May 31, 2017

On the Church calendar, there are seven Principle Feasts: Easter Day, Ascension Day, Pentecost, Trinity Sunday, All Saints' Day, Christmas Day, and The Epiphany. This coming Sunday is Pentecost. It's a Greek word that means “fiftieth day,” and occurs fifty days after Easter Day.

The Feast of Pentecost, however, was not a Christian invention. It originated in the Jewish religion as the Festival of Weeks in which seven sabbaths were counted off from the Passover and an offering of new grain was made. There is a tradition that the Book of Ruth is read at this time, since that story revolves around the grain harvest. Eventually this festival/celebration came to commemorate the time when the Law was given at Mt. Sinai, forty-nine days after the Exodus. And another Jewish tradition says that King David was born and died on this significant day.

For Christians, Pentecost commemorates the day when the Holy Spirit descended upon the twelve apostles (Matthias having been chosen earlier to replace Judas) in the form of fire:

Divided tongues, as of fire, appeared among them, and a tongue rested on each of them.

All of them were filled with the Holy Spirit and began to speak in other languages . . .

Acts 2:3-4a

I meet with a small clergy group most Thursdays at Rooster Moon Cafe. Our discussions cover a range of topics, but we are mainly focused on the Lectionary for the Sunday next (the assumption being that our sermons for the coming Sunday are already finished and we need to get a jump on the following Sunday). Last Thursday our focus was on the Pentecost reading from Acts.

“What does it mean,” someone asked, “that the fire of the Holy Spirit was described as a tongue? Especially in light of the fact that the apostles began speaking in a tongue not their own?”

This got us talking about how we as the Church talk with people both inside and outside our walls. Every group has its own language and jargon, and the Church is no different. We have naves and narthexes, transepts and sacristies, corporals and ciboriums, credence tables, pyxes, and palls. Sometimes we toss these names around like everybody knows, or should know, what they are. Sometimes we nod our heads and pretend we know what they are because, as Episcopalians, we should know what they are. Sometimes we explain what they are. But it seems to me that we almost always use them expecting people to learn what they are by osmosis. Expecting people to know and speak church language and jargon when they first come into the church is almost like expecting people to know and speak English when they first come into the United States.

This Sunday is the Feast of Pentecost. It's the day we celebrate the Holy Spirit alighting upon the apostles with tongues of fire enabling outsiders to understand what was being said by insiders.

Ascension reminded us that we are called to be witnesses for Christ. Pentecost reminds us that we have been empowered by the Holy Spirit to do so.

As both Christians and Episcopalians, we have a lot of good things to say. The question is, Are we speaking in ways that allow us to be heard?

May 24, 2017

Love.

From the way we toss that word around you would think that every use is equal to every other use. It should be obvious that that's not the case. For instance, I love pie and triple chocolate fudge ice cream. I love football. I love my mom, my wife, and my daughter. I love Canon Beach, Oregon. I love the mountains of western Montana. I love seafood. But my love of pie, mountains, and the women in my life are not equal. We can't put our love into a mathematical equation. Sometimes we can't even quantify in an emotional sense what one kind of love means to us over and against another kind of love.

At our diocesan convention, Assistant Bishop Chilton Knudsen gave her address in which she was telling us about her two-year experience here in Maryland. She relayed a story of when she was first elected bishop and a mentor told her, “Being a bishop is easy, just remember to love your people, have fun, and say your prayers.”

Remember to love your people.

This was essentially the same advice given to me when I was ordained to the priesthood. Love your people. Celebrate with them in times of joy. Stand with them in solidarity. Kneel with them in prayer. Weep with them in times of sorrow. And remember that people don't care how much you know until they know how much you care.

When I was going through the search process, my good friend Jane (who will be preaching here on June 18), continually told me that she heard a touch of excitement in my voice whenever I talked about St. John's. Being one who tries not to get too excited, I generally shrugged it off. I mean, really, how excited could I get about transplanting my family 3000 miles and having to wait until noon for the first college football games to air?

As usual, she was right.

This has been a good move for us. It hasn't been perfect, but it's been good; and even God didn't create the perfect, he created the good. From the hospitality of the search team, to the warm welcome we received upon our arrival, it's been good. From our opening worship together on All Saints' Sunday to the quiet, small, prayerful group that gathers for Evening Prayer, it's been good. And at Mayfest, someone asked me how things were going and how people were treating us. I responded, “Everyone has been great, and people have been unobtrusively supportive.” Meaning that people aren't hovering over us, but they show up in a variety of ways at a variety of times with a variety of little gestures letting us know we are welcome.

It's hard to put into words just how good things have been, how much I've enjoyed being part of this congregation, and how good you all have been for my soul. I can't give you a list of equivalency, but know that you are right up there with pie, my mountains, and my girls.

Love,

Todd+

May 17, 2017

I spent last Friday and Saturday at our diocesan convention. I wasn't sure what to expect, although I had a general idea, having been to a number of conventions in Spokane, Montana, and Oregon. For the most part, a convention in Montana is a convention in Oregon is a convention in Maryland.

But there were a few things that got my attention, and one of those things was Bp. Sutton's comparison of church to baseball. In his comparison, he pointed out that the greatest hitters of all time failed 70 percent of the time. I looked it up, and actually the greatest hitters of all time failed between 64 and 68 percent of the time, while most other hitters fail between 70 and 75 percent of the time. In what other job, meteorologist included, can you fail that often and still keep your job? The answer, of course, is none.

But do you know what a manager does when one of his players has a failure rate of 75 percent? He puts him in the lineup for the next game. And the game after that. And the game after that. Maybe the player will manage to have a failure rate of 70 percent. Or maybe his fielding abilities make his failure at hitting a baseball tolerable.

The point here, as the bishop pointed out, isn't about focusing on the failure rate, the point is about how that failure is managed.

In other words, we can focus and dwell on what we get wrong, or we can celebrate and focus on that which we get right.

It's easy for us to focus on the failures. The sermon didn't talk about the crucifixion. The sermon spent too much time on the crucifixion. There were gaffes in the liturgy. The music was too slow. The music was too fast. The bulletin wasn't correct. Dinner was too late. Dinner was too early. The food was too salty. The food wasn't salty enough. And on and on and on. Even Jesus, as the bishop said, could be considered a failure in some circles. After all, as the leader of a new way of thinking, he was executed by the state. And tradition holds that of his twelve original followers, one committed suicide, ten were also eventually executed, and one was exiled to the island of Patmos (although this later claim is most certainly not accurate).

And yet, we in the Church don't talk about those failures. We talk about and focus on those things that went right. Are we willing to do that in the life of the parish? Maybe the sermon wasn't to your liking; but was there something in it that made you think? Maybe the music didn't suit your taste; but were you able to sing God's praises? Maybe we haven't increased our attendance by 10, 15, or 20 percent; but did you notice we had one new family this past Sunday?

Life in the Church, like baseball, isn't about focusing on our 70 percent failure rate. Life in the Church is about celebrating the fact that we're batting 300.

Blessings,

Todd+

May 10, 2017

Sacrifice

Bp. Sutton recently led a gathering of western clergy at All Saints, Frederick. Before the gathering he assigned a book called, Cross Talk: Preaching Redemption Here and Now, by Sally A. Brown, for us to read ahead of time. At only 140 pages it's not a very big book, but it is incredibly deep and thought-provoking. In short, Brown addresses the issue of the crucifixion of Jesus, the centrality of that event in Christianity, and how we deal with and talk about how that violent death offers a pathway to life. As I said, it's an incredibly deep book.

How do we as Christians talk about life, death, sacrifice, violence, atonement, redemption, and life? Where do people in general develop both communal and individual theories of atonement? Is Jesus a personal savior, or is he the savior of the world? What does it mean when we say, “Alleluia. Christ our Passover is sacrificed for us; Therefore let us keep the feast. Alleluia.”?

Does sacrifice always require death?

Brown touches on a variety of theories and theological interpretations, but the one I found most intriguing was her discussion about sacrificial living over and above sacrificial dying. One example of this is parents who live sacrificially for the betterment of their children – working extra hours in order to create a college savings account, for instance.

Viewed in this way, the totality of Jesus' life was one continual life-giving sacrifice. Paul discusses the sacrifice of Christ in Philippians 2:6-8: “. . . who, though he was in the form of God, did not regard equality with God as something to be exploited, but emptied himself, taking the form of a slave, being born in human likeness. And being found in human form, he humbled himself and became obedient to the point of death – even death on a cross.” And while Paul does bring up the crucifixion, the point he is making is that it was the life of Christ that was a complete sacrifice.

Brown picks up on this thought when she says, “. . . it is the whole of Jesus' embodied life that is sacrificial. It is in Jesus' willingness to be clothed in flesh to live his life as a consistent, sacrificial offering of his whole being to God, by which Jesus makes whole the communion of human beings with God.”

Every Sunday we gather in worship and come to the rail to receive Holy Communion, the Body and Blood of Christ, that Sacrament which provide us with abundant life. Eucharistic Prayer C reads in part, “Deliver us from the presumption of coming to this Table for solace only, and not for strength; for pardon only, and not for renewal.” Holy Communion is the life-giving sacrifice that provides us with strength and renewal. Holy Communion is the life-giving sacrifice that allows us to participate in the life of Christ.

We are in the midst of Easter season, the time we celebrate Christ's life-giving victory over death. With that in mind, what would it mean for us individually, corporately, and, more importantly, for those around us if we, like Jesus, offered our selves, our souls, and our bodies as living sacrifices?

May 3, 2017

Trying

I try to do my best – I really do. And I think most of us try to do our best as well.

I try to balance my schedule so that I make the proper amount of visitations, see people who are in the hospital, meet with people in the office, find time to write weekly and monthly pieces to be sent out, and create a sermon every week. Some things I do well, other things I do less well; but through it all, I try to put forth my best effort.

I met with a parishioner during Lent over the general topic of liturgy. If you have read the latest edition of Soundings, you will know that this became the basis of my monthly Ramblings when I was made aware that maybe not everybody understood my approach to liturgy.

As I recall, that meeting happened toward the end of Lent, and then things got busy with Holy Week and Easter and hospital visits and a transportation crisis at home. What had been percolating in my mind for a topic didn't quite make it out on paper in a timely fashion, and I found myself under a deadline trying to get multiple thoughts into one coherent article that would explain my liturgical thoughts and practices. As you can clearly see from the last Soundings, I made it.

However . . . I was shocked and more than a little upset when I read the following sentences:

“And when used today, liturgy expressly refers to the what the ceremonies of the church look like.”

“Because Lent asks us to come face to face with our sins, I also make us of the contemporary version of the Lord's Prayer.”

“May what we do hear be always pleasing in his sight.”

In my rush to get the Ramblings written, I neglected to properly proofread the article. As I sat in my office reading it, I could almost feel the eyes of past teachers, current readers, and pretty much the universe docking my life grade down to a D. I was embarrassed to the point of wanting to go home, turn off my phone and lock the doors for a couple of weeks until something else came along to distract anyone who might have read that particular piece.

But as I thought about these major typographical gaffes, the words of Genesis 1 came to mind: “And God saw that it was good . . . And God saw that it was good . . . And God saw that it was good . . . And God saw that it was good.”

I don't know if God was under a creation deadline, but he got it done. And it was good. What God created wasn't perfect, but good. Someone once said, “Don't let perfection be the enemy of the good.”

So, please know that “liturgy expressly refers to what the ceremonies of the church look like,” “. . . I also make use of the contemporary version of the Lord's Prayer,” and, “May what we do here be always pleasing in his sight.”

Nobody's perfect. But if we try to do the best we can, we just might follow in God's footsteps and be good.

Blessings,

Todd+

April 26, 2017

Sacrifice, Suffering, and Easter

Next Thursday, May 4 (May is next week … wow), I will be at a clergy gathering with Bp. Sutton at All Saints, Frederick. The overall topic of the day will be a book the bishop has us reading called, Cross Talk: Preaching Redemption Here and Now.

In essence, the author, Sally Brown, examines various atonement theories and how they are or are not helpful when discussing the suffering Jesus endured on the cross. It's a good book with too much depth to go into here, but suffice it to say that she comes down squarely against any interpretation of the crucifixion that picture the event as divine child abuse, a glorification of suffering, or as a systemic example of keeping vulnerable people in a perpetual state of vulnerability.

Two questions we must ask ourselves as Christians are these: What was the point of the crucifixion? and, What effect does the cross have on our lives?

It was through the cross that Jesus redeemed the world. Jesus didn't take our place on the cross to satisfy the penal requirements of a vengeful God; what Jesus did on the cross was much bigger than that. What Jesus did on the cross was to break down the walls that divide us – walls that divide us from each other and from God. The crucifixion was a sentence carried out by the powers of the world that were, and are, opposed to the system of God. This is why Jesus was silent before Pilate, because there was nothing for him to say that could be understood by this world.

Jesus' actions on the cross have broken down the barriers and walls that divide us. As we move through our lives as Christians it is important for us to recognize that. It's important for us to recognize that we do not need to spend our time breaking down walls, because Jesus and the cross already broke those walls down. What we are called to do, says Brown, is to structure our lives in such a way that we live like we believe the walls have already come down.

This is not an easy task. Because while Jesus and the cross broke down those walls and barriers, the world is busy working to build them back up. The suffering of Jesus on the cross showed us how the world treats people more interested in restoration than in division. And when we follow Jesus, when we work towards living in a kingdom of God that has no barriers, the world will make us suffer. But our suffering, and the suffering of Jesus, must never be undertaken for the simple sake of suffering. If that were the case, suffering would never be holy, it would only be pitiful.

The suffering of Jesus on the cross, the suffering of minorities at the hands of powerful elite, the suffering of women and children at the hands of their husbands and fathers, must always be taken in the context of suffering against evil. The cross is the ultimate symbol of resistance. When we stand up against evil, injustice, and abuses of power, we are standing with Christ saying, “This is not the way.”

The way of the cross sees barriers already broken down. The way of the cross allows us to resist injustices and oppression. The way of the cross may lead to our own suffering. But the way of the cross also leads to life.

Alleluia! Christ is Risen! How will the cross allow you to see new life?

Blessings,

Todd+

April 19, 2017

Holy Week Reflections

Today is Easter Wednesday. Today is the fourth day of Easter. And today is the second day back in the office after taking a much needed day off following Holy Week.

But today is also a day I want to reflect on my first Holy Week at St. John's. There are probably not enough words for me to describe last week, so I'll settle on, “Wonderful.” It was a wonderful week.

The weather for Palm Sunday cooperated as both the 8 and 10:15 services began outside with the blessing of the palms and the procession up Antietam St. to the tower doors; and it was nice to hear “All Glory, Laud, and Honor” being sung vigorously at both services. The reading of the Passion was, as always, a powerful experience.

Maundy Thursday was the official start of the Triduum as we gathered in Trimble Hall for a simple meal, the hearing of Scripture, and participated in the foot washing ceremony. From there we moved into the church proper for the final Communion of the week and either watched or participated in the stripping of the altar – that moment when we, like the disciples before us, betray, deny, and remove Jesus from our lives.

Two Good Friday services followed with the Stations of the Cross, another Passion reading, and the reading of the Solemn Collects with space provided for Veneration of the Cross.

Holy Saturday featured the Holy Lamentations, chants reflective of coming to terms with Jesus dead and buried in a tomb.

And then early on the first day of week, while it was still dark, we gathered for the Great Vigil of Easter. The weather again cooperated and those gathered experienced the new fire, the blessing of the Paschal candle, a beautiful rendition of the Exsultet, traditional readings, a baptism, and the flood of lights and joy as we shouted, “Alleluia! Christ is Risen! – The Lord is Risen indeed! Alleluia!”

That service was followed by a wonderful breakfast in Trimble Hall and then a jam-packed 10:15 service with the full choir, joyful music and singing, the revelation of the empty tomb, and the recognition that Jesus lives and is calling us by name. The whole thing was followed by an Easter egg hunt for the children.

All of the above are my basic recollections of the Holy Week services. It was wonderful to participate in them with you all in this place. It was wonderful to see the enthusiasm and the level of participation. Holy Week tells a story – from triumphal entry to triumphal resurrection. Easter is best experienced when you experience the whole story. For those who missed any part of the experience, I hope you will plan to experience it all next year. For those who experienced all of Holy Week, I hope you found it transformative.

For my part, thank you for allowing me to share it with you.

May our Lord Jesus Christ, who defeated sin and death and rose victorious from the grave, grant you the courage and strength to passionately follow him faithfully, and the wisdom and revelation to see things in new ways.

Blessings,

Todd+