March 28, 2018

From pride, self-sufficiency and the unwillingness to admit our own need of your compassion; Savior, deliver us. -- Litany for the Mission of the Church

Yesterday I was at the cathedral in Baltimore for the Reaffirmation of Ordination Vows. This is an annual service done in the early days of Holy Week at dioceses across the church. For the most part it is a time for clergy to gather, to say, “Yes,” once more to this calling we have answered, and to talk with each other about the positive things happening in our various congregations and ministries.

We are in the middle of Holy Week. The Triduum begins tomorrow evening with a meal, a foot washing, an arrest, and the abandonment of Jesus. That is followed by a crucifixion, a burial, and, God-willing, a resurrection.

As I was praying this litany during the service yesterday, I was thinking about everything going on in the world and everything to come in the next few days. It seems appropriate at this time that the troubles of the world and the events to come seem to mesh together so well.

In the world, we have become polarized over every issue. There seems to be no middle ground, only my way. It appears, also, that there are no discussions between sides, only attacks, counter-attacks, name-calling, and attempts to defame and marginalize those with whom you disagree. If we follow this course of action, people on Side A will only be happy when those on Side B are eventually annihilated.

Over the next few days we are called to observe and participate in a liturgy that spans three days. During that time we also become involved in a polarizing event – the world vs. God. And in a strange twist of fate, we ourselves represent the world. For a time, we cannot abide the notion of Jesus and all that he represents, so we call for his crucifixion in an attempt to annihilate and remove him from our lives.

For a time in this three-day liturgy we suffer from pride, self-sufficiency and the unwillingness to admit our own need of Jesus' compassion.

Unfortunately it is not just these few days in which we suffer that way. Pride prevents us from having meaningful conversations and searching for consensus. Self-sufficiency causes us to ignore our need for the saving presence of Christ and feeding us the lie that everything revolves around me. And both of these harden our hearts, like those who called for his crucifixion, to the understanding that we are called to show the same compassion to others that Jesus did.

As this week and this liturgy unfolds, let us be willing to confront our own pride, challenge our desire for self-sufficiency, recognize our need for compassion, and risk being compassionate to others.

Blessings,

March 21, 2018

If you do not have love, you cannot build a good society.

Bawili

My latest edition of The Anglican Theological Review has as its theme the issue of water justice. Every article in this edition revolves around clean water: who has it, who needs it, who controls it.

Bawili is a woman from the Democratic Republic of the Congo, and the article and quote referenced above comes from her efforts to ensure everyone in her community had a toilet, and the communal response to her efforts. She is convinced that communities must be built on love, and not just some nice, frilly idea of love, but the kind of self-sacrificial love that drives you to build and install toilets for your neighbors.

This idea goes beyond the Water Justice Project and into almost every area of our lives.

Over the past four days, I read about yet another school shooting, this time in Great Mills, MD, and the story of Kentucky Republican candidate for Secretary of State, Carl Nett, tweeting that he would like to use Democratic Representative John Yarmuth for target practice. I met with a woman who is being forced to choose between buying necessary medicine and paying for groceries, rent, or electricity. I sat in on a meeting where we discussed the problems of homelessness (including homeless children) and how we might help alleviate that.

As I look around, it would seem more and more that our society is not built on love but on greed. The greed of corporations who value profits over human lives. The greed of lobbyists and special interests to protect their privileges while denying basic rights to others. The greed of those so afraid that they will lose their piece of the pie that they don't realizing there really is enough to go around. And the greed of those who demand everyone live into their standards of morality while ignoring their own immoral behavior.

At times it's overwhelmingly negative. At times I feel as if I can do little to nothing. At times I feel like the old man on the beach watching the young boy throw the starfish back into the ocean, “Why bother, it doesn't matter.”

But then I remember the young boy's response: “It matters to that one.” And I remember that big things often start small. So if we want to build a good society, we must have love. And I remember that within our greater society lies a smaller society named St. John's.

May the words of Bawili inform how we live and operate in this place.

Blessings,

March 14, 2018

This is fun . . . Really

Over the course of this past Sunday and Monday I have spent 24 hours on the job, as both were 12-hour days.

On Sunday I arrived at the church at 7, as usual, in order to get ready for services. Between the 8 and 10:15 services I spent time with the J2A group as they worked through some issues of social justice, activism, and community organizing. When finished there I went back to the sacristy and prepared for the second service. Following that there was time spent at coffee hour, an Evensong rehearsal, and a bit of sermon prep. Then I spent time with 15 other women at a paint party in the parish hall to support the J2A's New York excursion. When that was over, it was time for Evensong. The service was beautiful. If you didn't get to attend in person, I highly recommend watching it on our Facebook page. And then there was time spent at the reception (which was wonderfully catered by Bruce Massey and his crew).

I got home just after 7:00.

Monday at 7 I had breakfast with the Dijano group at Bob Evans over by the mall. Again, as usual. This is a group of people who gather once a week to talk about what needs to be worked on at the church. Their list is formed by people telling them, “Dijano there's a light out above the choir stall? Dijano the sink in the bathroom is dripping? Dijano the lock in the sacristy door is causing problems?” They are a dedicated group who love their church and I'm glad to know them.

After breakfast I head over to the office to put together a visitation list and go make, or attempt to make, house calls. I had lunch with my wife and then it was sermon work, Evening Prayer, and the Bible study class.

I got home just before 7:30.

I write all this not to make you feel guilty for any lack of church attendance, nor to boast in an attempt to show you how hard I'm working, but to reinforce that we are a very active parish and that our people care deeply about St. John's. There are a variety of opportunities for worship. There are many ways to participate in that worship. There is an active youth presence. We are (getting better at) broadcasting our services out across the world wide web. There are many unsung heroes who do many wonderful things. And there are a variety of opportunities for learning.

I don't want all my days to be twelve hours long, but when they are, I am grateful for how we reflect and present the spirit of God to those around us (he said in his best “Most Interesting Man in the World” voice). I hope that you find this place to be as fun, energizing, informative, and spirit-filled as I do. Because, really, this is fun.

Blessings,

March 7, 2018

Bit by bit

This past weekend I drove down to the Kanuga Camp and Conference Center just outside of Hendersonville, NC, for a church leadership conference. It was a good conference and I was able to reconnect with a person from Oregon, got to know another person from Bozeman, MT, and came away with a variety of ideas.

The keynote speaker was the Rev. Bonnie Perry, from All Saints in the Ravenswood neighborhood of Chicago. Theirs is a story of a complete turnaround and revitalization. Shortly before her arrival about 25 years ago, the bishop met with the parish for the specific purpose of closing it. But the Spirit was working that day and they decided to call a part-time priest and see what would happen. That priest was Bonnie and the turnaround has been miraculous.

A building that was literally falling down around them has been repaired and refurbished. A congregation that self-identified as “dead,” has been resurrected. A congregation that once only looked inward now raises well over fifty thousand dollars for outreach annually. They feed over 100 people a week. Their youth group holds a bake auction in which the prime cake went for $1075. They collect so many boxes of paper to donate to local schools that, for a Sunday, they construct their altar and lectern out of those collected boxes. And this is just some of what happens at All Saints.

In some respects this is all overwhelming and it may cause someone to think, “We can't do all that.”

But here's the thing – they didn't wake up one day with a refurbished building, a budget of $50,000 for outreach, and hundreds of pounds of paper for the local school. What they suddenly realized was that they could do something, and that something was focused on what their surrounding community needed. In other words, their resurrection story is based not on focusing on themselves, but on focusing on those around them. Resurrection, it seems, isn't about us; it's about others.

In her keynote address, Bonnie made a statement that was meant to both comfort and challenge the rest of us in the room, and that was this:

We didn't wake up one day feeding hundreds, donating paper, organizing a fun run, and auctioning cakes that sell for $1000. But this is where we are now. And we got here bit by bit.

We have it in us to do great things. We have it within us for St. John's to do great things. But whatever we do, however great we will become, it will be accomplished bit by bit. We just need to be willing to take an initial risk, an initial step, be not afraid of either failure or financial restraints.

What little bit can you do or give that will show St. John's to be a place of resurrection?

Blessings

February 28, 2018

One Day at a Time

Every Tuesday after our staff meeting, Mark and I sit down together and discuss upcoming services. We go over the music, make sure we have the correct readings, and talk about any other issues that may come up, or that came up in the past, so that the liturgy of St. John's reflects the dignity and mystery of our worship of God. We try to live into the words of the psalmist who wrote, “Worship the Lord in the beauty of holiness; let the whole earth tremble before him.”

Yesterday we went over the services for Holy Week and Easter Day . . . all of them.

We began with the upcoming choral Evensong service scheduled for March 11 at 5 pm. Following that we went through Palm Sunday, Maundy Thursday, Good Friday, Holy Saturday, the Great Vigil, and Easter Day. Each service had notes from the previous year for us to consider. Each service had a few changes here and there that we needed to straighten out. It took well over an hour, but we are that much more prepared for Holy Week.

As we worked our way through those services, I was reminded yet again that the only way we get to Easter is to go through Holy Week. The only way we get to resurrection is to die. The only way we get to the empty cross is to nail Jesus to it in the first place. The only way we get to Easter is one day at a time.

We can't rush the journey. We can't magically snap our fingers and arrive at the point where we sing, “His cross stands empty to the sky.” Because this isn't magic. This is life and this is our faith. If we sing the above, we must also sing, “Were you there when they nailed him to the tree?”

Our faith isn't the faith of wish fulfillment. Our faith is a daily journey with Jesus toward the cross and, ultimately, resurrection. But the cross stands in our path.

As we journey through Lent, try not to get caught up in focusing on the end result. Instead, focus on the journey that lasts 40 days. Because while the end will come and Easter will arrive, the journey is meant to be made one day at a time. And it is often in our daily journey where we have the most impact.

Blessings,

February 21, 2018

Pain

Pain is something that I've become very accustomed to over the past two months. I've had to deal with the pain of the initial injury, both the ensuing nerve pain and numbness in my forearm and hand, and the chronic shoulder pain. In the immediate aftermath of the accident I was unable to use my right arm and hand. This necessitated using my left arm and hand, as well as making other bodily adjustments. Those adjustments led to their own type of pain in my back and (no pun intended) neck.

I have been attending physical therapy sessions for a few weeks now. Some of that pain has disappeared, some has lessened, and some still reminds me that I am dealing with a major injury.

During my PT sessions I have had some interesting conversations with the people in the office, a lot of which have been religious in nature. My therapist told me a story about a missionary in India who worked with a leper colony. Because this disease attacks the nerves (among other things), the people would often reach into an open fire to retrieve a piece of food that had fallen. While there was physical damage to the hand, the person was not able to feel it.

“The point,” he said, “was that pain is useful.”

The pain in my shoulder is constant. But there is also additional pain when I try to move it too far or do too much. Both types of pain are useful. The first in that I am reminded I need to heal. The second to remind me to be patient and not do more than I should during my recovery.

But we also need to realize that not all pain is useful. While my shoulder pain is telling me how far I can go, my chronic back pain has no such useful benefits other than reminding me that my back is somehow defective. The pain of a breakup, the death of a loved one, or the loss of a job, to name a few, are painful experiences that seem to be of no use other than providing a certain type of pain.

The pain of family and friends of mass shootings, or any shooting for that matter, may not seem to be useful in the least. But there have been new calls for a new way to talk about our country's idolization and fetishization of firearms. So maybe that recent pain will provide useful after all.

We all experience pain in one form or another in our lives. Hopefully we can find a way to see what that pain might be telling us. Or, short of that, be able to have some kind of assistance while we experience it.

But no matter what type of pain you may be experiencing, I hope you don't have to go through it alone.

Blessings

February 7, 2018

Silence

There are a lot of aspects to silence. There is the silence that comes when all noise stops. There is the not-quite total silence of the forest. I worked a game last year where the home team, up by five, allowed the visitors to score the winning touchdown with 6 seconds left in the game. The silence was deafening. There was the silence of the Wednesday Word itself as I was off due to my injury. There was the sheer silence experienced by Elijah outside the cave. And there are many other forms of silence if we sit and think about them.

One piece of silence we should pay particular attention to is the silence before and during worship.

If you think back to my arrival here, one of the things I added to the liturgy were periods of silence. At 8 a.m., we use it immediately after the announcements and before the liturgy officially begins. In both services there are moments of silence before the Collect and between the readings. A longer period follows after the sermon, and another one between the call to confession and its recitation.

Silence prepares us for what is to come, as well as opening us up to listen for God. So if silence prepares us and opens us, then the very first place for us to incorporate silence is before any worship service – whether that be the Sunday Eucharist, the Wednesday mid-week Eucharist, or Evening Prayer.

Lent begins next week. This is the time of adding a discipline to our life by either taking on or giving up something. Ideally this Lenten discipline leads to a lasting change that helps us present ourselves as holy and blameless before the Lord.

This year may I suggest taking on the discipline of silence before our worship services? This means holding conversations downstairs or farther away from the main entrance, speaking only quietly as you enter the church, and spending time sitting and/or praying in silence before worship begins.

To help facilitate this, Mark King, our minister of music, will begin the organ voluntaries for both services several minutes earlier than we have in the past. It just may be that not only will you find this helpful, but our guests may also find this time of quiet a lace of holy centeredness.

As the psalmist wrote, “For God alone my soul waits in silence; from him comes my salvation.”