We were just ordinary men trying to make a living - out in the fields all night, guarding the flock, keeping watch. We had seen a lot of strange things, at night, out in the fields. We had our share of bear stories, wolf stories; we'd fought lions.
But we had never seen anything like this. Right in the middle of an ordinary night, right in the middle of an ordinary job, something broke through from a realm beyond our sight.
A choir of heavenly messengers filled our eyes. Unto you, they sang - unto you! Salvation comes, the king is born, God has fulfilled his promise. Go and see: go into the town and look for a baby, an ordinary baby, all wrapped up and ready for bed, but sleeping in a manger -- that's him.
That BABY is God incarnate: a baby lying in a manger, gently breathing, his folks standing by. This is the sign of God that everyone has been waiting for. This is the Messiah, the King of Kings, the Son of David, Christ Almighty -- don't you want to tell somebody about it?
We're no angels. We're just shepherds, working the night shift on a far hillside. The mother herself saw no angels tonight, only us -- bringing the message, confirming what she knew in her heart, that today, in the City of David, is born a Savior, who is Christ the Lord.
How then on an ordinary day are you to recognize the Christ Child? How is he born in your life -- in your town?
You go about your business in your ordinary way -- and yet: something extraordinary is happening even now, in your heart, in your life, in your will. Christ is being born. God has sent his Redeemer to you, to establish the way of peace, to bring righteousness and peace to the world he has made, to the person he has made, to you.
JRL+
Christmas, Christmas Eve, Luke 1:1-20, John 1:1-14 (15-18), Isaiah 9:2-7, Titus 2:11-14,Isaiah 62:6-7, Psalm 96, Psalm 97, Psalm 98, Titus 3:4-7, Hebrews 1:1-4
Herbert O'Driscoll, The Word Today (Anglican Book Centre)
Fred B. Craddock et al., Preaching through the Christian Year (Trinity Press International)
St Alban's Episcopal Church
Edmonds, Washington
Monday, December 24, 2007
Sunday, December 23, 2007
in the waiting room
Last Tuesday I made a mistake: I went to Urgent Care without my copy of War and Peace. I had a long wait. I am not sure I used it as well as I could.
Waiting for the Christ to come may feel a bit like waiting to be treated in Urgent Care. You get a few promises up front, and are told to wait.
Hours go by. What is going on? When will I be seen? Have I been forgotten? When will I be treated? When will I be whole again?
But that’s not it. There is more to the story.
Waiting for the Christ to come may feel even more like reading War and Peace. While you are in it, it is totally absorbing. Then eventually you finish the book.
All those characters, all those people you have met, even friends you have made among them, now disappear into a past memory, only a haze. You are no longer in the world of the novel: now you are in the “real world.”
Of course characters in a novel are merely shadows in a play. But we might feel like that ourselves, sometimes. This world may seem a brief and transitory place. Real life lies ahead, as well as all around us (though hidden), in the mystery of Christ and of the Resurrection.
And this is like Paul’s comment, “now we see as through a glass darkly: then we shall see face to face.” Imagine what it will be like to see Christ in person.
Every week when we take communion, and at holiday times like Christmas when we remember loved ones, we put ourselves in touch with not only those who like us see through a glass darkly, those who are living, but also with those who have gone on before us to see God face to face. We ourselves are not ready, we protest, for such a blessing. Just a little bit more time, please.
In his mercy God is preparing us so that when we do meet him face to face, in the life to come, we will be able to stand it. That “glass darkly” is a little like the smoked glass you used to watch an eclipse through; it kept you from being dazzled by too much light.
These eyes, that dazzled now and weak,
At glancing motes in sunshine wink,
Shall see the King’s full glory break,
Nor from the blissful vision shrink:
In fearless love and hope uncloyed
For ever on that ocean bright
Empowered to gaze; and undestroyed
Deeper and deeper plunge in light.
(John Keble, “Fourth Sunday in Advent”, The Christian Year)
We need to be prepared, so that—not on our own merits but by the grace of Christ—when we see God face to face we will be able to stand it.
A foretaste of that glory is ours today, in the mystery of the coming of Christ. And a foretaste of that mercy is ours as well, for God came to us not in the form of a ruler or a man of power (much as we might have hoped for that) but in the form of a helpless baby. He comes as prince of peace.
As Luther said, “Divinity may terrify us. Inexpressible mystery will crush us. That is why Christ took on our humanity, save for sin, that he should not terrify us but rather that with love and favor he should console and confirm. …he is come, not to judge you, but to save.”
(Roland H. Bainton, ed., The Martin Luther Christmas Book, Philadelphia: Fortress Press, 1948, p. 40)
Salvation, however, does not wait. The message of Jesus, and the joy of life with him, is not postponed until some later time, after death or the second coming. It is present with us here and now, brought forth for us first in the tiny manger-dweller we meet on Christmas morning.
In this humble and innocent form comes to us the majesty of God. In other words, we find God not in inaccessible realms of glory but in day-to-day, even humble, form.
And we continue to find him, in practical terms, in loving God in our neighbor.
“You have Christ in your neighbor. You ought to serve him, for what you do to your neighbor in need you do to the Lord Christ himself.” (Luther, p. 38)
Even as we place our neighbor in the place of Christ, serving God in our neighbor, we begin to take on the characteristics Christ showed for us on Christmas morning.
He, the Son of God, being above all angels, did not take equality with God as a thing to be grasped onto, but allowed himself to be emptied into the form of a child, a helpless human infant. And then he began to serve.
“For unto you is born this day—that is, unto us. For our sakes he has taken flesh and blood from a woman, [so] that his birth might become our birth. I too may boast that I am a son of Mary. This is the way to observe this feast—that Christ be formed in us.” (Luther, p. 44)
And this is the secret: Christ in you, the hope of Glory. This is the season of a new birth—not only the birth of the Messiah 2000 years ago but also his emergence within our lives, as we become formed into the people God has called us to be.
JRL+
December 23, 2007
Saint Alban’s Episcopal Church
Edmonds, Washington
Waiting for the Christ to come may feel a bit like waiting to be treated in Urgent Care. You get a few promises up front, and are told to wait.
Hours go by. What is going on? When will I be seen? Have I been forgotten? When will I be treated? When will I be whole again?
But that’s not it. There is more to the story.
Waiting for the Christ to come may feel even more like reading War and Peace. While you are in it, it is totally absorbing. Then eventually you finish the book.
All those characters, all those people you have met, even friends you have made among them, now disappear into a past memory, only a haze. You are no longer in the world of the novel: now you are in the “real world.”
Of course characters in a novel are merely shadows in a play. But we might feel like that ourselves, sometimes. This world may seem a brief and transitory place. Real life lies ahead, as well as all around us (though hidden), in the mystery of Christ and of the Resurrection.
And this is like Paul’s comment, “now we see as through a glass darkly: then we shall see face to face.” Imagine what it will be like to see Christ in person.
Every week when we take communion, and at holiday times like Christmas when we remember loved ones, we put ourselves in touch with not only those who like us see through a glass darkly, those who are living, but also with those who have gone on before us to see God face to face. We ourselves are not ready, we protest, for such a blessing. Just a little bit more time, please.
In his mercy God is preparing us so that when we do meet him face to face, in the life to come, we will be able to stand it. That “glass darkly” is a little like the smoked glass you used to watch an eclipse through; it kept you from being dazzled by too much light.
These eyes, that dazzled now and weak,
At glancing motes in sunshine wink,
Shall see the King’s full glory break,
Nor from the blissful vision shrink:
In fearless love and hope uncloyed
For ever on that ocean bright
Empowered to gaze; and undestroyed
Deeper and deeper plunge in light.
(John Keble, “Fourth Sunday in Advent”, The Christian Year)
We need to be prepared, so that—not on our own merits but by the grace of Christ—when we see God face to face we will be able to stand it.
A foretaste of that glory is ours today, in the mystery of the coming of Christ. And a foretaste of that mercy is ours as well, for God came to us not in the form of a ruler or a man of power (much as we might have hoped for that) but in the form of a helpless baby. He comes as prince of peace.
As Luther said, “Divinity may terrify us. Inexpressible mystery will crush us. That is why Christ took on our humanity, save for sin, that he should not terrify us but rather that with love and favor he should console and confirm. …he is come, not to judge you, but to save.”
(Roland H. Bainton, ed., The Martin Luther Christmas Book, Philadelphia: Fortress Press, 1948, p. 40)
Salvation, however, does not wait. The message of Jesus, and the joy of life with him, is not postponed until some later time, after death or the second coming. It is present with us here and now, brought forth for us first in the tiny manger-dweller we meet on Christmas morning.
In this humble and innocent form comes to us the majesty of God. In other words, we find God not in inaccessible realms of glory but in day-to-day, even humble, form.
And we continue to find him, in practical terms, in loving God in our neighbor.
“You have Christ in your neighbor. You ought to serve him, for what you do to your neighbor in need you do to the Lord Christ himself.” (Luther, p. 38)
Even as we place our neighbor in the place of Christ, serving God in our neighbor, we begin to take on the characteristics Christ showed for us on Christmas morning.
He, the Son of God, being above all angels, did not take equality with God as a thing to be grasped onto, but allowed himself to be emptied into the form of a child, a helpless human infant. And then he began to serve.
“For unto you is born this day—that is, unto us. For our sakes he has taken flesh and blood from a woman, [so] that his birth might become our birth. I too may boast that I am a son of Mary. This is the way to observe this feast—that Christ be formed in us.” (Luther, p. 44)
And this is the secret: Christ in you, the hope of Glory. This is the season of a new birth—not only the birth of the Messiah 2000 years ago but also his emergence within our lives, as we become formed into the people God has called us to be.
JRL+
December 23, 2007
Saint Alban’s Episcopal Church
Edmonds, Washington
Friday, December 21, 2007
Jed Smith Christmas
Today we delivered Christmas gift bags to children at Jed Smith Elementary School. The kids were thrilled to see Santa. One young boy was so excited to get a small box of crayons. I heard others excited about their new socks. It was touching and great fun.
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Santa (Randy Cheek) with a student from the school.
You can see all the pictures here.
Thursday, December 20, 2007
Katharine Jefferts Schori for President
Here's an excerpt from a remarkable article written by Teresa Morrison for The Advocate.
I firmly believe that within a generation the antigay hate speech Bishop Schofield so freely espouses will receive as little tolerance as we do today, and I look forward to a time when men like him will wish they had quietly harbored hatred rather than staking their reputations on it. Meanwhile, Bishop Jefferts Schori and other proponents of inclusion will be credited with having furthered the integrity of their faith institutions as dynamic, relevant forces in the 21st century.
Non-Episcopalian gays and lesbians might not think we have a dog in this fight, but we all have a vested interest in the outcome. We find ourselves in a very rare position here, one so unfamiliar to LGBT people we can scarcely grasp its significance: In the determination of the U.S. Episcopal Church to take a stand for our equality and inclusion, we have everything to gain and nothing to lose, while the folks fighting for us risk their political and financial footing in the Anglican Communion, the third-largest Christian body in the world, which is far more sympathetic toward your Bishops Schofield than to the progressive platform embraced by Bishop Jefferts Schori and the majority of her church’s 2.5 million members.
We never asked Episcopalians to take up our fight. Rather, it seems, their spiritual path has led them to believe that we aren’t any less deserving of ministry or recognition or even consecration simply because we happen to be unpopular sexual minorities. I wish that weren’t an extraordinary concept in 2007, but it is. And Bishop Jefferts Schori has hardly blinked in a year of denominational strife that has seen her character and her commitment to her religious office questioned, challenged, dismissed, and maligned.
In this age of gay bashing from all sides, it isn’t often we encounter a religious leader—or any leader—willing to bulldog for our rights, especially when faced with such a potentially high cost to herself and the institution she represents. What I wouldn’t give for such genuine representation in our elected officials.
When I consider the trail of broken promises left by those we helped to elect, Bishop Jefferts Schori's position becomes that much more remarkable. Reacting to the secession vote in San Joaquin, she not only refused to retreat from her position, she reiterated it: “We deeply regret their unwillingness or inability to live within the historical Anglican understanding of comprehensiveness. We wish them to know of our prayers for them and their journey. The Episcopal Church will continue in the diocese of San Joaquin, albeit with new leadership.”
I keep meaning to bake that woman a cake.
In my fruitless search for a presidential candidate who not only believes in my essential equality but is willing to say it out loud and stand by his or her position when the inevitable attacks come down, I wonder if any money I may have set aside to donate to that elusive candidate’s campaign might not be better spent tithing to the Episcopal Church. At least there I know my support will go toward furthering my rights, not sending them to the back of the bus—or throwing them under it.
Like others who have read this article, it makes me proud of my Church. You can read the whole article here.
I firmly believe that within a generation the antigay hate speech Bishop Schofield so freely espouses will receive as little tolerance as we do today, and I look forward to a time when men like him will wish they had quietly harbored hatred rather than staking their reputations on it. Meanwhile, Bishop Jefferts Schori and other proponents of inclusion will be credited with having furthered the integrity of their faith institutions as dynamic, relevant forces in the 21st century.
Non-Episcopalian gays and lesbians might not think we have a dog in this fight, but we all have a vested interest in the outcome. We find ourselves in a very rare position here, one so unfamiliar to LGBT people we can scarcely grasp its significance: In the determination of the U.S. Episcopal Church to take a stand for our equality and inclusion, we have everything to gain and nothing to lose, while the folks fighting for us risk their political and financial footing in the Anglican Communion, the third-largest Christian body in the world, which is far more sympathetic toward your Bishops Schofield than to the progressive platform embraced by Bishop Jefferts Schori and the majority of her church’s 2.5 million members.
We never asked Episcopalians to take up our fight. Rather, it seems, their spiritual path has led them to believe that we aren’t any less deserving of ministry or recognition or even consecration simply because we happen to be unpopular sexual minorities. I wish that weren’t an extraordinary concept in 2007, but it is. And Bishop Jefferts Schori has hardly blinked in a year of denominational strife that has seen her character and her commitment to her religious office questioned, challenged, dismissed, and maligned.
In this age of gay bashing from all sides, it isn’t often we encounter a religious leader—or any leader—willing to bulldog for our rights, especially when faced with such a potentially high cost to herself and the institution she represents. What I wouldn’t give for such genuine representation in our elected officials.
When I consider the trail of broken promises left by those we helped to elect, Bishop Jefferts Schori's position becomes that much more remarkable. Reacting to the secession vote in San Joaquin, she not only refused to retreat from her position, she reiterated it: “We deeply regret their unwillingness or inability to live within the historical Anglican understanding of comprehensiveness. We wish them to know of our prayers for them and their journey. The Episcopal Church will continue in the diocese of San Joaquin, albeit with new leadership.”
I keep meaning to bake that woman a cake.
In my fruitless search for a presidential candidate who not only believes in my essential equality but is willing to say it out loud and stand by his or her position when the inevitable attacks come down, I wonder if any money I may have set aside to donate to that elusive candidate’s campaign might not be better spent tithing to the Episcopal Church. At least there I know my support will go toward furthering my rights, not sending them to the back of the bus—or throwing them under it.
Like others who have read this article, it makes me proud of my Church. You can read the whole article here.
Wednesday, December 19, 2007
Blessing Same-Sex Relationship
On Saturday, December 8 I was given the opportunity to bless the union of Richard Stapler and Michael Mendez at Trinity Church in San Francisco. While I love weddings (I've officiated at well over 200) this service was special. It was my first blessing service for a same-sex couple. It was done during a remarkable weekend on which we hosted two Tibetan Buddhist monks at Trinity Cathedral in Sacramento. It was also ironic that both the blessing service and the mandala occurred on the same weekend that the Doicese of San Joaquin chose to leave the Episcopal Church.
Mandala Overview
From December 6-9 we hosted two Tibetan Buddhist monks who created a sand mandala of the Medicine Buddha in the East Transept of the Cathedral. It was a remarkable experience. Close to 5000 people came to the Cathedral and our Sunday morning services were over-full. Here are some links to images and articles:
Articles I wrote for the Sacramento news and Review:
Radical Hospitality
Sand Mandala
Audio of Sunday (Dec. 9) sermon
Sacramento Bee slideshow
Sacramento Bee article
KCRA slideshow
KCRA video
Trinity Cathedral's Photobucket page
Turtle Vision images
Message from Mike Halfhill of the Dalai Lama Foundation:
On behalf of the Dalai Lama Foundation Sacramento Area Chapter I would like to thank everyone who helped make this event a beautiful and fulfilling experience for many. Our community has been uplifted and strengthened through the efforts of Trinity Cathedral, Spiritual Life Center, East West Books and Sacramento Friends of Tibet as hosts along with the DLF. I would like to give a special thanks to Trinity Cathedral and Dean Brian Baker for their overwhelming hospitality and support in allowing the use of their facilities for the monks to be there and share their Sacred Healing Arts with us. It is a living testament that we can come together and work side by side with great respect for each others traditions. I would also like to thank the media for acknowledging this as a newsworthy event. Thank you all.
Christmas Tree
This was originally written for Trinity's newsletter.
Yesterday (Monday before Christmas Eve) we got our Christmas tree. Andrea and I drove up to Apple Hill and tromped through a muddy tree farm. It was a rainy day. We pushed through wet branches and found the right tree. We cut it down and hauled it to the car. We stopped at a winery for a tasting and bought a case of wine to have for Christmas parties. (It was our first time visiting a winery in the foothills.) We got home just in time to get the kids from school. We had to drive them around to their various activities, help with homework, etc. After attending an elementary school band concert, we hauled the boxes of decorations down from the attic. We put on Christmas music, lit a fire, made cider and got to work. Of course each of these items, mentioned in passing, took more time than expected. We had to find the Christmas music. It was our first fire of the season so we had to find all the necessary equipment and split some wood. The cider, well that was pretty straightforward.
The tree, however, was not. The tree that looked so perfect in the pine forest, was too tall for our living room. And it was very fat. And it had odd bulges. Of course I didn’t measure the height of the tree until after I brought it into the house and tried to set it up. Then I had to cut the tree down to size (in the house) and as a family we muscled it into its stand. I got to work trimming the bulges and thinning it so it would fit in the room. I was tired and grumpy as I lay on the floor adjusting the stand so the tree would stand straight(ish). By the time the lights were strung, it was well past bedtime. But the tree was up, music was playing, the fire was lit and hot cider was consumed and one of the Baker family traditions (including the grumpy dad) was observed one more year.
The day of tree getting and decorating has always been for me a symbol of Christmas and of my life. It is a great deal of work. There is much to be done. And it would be easy to see this day as a chore rather than a blessing. It would be easy to be distracted by the business of it all and miss the joy.
Of course the whole point of Christmas is to show us that all of life is a blessing. God is with us constantly. And at least this year I’m blessed with a glimpse of that presence in my family, in my church and in my too-big, oddly shaped Christmas tree.
Yesterday (Monday before Christmas Eve) we got our Christmas tree. Andrea and I drove up to Apple Hill and tromped through a muddy tree farm. It was a rainy day. We pushed through wet branches and found the right tree. We cut it down and hauled it to the car. We stopped at a winery for a tasting and bought a case of wine to have for Christmas parties. (It was our first time visiting a winery in the foothills.) We got home just in time to get the kids from school. We had to drive them around to their various activities, help with homework, etc. After attending an elementary school band concert, we hauled the boxes of decorations down from the attic. We put on Christmas music, lit a fire, made cider and got to work. Of course each of these items, mentioned in passing, took more time than expected. We had to find the Christmas music. It was our first fire of the season so we had to find all the necessary equipment and split some wood. The cider, well that was pretty straightforward.
The tree, however, was not. The tree that looked so perfect in the pine forest, was too tall for our living room. And it was very fat. And it had odd bulges. Of course I didn’t measure the height of the tree until after I brought it into the house and tried to set it up. Then I had to cut the tree down to size (in the house) and as a family we muscled it into its stand. I got to work trimming the bulges and thinning it so it would fit in the room. I was tired and grumpy as I lay on the floor adjusting the stand so the tree would stand straight(ish). By the time the lights were strung, it was well past bedtime. But the tree was up, music was playing, the fire was lit and hot cider was consumed and one of the Baker family traditions (including the grumpy dad) was observed one more year.
The day of tree getting and decorating has always been for me a symbol of Christmas and of my life. It is a great deal of work. There is much to be done. And it would be easy to see this day as a chore rather than a blessing. It would be easy to be distracted by the business of it all and miss the joy.
Of course the whole point of Christmas is to show us that all of life is a blessing. God is with us constantly. And at least this year I’m blessed with a glimpse of that presence in my family, in my church and in my too-big, oddly shaped Christmas tree.
Radical Hospitality
This essay was originally written for the Sacramento News & Review
How would you describe the brokenness of our world? In what ways are we living lives too small for us? One way Christianity answers these questions is through language of separation. We are estranged, or separated from God, from one another and from our true selves. Separation within the human family is obvious when watching the news or listening to political rhetoric. Whether it’s Sunni vs. Shia, Democrat vs. Republican, liberal vs. conservative, pro-life vs. pro-choice, people are estranged from one another in endless ways. And this separation is not usually benign. We all too often consider ourselves superior to those in the other group. This superiority allows us to demonize and belittle the other. And the world becomes more fractured.
I do not believe this is how God intends us to live our lives. We are created to be interdependent, not independent. We are designed to be in communion and community with one another, which is one reason why hospitality is such an important spiritual discipline. We exercise hospitality when we make room in our lives, in our homes, in our social circles for others, particularly those who are different.
One reason Trinity Cathedral hosted the Tibetan Buddhist sand mandala and the monks who created it was to model radical hospitality. We wanted to show the world how two different religious traditions could come together, not simply to have a discussion, but to share intimate worship space and spiritual practices. And the willingness of the Buddhists to bring their spiritual practice into a Christian cathedral modeled the same hospitality.
The results were spectacular. The mandala alone was radiant and the monks were gracious and spirit-filled. But the context, the mandala within the Christian cathedral, made it even more remarkable. I was enthralled. I found it difficult to focus on anything else. It felt like God’s Kingdom of Love was blossoming right there.
But the hosting of the mandala was not problem-free. Hostpitality can be messy. We often have to make accommodations for others. People have different ways of living, different cultural expectations. The Cathedral can be a very busy place and people have different expectations of what will go on in a church (talking/laughing vs. silence, eating vs. not eating.) Worship services and music rehearsals took place while the monks were working and visitors were passing through. There were collisions of sound and space.
One such collision happened at 9am on Friday. We celebrate communion every day at Trinity Cathedral. On Fridays, the communion is at 9 a.m., which is also when the monks began their work with prayer and chanting. On Friday, Canon Carey, an 80-year-old priest, was at the high altar blessing the bread and wine (a particularly holy moment in the service) when the monks began chanting in the East Transept, about 15 feet away.
Some people might have taken offense. After all, shouldn’t the guests be more sensitive to services that are happening in the Cathedral? When Canon Cary recounted this experience for me, he was not offended at all. In fact, he said he was so moved by the beauty of the chanting happening at such a holy moment in his service, that he was moved to tears. He told the small congregation gathered for communion that this was a communion they would never forget.
Isn’t that beautiful? Christian communion enriched by Buddhist chanting. Such beauty can become manifest when we open our lives to those who are different from us. And God’s Kingdom of Love draws nearer.
-Dean Baker
How would you describe the brokenness of our world? In what ways are we living lives too small for us? One way Christianity answers these questions is through language of separation. We are estranged, or separated from God, from one another and from our true selves. Separation within the human family is obvious when watching the news or listening to political rhetoric. Whether it’s Sunni vs. Shia, Democrat vs. Republican, liberal vs. conservative, pro-life vs. pro-choice, people are estranged from one another in endless ways. And this separation is not usually benign. We all too often consider ourselves superior to those in the other group. This superiority allows us to demonize and belittle the other. And the world becomes more fractured.
I do not believe this is how God intends us to live our lives. We are created to be interdependent, not independent. We are designed to be in communion and community with one another, which is one reason why hospitality is such an important spiritual discipline. We exercise hospitality when we make room in our lives, in our homes, in our social circles for others, particularly those who are different.
One reason Trinity Cathedral hosted the Tibetan Buddhist sand mandala and the monks who created it was to model radical hospitality. We wanted to show the world how two different religious traditions could come together, not simply to have a discussion, but to share intimate worship space and spiritual practices. And the willingness of the Buddhists to bring their spiritual practice into a Christian cathedral modeled the same hospitality.
The results were spectacular. The mandala alone was radiant and the monks were gracious and spirit-filled. But the context, the mandala within the Christian cathedral, made it even more remarkable. I was enthralled. I found it difficult to focus on anything else. It felt like God’s Kingdom of Love was blossoming right there.
But the hosting of the mandala was not problem-free. Hostpitality can be messy. We often have to make accommodations for others. People have different ways of living, different cultural expectations. The Cathedral can be a very busy place and people have different expectations of what will go on in a church (talking/laughing vs. silence, eating vs. not eating.) Worship services and music rehearsals took place while the monks were working and visitors were passing through. There were collisions of sound and space.
One such collision happened at 9am on Friday. We celebrate communion every day at Trinity Cathedral. On Fridays, the communion is at 9 a.m., which is also when the monks began their work with prayer and chanting. On Friday, Canon Carey, an 80-year-old priest, was at the high altar blessing the bread and wine (a particularly holy moment in the service) when the monks began chanting in the East Transept, about 15 feet away.
Some people might have taken offense. After all, shouldn’t the guests be more sensitive to services that are happening in the Cathedral? When Canon Cary recounted this experience for me, he was not offended at all. In fact, he said he was so moved by the beauty of the chanting happening at such a holy moment in his service, that he was moved to tears. He told the small congregation gathered for communion that this was a communion they would never forget.
Isn’t that beautiful? Christian communion enriched by Buddhist chanting. Such beauty can become manifest when we open our lives to those who are different from us. And God’s Kingdom of Love draws nearer.
-Dean Baker
Sand Mandala
This essay was originally written for the Sacramento News & Review
Several years ago, while serving as a priest in Sun Valley, Idaho, a young woman visited me. She was to be married and she wondered if I would officiate at an Episcopal wedding service that included Tibetan Buddhist prayers. I was a little skeptical. Not because I didn’t think Buddhist prayers should be said at a Christian wedding. Rather I wanted to make sure Pilar, the young woman, was serious about her Buddhist practice. In my community Tibetan Buddhism had an exotic mystique and I wanted to make sure the prayers would be said with integrity rather than simply added to be chic.
As it turned out, Pilar was a devout Tibetan Buddhist and was very intentional in her spiritual practice. I did officiate at her wedding and she and I became good friends. She taught me Yoga. We began meditating together and after we prayed, we would teach each other about our different religious traditions. We opened our conversations to the wider community. Because of my friendship with Pilar, I took my own spiritual disciplines more seriously. I became a better Christian because of my friendship with a Buddhist.
There were some aspects of Pilar’s faith, like emptiness and compassion, that connected readily with my own perspective. There were other aspects of her beliefs that will probably always feel foreign to me. It was not necessary for us to be the same (as in “all religions are basically the same”) in order for us to respect one another and to learn from one another.
Toward the end of my time in Sun Valley, I was asked to organize and facilitate a meeting between His Holiness the Dalai Lama and local religious leaders. It was one of the highlights of my ministry and a lovely culmination of my relationship with the Buddhists in Sun Valley.
When I arrived in Sacramento, one of the first people to see me was Lama Jinpa, the leader of the local Tibetan Buddhist community. Pilar had asked him to visit me. Lama Jinpa and I have met a few times and have discussed how we might be able to work together. Because of this new friendship, Trinity Cathedral has been invited to host two Tibetan monks who are coming to build a sand mandala in early December.
I think it is important that the mandala will be created in a Christian church. In our world with so much conflict and division, religious groups should model hospitality and inclusion. Not only is this an opportunity for hospitality, it is a chance for mutual enrichment. The mandala will depict the Medicine (or healing) Buddha. At Trinity Cathedral, we take praying for healing seriously. We have people at every Sunday service that pray for those who need special prayers. These prayers take place in the same part of the Cathedral where the Medicine Buddha mandala will be. The mandala , which is a kind of icon, will be placed next to a beautiful icon of the Trinity at the Cathedral. These are just a couple of obvious connections. Others will become manifest as we spend time together.
The mandala will be open to the public and it is my hope that many people will come to visit the Buddhist monks as they create their beautiful and deeply spiritual artwork.
Several years ago, while serving as a priest in Sun Valley, Idaho, a young woman visited me. She was to be married and she wondered if I would officiate at an Episcopal wedding service that included Tibetan Buddhist prayers. I was a little skeptical. Not because I didn’t think Buddhist prayers should be said at a Christian wedding. Rather I wanted to make sure Pilar, the young woman, was serious about her Buddhist practice. In my community Tibetan Buddhism had an exotic mystique and I wanted to make sure the prayers would be said with integrity rather than simply added to be chic.
As it turned out, Pilar was a devout Tibetan Buddhist and was very intentional in her spiritual practice. I did officiate at her wedding and she and I became good friends. She taught me Yoga. We began meditating together and after we prayed, we would teach each other about our different religious traditions. We opened our conversations to the wider community. Because of my friendship with Pilar, I took my own spiritual disciplines more seriously. I became a better Christian because of my friendship with a Buddhist.
There were some aspects of Pilar’s faith, like emptiness and compassion, that connected readily with my own perspective. There were other aspects of her beliefs that will probably always feel foreign to me. It was not necessary for us to be the same (as in “all religions are basically the same”) in order for us to respect one another and to learn from one another.
Toward the end of my time in Sun Valley, I was asked to organize and facilitate a meeting between His Holiness the Dalai Lama and local religious leaders. It was one of the highlights of my ministry and a lovely culmination of my relationship with the Buddhists in Sun Valley.
When I arrived in Sacramento, one of the first people to see me was Lama Jinpa, the leader of the local Tibetan Buddhist community. Pilar had asked him to visit me. Lama Jinpa and I have met a few times and have discussed how we might be able to work together. Because of this new friendship, Trinity Cathedral has been invited to host two Tibetan monks who are coming to build a sand mandala in early December.
I think it is important that the mandala will be created in a Christian church. In our world with so much conflict and division, religious groups should model hospitality and inclusion. Not only is this an opportunity for hospitality, it is a chance for mutual enrichment. The mandala will depict the Medicine (or healing) Buddha. At Trinity Cathedral, we take praying for healing seriously. We have people at every Sunday service that pray for those who need special prayers. These prayers take place in the same part of the Cathedral where the Medicine Buddha mandala will be. The mandala , which is a kind of icon, will be placed next to a beautiful icon of the Trinity at the Cathedral. These are just a couple of obvious connections. Others will become manifest as we spend time together.
The mandala will be open to the public and it is my hope that many people will come to visit the Buddhist monks as they create their beautiful and deeply spiritual artwork.
Sunday, December 16, 2007
first cousins, once removed
John came like Elijah through the wilderness, calling the people to turn away from falsehood, to turn back to their true allegiance, to Almighty God. He called them to repent: to start clean, to be washed in the waters of the Jordan as their spiritual forefathers had when first they walked into the land of the promise.
He called them. He was a “voice crying out in the wilderness: ‘Prepare the way of the Lord, make his paths straight.’” He was the herald, the fore-runner: coming before, bearing glad tidings. The message he brought, to prepare the way of the Lord, is a message of impending – JOY.
And his joy is to be made complete in the coming of the Christ. “Are you the one we have been waiting for?” he asks Jesus; and the answer is YES! Look around you: see what is going on, what is happening. It is just beginning, but it is beginning to break through: the kingdom of heaven is at hand!
We look ahead this Sunday from the midst of Advent’s expectation to its fulfillment in the joy of Christmas. We light the pink candle. Today is “Gaudete Sunday”; “guadete” means REJOICE! Rejoice in the coming of the Savior. In the words of the 14th Century hymn:
Rejoice! Rejoice! Christ is born of the Virgin Mary: rejoice!
The time of grace has come for which we have prayed; let us devoutly sing songs of joy.
God is made man while nature wonders; the world is renewed by Christ the King.
Therefore let our assembly sing praises now; at this time of preparation, let it bless the Lord. Greetings to our King!
Rejoice! Rejoice! Christ is born of the Virgin Mary: rejoice!
And so we have a messenger who calls on us to prepare the way, to make room in our hearts and in our lives for the coming of the true King.
Let me read you a story. It is a story of some people, a boy and two girls, and some animals – beavers – who are traveling through a winter-bitten frozen landscape, running from the evil witch who has cast a spell on the land, where now it is “always winter and never Christmas!”
They run, and they hide, and they spend the night in a lonely cave, and even in their dreams they are pursued by the White Witch in her sledge drawn by tiny reindeer the color of snow.
They wake, and they do hear the bells of a sleigh. Mr. Beaver goes out to investigate. The children, and Mrs. Beaver, hear voices. They are alarmed. Is it the White Witch? Then comes Mr. Beaver’s reassuring voice:
[The Lion, the Witch, and the Wardrobe, by C. S. Lewis, chapter 10]
And so you see Santa Claus came to Narnia. And he brought presents: TOOLS NOT TOYS – to equip the humans for the tasks ahead.
John the Baptist, as he called on people to prepare the way, provided a gift of a different sort: a clearing out, a ‘re-set’, and a readiness to start over and start fresh. Then the gifts become real. They become necessary – as the Savior comes.
Jesus, when he approached, began with the working of healing: the blind see, the deaf hear, the lame walk, and this last: the poor are gladdened. They are glad because the Kingdom is coming, the reign of God on earth when all will be put to rights.
If you know your Narnia you know this is Aslan’s job: to overthrow the false reign of the White Witch, to set everything to rights, to release captives, to warm the frozen, to restore the lost, and to protect the innocent.
This is indeed the Day of the Lord that John proclaimed.
Son of Elizabeth, Mary’s cousin, John grew up as one set apart, with a duty to perform. He was the one to prepare the way: and to herald the coming of the Messiah.
And this is what Mary was expecting Jesus to do: in her magnificent song of expectation and of triumph, she proclaims the greatness of God, who looks with favor on his lowly servant, and who brings to her and through her – in the bearing of the Christ Child – the time of grace for which we have prayed.
Therefore let our assembly sing praises now at this time of preparation; let us bless the Lord: Greetings to our King!
Rejoice! Rejoice! Christ is born of the Virgin Mary; rejoice!
______________
C. S. Lewis, The Lion, the Witch, and the Wardrobe (Macmillan, 1950) Chapter Ten: The Spell Begins to Break.
The Shorter New Oxford Book of Carols, edited by Hugh Keyte and Andrew Parrott (Oxford University Press, 1993), Carol 24, Gaudete!
David Adam, Clouds and Glory (SPCK, 2001) 3rd Sunday of Advent.
Isaiah 35:1-10, James 5:7-10, Matthew 11:2-11, Canticle 15
He called them. He was a “voice crying out in the wilderness: ‘Prepare the way of the Lord, make his paths straight.’” He was the herald, the fore-runner: coming before, bearing glad tidings. The message he brought, to prepare the way of the Lord, is a message of impending – JOY.
And his joy is to be made complete in the coming of the Christ. “Are you the one we have been waiting for?” he asks Jesus; and the answer is YES! Look around you: see what is going on, what is happening. It is just beginning, but it is beginning to break through: the kingdom of heaven is at hand!
We look ahead this Sunday from the midst of Advent’s expectation to its fulfillment in the joy of Christmas. We light the pink candle. Today is “Gaudete Sunday”; “guadete” means REJOICE! Rejoice in the coming of the Savior. In the words of the 14th Century hymn:
Rejoice! Rejoice! Christ is born of the Virgin Mary: rejoice!
The time of grace has come for which we have prayed; let us devoutly sing songs of joy.
God is made man while nature wonders; the world is renewed by Christ the King.
Therefore let our assembly sing praises now; at this time of preparation, let it bless the Lord. Greetings to our King!
Rejoice! Rejoice! Christ is born of the Virgin Mary: rejoice!
And so we have a messenger who calls on us to prepare the way, to make room in our hearts and in our lives for the coming of the true King.
Let me read you a story. It is a story of some people, a boy and two girls, and some animals – beavers – who are traveling through a winter-bitten frozen landscape, running from the evil witch who has cast a spell on the land, where now it is “always winter and never Christmas!”
They run, and they hide, and they spend the night in a lonely cave, and even in their dreams they are pursued by the White Witch in her sledge drawn by tiny reindeer the color of snow.
They wake, and they do hear the bells of a sleigh. Mr. Beaver goes out to investigate. The children, and Mrs. Beaver, hear voices. They are alarmed. Is it the White Witch? Then comes Mr. Beaver’s reassuring voice:
[The Lion, the Witch, and the Wardrobe, by C. S. Lewis, chapter 10]
And so you see Santa Claus came to Narnia. And he brought presents: TOOLS NOT TOYS – to equip the humans for the tasks ahead.
John the Baptist, as he called on people to prepare the way, provided a gift of a different sort: a clearing out, a ‘re-set’, and a readiness to start over and start fresh. Then the gifts become real. They become necessary – as the Savior comes.
Jesus, when he approached, began with the working of healing: the blind see, the deaf hear, the lame walk, and this last: the poor are gladdened. They are glad because the Kingdom is coming, the reign of God on earth when all will be put to rights.
If you know your Narnia you know this is Aslan’s job: to overthrow the false reign of the White Witch, to set everything to rights, to release captives, to warm the frozen, to restore the lost, and to protect the innocent.
This is indeed the Day of the Lord that John proclaimed.
Son of Elizabeth, Mary’s cousin, John grew up as one set apart, with a duty to perform. He was the one to prepare the way: and to herald the coming of the Messiah.
And this is what Mary was expecting Jesus to do: in her magnificent song of expectation and of triumph, she proclaims the greatness of God, who looks with favor on his lowly servant, and who brings to her and through her – in the bearing of the Christ Child – the time of grace for which we have prayed.
Therefore let our assembly sing praises now at this time of preparation; let us bless the Lord: Greetings to our King!
Rejoice! Rejoice! Christ is born of the Virgin Mary; rejoice!
______________
C. S. Lewis, The Lion, the Witch, and the Wardrobe (Macmillan, 1950) Chapter Ten: The Spell Begins to Break.
The Shorter New Oxford Book of Carols, edited by Hugh Keyte and Andrew Parrott (Oxford University Press, 1993), Carol 24, Gaudete!
David Adam, Clouds and Glory (SPCK, 2001) 3rd Sunday of Advent.
Isaiah 35:1-10, James 5:7-10, Matthew 11:2-11, Canticle 15
Sunday, December 2, 2007
Pilate slept in
Pilate slept in. Pontius Pilate had made a late night of it – in fact, he had turned in not long before dawn. He had washed his hands of the latest “Messiah” in the early hours of last Friday, called it good, and walked away. The nights since had been full, full of celebration – of a kind: reveling and drunkenness, debauchery and licentiousness, quarreling and jealousy, all the fleshly indulgence the apostle Paul so well describes. He was a creature of this night: the night at the end of the week. Pilate slept in.
It was early on the first day of the week, and it was still dark.
Across town, though, things were beginning to stir. Just quietly, a few women (Mary of Magdala, Mary the mother of James, Joanna, Salome, perhaps a few others) gathered together ointments and spices and made their way out of their houses and down through the pre-dawn streets, to pay their last respects to their friend, do their last duty to their master. And so they made their way to the tomb of Jesus son of Mary, Jesus of Nazareth. They thought they knew what they would find there.
It was dawn minus thirty. Day was coming; dawn was soon to break.
Imagine a desert landscape half an hour before dawn. A star glimmers in the east. As you move out into the open you see the moon, almost full, in the west, illumining the landscape – nearby trees, houses, hills, and the mountains beyond. The star in the east has a companion, a lesser satellite, still shining with brightness from the night before. There is a rustle here and there of night sounds. A campfire flickers: it can be rekindled.
The night is far along now, and the day is about to dawn.
We are waiting: you and I, together. We are waiting for the new dawn, the day of the Lord, the day when righteousness and peace will embrace, when swords will be beaten into plowshares and never will nation learn war anymore. We wait for the day when the poor are justified, and receive their due; when the widow and the orphan are protected.
And we are moving: we are not waiting passively, but actively, expectantly, we begin to move into this new day. Because something happened that morning as Pilate slept in; something that Salome and Mary and Joanna did not expect to happen. When they got to the tomb they found not the beginning of eternal night but the rising of a new day, the day of the Lord, just beginning, the day breaking into night’s dominion, bringing peace.
They ran to bring the news of this new day to all the disciples so that they could begin living in it, living into it, living it, as soon as possibly joy could allow.
And so we too are moving, running walking climbing, making our way into the world to let it know that Jesus is alive: the King has come home, the true King, the Messiah indeed, at last, is coming to his own – and his own shall know him and be set free.
He comes to us, this unexpected Jesus, in a form unsuspected: where we look for a king, a royal birth, we find a baby wrapped in swaddling clothes and lying in a manger. Where we look for a warrior we find a man of peace. Where we look for a master we find one who empties his self of all majesty and serves. Where we look for an answer, a question:
How are we to live in this new day, the day of the Lord? How are we to announce it?
Every year it comes back around to us, at the top of the year, as we face both backwards into the past – the Nativity of our Lord– and forwards into the future – the Return of the King; and yet at this present moment, when we stand on the precipice of time, we live in the moment of freedom: to find ourselves and define ourselves anew, as people of the passing night or as the people of God, Christ’s children, the Church.
How are we to live at this moment? Whiling away the waning hours of night? Or shall we begin, even now, in this moment, to live as children of the day?
To live as children of the day is to begin to live into God’s kingdom – to take the values Jesus has taught us and without waiting for a big sign in the sky – like the one that says, “Welcome to Las Vegas!” – to say, “Eternal life starts here”, to begin to live that way. O house of Jacob, come, let us walk in the light of the Lord!
We cannot be again what we once were, but we can become what we should be, can be, and are called to be. We cannot recapture lost time, but we can stay focused, keep together, and move forward in the name of Christ, into the redeeming of time: future, present, past – all are made new and whole in the light of Christ.
The ways of the Lord are so precious and true, so giving of life, that Isaiah predicts all nations will come seeking instruction, to learn to walk in the ways of God, and to be shown his pathways. God through the Holy Spirit – and through the Body of Christ – teaches us the way. It is a way that leads to justice, that finds peace, that sees an end to the strife between people and nations – a time so confident of its fruitfulness that the tools of war are no longer needed and can be turned into the tools of productive abundance.
We are his hands and his feet in the world, his voice and his ears, and we are gathered here in this place in this time to embody to the world his message of peace. As we bear forth his message – even in the absurd and timeless form of a baby – we bring the greatest force to bear that the world has ever known: and that force is the love of God.
Irresistible, it moves mountains; immemorial, it lasts forever; inconceivable, it is real… the most real thing of all.
This is the season of advent, of new beginnings, for you, for me, for all of us who live in this world – a new hope is dawning as surely as the light is rising in the East, beyond the mountains, unseen, but closer every moment.
We experience that new hope in our own lives, even in the midst of sorrow. Where Pilate would find only the end of night, the women of Jesus found a new dawn. Where the world runs out its string, there faith begins to take hold. Jesus is with us, even in the darkest hour, just before dawn. And he is our light.
And if we are transparent enough, the light of the love of the Lord shines through us, a beacon for others, beckoning them to join us in this new day.
O come, let us walk in the light of the Lord.
JRL+
The First Sunday of Advent: December 2, 2007
The Church of Saint Alban, Edmonds, Washington.
God, who ever comes to you, draw you to his love, draw you to his light, draw you to himself; and the blessing of God Almighty, the Father, the Son, and the Holy Spirit, be among you and remain with you always. Amen.
(David Adam, Clouds of Glory, Year A, Advent 1)
Isaiah 2:1-5, Psalm 122/Canticle 15, Romans 13:11-14, Matthew 24:36-44
It was early on the first day of the week, and it was still dark.
Across town, though, things were beginning to stir. Just quietly, a few women (Mary of Magdala, Mary the mother of James, Joanna, Salome, perhaps a few others) gathered together ointments and spices and made their way out of their houses and down through the pre-dawn streets, to pay their last respects to their friend, do their last duty to their master. And so they made their way to the tomb of Jesus son of Mary, Jesus of Nazareth. They thought they knew what they would find there.
It was dawn minus thirty. Day was coming; dawn was soon to break.
Imagine a desert landscape half an hour before dawn. A star glimmers in the east. As you move out into the open you see the moon, almost full, in the west, illumining the landscape – nearby trees, houses, hills, and the mountains beyond. The star in the east has a companion, a lesser satellite, still shining with brightness from the night before. There is a rustle here and there of night sounds. A campfire flickers: it can be rekindled.
The night is far along now, and the day is about to dawn.
We are waiting: you and I, together. We are waiting for the new dawn, the day of the Lord, the day when righteousness and peace will embrace, when swords will be beaten into plowshares and never will nation learn war anymore. We wait for the day when the poor are justified, and receive their due; when the widow and the orphan are protected.
And we are moving: we are not waiting passively, but actively, expectantly, we begin to move into this new day. Because something happened that morning as Pilate slept in; something that Salome and Mary and Joanna did not expect to happen. When they got to the tomb they found not the beginning of eternal night but the rising of a new day, the day of the Lord, just beginning, the day breaking into night’s dominion, bringing peace.
They ran to bring the news of this new day to all the disciples so that they could begin living in it, living into it, living it, as soon as possibly joy could allow.
And so we too are moving, running walking climbing, making our way into the world to let it know that Jesus is alive: the King has come home, the true King, the Messiah indeed, at last, is coming to his own – and his own shall know him and be set free.
He comes to us, this unexpected Jesus, in a form unsuspected: where we look for a king, a royal birth, we find a baby wrapped in swaddling clothes and lying in a manger. Where we look for a warrior we find a man of peace. Where we look for a master we find one who empties his self of all majesty and serves. Where we look for an answer, a question:
How are we to live in this new day, the day of the Lord? How are we to announce it?
Every year it comes back around to us, at the top of the year, as we face both backwards into the past – the Nativity of our Lord– and forwards into the future – the Return of the King; and yet at this present moment, when we stand on the precipice of time, we live in the moment of freedom: to find ourselves and define ourselves anew, as people of the passing night or as the people of God, Christ’s children, the Church.
How are we to live at this moment? Whiling away the waning hours of night? Or shall we begin, even now, in this moment, to live as children of the day?
To live as children of the day is to begin to live into God’s kingdom – to take the values Jesus has taught us and without waiting for a big sign in the sky – like the one that says, “Welcome to Las Vegas!” – to say, “Eternal life starts here”, to begin to live that way. O house of Jacob, come, let us walk in the light of the Lord!
We cannot be again what we once were, but we can become what we should be, can be, and are called to be. We cannot recapture lost time, but we can stay focused, keep together, and move forward in the name of Christ, into the redeeming of time: future, present, past – all are made new and whole in the light of Christ.
The ways of the Lord are so precious and true, so giving of life, that Isaiah predicts all nations will come seeking instruction, to learn to walk in the ways of God, and to be shown his pathways. God through the Holy Spirit – and through the Body of Christ – teaches us the way. It is a way that leads to justice, that finds peace, that sees an end to the strife between people and nations – a time so confident of its fruitfulness that the tools of war are no longer needed and can be turned into the tools of productive abundance.
We are his hands and his feet in the world, his voice and his ears, and we are gathered here in this place in this time to embody to the world his message of peace. As we bear forth his message – even in the absurd and timeless form of a baby – we bring the greatest force to bear that the world has ever known: and that force is the love of God.
Irresistible, it moves mountains; immemorial, it lasts forever; inconceivable, it is real… the most real thing of all.
This is the season of advent, of new beginnings, for you, for me, for all of us who live in this world – a new hope is dawning as surely as the light is rising in the East, beyond the mountains, unseen, but closer every moment.
We experience that new hope in our own lives, even in the midst of sorrow. Where Pilate would find only the end of night, the women of Jesus found a new dawn. Where the world runs out its string, there faith begins to take hold. Jesus is with us, even in the darkest hour, just before dawn. And he is our light.
And if we are transparent enough, the light of the love of the Lord shines through us, a beacon for others, beckoning them to join us in this new day.
O come, let us walk in the light of the Lord.
JRL+
The First Sunday of Advent: December 2, 2007
The Church of Saint Alban, Edmonds, Washington.
God, who ever comes to you, draw you to his love, draw you to his light, draw you to himself; and the blessing of God Almighty, the Father, the Son, and the Holy Spirit, be among you and remain with you always. Amen.
(David Adam, Clouds of Glory, Year A, Advent 1)
Isaiah 2:1-5, Psalm 122/Canticle 15, Romans 13:11-14, Matthew 24:36-44
Monday, November 12, 2007
Spiritual but Not Religious?
This essay was originally written for the Sacramento News and Review
It’s an odd thing being a priest. It’s pretty much a cocktail-party-conversation killer.
“So what do you do?”
“Well, I’m an Episcopal priest.”
Long pause. Then the inevitable, “I used to go to church but . . .”
I think that’s so strange. When I’m introduced to a dentist, I don’t have the urge to confess my poor flossing habits.
Besides, I think there are great reasons for not going to church. Most notably, many Christians have done such a poor job representing Jesus. Jesus’ life and teachings were intended to give us life, to connect us with God, one another and our true selves, to free us from fear, free us from judging one another and free us from oppressive social structures (including religious structures.) One could argue that Jesus came to do away with religion, insofar as religions are organizations that treat God’s love as a commodity that is controlled by the religion.
On the other hand, “religions” are necessary for two reasons. First, spirituality needs community. We need to explore our beliefs with other people. Unless one has reached enlightenment, one needs the wisdom of others. We also need others with whom to strive for justice and peace, and others to love. In church, I’m required to love a wide variety of people, some of whom drive me crazy. It’s like spiritual boot camp.
Second, humanity needs the teachings of the great spiritual traditions to be passed on. We need communities of people to record these teachings and to teach them to later generations. The Bible, the Koran, the Buddhist Sutras are religious texts. We would not know about Mohammed, Jesus or the Buddha if it wasn’t for religions.
Religions are simply communities of spiritual people who want to journey and serve together.
Yes, some religious groups are homogeneous clubs who believe they have a corner on Truth or God’s love. And yes, I think people are wise to not be “religious” in that sense.
But beware of limiting your spiritual options because of these bad examples of spiritual community.
I believe people are hungry for authentic community. People are hungry for a way to encounter
God and deepen their spiritual lives. And people are hungry for a way to make a difference in the world. I know there are many different ways to feed these hungers. For me, these deep spiritual hungers are fed by being a part of a spiritual community that has Jesus as its guide. Trinity Cathedral is a welcoming community where people are passionate about their spiritual lives and serving others. If you are interested in encountering the teachings of Jesus in such a community, please join us. If you want more information, email me. I would love to hear from you. Or if you have a different path, I would enjoy hearing about it. Blessings!
Between December 6th and 9th, Tibetan Buddhist monks will be at Trinity Cathedral to create a sand mandala of the medicine (healing) Buddha. The Cathedral will be open to see the work in progress on Thursday and Friday from noon to 8 p.m. and Saturday from 10 a.m. to 9 p.m. The monks will do a medicine Buddha healing ceremony Saturday night at 7 p.m. The monks will participate in our Sunday morning services at 9:00 and 11:15. The Dissolution Ceremony will be Sunday at 1 p.m. where the sand will be swept into a big pile and then placed in little bags that will be available for people to take.
It’s an odd thing being a priest. It’s pretty much a cocktail-party-conversation killer.
“So what do you do?”
“Well, I’m an Episcopal priest.”
Long pause. Then the inevitable, “I used to go to church but . . .”
I think that’s so strange. When I’m introduced to a dentist, I don’t have the urge to confess my poor flossing habits.
Besides, I think there are great reasons for not going to church. Most notably, many Christians have done such a poor job representing Jesus. Jesus’ life and teachings were intended to give us life, to connect us with God, one another and our true selves, to free us from fear, free us from judging one another and free us from oppressive social structures (including religious structures.) One could argue that Jesus came to do away with religion, insofar as religions are organizations that treat God’s love as a commodity that is controlled by the religion.
On the other hand, “religions” are necessary for two reasons. First, spirituality needs community. We need to explore our beliefs with other people. Unless one has reached enlightenment, one needs the wisdom of others. We also need others with whom to strive for justice and peace, and others to love. In church, I’m required to love a wide variety of people, some of whom drive me crazy. It’s like spiritual boot camp.
Second, humanity needs the teachings of the great spiritual traditions to be passed on. We need communities of people to record these teachings and to teach them to later generations. The Bible, the Koran, the Buddhist Sutras are religious texts. We would not know about Mohammed, Jesus or the Buddha if it wasn’t for religions.
Religions are simply communities of spiritual people who want to journey and serve together.
Yes, some religious groups are homogeneous clubs who believe they have a corner on Truth or God’s love. And yes, I think people are wise to not be “religious” in that sense.
But beware of limiting your spiritual options because of these bad examples of spiritual community.
I believe people are hungry for authentic community. People are hungry for a way to encounter
God and deepen their spiritual lives. And people are hungry for a way to make a difference in the world. I know there are many different ways to feed these hungers. For me, these deep spiritual hungers are fed by being a part of a spiritual community that has Jesus as its guide. Trinity Cathedral is a welcoming community where people are passionate about their spiritual lives and serving others. If you are interested in encountering the teachings of Jesus in such a community, please join us. If you want more information, email me. I would love to hear from you. Or if you have a different path, I would enjoy hearing about it. Blessings!
Between December 6th and 9th, Tibetan Buddhist monks will be at Trinity Cathedral to create a sand mandala of the medicine (healing) Buddha. The Cathedral will be open to see the work in progress on Thursday and Friday from noon to 8 p.m. and Saturday from 10 a.m. to 9 p.m. The monks will do a medicine Buddha healing ceremony Saturday night at 7 p.m. The monks will participate in our Sunday morning services at 9:00 and 11:15. The Dissolution Ceremony will be Sunday at 1 p.m. where the sand will be swept into a big pile and then placed in little bags that will be available for people to take.
on prayer
This essay was originally written for the Sacramento News and Review
I first learned to pray when I was 11 years old. My nonreligious, Air Force colonel father came home one day and declared that the family needed to learn to meditate. The six of us piled into the family car and drove to the Transcendental Meditation center in nearby Amherst, Massachusetts. (This was in the early 70’s.) Each member of the family received private instruction and was given a mantra. For the following two years, meditation was part of our family routine. Before dinner Mom would remind us, “Have you meditated yet?” If we hadn’t, we would trot down to the basement and sit in silence for the prescribed 20 minutes.
While the practice didn’t last longer than the two years we lived in Massachusetts, it did open a quiet place in my soul. Years later, when I entered seminary to become an Episcopal priest, I became very grateful for the gift of meditation. Seminary was hard for me. My undergraduate work at West Point focused on engineering mechanics and computer science. I then spent 5 years in the left-brained world of the Army. In seminary I was completely out of my element. My classmates had all majored in philosophy and religion. I remember trying to read a theology text and having to look up every third word in a dictionary.
Then one day, at noonday prayers, I came across this prayer: O God, you will keep in perfect peace those whose minds are fixed on you; for in returning and rest we shall be saved; in quietness and trust shall be our strength. (Isaiah 26.3 30.15) I wrote the words on a post-it and stuck it on my mirror. I returned to my practice of sitting in silence. I regained my center as I listened to the still, small voice of God.
While I have never been consistent in my spiritual disciplines, prayer has been an important part of my spiritual life. Prayer for me is much more than sharing my concerns with God. Prayer is a way of shaping the way I see the world—of being open to the way God sees the world. In addition to silent prayer, one of my favorite ways of praying is to recite words written by other, more spiritually mature people. In the Episcopal Church, much of our worship consists of reciting, as a community, beautiful enlightening prayers.
One of my favorite prayers comes from a nighttime service. Keep watch, dear Lord, with those who work, or watch, or weep this night, and give your angels charge over those who sleep. Tend the sick, Lord Christ; give rest to the weary, bless the dying, soothe the suffering, pity the afflicted, shield the joyous; and all for your love's sake. Amen.
I have this prayer memorized and recite it as I am going to sleep. It helps me realize my deep connection with those who “work, or watch, or weep this night.” Prayer invites me into a world that is bigger and more whole than my day-to-day existence.
I’m sure I thought my father was crazy back in 1973. But he introduced me to a priceless gift. Let us pray.
I first learned to pray when I was 11 years old. My nonreligious, Air Force colonel father came home one day and declared that the family needed to learn to meditate. The six of us piled into the family car and drove to the Transcendental Meditation center in nearby Amherst, Massachusetts. (This was in the early 70’s.) Each member of the family received private instruction and was given a mantra. For the following two years, meditation was part of our family routine. Before dinner Mom would remind us, “Have you meditated yet?” If we hadn’t, we would trot down to the basement and sit in silence for the prescribed 20 minutes.
While the practice didn’t last longer than the two years we lived in Massachusetts, it did open a quiet place in my soul. Years later, when I entered seminary to become an Episcopal priest, I became very grateful for the gift of meditation. Seminary was hard for me. My undergraduate work at West Point focused on engineering mechanics and computer science. I then spent 5 years in the left-brained world of the Army. In seminary I was completely out of my element. My classmates had all majored in philosophy and religion. I remember trying to read a theology text and having to look up every third word in a dictionary.
Then one day, at noonday prayers, I came across this prayer: O God, you will keep in perfect peace those whose minds are fixed on you; for in returning and rest we shall be saved; in quietness and trust shall be our strength. (Isaiah 26.3 30.15) I wrote the words on a post-it and stuck it on my mirror. I returned to my practice of sitting in silence. I regained my center as I listened to the still, small voice of God.
While I have never been consistent in my spiritual disciplines, prayer has been an important part of my spiritual life. Prayer for me is much more than sharing my concerns with God. Prayer is a way of shaping the way I see the world—of being open to the way God sees the world. In addition to silent prayer, one of my favorite ways of praying is to recite words written by other, more spiritually mature people. In the Episcopal Church, much of our worship consists of reciting, as a community, beautiful enlightening prayers.
One of my favorite prayers comes from a nighttime service. Keep watch, dear Lord, with those who work, or watch, or weep this night, and give your angels charge over those who sleep. Tend the sick, Lord Christ; give rest to the weary, bless the dying, soothe the suffering, pity the afflicted, shield the joyous; and all for your love's sake. Amen.
I have this prayer memorized and recite it as I am going to sleep. It helps me realize my deep connection with those who “work, or watch, or weep this night.” Prayer invites me into a world that is bigger and more whole than my day-to-day existence.
I’m sure I thought my father was crazy back in 1973. But he introduced me to a priceless gift. Let us pray.
Sunday, November 4, 2007
for all the saints
All Saints 2007
One of the great joys and benefits of observing the holidays of the days of the dead is our gratefulness for our connection with them through the communion of saints, which is for the glory of God. We anticipate All Saints Day on All Hallows Eve – the eve of All Saints – and continue our worship November 1st in the feast of All Souls, or All Faithful Departed – a memorial day for remembering those who have gone before us in obtaining “those ineffable joys” spoken of in the Collect. I like to say, “It is always tea-time somewhere in the Anglican Communion” – that our bonds of affection and common heritage include this enjoyment, and that somewhere in the world someone is praying for me as I pray for you and for them.
And yet this fellowship extends beyond space into time – the saints of ages past share our hope for things to come. And we share in their hope, in their love, through our fellowship with Christ, in Christ, memorialized and brought to present life in the sacraments – the body and blood of Christ – the head of whose body we make up the members – and through and with him be all honor and glory to God, including that fellowship which is his joy – the church which is his body – the fullness (fulfillment) – of him who fills all in all.
This all boils down however to some practical behavior, most succinctly and most famously stated in the Golden Rule, the last sentence of today’s gospel reading: Do as you would be done by.
Imagine yourself a buckaroo from Paradise – that is, a cowboy from the Paradise Valley in Nevada. You raise mules. You have a day job: construction work on the interstate, building bypasses around Elko, Battle Mountain, and Winnemucca. You are on the way to work – you have about 80 miles to go. It is Sunday, late afternoon, the sun is setting slowly over the sage, and you are headed up a mountain pass about 8 miles west of Carlin.
On the side of the road, hood up, is an old car – a 1964 Pontiac Tempest. You stop. The young people inside think they have a mechanical problem. You have a simpler explanation and with a siphon hose prove it. “Yep, bone dry.” They are out of gas.
You drive them back to Carlin, make sure they get some gas, follow them to the next town, Battle Mountain, to make sure they are okay. As you leave, you give your parting benediction: “Make sure to stop and gas her up once in a while.”
To them you are an angel – a messenger of God – or someone who has followed the Golden Rule. Who wouldn’t want to be treated the way you have just treated them?
I was not the cowboy. But I was there. And I am sure glad he stopped.
Do unto others as you would have them do unto you.
It sounds so simple – and sometimes it is.
In practice this is carried out in as many ways as the engineer’s dictum Murphy’s Law – if it can go wrong it will – is manifested in the real world. As there are many examples and applications of Murphy’s Law, so there are many of the Golden Rule.
Here is one example. For pastors and their congregations, there are issues of communication, straightforwardness and honor of each other, which come into play.
When I spoke to Greg Rickel, bishop of Olympia, four weeks ago, I asked him if I could use the 10 Rules for Respect in communication he'd introduced at his parish as rector - and he readily gave his permission.
Before I share them with you, though, a disclosure – in the form of a story.
Donald Nicholl, the English Catholic layman who taught me so much at UCSC, loved to tell the story of Gandhi and the little girl. Her mother brought her to the great man complaining of her addiction to sweet foods, and asking Gandhi to do something about it. Gandhi told her to come back in two weeks.
When she did, he took the little girl aside and in a few simple words told her how to break the habit. The mother asked, why did you not tell her this two weeks ago? Because, madam, two weeks ago I was still addicted to sweet foods myself!
In other words practicing the Golden Rule takes – practice!
So with some trepidation... here are the 10 Rules for Respect in communication between a congregation and its pastor:
10 Rules for Respect
1. If you have a problem with me, come to me (privately).
2. If I have a problem with you, I will come to you (privately).
3. If someone has a problem with me and comes to you, send them to me. (I’ll do the same for you.)
4. If someone consistently will not come to me, say to them, “Let’s go to him together. I am sure he will see us about this.” (I will do the same for you.)
5. Be careful how you interpret me – I’d rather do that. On matters that are unclear, do not feel pressured to interpret my feelings or thoughts. It is easy to misinterpret intentions.
6. I will be careful how I interpret you.
7. If it’s confidential, don’t tell. This especially applies to Vestry meetings. If you or anyone comes to me in confidence, I won’t tell unless a) the person is going to harm himself/herself, b) the person is going to physically harm someone else, c) a child has been physically or sexually abused. I expect the same from you.
8. I do not read unsigned letters or notes.
9. I do not manipulate; I will not be manipulated; do not let others *manipulate you. Do not let others manipulate me through you. I will not preach “at” you on Sunday mornings. I will leave conviction to the Holy Spirit. (She does it better anyway!)
10. When in doubt, just say it. The only dumb questions are those that don’t get asked. We are a family here and we care about each other, so if you have a concern, pray, and then (if led) speak up. If I can answer it without misrepresenting something, someone, or breaking a confidence, I will.
*******
This is one example of how we are to put into effect the golden rule, not only to refrain from doing to others what we would not want others to do to us, but positively to treat others as we want to be treated ourselves.
The gospel lesson contains some paradoxical sayings. Jesus seems to be turning worldly wisdom on its head – give to whoever asks of you, invite beggars to your banquets, go the extra mile – and in some ways I think he is suggesting this as a revolutionary, non-violent protest action. The people of Palestine were, after all, deeply oppressed, and violent protest would lead, as it did, to disaster and destruction. What Israel held most precious, the Temple in Jerusalem, was torn down stone by stone.
Our own pretences of worldly wisdom, canniness and morality, are confounded by Jesus’ sayings – and by the reality of the in-breaking kingdom of God. Jesus is not after all selling us a bill of goods, pie in the sky, nor is he trying to get us killed – though living his way can lead to the cross. What he is doing is trying to get us to live into the kingdom, to begin to conduct ourselves as citizens of the city of God.
It looks topsy-turvy, through the eyes of the world. With the eyes of the heart opened, it is a glimpse of paradise.
Do unto others as you would have them do unto you.
Bishop Gregory Rickel’s biography and answers to search committee essay questions, Diocese of Olympia (http://www.ecww.org/inthenews/rickel.pdf)
Donald Nicholl, Holiness (Seabury, 1981)
C All Saints RCL
The Lessons Appointed for Use on All Saints' Day - Year C - RCL
Daniel 7:1-3,15-18
Psalm 149
Ephesians 1:11-23
Luke 6:20-31
The Collect
Almighty God, you have knit together your elect in one communion and fellowship in the mystical body of your Son Christ our Lord: Give us grace so to follow your blessed saints in all virtuous and godly living, that we may come to those ineffable joys that you have prepared for those who truly love you; through Jesus Christ our Lord, who with you and the Holy Spirit lives and reigns, one God, in glory everlasting. Amen.
One of the great joys and benefits of observing the holidays of the days of the dead is our gratefulness for our connection with them through the communion of saints, which is for the glory of God. We anticipate All Saints Day on All Hallows Eve – the eve of All Saints – and continue our worship November 1st in the feast of All Souls, or All Faithful Departed – a memorial day for remembering those who have gone before us in obtaining “those ineffable joys” spoken of in the Collect. I like to say, “It is always tea-time somewhere in the Anglican Communion” – that our bonds of affection and common heritage include this enjoyment, and that somewhere in the world someone is praying for me as I pray for you and for them.
And yet this fellowship extends beyond space into time – the saints of ages past share our hope for things to come. And we share in their hope, in their love, through our fellowship with Christ, in Christ, memorialized and brought to present life in the sacraments – the body and blood of Christ – the head of whose body we make up the members – and through and with him be all honor and glory to God, including that fellowship which is his joy – the church which is his body – the fullness (fulfillment) – of him who fills all in all.
This all boils down however to some practical behavior, most succinctly and most famously stated in the Golden Rule, the last sentence of today’s gospel reading: Do as you would be done by.
Imagine yourself a buckaroo from Paradise – that is, a cowboy from the Paradise Valley in Nevada. You raise mules. You have a day job: construction work on the interstate, building bypasses around Elko, Battle Mountain, and Winnemucca. You are on the way to work – you have about 80 miles to go. It is Sunday, late afternoon, the sun is setting slowly over the sage, and you are headed up a mountain pass about 8 miles west of Carlin.
On the side of the road, hood up, is an old car – a 1964 Pontiac Tempest. You stop. The young people inside think they have a mechanical problem. You have a simpler explanation and with a siphon hose prove it. “Yep, bone dry.” They are out of gas.
You drive them back to Carlin, make sure they get some gas, follow them to the next town, Battle Mountain, to make sure they are okay. As you leave, you give your parting benediction: “Make sure to stop and gas her up once in a while.”
To them you are an angel – a messenger of God – or someone who has followed the Golden Rule. Who wouldn’t want to be treated the way you have just treated them?
I was not the cowboy. But I was there. And I am sure glad he stopped.
Do unto others as you would have them do unto you.
It sounds so simple – and sometimes it is.
In practice this is carried out in as many ways as the engineer’s dictum Murphy’s Law – if it can go wrong it will – is manifested in the real world. As there are many examples and applications of Murphy’s Law, so there are many of the Golden Rule.
Here is one example. For pastors and their congregations, there are issues of communication, straightforwardness and honor of each other, which come into play.
When I spoke to Greg Rickel, bishop of Olympia, four weeks ago, I asked him if I could use the 10 Rules for Respect in communication he'd introduced at his parish as rector - and he readily gave his permission.
Before I share them with you, though, a disclosure – in the form of a story.
Donald Nicholl, the English Catholic layman who taught me so much at UCSC, loved to tell the story of Gandhi and the little girl. Her mother brought her to the great man complaining of her addiction to sweet foods, and asking Gandhi to do something about it. Gandhi told her to come back in two weeks.
When she did, he took the little girl aside and in a few simple words told her how to break the habit. The mother asked, why did you not tell her this two weeks ago? Because, madam, two weeks ago I was still addicted to sweet foods myself!
In other words practicing the Golden Rule takes – practice!
So with some trepidation... here are the 10 Rules for Respect in communication between a congregation and its pastor:
10 Rules for Respect
1. If you have a problem with me, come to me (privately).
2. If I have a problem with you, I will come to you (privately).
3. If someone has a problem with me and comes to you, send them to me. (I’ll do the same for you.)
4. If someone consistently will not come to me, say to them, “Let’s go to him together. I am sure he will see us about this.” (I will do the same for you.)
5. Be careful how you interpret me – I’d rather do that. On matters that are unclear, do not feel pressured to interpret my feelings or thoughts. It is easy to misinterpret intentions.
6. I will be careful how I interpret you.
7. If it’s confidential, don’t tell. This especially applies to Vestry meetings. If you or anyone comes to me in confidence, I won’t tell unless a) the person is going to harm himself/herself, b) the person is going to physically harm someone else, c) a child has been physically or sexually abused. I expect the same from you.
8. I do not read unsigned letters or notes.
9. I do not manipulate; I will not be manipulated; do not let others *manipulate you. Do not let others manipulate me through you. I will not preach “at” you on Sunday mornings. I will leave conviction to the Holy Spirit. (She does it better anyway!)
10. When in doubt, just say it. The only dumb questions are those that don’t get asked. We are a family here and we care about each other, so if you have a concern, pray, and then (if led) speak up. If I can answer it without misrepresenting something, someone, or breaking a confidence, I will.
*******
This is one example of how we are to put into effect the golden rule, not only to refrain from doing to others what we would not want others to do to us, but positively to treat others as we want to be treated ourselves.
The gospel lesson contains some paradoxical sayings. Jesus seems to be turning worldly wisdom on its head – give to whoever asks of you, invite beggars to your banquets, go the extra mile – and in some ways I think he is suggesting this as a revolutionary, non-violent protest action. The people of Palestine were, after all, deeply oppressed, and violent protest would lead, as it did, to disaster and destruction. What Israel held most precious, the Temple in Jerusalem, was torn down stone by stone.
Our own pretences of worldly wisdom, canniness and morality, are confounded by Jesus’ sayings – and by the reality of the in-breaking kingdom of God. Jesus is not after all selling us a bill of goods, pie in the sky, nor is he trying to get us killed – though living his way can lead to the cross. What he is doing is trying to get us to live into the kingdom, to begin to conduct ourselves as citizens of the city of God.
It looks topsy-turvy, through the eyes of the world. With the eyes of the heart opened, it is a glimpse of paradise.
Do unto others as you would have them do unto you.
Bishop Gregory Rickel’s biography and answers to search committee essay questions, Diocese of Olympia (http://www.ecww.org/inthenews/rickel.pdf)
Donald Nicholl, Holiness (Seabury, 1981)
C All Saints RCL
The Lessons Appointed for Use on All Saints' Day - Year C - RCL
Daniel 7:1-3,15-18
Psalm 149
Ephesians 1:11-23
Luke 6:20-31
The Collect
Almighty God, you have knit together your elect in one communion and fellowship in the mystical body of your Son Christ our Lord: Give us grace so to follow your blessed saints in all virtuous and godly living, that we may come to those ineffable joys that you have prepared for those who truly love you; through Jesus Christ our Lord, who with you and the Holy Spirit lives and reigns, one God, in glory everlasting. Amen.
communication
When I spoke to Greg Rickels, bishop of Olympia,
four weeks ago, I asked him if I could use the
10 Rules for Respect in communication he'd
introduced at his parish as rector - and he
readily gave his permission.
Donald Nicholl, the English Catholic layman who
taught me so much at UCSC, loved to tell the
story of Gandhi and the little girl. Her mother
brought her to the great man complaining of her
addiction to sweet foods, and asking Gandhi to do
something about it. Gandhi told her to come back
in two weeks. When she did, he took the little
girl aside and in a few simple words told her how
to break the habit. The mother asked, why did you
not tell her this two weeks ago? Because, madam,
two weeks ago I was still addicted to sweet
foods myself!
So with some trepidation... the 10 Rules for
Respect in communication between a congregation
and its pastor:
10 Rules for Respect
1. If you have a problem with me, come to me
(privately).
2. If I have a problem with you, I will come to
you (privately).
3. If someone has a problem with me and comes to
you, send them to me. (I’ll do the same for you.)
4. If someone consistently will not come to me,
say to them, “Let’s go to him together. I am sure
he will see us about this.” (I will do the same
for you.)
5. Be careful how you interpret me – I’d rather
do that. On matters that are unclear, do not feel
pressured to interpret my feelings or thoughts.
It is easy to misinterpret intentions.
6. I will be careful how I interpret you.
7. If it’s confidential, don’t tell. This
especially applies to Vestry meetings. If you or
anyone comes to me in confidence, I won’t tell
unless a) the person is going to harm
himself/herself, b) the person is going to
physically harm someone else, c) a child has been
physically or sexually abused. I expect the same
from you.
8. I do not read unsigned letters or notes.
9. I do not manipulate; I will not be
manipulated; do not let others manipulate you. Do
not let others manipulate me through you. I will
not preach “at” you on Sunday mornings. I will
leave conviction to the Holy Spirit. (She does it
better anyway!)
10. When in doubt, just say it. The only dumb
questions are those that don’t get asked. We are
a family here and we care about each other, so if
you have a concern, pray, and then (if led) speak
up. If I can answer it without misrepresenting
something, someone, or breaking a confidence, I
will.
Adapted from Bishop Gregory Rickel’s biography
and answers to search committee essay questions
Diocese of Olympia
(http://www.ecww.org/inthenews/rickel.pdf)
Donald Nicholl, Holiness (Seabury, 1981)
four weeks ago, I asked him if I could use the
10 Rules for Respect in communication he'd
introduced at his parish as rector - and he
readily gave his permission.
Donald Nicholl, the English Catholic layman who
taught me so much at UCSC, loved to tell the
story of Gandhi and the little girl. Her mother
brought her to the great man complaining of her
addiction to sweet foods, and asking Gandhi to do
something about it. Gandhi told her to come back
in two weeks. When she did, he took the little
girl aside and in a few simple words told her how
to break the habit. The mother asked, why did you
not tell her this two weeks ago? Because, madam,
two weeks ago I was still addicted to sweet
foods myself!
So with some trepidation... the 10 Rules for
Respect in communication between a congregation
and its pastor:
10 Rules for Respect
1. If you have a problem with me, come to me
(privately).
2. If I have a problem with you, I will come to
you (privately).
3. If someone has a problem with me and comes to
you, send them to me. (I’ll do the same for you.)
4. If someone consistently will not come to me,
say to them, “Let’s go to him together. I am sure
he will see us about this.” (I will do the same
for you.)
5. Be careful how you interpret me – I’d rather
do that. On matters that are unclear, do not feel
pressured to interpret my feelings or thoughts.
It is easy to misinterpret intentions.
6. I will be careful how I interpret you.
7. If it’s confidential, don’t tell. This
especially applies to Vestry meetings. If you or
anyone comes to me in confidence, I won’t tell
unless a) the person is going to harm
himself/herself, b) the person is going to
physically harm someone else, c) a child has been
physically or sexually abused. I expect the same
from you.
8. I do not read unsigned letters or notes.
9. I do not manipulate; I will not be
manipulated; do not let others manipulate you. Do
not let others manipulate me through you. I will
not preach “at” you on Sunday mornings. I will
leave conviction to the Holy Spirit. (She does it
better anyway!)
10. When in doubt, just say it. The only dumb
questions are those that don’t get asked. We are
a family here and we care about each other, so if
you have a concern, pray, and then (if led) speak
up. If I can answer it without misrepresenting
something, someone, or breaking a confidence, I
will.
Adapted from Bishop Gregory Rickel’s biography
and answers to search committee essay questions
Diocese of Olympia
(http://www.ecww.org/inthenews/rickel.pdf)
Donald Nicholl, Holiness (Seabury, 1981)
Monday, October 15, 2007
How are you?
Each week the same thing happens to me. I am greeted by Charles or Thomas, two of the custodians who work at Trinity Cathedral, "How are you today Dean?" I respond, "I'm fine Charles (or Thomas). How are you?" "Blessed, Dean Baker, I'm blessed!" And I think to myself, "Why did I settle for fine?"
Why be fine, when I could be blessed? I woke up this morning. Today didn't have to happen for me. But it did. I get to breathe air, eat food. I have people in my life who love me, whom I get to love. And I'm just fine? No, I am Blessed!!!
One of the problems for me is I take the many blessings in my life for granted. The gift of life and the gift of people to love simply become normal. They are the status quo; I no longer notice them.
What I do notice is what I don't have. I don't have a digital SLR camera. I don't have a motorcycle. I know my life would be so much better if only I had these things.
I also notice what I have that I might lose. I bought my house 1 ½ years ago. I'm sure it has lost value. My financial security feels like it is slipping away. And of course, so will my health - if not now, then eventually. It's hard to feel fine, let alone blessed, when life is so precarious.
I get to choose, of course, whether I want to look at my life through the lens of scarcity or abundance. I get to choose to be fine or blessed. But it is difficult in our culture to live in abundance. So many of the messages we receive tell us we either need to buy something new for fulfillment or we need to worry about our health or prosperity slipping away.
I find two spiritual practices helpful in realizing that I am blessed. First is the simple act of gratitude. I am reminded of this whenever Thomas tells me he is blessed. He often adds, "I got out of bed this morning." He reminds me it could have been otherwise. I too got out of bed. I was given the gift of this day. This little nudge from Thomas helps me remember that I'm blessed in many other ways as well. I thank God for this remarkable gift of life.
The other spiritual practice that helps me realize I'm blessed is generosity. For some mystical reason, giving things away, things that I care about, gives me life. It is strange, because our culture tells us we need more to be happy. But living as if my life was abundant, and sharing this abundance with others somehow makes my life more abundant. In being generous, I become more alive. And the voice in my head that tells me I can't be happy unless I have more, is weakened. My blessings increase.
I don't want to be fine anymore. I want to be BLESSED! I'm going to start by changing my response when greeted by others. So if you see me around town, please ask, "How are you?"
Why be fine, when I could be blessed? I woke up this morning. Today didn't have to happen for me. But it did. I get to breathe air, eat food. I have people in my life who love me, whom I get to love. And I'm just fine? No, I am Blessed!!!
One of the problems for me is I take the many blessings in my life for granted. The gift of life and the gift of people to love simply become normal. They are the status quo; I no longer notice them.
What I do notice is what I don't have. I don't have a digital SLR camera. I don't have a motorcycle. I know my life would be so much better if only I had these things.
I also notice what I have that I might lose. I bought my house 1 ½ years ago. I'm sure it has lost value. My financial security feels like it is slipping away. And of course, so will my health - if not now, then eventually. It's hard to feel fine, let alone blessed, when life is so precarious.
I get to choose, of course, whether I want to look at my life through the lens of scarcity or abundance. I get to choose to be fine or blessed. But it is difficult in our culture to live in abundance. So many of the messages we receive tell us we either need to buy something new for fulfillment or we need to worry about our health or prosperity slipping away.
I find two spiritual practices helpful in realizing that I am blessed. First is the simple act of gratitude. I am reminded of this whenever Thomas tells me he is blessed. He often adds, "I got out of bed this morning." He reminds me it could have been otherwise. I too got out of bed. I was given the gift of this day. This little nudge from Thomas helps me remember that I'm blessed in many other ways as well. I thank God for this remarkable gift of life.
The other spiritual practice that helps me realize I'm blessed is generosity. For some mystical reason, giving things away, things that I care about, gives me life. It is strange, because our culture tells us we need more to be happy. But living as if my life was abundant, and sharing this abundance with others somehow makes my life more abundant. In being generous, I become more alive. And the voice in my head that tells me I can't be happy unless I have more, is weakened. My blessings increase.
I don't want to be fine anymore. I want to be BLESSED! I'm going to start by changing my response when greeted by others. So if you see me around town, please ask, "How are you?"
Sunday, October 7, 2007
Premarital Sex
“What is your position on premarital sex?” It isn’t like this is a completely unusual question for a priest to be asked. However, this was someone I had never met and who had never been to my church. And this question was our first exchange of words. I had just been introduced to this young woman, and the first thing she said to me was, “What is your position on premarital sex?” What a delightful way to begin a relationship. Actually I was thrilled. I’d much rather wrestle with an important issue than make small talk. And I like a challenge.
What was she expecting me to say? That premarital sex is wrong; that one should wait until marriage. Or that it is fine between consenting adults? I rarely find single sentence answers are adequate for ethical questions. After a long pause, here’s what I said:
The purpose of the spiritual life is to become more alive. (St. Irenaeus in the 2nd century said, “The glory of God is the human person fully alive.”) I try to judge courses of action by whether they will bring me more alive or deaden me. Not by whether they will be fun or easy, but will they bring me more alive. Of course the “me” that needs to become more alive is not my ego or “false self”, but my interior, spiritual self. Will a given course of action bring my true self more alive?
Our sexuality is a lovely gift from God. And sexual intercourse can move us out of ourselves and unite us to another person in a way that is spectacularly beautiful. I can imagine situations in which two people love one another, and are committed to one another to such an extent that sex would bring each of them more alive as it draws them closer together. The couple would not need to be married for this to be true. I can also imagine instances when sex between two people is not life-giving—times when it is cheap, or hurtful or vacuous—times when the sacredness of the act is not sustained by a relationship of mutual love. This deadening sexual act could happen within marriage as well as outside of marriage. Marriage does not guarantee that sexuality always be life giving. But it helps. The commitment to remain together, to love one another during happy and difficult times, or even when the “feeling” of love is gone, that commitment helps create a safe space for sexuality to be freely and safely expressed.
Our sexuality is a precious gift from God. And sex, outside of marriage as well as within marriage, needs to be engaged in lovingly, respectfully and reverently.
My new friend seemed satisfied with my answer. There was much more I could have said about the topic. Like how complicated sexual relationships can get in our materialistic culture where individuality and self-fulfillment trump authentic relationship and the value of self-sacrifice. Perhaps that can be covered in our second conversation.
Blessings,
Brian Baker
What was she expecting me to say? That premarital sex is wrong; that one should wait until marriage. Or that it is fine between consenting adults? I rarely find single sentence answers are adequate for ethical questions. After a long pause, here’s what I said:
The purpose of the spiritual life is to become more alive. (St. Irenaeus in the 2nd century said, “The glory of God is the human person fully alive.”) I try to judge courses of action by whether they will bring me more alive or deaden me. Not by whether they will be fun or easy, but will they bring me more alive. Of course the “me” that needs to become more alive is not my ego or “false self”, but my interior, spiritual self. Will a given course of action bring my true self more alive?
Our sexuality is a lovely gift from God. And sexual intercourse can move us out of ourselves and unite us to another person in a way that is spectacularly beautiful. I can imagine situations in which two people love one another, and are committed to one another to such an extent that sex would bring each of them more alive as it draws them closer together. The couple would not need to be married for this to be true. I can also imagine instances when sex between two people is not life-giving—times when it is cheap, or hurtful or vacuous—times when the sacredness of the act is not sustained by a relationship of mutual love. This deadening sexual act could happen within marriage as well as outside of marriage. Marriage does not guarantee that sexuality always be life giving. But it helps. The commitment to remain together, to love one another during happy and difficult times, or even when the “feeling” of love is gone, that commitment helps create a safe space for sexuality to be freely and safely expressed.
Our sexuality is a precious gift from God. And sex, outside of marriage as well as within marriage, needs to be engaged in lovingly, respectfully and reverently.
My new friend seemed satisfied with my answer. There was much more I could have said about the topic. Like how complicated sexual relationships can get in our materialistic culture where individuality and self-fulfillment trump authentic relationship and the value of self-sacrifice. Perhaps that can be covered in our second conversation.
Blessings,
Brian Baker
Same Sex Marriage
This essay was written for the Sacramento News and Review
Marriage is . . . something more than a civil contract subject to regulation by the state; it is a fundamental right of free men...legislation infringing such rights must be based upon more than prejudice and must be free from oppressive discrimination to comply with the constitutional requirements of due process and equal protection of the laws. – California Supreme Court in a 1948 decision that invalidated laws barring interracial marriage.
If, as the State Supreme Court states, the right to marry the person of one’s choice is a fundamental civil right, on what basis would we deny this right to same-sex couples? Because it is a new idea? Because the concept makes some people uncomfortable? Because it seems to go against the way we thought God has designed the world? These were all arguments used to justify laws against interracial marriage. Fortunately the State Supreme Court saw this prejudice for what it was and led the nation in invalidating laws that barred such marriages.
Now, it seems, history has a chance to repeat itself. The State Supreme Court may be on the verge of invalidating laws that bar same-sex marriages. Not everyone is pleased with this development. I have heard three arguments against same-sex marriage.
First, marriage has traditionally been limited to opposite sex couples. But tradition is poor justification for denying people civil rights. In our past, slavery was our tradition. Same-race marriage was our tradition. Fortunately we have moved beyond these traditions and broadened access to civil rights.
Second, some believe there is a strong religious consensus against same-sex marriage. Even if the Court was to consider religious arguments, which it shouldn’t, there is no religious consensus. I am an Episcopal priest in a congregation that welcomes with open arms people who are gay and lesbian. I believe that anybody willing to commit himself or herself in love to another deserves our support, our respect and our admiration. I believe the state should honor same-sex couples the same way it honors opposite-sex couples. And I am not alone. Over 400 religious leaders in California joined me in signing an amicus brief that stated our support for same-sex marriage.
Third, some argue that same-sex marriage threatens heterosexual marriages and families. How silly. My marriage is not weakened when a gay or lesbian people choose to pledge themselves to one another. It is foolish, as a society, for us to deny marriage to any group of people. Marriage, with its commitment to fidelity and stability, helps society. When two people want to pledge themselves in faithfulness to one another we should celebrate this commitment and honor them with the legal rights and responsibilities of marriage. It shouldn’t matter if the couples are opposite-sex or same-sex. The marriages of same-sex couples will strengthen marriage as a whole, strengthen families and strengthen our society.
60 years ago California led the nation in ending prejudice and allowing interracial couples to marry. We now have the opportunity to bring this same justice to same-sex couples.
Marriage is . . . something more than a civil contract subject to regulation by the state; it is a fundamental right of free men...legislation infringing such rights must be based upon more than prejudice and must be free from oppressive discrimination to comply with the constitutional requirements of due process and equal protection of the laws. – California Supreme Court in a 1948 decision that invalidated laws barring interracial marriage.
If, as the State Supreme Court states, the right to marry the person of one’s choice is a fundamental civil right, on what basis would we deny this right to same-sex couples? Because it is a new idea? Because the concept makes some people uncomfortable? Because it seems to go against the way we thought God has designed the world? These were all arguments used to justify laws against interracial marriage. Fortunately the State Supreme Court saw this prejudice for what it was and led the nation in invalidating laws that barred such marriages.
Now, it seems, history has a chance to repeat itself. The State Supreme Court may be on the verge of invalidating laws that bar same-sex marriages. Not everyone is pleased with this development. I have heard three arguments against same-sex marriage.
First, marriage has traditionally been limited to opposite sex couples. But tradition is poor justification for denying people civil rights. In our past, slavery was our tradition. Same-race marriage was our tradition. Fortunately we have moved beyond these traditions and broadened access to civil rights.
Second, some believe there is a strong religious consensus against same-sex marriage. Even if the Court was to consider religious arguments, which it shouldn’t, there is no religious consensus. I am an Episcopal priest in a congregation that welcomes with open arms people who are gay and lesbian. I believe that anybody willing to commit himself or herself in love to another deserves our support, our respect and our admiration. I believe the state should honor same-sex couples the same way it honors opposite-sex couples. And I am not alone. Over 400 religious leaders in California joined me in signing an amicus brief that stated our support for same-sex marriage.
Third, some argue that same-sex marriage threatens heterosexual marriages and families. How silly. My marriage is not weakened when a gay or lesbian people choose to pledge themselves to one another. It is foolish, as a society, for us to deny marriage to any group of people. Marriage, with its commitment to fidelity and stability, helps society. When two people want to pledge themselves in faithfulness to one another we should celebrate this commitment and honor them with the legal rights and responsibilities of marriage. It shouldn’t matter if the couples are opposite-sex or same-sex. The marriages of same-sex couples will strengthen marriage as a whole, strengthen families and strengthen our society.
60 years ago California led the nation in ending prejudice and allowing interracial couples to marry. We now have the opportunity to bring this same justice to same-sex couples.
Forgiveness
This essay was recently published in the Sacramento News and Review
Tariq Khamisa, a 20 year old college student was delivering pizzas when he was confronted by a 14 year-old boy. The boy, Tony Hicks, demanded a pizza. When Tariq refused, Tony shot him in the chest. Tariq died in the delivery car.
This past weekend, at the Sun Valley Spiritual Film Festival, I met Tariq’s father, Azim. Listening to him was a remarkable experience. After learning of his son’s death, Azim spent time in meditation. Informed by his Moslem faith, he realized that he had to forgive Tony. He knew that for his own sake, he needed to let go of his resentment and anger toward Tony. He also realized that Tony was a victim. He decided to fight, not against Tony, but against the influences that led Tony to do what he did. Azim met with Tony’s grandfather and guardian, Ples. Azim, a Muslim, asked Ples, a Christian, to work with him to end the escalating spiral of youth violence. For over 10 years now, they have been teaching forgiveness and nonviolence in schools.
Azim and Ples are featured in the film, “The Power of Forgiveness.” Prior to its television debut, this film is being shown in a few select locations, including Blacksburg, Virginia, the home of Virginia Tech. The film features Thich Nhat Hanh, Desmond Tutu, Marianne Williamson and other spiritual leaders. It also highlights the struggle to forgive embodied by the Amish community that was recently devastated by a mass murder in an Amish school.
When watching the film this past weekend, I realized that forgiveness is a learned skill. And that for many of us is not learned well. We don’t really understand forgiveness. Many of us think that if we forgive somebody, we must refrain from punishing or we must allow the other to continue to harm us. Or we think we must forget the infraction.
From a spiritual perspective, forgiveness is an internal act on the part of someone who feels they have been wronged. When I forgive someone, I say no to the voice inside of me that screams for retaliation. I strive to let go of the anger and resentment I hold toward them. And I refuse to look at them solely through the lens of how they have wronged me. To withhold forgiveness, to harbor anger, is like drinking poison in the hope that the other would be harmed. It only hurts me.
We desperately need to learn and practice forgiveness. We need to learn to respond non-violently in our increasingly violent world. We are fortunate to have models of forgiveness like Azim Khamisa. I am grateful for our religious traditions that teach forgiveness. And I am grateful that I belong to a religious community that is a lovely training ground for forgiveness.
Tariq Khamisa, a 20 year old college student was delivering pizzas when he was confronted by a 14 year-old boy. The boy, Tony Hicks, demanded a pizza. When Tariq refused, Tony shot him in the chest. Tariq died in the delivery car.
This past weekend, at the Sun Valley Spiritual Film Festival, I met Tariq’s father, Azim. Listening to him was a remarkable experience. After learning of his son’s death, Azim spent time in meditation. Informed by his Moslem faith, he realized that he had to forgive Tony. He knew that for his own sake, he needed to let go of his resentment and anger toward Tony. He also realized that Tony was a victim. He decided to fight, not against Tony, but against the influences that led Tony to do what he did. Azim met with Tony’s grandfather and guardian, Ples. Azim, a Muslim, asked Ples, a Christian, to work with him to end the escalating spiral of youth violence. For over 10 years now, they have been teaching forgiveness and nonviolence in schools.
Azim and Ples are featured in the film, “The Power of Forgiveness.” Prior to its television debut, this film is being shown in a few select locations, including Blacksburg, Virginia, the home of Virginia Tech. The film features Thich Nhat Hanh, Desmond Tutu, Marianne Williamson and other spiritual leaders. It also highlights the struggle to forgive embodied by the Amish community that was recently devastated by a mass murder in an Amish school.
When watching the film this past weekend, I realized that forgiveness is a learned skill. And that for many of us is not learned well. We don’t really understand forgiveness. Many of us think that if we forgive somebody, we must refrain from punishing or we must allow the other to continue to harm us. Or we think we must forget the infraction.
From a spiritual perspective, forgiveness is an internal act on the part of someone who feels they have been wronged. When I forgive someone, I say no to the voice inside of me that screams for retaliation. I strive to let go of the anger and resentment I hold toward them. And I refuse to look at them solely through the lens of how they have wronged me. To withhold forgiveness, to harbor anger, is like drinking poison in the hope that the other would be harmed. It only hurts me.
We desperately need to learn and practice forgiveness. We need to learn to respond non-violently in our increasingly violent world. We are fortunate to have models of forgiveness like Azim Khamisa. I am grateful for our religious traditions that teach forgiveness. And I am grateful that I belong to a religious community that is a lovely training ground for forgiveness.
Monday, September 24, 2007
the far side of the world
Monday 24 September - Ordinarily for tonight's healing & eucharist service, we would look for a saint's day to remember, or just use the readings from the back of the book of Lesser Feasts and Fasts (Church Publishing, 2006) in the two-year cycle for daily eucharist. However, recently I found that two on the calendar - Nathan Soderblom and Albert Schweitzer - were also Nobel Peace Prize recipients. So I went to the Nobel Prize website and searched on "September 24" ... which turns out to be the anniversary of the forming of the National League for Democracy, in Burma - the political party of Aung San Suu Kyi.
A Buddhist, she sees her quest as basically spiritual. “To live the full life,” she wrote, “one must have the courage to bear the responsibility of the needs of others… one must want to bear the responsibility.” And, she added, the quest for democracy in Burma is the struggle of a people to live whole, meaningful lives as free and equal members of the world community. It is part of the unceasing human endeavor to prove that the human spirit can transcend the flaws of its nature.
Aung San Suu Kyi received the Nobel Peace Prize for 1991, yet even today lives under house arrest in the capital city of her country.
Very much in the news today are the protests of the current military regime of Myanmar - the country better known as Burma - which began Saturday with hundreds of monks gathering outside the home of Aung San Suu Kyi to pay their respects. How these events will end, in the short term, we do not know. We have hope of the eventual outcome, a restoration of peace and justice, for Burma and the world.
It was on September 24th in 1988 that the National League for Democracy was formed in Burma, with Aun San Suu Kyi as general-secretary, and a policy of non-violence and civil disobedience. There was hope in that year of many nascent democracies that Burma, too, would shake itself free of the grip of its ruling military junta. The struggle continues today: earlier today nuns and monks of the Buddhist tradition, predominant in central Burma, took to the streets of Rangoon and Mandalay in mass protest.
We do not know what turn these events will take. If the regime acts with restraint… I’d breath a sigh of relief. If in coming days some glimmer of recognition of the need for change were to emerge inside the junta’s palace… it would be an early sign of hope.
The readings for the evening of September 24 were not chosen for their appositeness to currents events - and yet they fit very well.
Ezra 1:1-6 recounts the End of the Babylonian Captivity of Israel.
Psalm 126
When the LORD restored the fortunes of Zion...
Those who sowed with tears will reap with songs of joy.
Luke 8:16-18
'No one after lighting a lamp hides it under a jar, or puts it under a bed, but puts it on a lampstand, so that those who enter may see the light. For nothing is hidden that will not be disclosed, nor is anything secret that will not become known and come to light. Then pay attention to how you listen; for to those who have, more will be given; and from those who do not have, even what they seem to have will be taken away.’
From the history of ancient Israel, we know that powerful kings and military rulers do not give up power easily. But we also see in that history a continuing witness of hope, of fidelity to the promises of God.
That hope has begun to be fulfilled in Christ Jesus. In Jesus, the kingdom of heaven was proclaimed – and the day of the Lord began to dawn, the day of peace, righteousness and justice. We are called to live as children of that day – to align ourselves with the coming reign of God, knowing that, try as the rulers of this world might try to hide it, the light is dawning.
How are we to live? As children of the light, letting our light shine before all people – in our personal dealings, in our relations with one another, in our actions as a people of God, to follow the Lord of Light, Jesus Christ: to be the light of the world.
Grant us, Lord, not to be anxious about earthly things, but to love things heavenly; and even now, while we are placed among things that are passing away, to hold fast to those that shall endure; through Jesus Christ our Lord, who lives and reigns with you and the Holy Spirit, one God, for ever and ever. Amen.
Sources for 2007 September 24th:
The Nobel Foundation - Nobel Peace Prize 1991 - Aung San Suu Kyi
http://nobelprize.org/nobel_prizes/peace/laureates/1991/
BBC News - Profile: Aung San Suu Kyi
http://news.bbc.co.uk/2/hi/world/asia-pacific/1950505.stm
The Telegraph - Burma protest swells as 100,000 join march
http://www.telegraph.co.uk/news/main.jhtml?xml=/news/2007/09/24/wburma124.xml
Jim Carrey - Call to Action on Burma and Aung San Suu Kyi
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=NySuaJ2B20E
The Age - Tens of thousands add their voice to Burma protests
http://www.theage.com.au/news/world/burma-protest-numbers-grow-by-thousands/2007/09/24/1190486223208.html
The Guardian - Burmese junta threatens protest crackdown
http://www.guardian.co.uk/international/story/0,,2176125,00.html
Church of Ireland
http://ireland.anglican.org/worship/weekdays/2007/23-09-2007.pdf
A protester's view
'The middle class are now poor, the poor are destitute'
http://www.guardian.co.uk/burma/story/0,,2177204,00.html
A Buddhist, she sees her quest as basically spiritual. “To live the full life,” she wrote, “one must have the courage to bear the responsibility of the needs of others… one must want to bear the responsibility.” And, she added, the quest for democracy in Burma is the struggle of a people to live whole, meaningful lives as free and equal members of the world community. It is part of the unceasing human endeavor to prove that the human spirit can transcend the flaws of its nature.
Aung San Suu Kyi received the Nobel Peace Prize for 1991, yet even today lives under house arrest in the capital city of her country.
Very much in the news today are the protests of the current military regime of Myanmar - the country better known as Burma - which began Saturday with hundreds of monks gathering outside the home of Aung San Suu Kyi to pay their respects. How these events will end, in the short term, we do not know. We have hope of the eventual outcome, a restoration of peace and justice, for Burma and the world.
It was on September 24th in 1988 that the National League for Democracy was formed in Burma, with Aun San Suu Kyi as general-secretary, and a policy of non-violence and civil disobedience. There was hope in that year of many nascent democracies that Burma, too, would shake itself free of the grip of its ruling military junta. The struggle continues today: earlier today nuns and monks of the Buddhist tradition, predominant in central Burma, took to the streets of Rangoon and Mandalay in mass protest.
We do not know what turn these events will take. If the regime acts with restraint… I’d breath a sigh of relief. If in coming days some glimmer of recognition of the need for change were to emerge inside the junta’s palace… it would be an early sign of hope.
The readings for the evening of September 24 were not chosen for their appositeness to currents events - and yet they fit very well.
Ezra 1:1-6 recounts the End of the Babylonian Captivity of Israel.
Psalm 126
When the LORD restored the fortunes of Zion...
Those who sowed with tears will reap with songs of joy.
Luke 8:16-18
'No one after lighting a lamp hides it under a jar, or puts it under a bed, but puts it on a lampstand, so that those who enter may see the light. For nothing is hidden that will not be disclosed, nor is anything secret that will not become known and come to light. Then pay attention to how you listen; for to those who have, more will be given; and from those who do not have, even what they seem to have will be taken away.’
From the history of ancient Israel, we know that powerful kings and military rulers do not give up power easily. But we also see in that history a continuing witness of hope, of fidelity to the promises of God.
That hope has begun to be fulfilled in Christ Jesus. In Jesus, the kingdom of heaven was proclaimed – and the day of the Lord began to dawn, the day of peace, righteousness and justice. We are called to live as children of that day – to align ourselves with the coming reign of God, knowing that, try as the rulers of this world might try to hide it, the light is dawning.
How are we to live? As children of the light, letting our light shine before all people – in our personal dealings, in our relations with one another, in our actions as a people of God, to follow the Lord of Light, Jesus Christ: to be the light of the world.
Grant us, Lord, not to be anxious about earthly things, but to love things heavenly; and even now, while we are placed among things that are passing away, to hold fast to those that shall endure; through Jesus Christ our Lord, who lives and reigns with you and the Holy Spirit, one God, for ever and ever. Amen.
Sources for 2007 September 24th:
The Nobel Foundation - Nobel Peace Prize 1991 - Aung San Suu Kyi
http://nobelprize.org/nobel_prizes/peace/laureates/1991/
BBC News - Profile: Aung San Suu Kyi
http://news.bbc.co.uk/2/hi/world/asia-pacific/1950505.stm
The Telegraph - Burma protest swells as 100,000 join march
http://www.telegraph.co.uk/news/main.jhtml?xml=/news/2007/09/24/wburma124.xml
Jim Carrey - Call to Action on Burma and Aung San Suu Kyi
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=NySuaJ2B20E
The Age - Tens of thousands add their voice to Burma protests
http://www.theage.com.au/news/world/burma-protest-numbers-grow-by-thousands/2007/09/24/1190486223208.html
The Guardian - Burmese junta threatens protest crackdown
http://www.guardian.co.uk/international/story/0,,2176125,00.html
Church of Ireland
http://ireland.anglican.org/worship/weekdays/2007/23-09-2007.pdf
A protester's view
'The middle class are now poor, the poor are destitute'
http://www.guardian.co.uk/burma/story/0,,2177204,00.html
Thursday, September 20, 2007
those who lose their life for my sake, and for the sake of the gospel, will save it
John Coleridge Patteson
Bishop of Melanesia, and his Companions, Martyrs, 1871
September 20, 2007
Eight time zones east of here is the birthplace of John Coleridge Patteson; he was born in London on the 1st of April, 1827. Four time zones west of here is Nakapu, an island in the Santa Cruz group north of Vanuatu, where John Coleridge Patteson and his companions were killed on 20 September 1871.
And yet far away as these places are, and as far away as the 19th century is from us, we are bound to them by ties not only of affection but also of our common humanity.
Melanesia has an Anglican church now; Patteson went there to found it. Instead he went to his death – by mistake.
He worked to stamp out the flourishing slave trade in the Solomon Islands. The people of Nakapu mistook his party for slave raiders, returning after a recent raid, and took their revenge on his body – one stroke of the hatchet for each native who had been killed in the earlier raid.
The reaction of the government in England was to work even harder to stamp out slavery, and the slave trade, in the south Pacific territories under their flag.
The church redoubled its missionary efforts; Bishop Selwyn, who had sent Patteson to Melanesia from New Zealand, worked to reconcile the people of Melanesia “to the memory of one who came to help and not to hurt.”
The Most Revd Sir Ellison Leslie Pogo KBE, primate of The Church of the Province of Melanesia, is Patteson’s successor: we are all his heirs.
Stuff happens. The joke goes on: Why does this stuff keep happening to us? Or, less popularly: Why do we keep on doing this stuff?
As Tony Campolo recently pointed out, God created humanity to act in freedom, and thus to be capable of going against his will. Out of love, God gave us the freedom to choose to love God in return. Out of love.
Christine Sine of St. Alban’s, Edmonds, Washington, recently wrote: “All of us, no matter how strong our faith, will at some point in our life journey suffer pain and death.” Through Christ, God is able to use the suffering we endure to further God’s purpose in our lives and in the world. God’s grace works through human weakness.
Out of love, he gave us freedom. Out of freedom, we may choose, in the words of the apostle, to “Bear one another’s burdens, and in this way [to] fulfill the law of Christ." (Galatians 6:2) Out of love.
And somehow, out of death, comes life: “If any want to become my followers, let them deny themselves and take up their cross and follow me. For those who want to save their life will lose it, and those who lose their life for my sake, and for the sake of the gospel, will save it.” (Mark 8:34-35)
To really live involves, eventually and inevitably, dying. But death is not the end of the story.
The life that is saved is not the life of this body as it is – but ongoing life in God, that begins when we choose to live in Christ.
Out of love. Out of freedom. Out of death. Into life.
****
What then are we to say about these things? If God is for us, who is against us? He who did not withhold his own Son, but gave him up for all of us, will he not with him also give us everything else? Who will bring any charge against God’s elect? It is God who justifies. Who is to condemn? It is Christ Jesus, who died, yes, who was raised, who is at the right hand of God, who indeed intercedes for us.
Who will separate us from the love of Christ? Will hardship, or distress, or persecution, or famine, or nakedness, or peril, or sword? As it is written, “For your sake we are being killed all day long; we are accounted as sheep to be slaughtered.” No, in all these things we are more than conquerors through him who loved us. For I am convinced that neither death, nor life, nor angels, nor rulers, nor things present, nor things to come, nor powers, nor height, nor depth, nor anything else in all creation, will be able to separate us from the love of God in Christ Jesus our Lord. (Romans 8:31-39)
****
Sources
Lesser Feasts and Fasts (Church Publishing, 2006)
1 Peter 4:12-19, Psalm 121, Psalm 116:1-8, Mark 8:34-38, Genesis 22:1-14, Romans 8:31-39, Galatians 6:2
http://www.anglicancommunion.org/tour/province.cfm?ID=M1
http://orders.anglican.org/mbh/history.htm
http://www.bcponline.org/
http://bible.oremus.org/
Context, September 2007, Part A, page 3-4 & Part B, page 6.
Tony Campolo, “God as Suffering Servant”, Tikkun, May/June 2007
www.tikkun.org/magazine/tik0706/frontpage/sufferingservant
Christine Sine, “The Challenge of Suffering”, Prism, March-April 2007
http://www.network935.org/Images/mmDocument/PRISM%20Archive/Sines%20Times/MarApr07SinesOfTimes.pdf
Bishop of Melanesia, and his Companions, Martyrs, 1871
September 20, 2007
Eight time zones east of here is the birthplace of John Coleridge Patteson; he was born in London on the 1st of April, 1827. Four time zones west of here is Nakapu, an island in the Santa Cruz group north of Vanuatu, where John Coleridge Patteson and his companions were killed on 20 September 1871.
And yet far away as these places are, and as far away as the 19th century is from us, we are bound to them by ties not only of affection but also of our common humanity.
Melanesia has an Anglican church now; Patteson went there to found it. Instead he went to his death – by mistake.
He worked to stamp out the flourishing slave trade in the Solomon Islands. The people of Nakapu mistook his party for slave raiders, returning after a recent raid, and took their revenge on his body – one stroke of the hatchet for each native who had been killed in the earlier raid.
The reaction of the government in England was to work even harder to stamp out slavery, and the slave trade, in the south Pacific territories under their flag.
The church redoubled its missionary efforts; Bishop Selwyn, who had sent Patteson to Melanesia from New Zealand, worked to reconcile the people of Melanesia “to the memory of one who came to help and not to hurt.”
The Most Revd Sir Ellison Leslie Pogo KBE, primate of The Church of the Province of Melanesia, is Patteson’s successor: we are all his heirs.
Stuff happens. The joke goes on: Why does this stuff keep happening to us? Or, less popularly: Why do we keep on doing this stuff?
As Tony Campolo recently pointed out, God created humanity to act in freedom, and thus to be capable of going against his will. Out of love, God gave us the freedom to choose to love God in return. Out of love.
Christine Sine of St. Alban’s, Edmonds, Washington, recently wrote: “All of us, no matter how strong our faith, will at some point in our life journey suffer pain and death.” Through Christ, God is able to use the suffering we endure to further God’s purpose in our lives and in the world. God’s grace works through human weakness.
Out of love, he gave us freedom. Out of freedom, we may choose, in the words of the apostle, to “Bear one another’s burdens, and in this way [to] fulfill the law of Christ." (Galatians 6:2) Out of love.
And somehow, out of death, comes life: “If any want to become my followers, let them deny themselves and take up their cross and follow me. For those who want to save their life will lose it, and those who lose their life for my sake, and for the sake of the gospel, will save it.” (Mark 8:34-35)
To really live involves, eventually and inevitably, dying. But death is not the end of the story.
The life that is saved is not the life of this body as it is – but ongoing life in God, that begins when we choose to live in Christ.
Out of love. Out of freedom. Out of death. Into life.
****
What then are we to say about these things? If God is for us, who is against us? He who did not withhold his own Son, but gave him up for all of us, will he not with him also give us everything else? Who will bring any charge against God’s elect? It is God who justifies. Who is to condemn? It is Christ Jesus, who died, yes, who was raised, who is at the right hand of God, who indeed intercedes for us.
Who will separate us from the love of Christ? Will hardship, or distress, or persecution, or famine, or nakedness, or peril, or sword? As it is written, “For your sake we are being killed all day long; we are accounted as sheep to be slaughtered.” No, in all these things we are more than conquerors through him who loved us. For I am convinced that neither death, nor life, nor angels, nor rulers, nor things present, nor things to come, nor powers, nor height, nor depth, nor anything else in all creation, will be able to separate us from the love of God in Christ Jesus our Lord. (Romans 8:31-39)
****
Sources
Lesser Feasts and Fasts (Church Publishing, 2006)
1 Peter 4:12-19, Psalm 121, Psalm 116:1-8, Mark 8:34-38, Genesis 22:1-14, Romans 8:31-39, Galatians 6:2
http://www.anglicancommunion.org/tour/province.cfm?ID=M1
http://orders.anglican.org/mbh/history.htm
http://www.bcponline.org/
http://bible.oremus.org/
Context, September 2007, Part A, page 3-4 & Part B, page 6.
Tony Campolo, “God as Suffering Servant”, Tikkun, May/June 2007
www.tikkun.org/magazine/tik0706/frontpage/sufferingservant
Christine Sine, “The Challenge of Suffering”, Prism, March-April 2007
http://www.network935.org/Images/mmDocument/PRISM%20Archive/Sines%20Times/MarApr07SinesOfTimes.pdf
Saturday, September 8, 2007
whose service is perfect freedom: (costing not less than everything)
Grant us, O Lord, to trust in you with all our hearts; for, as you always resist the proud who confide in their own strength, so you never forsake those who make their boast of your mercy; through Jesus Christ our Lord, who lives and reigns with you and the Holy Spirit, one God, now and for ever. Amen.
When it came time to sign the marriage license for two of my college friends, the minister gave as his title, “Slave of Jesus Christ”. In his letter to the Christians at Rome, Paul introduced himself as “doulon christou iesu” – a servant of Jesus Christ, not distinguishing between bondservant and freedman.
In his letter to Philemon, a brother in Christ and a slave owner, Paul makes distinct the difference between enslavement in the world’s system and free service offered to the Lord. He greets Philemon as a “dear friend and co-worker”, telling him he remembers him in his prayers always thankful because of Philemon’s love for all the saints – all the saints – and his faith toward the Lord Jesus. This love Philemon shows is a source of encouragement and joy. “The hearts of the saints have been refreshed through you, my brother,” Paul writes.
Therefore, Paul continues, I appeal to you – rather than making a command. “Refresh my heart in Christ”, he asks. Back to you I am sending Onesimus, whom you held as a slave. He has become a Christian, and hence my brother – and yours. Meanwhile I myself am held as a prisoner, for the love of Christ. Do something extraordinary, Philemon: receive him back but do not punish him; embrace him as a brother, and further than that, do not hold him accountable for anything you might hold against him. Charge it to my account.
It was not unusual, scholars like Richard Horsley tell us, in those days for one person to own another. Even for Christians, to be a slave or a slave owner was a simple matter of economics. But not to Paul: he is challenging Philemon to break free from the economic system the world has enthralled him in, and to do something that will strike its own blow against the empire.
Set him free. Furthermore, flying in the face of the practice of the time — slaves could buy their freedom for a price but would always owe their former master a share of their income — do not charge him for his freedom, or require him to pay you royalties on his future earnings. And you shall be made free yourself.
Slaves are compelled; to serve in Christ is an act of freedom. Paul asks, implicitly, for Philemon to free Onesimus, and so to free himself.
Paul does happen to mention a little debt, and a small requirement for obedience. Not to himself, not really, not to anyone on earth: but to God in Christ Jesus. You owe him everything, Onesimus: even your life.
And here we are back at the cross, with Jesus, who reminds the crowds who were following him – up to this point anyway – that to follow him means giving up all you have. Family, possessions, even life itself, all are to be counted as loss, compared to the one thing left to them, the service of Christ.
Philemon is not being asked to give up a little. Paul reminds him he owes everything in obedience. It is being asked of him now. To give up – “I know my rights!” – he might protest – to give up what he has in the world’s terms in order to take his place in the kingdom of God. Like the rich young ruler who went away sorrowing, Philemon might have thought of what he had to lose – but perhaps, since after all he did save the letter, he thought of what he had to gain.
All this may sound symbolic, to modern ears… until we think of the cost of discipleship we might be asked to pay.
Imagine a world in which one person might presume to own another, a world in which people are bought and sold like possessions. Imagine, indeed, millions trafficked this way across the globe today. And then imagine someone taking some small step to redeem, or set free, someone who is being held hostage to wage slavery or debt, or through physical or other coercion.
That is a world we live in, even now. Organizations of Christians across the world – World Concern among them – are working to help people out of this system, and to challenge the system that enslaves. We might or might not be called to take direct action on this front, but we all will be called at some point to estimate the cost, of carrying the cross, of discipleship.
"Whoever comes to me and does not hate father and mother, wife and children, brothers and sisters, yes, and even life itself, cannot be my disciple. Whoever does not carry the cross and follow me cannot be my disciple.… So therefore, none of you can become my disciple if you do not give up all your possessions."
Our God, whose service is perfect freedom (costing not less than everything) – how are we to serve? Whom would we consider a saint?
If a man were give up a good job in a prestigious institution, leave his fiancée behind, and join a conspiracy to assassinate the duly elected leader of his country, would we consider him a good Christian? If, then, caught, convicted, and imprisoned, he wrote that girl, telling her we now live in a world without God, would we praise his faith? We might acknowledge his contribution to Death of God theology, but would we call him a saint?
And yet there he is, on the calendar in Lesser Feasts and Fasts, for April 9th: Dietrich Bonhoeffer, Pastor & Theologian, 1945. Bonhoeffer left Union Theological Seminary to return to Germany at the beginning of the Second World War, and who subsequently was involved in the plot to assassinate Adolf Hitler that failed on 20 July 1944, is widely held as an exemplar of faith in the 20th Century.
If a nun were to talk her way out of her vow of stability, and go live on the streets of a big city, would we consider her a model of obedience? If then, and from then on, she felt – and wrote in her letters – that she too felt the absence of God, would we consider her a model of faith? If she carried on like that for fifty years, would we call her a saint?
And yet Mother Teresa of Calcutta, who confessed that she had experienced the dark night of the soul over a period of fifty years of serving the “poorest of the poor”, is widely acclaimed as a model, an extreme model, of faith.
To give up family, friends, possessions, life itself – even to experience existence bereft of a sense of God’s presence – indeed our Lord cried out from the cross, “My God, my God, why have you forsaken me?” – and yet somehow from this total loss, to experience the life of Resurrection, this is the cost, and the glory, of discipleship.
Sources:
Readings for Year C, Proper 18 (RCL): Philemon 1-21. Psalm 139:1-5, 13-18. Luke 14:25-33.
T. S. Eliot, ‘Little Gidding’ (1942); Four Quartets (1943) [http://www.tristan.icom43.net/quartets/gidding.html]
Richard A. Horsley and Neil Asher Silberman, The Message and the Kingdom: How Jesus and Paul Ignited a Revolution and Transformed the Ancient World (Grosset/Putnam, 1997), p. 182-183.
http://www.worldconcern.org/NETCOMMUNITY/Page.aspx?&pid=527&srcid=429
http://www.utm.edu/research/iep/b/bonhoeff.htm
http://www.cofe.anglican.org/worship/liturgy/commonworship/texts/calendar/holydays.html
http://www.vatican.va/news_services/liturgy/saints/ns_lit_doc_20031019_index_madre-teresa_en.html
Lesser Feasts and Fasts (Church Publishing, 2006) [http://www.io.com/~kellywp/CalndrsIndexes/TxtIndexLFF.html]
My Life with the Saints by James Martin, S.J. (Loyola Press Chicago, 2006)
http://www.nimblespirit.com/html/my_life_with_the_saints_review.html
September 9, 2007, Trinity Cathedral, Sacramento.
When it came time to sign the marriage license for two of my college friends, the minister gave as his title, “Slave of Jesus Christ”. In his letter to the Christians at Rome, Paul introduced himself as “doulon christou iesu” – a servant of Jesus Christ, not distinguishing between bondservant and freedman.
In his letter to Philemon, a brother in Christ and a slave owner, Paul makes distinct the difference between enslavement in the world’s system and free service offered to the Lord. He greets Philemon as a “dear friend and co-worker”, telling him he remembers him in his prayers always thankful because of Philemon’s love for all the saints – all the saints – and his faith toward the Lord Jesus. This love Philemon shows is a source of encouragement and joy. “The hearts of the saints have been refreshed through you, my brother,” Paul writes.
Therefore, Paul continues, I appeal to you – rather than making a command. “Refresh my heart in Christ”, he asks. Back to you I am sending Onesimus, whom you held as a slave. He has become a Christian, and hence my brother – and yours. Meanwhile I myself am held as a prisoner, for the love of Christ. Do something extraordinary, Philemon: receive him back but do not punish him; embrace him as a brother, and further than that, do not hold him accountable for anything you might hold against him. Charge it to my account.
It was not unusual, scholars like Richard Horsley tell us, in those days for one person to own another. Even for Christians, to be a slave or a slave owner was a simple matter of economics. But not to Paul: he is challenging Philemon to break free from the economic system the world has enthralled him in, and to do something that will strike its own blow against the empire.
Set him free. Furthermore, flying in the face of the practice of the time — slaves could buy their freedom for a price but would always owe their former master a share of their income — do not charge him for his freedom, or require him to pay you royalties on his future earnings. And you shall be made free yourself.
Slaves are compelled; to serve in Christ is an act of freedom. Paul asks, implicitly, for Philemon to free Onesimus, and so to free himself.
Paul does happen to mention a little debt, and a small requirement for obedience. Not to himself, not really, not to anyone on earth: but to God in Christ Jesus. You owe him everything, Onesimus: even your life.
And here we are back at the cross, with Jesus, who reminds the crowds who were following him – up to this point anyway – that to follow him means giving up all you have. Family, possessions, even life itself, all are to be counted as loss, compared to the one thing left to them, the service of Christ.
Philemon is not being asked to give up a little. Paul reminds him he owes everything in obedience. It is being asked of him now. To give up – “I know my rights!” – he might protest – to give up what he has in the world’s terms in order to take his place in the kingdom of God. Like the rich young ruler who went away sorrowing, Philemon might have thought of what he had to lose – but perhaps, since after all he did save the letter, he thought of what he had to gain.
All this may sound symbolic, to modern ears… until we think of the cost of discipleship we might be asked to pay.
Imagine a world in which one person might presume to own another, a world in which people are bought and sold like possessions. Imagine, indeed, millions trafficked this way across the globe today. And then imagine someone taking some small step to redeem, or set free, someone who is being held hostage to wage slavery or debt, or through physical or other coercion.
That is a world we live in, even now. Organizations of Christians across the world – World Concern among them – are working to help people out of this system, and to challenge the system that enslaves. We might or might not be called to take direct action on this front, but we all will be called at some point to estimate the cost, of carrying the cross, of discipleship.
"Whoever comes to me and does not hate father and mother, wife and children, brothers and sisters, yes, and even life itself, cannot be my disciple. Whoever does not carry the cross and follow me cannot be my disciple.… So therefore, none of you can become my disciple if you do not give up all your possessions."
Our God, whose service is perfect freedom (costing not less than everything) – how are we to serve? Whom would we consider a saint?
If a man were give up a good job in a prestigious institution, leave his fiancée behind, and join a conspiracy to assassinate the duly elected leader of his country, would we consider him a good Christian? If, then, caught, convicted, and imprisoned, he wrote that girl, telling her we now live in a world without God, would we praise his faith? We might acknowledge his contribution to Death of God theology, but would we call him a saint?
And yet there he is, on the calendar in Lesser Feasts and Fasts, for April 9th: Dietrich Bonhoeffer, Pastor & Theologian, 1945. Bonhoeffer left Union Theological Seminary to return to Germany at the beginning of the Second World War, and who subsequently was involved in the plot to assassinate Adolf Hitler that failed on 20 July 1944, is widely held as an exemplar of faith in the 20th Century.
If a nun were to talk her way out of her vow of stability, and go live on the streets of a big city, would we consider her a model of obedience? If then, and from then on, she felt – and wrote in her letters – that she too felt the absence of God, would we consider her a model of faith? If she carried on like that for fifty years, would we call her a saint?
And yet Mother Teresa of Calcutta, who confessed that she had experienced the dark night of the soul over a period of fifty years of serving the “poorest of the poor”, is widely acclaimed as a model, an extreme model, of faith.
To give up family, friends, possessions, life itself – even to experience existence bereft of a sense of God’s presence – indeed our Lord cried out from the cross, “My God, my God, why have you forsaken me?” – and yet somehow from this total loss, to experience the life of Resurrection, this is the cost, and the glory, of discipleship.
Sources:
Readings for Year C, Proper 18 (RCL): Philemon 1-21. Psalm 139:1-5, 13-18. Luke 14:25-33.
T. S. Eliot, ‘Little Gidding’ (1942); Four Quartets (1943) [http://www.tristan.icom43.net/quartets/gidding.html]
Richard A. Horsley and Neil Asher Silberman, The Message and the Kingdom: How Jesus and Paul Ignited a Revolution and Transformed the Ancient World (Grosset/Putnam, 1997), p. 182-183.
http://www.worldconcern.org/NETCOMMUNITY/Page.aspx?&pid=527&srcid=429
http://www.utm.edu/research/iep/b/bonhoeff.htm
http://www.cofe.anglican.org/worship/liturgy/commonworship/texts/calendar/holydays.html
http://www.vatican.va/news_services/liturgy/saints/ns_lit_doc_20031019_index_madre-teresa_en.html
Lesser Feasts and Fasts (Church Publishing, 2006) [http://www.io.com/~kellywp/CalndrsIndexes/TxtIndexLFF.html]
My Life with the Saints by James Martin, S.J. (Loyola Press Chicago, 2006)
http://www.nimblespirit.com/html/my_life_with_the_saints_review.html
September 9, 2007, Trinity Cathedral, Sacramento.
He comes to us as One unknown...
September 7, 2007
Our reading from Colossians this morning is more hymn than theological statement. From its tremendous phrases we learn the glory of the cosmic Christ, the Lord who is Lord of all, the first and the last. And yet this is the same Jesus our first comrades in the faith knew as a fellow human, walking the dusty paths of Galilee, bringing the message of the coming Kingdom of God to the people of Israel. The Christ of faith and the Jesus of history – the same person – and so compelling, for humankind ever since. For example,…
From the website of the Nobel Foundation we learn that: "Albert Schweitzer (January 14, 1875-September 4, 1965) was born in Alsace... At the University of Strasbourg he obtained a doctorate in philosophy in 1899, and received his licentiate in theology in 1900. He began preaching at St. Nicholas Church in Strasbourg in 1899; he served in various high ranking administrative posts from 1901 to 1912 at the University of Strasbourg. In 1906 he published The Quest of the Historical Jesus, a book on which much of his fame as a theological scholar rests. Schweitzer wrote a biography of Bach in 1905... Having decided to go to Africa as a medical missionary rather than as a pastor, Schweitzer in 1905 began the study of medicine at the University of Strasbourg... In 1913, having obtained his M.D. degree, he founded his hospital at Lambaréné in French Equatorial Africa, [where except for the period from 1917 to 1924 he spent most of the rest of his life].... At Lambaréné, Schweitzer was doctor and surgeon in the hospital, pastor of a congregation, administrator of a village, superintendent of buildings and grounds, writer of scholarly books, commentator on contemporary history, musician, host to countless visitors. He was awarded the Nobel Peace Prize for 1952. With the $33,000 prize money, he started the leprosarium at Lambaréné....Albert Schweitzer died on September 4, 1965, and was buried at Lambaréné." [http://nobelprize.org/nobel_prizes/peace/laureates/1952/schweitzer-bio.html]
Schweitzer’s work on the historical Jesus summed up the scholarship of the preceding two centuries, well enough indeed that it was not until California’s James Robinson (senior) initiated the new quest in the 1960s that much new ground was broken. Indeed the Westar Institute, sponsor of the Jesus Seminar, having finished its own work on the historical Jesus and looking for new worlds to conquer, followed in Schweitzer’s footsteps by turning to a study of Paul. Of course other people have followed Schweitzer’s footsteps in other ways, notably by serving to relieve poverty, suffering and disease. Even in the 1980 comedy “The Gods Must Be Crazy” a volunteer teacher en route to the bush is asked, “So, are you going to do an Albert Schweitzer in Botswana?”
Carlos Noreña, chair of the philosophy board of studies at UC Santa Cruz, once remarked on what could happen if you took philosophy too seriously. Albert Schweitzer seems to have taken his own scholarship quite seriously. While he continued to write – The Mysticism of Paul the Apostle came out in 1930 – once he had made the move to the mission field his main work, his exegesis in action, if you will, was his service to the poor. This follows quite logically from his conclusion to The Quest of the Historical Jesus:
"He comes to us as One unknown, without a name, as of old, by the lake-side, He came to those men who knew Him not. He speaks to us the same word: 'Follow thou me!' and sets us to the tasks which He has to fulfil for our time. He commands. And to those who obey Him, whether they be wise or simple, He will reveal Himself in the toils, the conflicts, the sufferings which they shall pass through in His fellowship, and, as an ineffable mystery, they shall learn in their own experience Who He is." [http://www.earlychristianwritings.com/schweitzer/chapter20.html]
Colossians 1:15-20
Psalm 100
Luke 5:33-39
Friday 7 September 2007, Trinity Cathedral, Sacramento
Our reading from Colossians this morning is more hymn than theological statement. From its tremendous phrases we learn the glory of the cosmic Christ, the Lord who is Lord of all, the first and the last. And yet this is the same Jesus our first comrades in the faith knew as a fellow human, walking the dusty paths of Galilee, bringing the message of the coming Kingdom of God to the people of Israel. The Christ of faith and the Jesus of history – the same person – and so compelling, for humankind ever since. For example,…
From the website of the Nobel Foundation we learn that: "Albert Schweitzer (January 14, 1875-September 4, 1965) was born in Alsace... At the University of Strasbourg he obtained a doctorate in philosophy in 1899, and received his licentiate in theology in 1900. He began preaching at St. Nicholas Church in Strasbourg in 1899; he served in various high ranking administrative posts from 1901 to 1912 at the University of Strasbourg. In 1906 he published The Quest of the Historical Jesus, a book on which much of his fame as a theological scholar rests. Schweitzer wrote a biography of Bach in 1905... Having decided to go to Africa as a medical missionary rather than as a pastor, Schweitzer in 1905 began the study of medicine at the University of Strasbourg... In 1913, having obtained his M.D. degree, he founded his hospital at Lambaréné in French Equatorial Africa, [where except for the period from 1917 to 1924 he spent most of the rest of his life].... At Lambaréné, Schweitzer was doctor and surgeon in the hospital, pastor of a congregation, administrator of a village, superintendent of buildings and grounds, writer of scholarly books, commentator on contemporary history, musician, host to countless visitors. He was awarded the Nobel Peace Prize for 1952. With the $33,000 prize money, he started the leprosarium at Lambaréné....Albert Schweitzer died on September 4, 1965, and was buried at Lambaréné." [http://nobelprize.org/nobel_prizes/peace/laureates/1952/schweitzer-bio.html]
Schweitzer’s work on the historical Jesus summed up the scholarship of the preceding two centuries, well enough indeed that it was not until California’s James Robinson (senior) initiated the new quest in the 1960s that much new ground was broken. Indeed the Westar Institute, sponsor of the Jesus Seminar, having finished its own work on the historical Jesus and looking for new worlds to conquer, followed in Schweitzer’s footsteps by turning to a study of Paul. Of course other people have followed Schweitzer’s footsteps in other ways, notably by serving to relieve poverty, suffering and disease. Even in the 1980 comedy “The Gods Must Be Crazy” a volunteer teacher en route to the bush is asked, “So, are you going to do an Albert Schweitzer in Botswana?”
Carlos Noreña, chair of the philosophy board of studies at UC Santa Cruz, once remarked on what could happen if you took philosophy too seriously. Albert Schweitzer seems to have taken his own scholarship quite seriously. While he continued to write – The Mysticism of Paul the Apostle came out in 1930 – once he had made the move to the mission field his main work, his exegesis in action, if you will, was his service to the poor. This follows quite logically from his conclusion to The Quest of the Historical Jesus:
"He comes to us as One unknown, without a name, as of old, by the lake-side, He came to those men who knew Him not. He speaks to us the same word: 'Follow thou me!' and sets us to the tasks which He has to fulfil for our time. He commands. And to those who obey Him, whether they be wise or simple, He will reveal Himself in the toils, the conflicts, the sufferings which they shall pass through in His fellowship, and, as an ineffable mystery, they shall learn in their own experience Who He is." [http://www.earlychristianwritings.com/schweitzer/chapter20.html]
Colossians 1:15-20
Psalm 100
Luke 5:33-39
Friday 7 September 2007, Trinity Cathedral, Sacramento
Sunday, August 26, 2007
What Better Day?
God, the source of our joy, you gladden our hearts as we journey toward the heavenly city. Deepen within us a desire for peace, a longing to see your justice done; that sharing a common purpose, your people may prosper and come to praise you with the songs of Zion, Father, Son, and Holy Spirit. Amen.
Larry Dossey, author of “Prayer is Good Medicine”, an advocate of prayer for healing, once said, "If you have appendicitis, you should get an appendectomy." I endorse this advice.
What if more is needed? What if the healing must be of the spirit as well as the flesh? Then, indeed, prayer is good medicine – including our prayers for healing at eucharist - though in some cases, more may be needed: an action to restore wholeness, if like the woman in the gospel, eighteen long years of suffering have separated you from your right place in your community. Back then, any physical infirmity might be attributed to a spiritual cause. People might shy away from you, trying to keep pure and holy for worship. I mean, what if she did something to cause it? If I get too close, will it rub off on me?
Jesus will have none of that. He calls to her and he touches her and heals her -- on the Sabbath.
Following Jesus can be – embarrassing. Here he was in the synagogue, the guest lecturer, center of attention – the result, Judas might have told us, of careful planning – only to break the decorum of the holy day and work, do the work of healing.
Jesus breaks the rules. The Sabbath-day decorum is shattered. Jesus breaks the rules, but he keeps the covenant. He holds true to God’s promise.
The Sabbath is meant to be a sign, a foretaste of Shalom, of God’s reign of peace, of harmony and justice, when all shall be set to rights, and we dwell in the house of the Lord. Where better to experience that setting to rights, and what better day to find peace and wholeness established, than in the Lord’s house on the Sabbath day, the day of peace?
The officious leader of the synagogue, impatient to keep the purity-piety machinery running smoothly, hastens to object: there are six days for work, come then to be healed, and not on the Sabbath. But the rabbi Jesus rebukes him, arguing persuasively from small to great: if you would do so little a thing as unbind an animal to take it to water on the day of rest, how much more on this holy day is it right that a big thing be accomplished in the life of this poor woman, that she, having been bound by suffering for eighteen long years should be released from her misery?
Jesus restores her to her true dignity. As a daughter of Abraham she is an inheritor of the promise, the covenant of God’s faithful people. She is not, to Jesus, “the woman with the crooked back”, but a child of God.
What we have seen is, as preacher Herb O’Driscoll puts it, not just curing but healing. The physical malady is relieved, to be sure, but so is the spiritual distress that weighed down this woman’s soul, rending her unable to stand straight among her neighbors, as if it were a burden of guilt that bent her back. But Jesus – in the middle of his Sabbath teaching – stopped and laying hands on her made her well and whole and welcome as a child of God.
Looking back on our lesson from Isaiah, we see that this is only a foretaste of the coming reign of peace, of Shalom – and a meet and right thing to do on the Sabbath day, revealing as it does that God in Jesus keeps his promise to his people, restoring what was broken to wholeness, and freshening the world and his people with new life in the light of the coming of his kingdom. The examples the prophet gives are very practical: Unbind the captive, feed the hungry, and shelter the homeless.
Elsewhere he says, “Learn to do good; seek justice, rescue the oppressed, defend the orphan, plead for the widow.” (Isaiah 1:17)
Isaiah’s vision of the promise fulfilled is tangible and alluring: you shall be like a watered garden. The legacy of the past shall be renewed and foundations for new generations shall be laid. Carrying God’s people forward from generation to generation, we inherit, develop, and pass on a living heritage of the abundance and providence God, who gives them – us – a future with hope.
As Christians we look forward to a heavenly city, a New Jerusalem not made by human hands, at the consummation of time; yet more immediately we have Jesus before us, revealing to us the kingdom of God in the freedom of the present moment. Jesus is present to the woman in the synagogue, restoring her to health and leading her into a new sense of her dignity as Abraham’s daughter – she reacts by glorifying God. Jesus is present to us now on this holy day, inviting us to loosen up a bit from our own bondages by the grace of his sacramental presence in the Eucharist and in Baptism, and to take up our full stature as children of the promise, children of Abraham – along with all who descend from him by means of putting our faith in the promise.
Jesus breaks the rules indeed – but he has brought home to us what the keeping of the law was all about: honoring the covenant with God, that we would be his people, unbinding the captive, healing and serving, and glorifying God.
That is what Sabbath is about: delighting in the Lord. Turning this day of all days from our own efforts and enterprises, amusements and ambitions, to remember that we rely on the providence of God through scarcity and abundance, and giving God the glory for all he is accomplishing according to his purpose: the establishment of peace, harmony and justice in the world he has made.
As Methodist pastor Joy Moore wrote in The Christian Century, “The lifestyle of Christians is to live the hope we speak: the Creator of the universe, the God of Abraham and Sarah, the One who raised Jesus from the dead, is reconciling the world to the original design of justice, righteousness, and peace.”
The other night I watched the 1981 movie “Chariots of Fire”, in which an Olympic athlete refuses to compete on the Sabbath – he believes Sundays are not for sport – and so must skip the race he thought he’d win. A generous teammate steps aside and allows him a chance at “another race, another day”. Before that unexpected race begins, a competitor hands Eric a note: “Mr. Liddell, it says in the old Book, ‘He that honors me, I will honor.’ Good luck – Jackson Scholz.”
It’s a movie – he wins the race. More importantly he has won the struggle within – to turn from his own pleasures to delight in the Lord. You may disagree with his practice – but honor his principle. You may have a different idea of how to keep the Sabbath; the point is to remember God’s providence in all you do, especially on the day of rest. Remember, then, that this day of peace is only a foretaste of God’s kingdom of Shalom – and everything you do today that proclaims that is your own celebration of this holy day.
Recently I received a questionnaire from another parish, which began “Describe your spirituality.” I am tempted to answer in the words of Johnny Cash: “I’m just tryin’ to be a good Christian.” There is much humble, hard-won wisdom in what he said. Being a Christian is my way of being human – and I highly recommend it. Indeed from my first real discovery, in teenage years, of what the gospel could mean, I have sought not only to understand its mysteries more deeply for myself but to share them, and their blessings, with other believers and with people outside the fellowship halls.
Liberation from the bondage of oppression, whether it is personal or corporate in impact, is a troubling message to some, if your old patterns of behavior suited their codependency. Old friends, comfortable with your old self, will resent your new freedom. And yet in Christ we find a new place in society, new relationships with family and friends, and a new home that is a very old home indeed: it is from the source of all being as well as the ultimate point of all life – that is, our dwelling in Christ.
Like the woman unbound from eighteen long years of affliction, I and others have learned in Christ our real dignity as human persons: that we are sons and daughters of Abraham, children of the promise that the peace and rest of the Sabbath are just a foretaste of a world made new that remembers its sustenance comes not from self-made striving but from the Word of God, from Jesus himself, the Alpha and Omega of existence: Christ behind us, Christ before us, Christ above us, Christ below us, Christ within us, the hope of Glory. Amen.
August 26, 2007 9am
Trinity Cathedral, Sacramento
13th Sunday after Pentecost - Proper 16C
Isaiah 58:9b-14
Luke 13:10-17
Sources
Tom Wright, Luke for Everyone (SPCK, 2001)
Herbert O'Driscoll, The Word Today: Reflections on the Readings of the Revised Common Lectionary, Year C, Volume 3 (Toronto: Anglican Book Centre, 2001)
Chariots of Fire (Enigma Productions, 1981)
Joy J. Moore, "Living by the Word: Bearing witness", The Christian Century, August 7, 2007, Vol. 124, No. 16, p. 17.
Thirteenth Sunday After Pentecost (Proper 16) - Year C [RCL]
Jeremiah 1:4-10 or Isaiah 58:9b-14; Psalm 71:1-6 or 103:1-8; Hebrews 12:18-29; Luke 13:10-17
By Joseph S. Pagano and Amy Richter , August 26, 2007
Episcopal Life Online (http://www.episcopalchurch.org/82457_89268_ENG_HTM.htm)
Barbara Crafton, "An Ancient Joke" and "Learning How-To in Haiti", The Almost Daily eMo, August 24, 2007,
The Geranium Farm (http://www.geraniumfarm.org/dailyemo.cfm?Emo=874)
Richard A. Horsley and Neil Asher Silberman, The Message and the Kingdom: How Jesus and Paul Ignited a Revolution and Transformed the Ancient World (Grosset/Putnam, 1997)
Marcus J. Borg & John Dominic Crossan, The Last Week: What the Gospels Really Teach About Jesus' Final Days in Jerusalem (HarperCollins, 2006)
Christopher Irvine, The Pilgrim's Manual (Wild Goose Publications, 1997) p. 27.
Larry Dossey, author of “Prayer is Good Medicine”, an advocate of prayer for healing, once said, "If you have appendicitis, you should get an appendectomy." I endorse this advice.
What if more is needed? What if the healing must be of the spirit as well as the flesh? Then, indeed, prayer is good medicine – including our prayers for healing at eucharist - though in some cases, more may be needed: an action to restore wholeness, if like the woman in the gospel, eighteen long years of suffering have separated you from your right place in your community. Back then, any physical infirmity might be attributed to a spiritual cause. People might shy away from you, trying to keep pure and holy for worship. I mean, what if she did something to cause it? If I get too close, will it rub off on me?
Jesus will have none of that. He calls to her and he touches her and heals her -- on the Sabbath.
Following Jesus can be – embarrassing. Here he was in the synagogue, the guest lecturer, center of attention – the result, Judas might have told us, of careful planning – only to break the decorum of the holy day and work, do the work of healing.
Jesus breaks the rules. The Sabbath-day decorum is shattered. Jesus breaks the rules, but he keeps the covenant. He holds true to God’s promise.
The Sabbath is meant to be a sign, a foretaste of Shalom, of God’s reign of peace, of harmony and justice, when all shall be set to rights, and we dwell in the house of the Lord. Where better to experience that setting to rights, and what better day to find peace and wholeness established, than in the Lord’s house on the Sabbath day, the day of peace?
The officious leader of the synagogue, impatient to keep the purity-piety machinery running smoothly, hastens to object: there are six days for work, come then to be healed, and not on the Sabbath. But the rabbi Jesus rebukes him, arguing persuasively from small to great: if you would do so little a thing as unbind an animal to take it to water on the day of rest, how much more on this holy day is it right that a big thing be accomplished in the life of this poor woman, that she, having been bound by suffering for eighteen long years should be released from her misery?
Jesus restores her to her true dignity. As a daughter of Abraham she is an inheritor of the promise, the covenant of God’s faithful people. She is not, to Jesus, “the woman with the crooked back”, but a child of God.
What we have seen is, as preacher Herb O’Driscoll puts it, not just curing but healing. The physical malady is relieved, to be sure, but so is the spiritual distress that weighed down this woman’s soul, rending her unable to stand straight among her neighbors, as if it were a burden of guilt that bent her back. But Jesus – in the middle of his Sabbath teaching – stopped and laying hands on her made her well and whole and welcome as a child of God.
Looking back on our lesson from Isaiah, we see that this is only a foretaste of the coming reign of peace, of Shalom – and a meet and right thing to do on the Sabbath day, revealing as it does that God in Jesus keeps his promise to his people, restoring what was broken to wholeness, and freshening the world and his people with new life in the light of the coming of his kingdom. The examples the prophet gives are very practical: Unbind the captive, feed the hungry, and shelter the homeless.
Elsewhere he says, “Learn to do good; seek justice, rescue the oppressed, defend the orphan, plead for the widow.” (Isaiah 1:17)
Isaiah’s vision of the promise fulfilled is tangible and alluring: you shall be like a watered garden. The legacy of the past shall be renewed and foundations for new generations shall be laid. Carrying God’s people forward from generation to generation, we inherit, develop, and pass on a living heritage of the abundance and providence God, who gives them – us – a future with hope.
As Christians we look forward to a heavenly city, a New Jerusalem not made by human hands, at the consummation of time; yet more immediately we have Jesus before us, revealing to us the kingdom of God in the freedom of the present moment. Jesus is present to the woman in the synagogue, restoring her to health and leading her into a new sense of her dignity as Abraham’s daughter – she reacts by glorifying God. Jesus is present to us now on this holy day, inviting us to loosen up a bit from our own bondages by the grace of his sacramental presence in the Eucharist and in Baptism, and to take up our full stature as children of the promise, children of Abraham – along with all who descend from him by means of putting our faith in the promise.
Jesus breaks the rules indeed – but he has brought home to us what the keeping of the law was all about: honoring the covenant with God, that we would be his people, unbinding the captive, healing and serving, and glorifying God.
That is what Sabbath is about: delighting in the Lord. Turning this day of all days from our own efforts and enterprises, amusements and ambitions, to remember that we rely on the providence of God through scarcity and abundance, and giving God the glory for all he is accomplishing according to his purpose: the establishment of peace, harmony and justice in the world he has made.
As Methodist pastor Joy Moore wrote in The Christian Century, “The lifestyle of Christians is to live the hope we speak: the Creator of the universe, the God of Abraham and Sarah, the One who raised Jesus from the dead, is reconciling the world to the original design of justice, righteousness, and peace.”
The other night I watched the 1981 movie “Chariots of Fire”, in which an Olympic athlete refuses to compete on the Sabbath – he believes Sundays are not for sport – and so must skip the race he thought he’d win. A generous teammate steps aside and allows him a chance at “another race, another day”. Before that unexpected race begins, a competitor hands Eric a note: “Mr. Liddell, it says in the old Book, ‘He that honors me, I will honor.’ Good luck – Jackson Scholz.”
It’s a movie – he wins the race. More importantly he has won the struggle within – to turn from his own pleasures to delight in the Lord. You may disagree with his practice – but honor his principle. You may have a different idea of how to keep the Sabbath; the point is to remember God’s providence in all you do, especially on the day of rest. Remember, then, that this day of peace is only a foretaste of God’s kingdom of Shalom – and everything you do today that proclaims that is your own celebration of this holy day.
Recently I received a questionnaire from another parish, which began “Describe your spirituality.” I am tempted to answer in the words of Johnny Cash: “I’m just tryin’ to be a good Christian.” There is much humble, hard-won wisdom in what he said. Being a Christian is my way of being human – and I highly recommend it. Indeed from my first real discovery, in teenage years, of what the gospel could mean, I have sought not only to understand its mysteries more deeply for myself but to share them, and their blessings, with other believers and with people outside the fellowship halls.
Liberation from the bondage of oppression, whether it is personal or corporate in impact, is a troubling message to some, if your old patterns of behavior suited their codependency. Old friends, comfortable with your old self, will resent your new freedom. And yet in Christ we find a new place in society, new relationships with family and friends, and a new home that is a very old home indeed: it is from the source of all being as well as the ultimate point of all life – that is, our dwelling in Christ.
Like the woman unbound from eighteen long years of affliction, I and others have learned in Christ our real dignity as human persons: that we are sons and daughters of Abraham, children of the promise that the peace and rest of the Sabbath are just a foretaste of a world made new that remembers its sustenance comes not from self-made striving but from the Word of God, from Jesus himself, the Alpha and Omega of existence: Christ behind us, Christ before us, Christ above us, Christ below us, Christ within us, the hope of Glory. Amen.
August 26, 2007 9am
Trinity Cathedral, Sacramento
13th Sunday after Pentecost - Proper 16C
Isaiah 58:9b-14
Luke 13:10-17
Sources
Tom Wright, Luke for Everyone (SPCK, 2001)
Herbert O'Driscoll, The Word Today: Reflections on the Readings of the Revised Common Lectionary, Year C, Volume 3 (Toronto: Anglican Book Centre, 2001)
Chariots of Fire (Enigma Productions, 1981)
Joy J. Moore, "Living by the Word: Bearing witness", The Christian Century, August 7, 2007, Vol. 124, No. 16, p. 17.
Thirteenth Sunday After Pentecost (Proper 16) - Year C [RCL]
Jeremiah 1:4-10 or Isaiah 58:9b-14; Psalm 71:1-6 or 103:1-8; Hebrews 12:18-29; Luke 13:10-17
By Joseph S. Pagano and Amy Richter , August 26, 2007
Episcopal Life Online (http://www.episcopalchurch.org/82457_89268_ENG_HTM.htm)
Barbara Crafton, "An Ancient Joke" and "Learning How-To in Haiti", The Almost Daily eMo, August 24, 2007,
The Geranium Farm (http://www.geraniumfarm.org/dailyemo.cfm?Emo=874)
Richard A. Horsley and Neil Asher Silberman, The Message and the Kingdom: How Jesus and Paul Ignited a Revolution and Transformed the Ancient World (Grosset/Putnam, 1997)
Marcus J. Borg & John Dominic Crossan, The Last Week: What the Gospels Really Teach About Jesus' Final Days in Jerusalem (HarperCollins, 2006)
Christopher Irvine, The Pilgrim's Manual (Wild Goose Publications, 1997) p. 27.
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