September 28, 2022

The weather seems to have suddenly shifted into autumn. The temperature is beginning to consistently drop and even the sunny days have a crispness to them. Morning walks now require a sweatshirt. It can't be long before we start seeing snow.

But between now and that first snowfall on what will probably be a gray, blustery day, we have these early days of autumn. The early days of a seasonal change when we need sweaters or light jackets in the morning, only to forget them at the office because it's warmed up. The early days of autumn when leaves change from the long, green season to the season of reds, yellows, oranges and all shades thereof. The early days of autumn when hot chocolate is a comfort drink rather than a drink of necessity.

This seasonal change is a reminder that change is all around us. By virtue of being alive we are subject to change. We do not live out our lives as toddlers, but we change and learn and grow and, eventually, die. The church lives a yearly cycle of change beginning with Advent and cycling through the seasons of Christmas, Epiphany, Lent, Easter, and Pentecost. Individual parishes also live through cycles of change throughout its life. As we look back over the life of Saint John's, there have certainly been changes and cycles from our beginning on Mulberry Street to the fire at Antietam and Summit to where we are now.

As we enter this seasonal change, this is a good time to evaluate changes in our own lives. As the trees begin to lose their leaves, are there things we can lose – extra coats or clothes we no longer use, for instance? Before those leaves are lost, they provide the world with radiant colors. How might we provide the radiant colors of God's love to the world around us? Before long, the world will be cold, bleak, and dark. When that change comes, may we be warm, cheerful, and bright.

Blessings

September 21, 2022

And what does the Lord require of you but to do justice, and to love kindness, and to walk humbly with your God? – Micah 6:8

Most of yesterday was spent in two meetings. The first was an organization meeting of sorts with Circles, USA (https://www.circlesusa.org/), a community based organization designed to help reduce poverty and remove the barriers that stand in the way of that goal. This program is reaching out to local government officials, businesses, and faith organizations. The goal is to have it up and running by November or December. They are looking for what they call Allies to walk with people for 18 months through the program and to have groups volunteer to sign up for one month and serve a meal once a week.

I followed that up by attending the HARC meeting. At that meeting we discussed how HARC could help faith communities work together, how we could support children in the community, how we could work for justice and equality for those who are not treated equally or as less-than, and how we might help each other create stronger houses of worship. I also had a brief conversation with the chaplain at Meritus who said that, because of the shift in how Meritus runs their Spiritual Care Department, they are looking for people willing to be trained as volunteer chaplains.

When I got back to the office I had three messages waiting for me from people who needed financial assistance of one kind or another. And after a few other tasks that needed to get done, it was time for Evening Prayer.

I mention all this not to complain about how yesterday went, but as a reminder.

Doing justice is difficult work and seems never-ending. The work to help people escape poverty is ongoing. The work we do, both with ourselves and in our organizations, toward racial equality and other aspects of unjust systems is ongoing. It is also tiring. It can be exhausting. It is also work the Lord requires us to do.

There are days when the pleas for financial assistance seem never-ending and they come back to back to back. Sometimes it's easy to get frustrated with those requesting help. It's almost always painful to have to turn someone away or come to terms with the fact that I can only help in limited ways. But I must always remember that these people by simply by the nature of their humanity and divinity deserve to be treated with kindness.

And finally, at the end of the day, no matter how difficult the struggle for justice, or how often my patience has been tested, I still need to make time to pray.

Doing justice, loving kindness, and walking humbly with the Lord are not three separate things, but three things intertwined. To do justice means to love kindness; and doing those things over and over again can wear us out. So it's vitally important to remember to walk humbly with the Lord and allow him to have a space in your life.

Blessings,

September 14, 2022

Almighty God, whose Son our Savior Jesus Christ was lifted high upon the cross that he might draw the whole world to himself: Mercifully grant that we, who glory in the mystery of our redemption, may have grace to take up our cross and follow him – Collect for Holy Cross Day

Know for certain that thou must lead a dying life; and the more a man dieth to self, so much the more doth he begin to live unto God. – The Imitation of Christ, Thomas A' Kempis

Today is Holy Cross Day, one of those days I think we don't pay much attention to. Other than Good Friday, with its Veneration of the Cross, or the weekdays in Holy Week when we walk the Way of the Cross, we tend to avoid it. If I were to guess why that is it would be because we don't like that it reminds us of suffering and death.

To be sure, the empty cross symbolizes Christ's victory over death. Almost every Easter hymn recognizes and celebrates this fact (Christ is alive! Let Christians sing. His cross stands empty to the sky – Hymn 182). But in order to be a symbol over death, you have to have experienced death in the first place – there is no Easter without Good Friday. As much as the cross is that victorious symbol, we are also confronted with the fact that it was an instrument of torture on which Jesus had his hands and feet nailed through and hung in agony for three hours.

So we have a complicated relationship with the cross, in that in order to live we must first die.

Today's Collect leads us in that reflection. Our redemption is a glorious celebration that is achieved through the mystery of the cross and crucifixion. Through the lifting up of Christ on the cross the whole world is drawn to him in that salvific act. As Jesus took up his cross to destroy death, we are also called to take up our cross to destroy that which would destroy us.

Thomas A' Kempis recognized this when he wrote his meditation on the cross. We tend to be selfish creatures. We tend to live for ourselves. But it is in dying to self that allows God to dwell more fully with us. Each time we allow ourselves to get out of the way, we give God room to get in the way. Unfortunately that is neither easy nor painless.

Christian discipleship is hard work. It requires steadfastness when we would rather give up. It requires dedication when we would rather take a nap. It requires self-control when we would rather indulge our senses. It requires us to put to death those desires and habits which would keep us apart from God.

On this Holy Cross Day may you reflect on the humility of Jesus as he suffered and died on a cross which now stands empty and leads to the way of life and peace. And may you have the strength and courage to carry your own cross, putting to death that which keeps you from living a full life in God.

Blessings,

September 7, 2022

In you, O Lord, have I taken refuge; let me never be put to shame: *

deliver me in your righteousness. -- Ps. 31:1

This past Sunday's sermon revolved around lex orandi, lex credendi, the saying that means praying shapes believing. Our prayer life can inform and shape our wider life if we allow it to do so. During that sermon I had ushers pass out a small Daily Devotional tri-fold taken from the BCP. The devotional leads us through prayers in the morning, at noon day, and in the early evening. There are, of course, other times you can pray, but (as I suggested) if you set an alarm on your cell phone to ring at those times you will be guaranteed three times a day when you settle down and spend some time with God.

Another time to pray is at the close of day. The BCP service for the end of the day is Compline, and the portion of Psalm 31 above comes from there.

My wife and I pray Compline at bedtime almost every night as part of our routine. Within that service there are several Psalms, readings, and prayers from which the Officiant can choose to read. When it's my turn to lead, I will typically alternate readings and prayers, but I will always choose to read Ps. 31.

My reasoning for that is because, for me, prayer and liturgy have a way of seeping into me the more familiar I am with it. Maybe this is why I like being an Episcopalian so much – the service has the same path and the same cadence week after week, month after month, year after year. Far from being rote and monotonous, this familiarity allows the liturgy to become part of me to the point that it keeps me grounded when I feel flustered and anchored when I feel like I'm drifting in the abyss.

In this chaotic world, may we who are wearied by the changes and chances of this life find familiarity and strength, solace and comfort, groundedness and security in the routines of regular prayer and worship. And may we never look at these times of prayer and worship as an obligatory duty to be performed but as a privilege to sit with God in spaces that are holy.

Blessings,

August 3, 2022

Two weeks ago I was on my personal retreat at Holy Cross Monastery in West Park, NY. One of the joys of my time there was how often the brothers rang the bell for worship. Every day the bell would ring at 7, 9, Noon, 5, and 8 for Morning Prayer, Holy Eucharist, Noonday Prayer, Evening Prayer, and Compline. The Readings all followed the Daily Lectionary. and this week, Proper 11, we heard from Matthew 26:36-75, the story of Jesus in Gethsemane up through Peter's denial.

The chapel is sparse with white walls, a high ceiling and windows, choir seating for the monks, gallery seating for guests in the back, and a plain altar. The faint smell of incense permeates the air. A large, Eastern Orthodox-style crucifix icon hangs on the east wall behind the altar and is the only adornment in the building.

As I sat in the chair listening to the reading from Matthew's gospel about the arrest of Jesus, I knew what was eventually coming: his crucifixion and death. The week of Proper 12 would tell of his flogging, the ripping of his robe from his just-beginning to congeal body, the crown of thorns driven into his head, the spit on his face, the beating at the hands of the Roman guards, and (even though Matthew doesn't specifically say it) the nails that were hammered through his hands and feet. This was a brutal and painful experience.

While nowhere near the pain Jesus experienced, I was experiencing my own pain as if thousands of white-hot needles were being inserted into my back. The pain made it difficult to sit. It was also difficult to stand and walk as the pain would radiate down my leg and across my back. I sat with my own excruciating pain as I listened to the story of Jesus' betrayal and arrest and thought about his upcoming crucifixion. And I wondered.

Today, depending on when you read this, I will either be preparing for, undergoing, or recovering from back surgery. The increasing pain I have been experiencing will hopefully be coming to an end. In the best of outcomes, there will be no more pain. At this point I would consider an outcome of simply being sore a good outcome. The point is that I believe there is an end in sight to the pain. As Jesus was going through his own journey of physical pain, was he able to see an end to that pain, even if the end was death? Did he finally welcome that outcome as the ultimate relief?

And I wondered about the pain of betrayal. Was the kiss of Judas as emotionally painful as the physical pain of his journey to the cross? Was seeing Peter deny him three times as emotionally painful as the physical pain of hanging on the cross? Was looking around to find he had been deserted by all of his male disciples as spiritually painful as his desertion by God (Eli, Eli, lema sabachthani)? And I wonder if even now he is haunted by the suicide of Judas?

There will be an end to physical pain, and hopefully mine is in the final stretch today. Emotional and spiritual pain, however, can last a lifetime.

With that in mind, may we work to be gentle with others and ourselves. May we give ourselves and others grace when we stumble. And may we, like Peter, return to say, “I love you.”

Blessings,

July 27, 2022

While on retreat last week I read a book called One Thousand Gifts, in which the author makes the argument that it is only through giving God thanks for all things that allows us to relearn to see the presence of God all around us. She is not an Episcopalian, but she stumbles upon the word eucharisteo, the Greek word for thanksgiving. We are obviously familiar with this word through our service of Holy Eucharist. Throughout the book she makes use of this word as the foundation and centrality of giving God thanks in all things.

“What if,” she says, “the Fall wasn't a result of eating the forbidden fruit and blaming the other (Adam blames Eve who blames the serpent), but what if the Fall was a result of our ingratitude to God?” In other words, the serpent said if we ate the fruit from the Tree of Knowledge of Good and Evil our eyes would be opened and we would be like God. What really happened, though, is that the serpent caused us to doubt God's goodness that we could see all around us, and eating the fruit opened our eyes to see what we had NOT been given. We went from being grateful and able to see all of God's gifts, to being ungrateful and focused on what we did not have, or on what we were missing. It was with that new vision of ingratitude or ungratefulness which left its mark on us and with which we now see.

As you all know by now, I am scheduled for my third back surgery next week. I am hopeful that this one will eliminate, or at least relieve, the ever-present pain that makes daily living difficult and Sundays almost unbearable. But in that pain, I'm not sure I have ever given thanks.

After reading this book, I have found a way to be thankful. I am thankful for a new understanding and empathy toward people with chronic pain. I am thankful to have eyes to see things in a new way. I am thankful for moments of painlessness. I am thankful for support. I am thankful I am still walking.

The worship service that begins on pages 323 and 355 of the BCP is titled: The Holy Eucharist. It can also be called The Holy Thanksgiving. The second half of the complete service, the rite of Holy Communion, is sub-titled The Great Thanksgiving. Eucharist, Thanksgiving, is the name of the entirety of the service, with a great thanksgiving occurring in the rite of Holy Communion.

What if we saw this service not as something we do on Sunday, but as preparing us to give thanks in the week to come? What if we saw it as a way of opening our eyes to the goodness of God all around us? What if we saw it as setting the tone for the upcoming week rather than as a brief respite from a fallen world?

This is the call of all God's children: to give thanks and praise in all things, learning to be thankful for all our gifts in all circumstances. In learning to do that, in learning to give thanks in all things, in making a daily practice of giving thanks and praise, it just might lead to a transformation of our selves that relearns to see the world as God created it – very good.

Blessings,

July 20, 2022

O God, make speed to save us:

Our help is in the name of the Lord:

This coming Sunday the Christian Formation Commission is hosting the first Sunday Fun Day and will revolve around prayer. In the upcoming gospel reading the disciples ask Jesus, “Lord, teach us to pray like John taught his disciples.” In response Jesus gives them, and us, what has become known as the Lord's Prayer.

I've been meeting with a couple over the past several months in preparation for their wedding at the end of October. This past session dealt with prayer and we talked about times and styles of prayers. Everything from when to how often to formulas to simple liturgies. I told them a story about a monk who, when asked what was the right kind of prayer, said, “The kind you do.”

In other words, prayer forms and styles and times change over time. The trick is to keep at it. And if one form or style or time no longer works for you, then make a change – but keep praying.

Show of hands: How many of you, when you read the first two lines up there, answered either in your mind or out loud, “O Lord, make haste to help us,” and, “The maker of heaven and earth?”

These are part of the opening lines to Evening Prayer and Compline as found in the Prayer Book. If you pray these Daily Offices regularly you probably automatically filled in the response when you read those opening sentences. That's part of the beauty of the BCP and daily prayer – the words become a part of you.

There's an old saying that goes, “lex orandi, lex credendi.” That is, “what we pray is what we believe.”

Prayer isn't a list of requests we send up to God. Prayer isn't the 75 cents we put into the holy vending machine so we can get item C7. Prayer is the daily conversation, the daily formation, that helps shape our lives. How we pray and what we pray shapes how we interact with those around us. If we pray, “deliver us from hatred, cruelty, and revenge,” on a daily basis, that will most likely have a different outcome than if we pray, “may God utterly demolish my enemies” on a daily basis.

May we all have a set of prayers that grounds us, informs us, and guides us. And may that give us the strength to follow Christ on this difficult road of discipleship.

Blessings,