathered embodies the person of Jesus Christ and his one holy catholic and apostolic Church.

On Sunday morning as we gather for the Eucharist, whether we are gathering together in person or online, we need to remember that we are gathering to worship and pray together in a service that comprehends those needs which are common to all God's children. It might take more effort for those joining online from their homes to settle down and prayerfully focus on worship than for those who are in the church building, but regardless of where the people are we can recognize that we are gathered together for common prayer.

I see this when people place their prayer requests into the comment section. I know we are a gathered body when I see people joining us who wouldn't normally be able to join us for worship due to illness, location, transportation issues, or other reasons. And I know that for some, the ability to worship and connect with the parish online as they navigate the waters of COVID has been a comfort.

Online worship, while having its drawbacks, allows us to remain connected. It allows those in the building to connect with those online. It allows those online to connect with those in the building. It allows all of us to remain connected and in community with every other person.

This is part of the point of worship: that we are bound together in the common act of worship through our common prayer allowing us to maintain a holy community.

Common prayer binds us together – whether together in person or together online. So don't let anyone tell you that you aren't part of the body just because you happen to worship in a format not to their liking.

Blessings,

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.