St Augustine's Tempe

There is meaning in a name

2012-03-08T09:19:00.000-08:00

There is meaning in a name. I visited with my spiritual director this week and we were talking about the holy grandchild – Cathy and my new grandson. He was interested in Cole’s name and asked me what it meant. The name Cole comes from the derivative of “coal” as in black coal. The name Cole means “the dark one”. Our children gave our grandson this name to honor our daughter-in-laws last name, which is Cole. And our grandson was also given his father’s middle name, Seabern, which means “one born by the sea.” Seabern is a family name. My grandfather and his uncle were named Seabern and we suspicion the name goes further back.

I was at a workshop and one of the icebreaker activities was to tell how you got your name or what your name means. My name was given to me because my father’s favorite baseball player was Gil Hodges of the Brooklyn Dodgers. In the Irish, Gil comes from the name Gilbride, meaning “the servant of Saint Brigid”.

Names have meaning and they help form our identity whether consciously or subconsciously. Our identity is shaped by many factors throughout our lives. Our parents, where we were born, where we grew up, how we were raised, our education, and countless other factors all play a part in the formation of our identity. The question is, “Are we living the true identity God called us into?”

In some traditions, when someone is baptized or confirmed, they are asked to choose a name for themselves, a new name, a name now identifying their new identity. If you could choose a new name for yourself – what would that name be? Would your new name better describe your current identity? Or would the new name better describe the identity you wish you could live in to?

The question of our identity, who we perceive ourselves to be, how others perceive us, and how God knows us - usually has a complicated answer.

At the recommendation of the Dean of Trinity Cathedral, the Very Rev. Nicholas Knisley, I have been reading Sebastian Moore’s book, The Crucified Jesus is No Stranger, as a Lenten practice.

The premise of Moore’s small book is that Jesus’ crucifixion is the archetypal representation of our lifetime internal struggle with our own identity. And I might add to Moore’s idea - this struggle is also an archetypal representation of the church’s internal struggle with its identity.

We have several identities in our lives. We have the identity of our name, the identity our parents imprinted on us during our childhood, the identity imposed upon us by our occupation, the identity seen for us by our vocation, and many other identities. The question is, again, “Are we living the true identity God called us into?”

Unfortunately, our answer to this question is often, at the best, “I am sort of living into my true identity”, or at the worse, “No, I am not living fully into who God has called me to be”.

Moore points to Jesus as our example and says Jesus was willing to accept the identity God had for him as divine Son. And Jesus was willing to risk the acceptance of this identity even if it meant the Cross.

Moore says we are then confronted by Jesus’ willingness to accept his true calling. We have to ask ourselves, “Am I willing to risk the cost of accepting my true identity?” Moore says we usually say, No, I am not willing to risk the cost. So instead of following Jesus’ example and take up our own cross, we instead crucify our true identity, our true calling.

For example, let’s say you have felt your true identity to be a writer. But, you were afraid of failure, or the vulnerability, which comes with writing what is in your heart and then having other people misinterpret or ridicule or critique what you write. You could risk being a writer. You could take up your cross. Instead though, because of fear, you crucify your true identity.

How about another example we can all relate to. We all have our childhood identity. But what happens to us as we grow up? Our parents tell us it’s time to grow up, to stop acting like a child. So, what do we do? We suppress the inner child of our identity. Much of our true child self is crucified. The free spirit of the child, the dreamer of the child, the unconditional lover of the child is then crucified because we are not willing, or do not have the courage, to risk living as an adult with the identity of our inner child.

Moore is saying that it is time for Christians to stop identifying with the one who crucifies Jesus, the one who crucifies his true identity by denying, avoiding, and running from his true identity. Moore says it is time for Christians to begin identifying with Jesus, the one who took the risk to take up the cross of his true identity.

Can you name your true identity? Can you name the identity God has called you to be? Are you willing to risk the cost of living into that true identity?

I want to take this question to the deeper level – are we as a parish willing to live into the true identity God has called us into? Are we willing to be a university parish? Are we willing to be a parish who lives into our namesake, Augustine of Canterbury, meaning a parish born out of a Benedictine, monastic spirituality?

What does this specifically mean? As we consider a contemplative garden we will risk exposing ourselves to the people who wander in off the street, some of them will be homeless. It also means, as we consider hosting a Benedictine Canon Community we will risk being seen as a monastic community. It also means, as we hang icons of our names’ sake, Saint Augustine and Saint Brigid, we will risk being honest to those who visit us that we are serious about our calling as a university parish. There are risks with identifying with the crucified Christ.

Do we have the courage to risk being crucified, to be our true selves even though this means being different? I do believe we have the courage to risk being identified with the crucified Christ, to be who God has called us to be as St. Augustine’s parish.

Entering the Story of God

2012-02-28T15:43:00.000-08:00

A family of our parish has donated the blessed gift of two original icons in memory of a loved one. One icon will be of St. Augustine of Canterbury and the other St. Brigid of Kildare. Once finished, both icons will hang prominently at the front of our sanctuary.

Icons are windows of prayer. When we spend time in prayer gazing upon the icon the Spirit of God may respond with the implanting of an image within our interior. Jurgen Moltmann in his book Experiences of God, says when we enter into a period of meditation, or gazing upon the icon, we are exposing our soul to the soul of God. Moltmann writes, “The meditating person submerges himself in the object of his meditation. He is absorbed in the contemplation of it. He ‘forgets himself’. The object is submerged in him.”

Spending time in meditation and gazing in prayer upon an icon can reveal much to us of our experience of God. We begin to see the subconscious archetypes, which guide our conscious actions. This kind of spiritual experience is akin to a vision or mystical experience.

St. Mark, in writing his gospel, uses mystical language in attempting to describe Jesus’ experience of the baptism of the spirit. Mark says Jesus saw the heavens torn apart, symbolizing the archetype of a major event of change in the spiritual cosmos. Then Jesus sees a dove, the symbol of the spirit of divinity. Upon seeing this vision, Jesus hears the voice of affirmation. Jesus’ life is in transformation and through his formation the world will be changed forever.

Then the Spirit drives Jesus into the wilderness. Wilderness is a symbol for getting away to find balance, harmony and order in one’s life. Jesus is in the desert 40 days. Forty represents a period of testing, which, if the test is passed, will culminate in the fulfillment of a promise.

What did Jesus do while in the desert? The Gospel of Matthew tells us Jesus fasted. The Gospel of Mark says Jesus was tempted, was with the wild beasts and the angels tended to him.

The things we know about Jesus’ wilderness experience suggest he spent a great deal of time in prayer and meditation discerning God’s direction for his life. It seems very apparent Jesus knew and prayed the psalms. I want us consider Jesus prayed and meditated upon the 25th Psalm we prayed this morning.

Imagine Jesus sitting in a circle he has drawn in the desert sand. Sweat is rolling down his face from the heat. You see his dry parched lips. His stomach is growling in hunger. We are close enough to hear Jesus whispering. He begins the prayer of the psalm, lifting his soul, his inner being, the essence of him self, his soul, to God. Jesus cries out to God for protection. He also wants God to recognize that he is waiting patiently for God to speak.

Then Jesus tells God what he wants. Plain and simple, Jesus wants God to teach him the ways of God, the path of God. Jesus, in all humility, desires God to be his teacher. Did God answer Jesus? Evidently, for when Jesus appears out of the desert he begins to preach the good news.

Jesus sets a Lenten example for us. Now, you may not go into the desert this afternoon, fast, draw a circle in the sand, and lift your prayers to God, though you could. But, according to our prayer book service of Ash Wednesday, Lent is a season for fasting, praying, making sacrifice, and reading and meditating upon the scripture.

I want to encourage you to consider two possibilities for Lent. First, you might to take up our bishop’s challenge to join him in reading through the Bible this year. The second is to consider sitting before an icon, prayer the 25th Psalm, and gaze into the story, waiting to hear what the Spirit is saying.

Psalm 25 could be a prayer for each of us as we move through the season of Lent – a way of gazing into the story of the icon, a way of being in union with God in order to hear what the Spirit is saying.

I am convinced if we collectively enter into the story of God, we will collectively hear the Spirit of God speaking. Amen.

Solitude, Consultation, Community

2012-02-22T10:50:00.000-08:00

2.19.12 sermon Transfiguration Sunday
Preached at St. James, Westwood, Ohio
Mark 9:2-9

Fr. Jim, thank you for inviting to preach at your installation yesterday. Of course, I wasn’t thinking too clearly when I volunteered to preach today, being Transfiguration Sunday. A seminarian from our campus ministry sent me an email, having been asked to preach at his internship parish, begging for help. All I could offer him was, pray, pray, and pray some more. There are two days most preachers steer clear of, Trinity Sunday and today.

Several years ago I attended a three-day conference with scholar and author Marcus Borg. His book Meeting Jesus Again for the First Time, helped resurrect my broken and fractured faith. On the third day of the conference we were granted an open dialogue time. He was talking about his theory of Jesus’ pre-Easter and post-Easter experiences. Borg suggests some of Jesus’ miracles appearing in the gospels are the post-Easter interpretations of the first century church. In one my of more lucid moments, I asked Borg if he thought the Transfiguration story we read this morning was a pre-Easter event or a post-Easter story inserted back into the life of Jesus. “Well,” he said. “Good question. And really, I don’t know.” I don’t know may the only answer we can honestly offer.

Many times in our Anglican tradition we ask people to move easily from the intellect of the mind, to the spirit of the soul, and then back again. If we move too quickly, the transition between the mind and the heart can cause us theological nausea. And while as Episcopalians we pride ourselves in not having to check our brains at the door – we are also very comfortable with the mystery of a sacramental faith.

Catholic theologian, Karl Rahner said, “The Christian of the future will be a mystic or not at all.” The gospel’s story of the Transfiguration is indeed a narrative requiring the mind of a scholar and the heart of the mystic.

Our story begins “six days later”. Six, the perfect number of harmony, is the sum of its divisors. So, a perfect number of days later, on a perfect day of harmony, Jesus takes his three closest comrades to the top of high mountain. Three is of course the number of the Trinity. The four men, the number of mutual relationship, go to the high place, where God is encountered. Why do they go to the high place? To hear what the Spirit is saying.

Sometimes in our liturgy we use the response to the reading, “Hear what the Spirit is saying”. I think the story of Jesus the Transfiguration offers us an example of how Jesus heard the Spirit of God so we might follow Jesus’ model.

Jesus heard the Spirit in solitude, consultation, and community.

He prepared himself by spending time in solitude with God. Jesus practiced solitude. Jesus went into the desert immediately after his baptism to be in solitude with God. Often, we hear of Jesus arising early in the morning, to go into the desert to pray and be alone with God. Jesus practiced solitude. Living in the 21st Century, solitude may be difficult. But there are times in our daily times we might find solitude with God. Every morning I take a three-mile walk with Jesus – that’s Jesus my dog – during this time I keep my focus on what I might hear from the Spirit of God. Most mornings I don’t hear much, if anything, but, in those moments I do hear, the word seems clear. I think because I set aside the time to hear, God honors and speak. Jesus practiced solitude, so when he went to the mountaintop he was ready to hear what the Spirit was to say.

Once on the mountaintop, Jesus was in consultation with his spiritual guides, his spiritual directors, if you will – Moses and Elijah. Jesus sought wisdom from those with experience and maturity. Jesus consulted with those who walked the path before him. In the 21st Century spiritual direction may be most important for us as we try to navigate the erratic twists and turns of our turbulent world. I have been with my own spiritual director for sixteen years. Rarely does he actually give me direction – but the few times I needed it the most he was there to ask the right questions and make the best subtle suggestions.

With a practice of solitude and in consultation with those mentors in our lives, we are then called into community to keep us grounded with the faith. Solitude without community is isolation, which is dangerous. Consultation without a “community with a voice” could become a cult. We are called into a community of faith, our church, in order to hear the reason, grounded in the scripture, built on the tradition.

Every Thursday our young adult community, St. Brigid’s, gathers for worship, dinner and conversation. The question of God, about God, the reality of God, is always either on the table or in the background. The community is safe to ask the questions, cast the doubts, and rail against the establishment. Still, the community grounds the individual, providing a safe container for the question – ensuring each of us that God remains in the room and in love with us.

You have embarked on new life together with Fr. Jim. I don’t give advice, but I humbly offer some counsel. Find time to be nourished by God in solitude. Seek the guidance of wise mentors. And as a community, listen together for what the Spirit is saying. My experience has taught me, God will be faithful and your ministry will grow in faith and love. Amen.

Installation of the Rev Jim Strader, St. James Cincinnati

2012-02-22T10:30:00.000-08:00

Jim Strader’s Installation
2.18.12 St. James Episcopal Church
Westwood, Ohio

Thank you Jim for this humbling and gracious invitation to preach on this momentous day in your life and the life of St. James. Thank Bishop Breindenthal for allowing me to take the pulpit in your Diocese. I bring you all greetings from Bishop Kirk Smith, Bishop of the Diocese of Arizona. And I also bring you greeting from many young adults in our diocese.

Jim and I served time together as Chaplain’s to university students in Arizona. Sometimes, it felt like we were “doing time” together. I know many of you are familiar with Arizona due to our colorful politicians, most recently our governor and her wagging finger in the president’s nose. After all Arizona is the Wild Wild West.

I’ll give you a little historical perspective so that you can better understand the environment your new rector endured while in Arizona. Ohio is the 17th State granted statehood in 1803. Arizona is the 48th State granted statehood in 1912. The first parish of your diocese, St. John’s Worthington, met to worship in 1804. Your diocese was established in 1875. St. James began its formation two years before Arizona would become a State. In contrast, the first parish to worship in Arizona was in 1881, in no less dubious a town than Tombstone. I am sure you have heard of the gunfight at the OK corral? That may say a lot about the nature of our people. Our diocese was not established until 1959. As you can see, living in Arizona fosters more than a bit of the independence of adolescence.

Of course, living in a State where the average rainfall is six inches and the summer heat can easily rise to 112 degrees and maintain that for months without relief will, without a doubt, creates a desert spirituality within the soul.

My good friend Jim comes by his bit of the independent streak naturally. And he has earned the respected stripes of a spirituality formed in the heat of life’s desert. In our work together, I was privileged to spend significant time in conversation with Jim and I have learned some valuable lessons from him.

I have witnessed in Jim’s life the deep resonance of the words of the prophet Isaiah we heard this afternoon. “So shall (God’s) word be that goes out from (God’s) mouth; it shall not return to (God) empty, but it shall accomplish that which (God) purposes, and succeed in the thing for which (God) sent it.” (Isaiah 55:11)

When our life is in rhythm with the purpose of God, no matter the sacrifice, a “God type success” is experienced. But, we must remember, God’s definition of success and ours may not be the same. Jim has stood up for what is good and best about God’s unconditional love in the face of trials and tribulations. Jim has not wavered and God has been honored by Jim’s faithfulness. For Jim, purpose of life and ministry has trumped convenience.

I have also learned from Jim, while I must be true to my identity, I do not have to wag my liberty finger in the other’s face. Jim has shown me the witness of the power of authentic Trinitarian love.

In today’s gospel reading, we heard the love exchange of Jesus with the Father and the Spirit. In the love of the Trinity, we also are caught up into this mutual love. In the few verses we heard from the Gospel of John, the word “abide” was used eleven times. To abide, to remain in, to rest in the arms of God, to be in the presence of God’s holy love, to be inside the intimate love relationship with God, Father, Son, and Holy Spirit. I have witnessed this in Jim’s life in some times when many would have acted in defiance or walked away in anger. Instead, he responded in the love of Christ while maintaining his authentic identity.

Jim has also taught me a vital lesson about out tradition. I have been reminded by Jim’s subtle persistent adherence to our Book of Common Prayer that we indeed stand in the mystery of the via media. Campus ministry is very tricky business. Chaplains walk the fine line between creating a very wide-open space in which young adults can be safe to think. While at the same time we must seek to nurture these young adults with our ancient ways. In campus ministry we can have a tendency to get carried away with being “new” and cutting edge. I learned from Jim that if the “bleeding edge stuff” I love to work in is held within the liturgy, then, a truly safe space is created for all. Jim, your ministry created a paradigm shift in my ministry. Thank you.

Purpose in ministry, abiding in God’s love, and living out the via media of our tradition are powerful anchors for any priest. Jim, thank you for being this kind of priest for me, for others, and now for the people of this parish.

St. James, your mission statement reads, “Saint James is called to be a center of worship and common life where Christ's love is visible and experienced in order to seek and serve Jesus in others”. Good people of St. James, it is crystal clear to me why you and Fr. Jim are such a good fit. His life and your mission are in congruence, in rhythm, in sync. Most importantly, Jim’s life and your mission are swept up in the Trinitarian weave of Jesus’ word, “abide”.

The key for both of you now is to remain in this relationship. Healthy relationships take commitment, work, forgiveness, shared responsibility, and a heavy dose of laughter. I hate to burst anyone’s bubble, but Fr. Jim does not walk on water, nor can he turn water into wine. He cannot feed all the hungry, clothe all the naked, give water to all the thirsty, he cannot visit all the sick, all those in prison and he cannot embrace every stranger – no – frankly, good people of St. James’, this is your job, together in partnership with Fr. Jim.

It is my humble opinion you could not have chosen a better leader. May you maintain your purpose in ministry, abide in God’s love and live out the via media of our tradition. In your mutual ministry relationship, God’s purpose and success will be accomplished. Amen.

The Long Road to Healing

2012-02-13T09:00:00.000-08:00

Every fiber of my being wants to avoid preaching on this morning’s readings. The stories of healing in II Kings and Mark are accentuated with the psalm’s exclamation, “O Lord, I cried to you for help and you have healed me”. And yet, miraculous healing seems to be outside our grasp.

We have sat with parents who have lost a child. We have prayed with those suffering terminal illness. We have agonized with those hurting from emotional pain. We have watched the ravaging destruction of joblessness. We have witnessed the seemingly hopeless pain of homelessness. Our prayers are lifted to God and yet there is little evidence of an immediate salvation.

Suffering and pain surround every one us. Each of us personally knows at least one person who is suffering and desires to be healed. Some of us could produce long lists of people in our lives that daily seek our pray to be touched by the healing hand of God. We pray, still there is no immediate healing.

Wouldn’t it be wonderful if a suffering person could call our church and we formed a team of prayerful people who would encircle that person and the person would be healed - instantly?

Ah, there is the word, isn’t it, “instantly”. We cannot be blamed, nor should we feel ashamed for wanting the suffering of our loved ones and friends to end immediately. But, my experienced has led me to believe that suffering and the need for healing goes so much deeper than the immediate relief of pain.

Our suffering is real and encompasses our mind, body and spirit. We suffer physically, mentally and spiritually. However, healing the body does not ensure that healing will be complete in the mind or the spirit. Healing of the mind will not guarantee a healing of the spirit or the body. And, these are the hardest words to say - the healing of the spirit will not automatically heal the mind or the body. It appears, suffering is part of the human condition.

Is the possibility of healing a hopeless dream? The answer is no, healing is not hopeless – but it is a process that takes time. We must be willing to give into the process and allow the time necessary for healing to take place in our mind, body, and spirit; realizing that while one aspect of our being may suffer, healing is still possible.

In the story of Naaman, we get a glimpse of the arduous process of healing.

Naaman is a powerful and successful military leader who has the ear of the king. He appears to have everything in life, fame, money, and power. There is only one problem. He has leprosy. Sooner or later, Naaman’s disease will bring an end to what makes his life perfect. Long before his life ends he will be banished from his family and his community. He will eventually spend his life in a colony, alone, with others who also have been declared “unclean”. He will die a miserable death, alone.

A young slave girl in Namaan’s home tells her master about the prophet Elisha, a mystic healer in her homeland of Israel. Namaan, desiring to be healed, tells his king. The king sends Namaan to the king of Israel with a letter asking for Naaman’s healing. Obviously, Namaan’s king believed that only kings had the power to heal. Namaan, misunderstanding the process, took his great wealth in order to buy healing. The king of Israel misinterpreted the letter for healing to be an attempt to insight war. So far in the story the young girl is the only one who has a clear idea of what it takes to be healed – you must see the prophet. Everyone else is operating from their own perspective – power, wealth, and politics.

Finally, Naaman is directed to the prophet Elisha. Elisha is the disciple of the great prophet Elijah. Elisha is a mystic who uses music to induce the prophetic trance. He is a healer and miracle worker. Through Elisha’s miracles, the people are shown God’s power over the natural order as well as God’s power in the socio-economic dimensions of daily life. Eventually, Elisha’s work drives the apostate monarchy of Israel back into the arms of God.

Naaman goes to the home of Elisha expecting the prophet to come outside and greet the great warrior. Instead, Elisha sends a servant to Naaman, telling him to dip himself in the Jordon seven times. Naaman is insulted by Elisha’s lack of personal attention. In anger, Naaman intends to return home. But, a servant convinces Naaman to at least give the water treatment a try.

The number seven is important in this story. The number seven is rich in symbolism from the beginning of the biblical story to the end. Seven represents mystery, wisdom, and completeness. Seven is the largest whole number, indivisible by any other number except one. Seven is the sum of one, the great monad, and six, the perfect number. Seven is also the sum of three, the harmony of the trinity and four the number of reciprocal relationships.

In the story of Naaman, seven represents the work needed in the healing process. Healing requires the work of God, the work of the community and the work of the individual. Healing takes repeated work. That work includes at the least daily prayer, regular spiritual direction, and consistent study of the scripture. Healing is not a one time, one-day event. Healing is a long process requiring humility and patience.

Earlier, I said, how it would be wonderful if a suffering person could call our church and we formed a team of prayerful people who would encircle the person and they would be healed instantly? Well, I believe we do have that team of people, but the healing is not instant – it takes time, a lot of time, sometimes years and sometimes we will never see the healing completed.

In our parish, we have witnessed the process of these healing prayers from our Mourner’s Path Ministry, the Daughters of the King, our Community of Compassion and our healing services. Many of these are ministries led by the laity. These ministries are impacting the daily life of dozens of people in and outside our parish every day. These ministries are working in the process of healing the suffering of the mind, body, and spirit. These ministries are working in partnership with God and the individual.

Our parish dares to reach out with a healing ministry. Yet, we are not miracle workers. We never suggest that our healing ministry will instantly bring about a cure, heal a troubled mind, or save a lost soul. What we offer is the love of God, the prayer of the people and encouraging words for suffering people to participate in their own healing. Indeed, hard, but worthwhile work. You can receive the prayer needed for healing simply by asking. And you can become a part of our healing ministries by volunteering your time for training and service. Listen to what the Spirit is saying to you. For, I believe we can cry out, “O Lord, I cried to you for help and you healed me,” because we have seen the evidence of such healing in our midst. Amen.

Installation Sermon for Fr Mario Milian

2012-01-30T08:49:00.000-08:00

Bishop Frade, Bishop Schofield, Bishop Soto and the people of St. Thomas’, I bring you greetings from Bishop Kirk Smith and the people of the Diocese of Arizona. Fr. Mario, I also bring you special greetings from your many friends in Arizona and especially from the people of St. Matthew’s in Chandler and our good friend the Rev. Dr. John Hall. Bishop Frade, thank you for allowing me to take the pulpit in your diocese and thank you Fr. Mario for your gracious invitation. I am humbled and honored to be here with you on this momentous occasion.

I coached college baseball for twenty years and I spent countless hours watching and recruiting high school and community college players looking for a player like Tim Salmon. I was fortunate to recruit Tim to play for us at Grand Canyon University. He went on to become the American League Rookie of the Year with the Angels and was their right fielder when the Angels won the World Series in 2002. I am often asked if I knew Tim was going to be such a great player. Honestly, no. But, I did know that he was a very special and gifted young man.

I imagine you know how that is – you meet someone and you just know there is something special about him or her. At first, you’re not quite sure what it is, but after awhile this person’s energy, charisma, and character begin to reveal themselves to you.

The first time I met Fr. Mario, I sensed there was something very special about this young priest. He gave off such a positive energy. I came to witness this energy as the presence of the Holy Spirit infused in his life.

It was my great privilege to be present the day Mario and Julie became US citizens. As I watched the ceremony I was reminded of the stories Mario told me about his journey from Cuba, then to Honduras and Arizona. My reflections included Mario’s maturity in being priest to the congregation at St. Matthew’s, many of whom were undocumented immigrants. Arizona is in a firestorm over the issue of immigration. It was and remains a loaded subject. Congregations stand divided over the issue. I learned a great deal from Fr. Mario, listening to him preach and watching him minister to a congregation with many different layers of political views and social needs. His resolve to be a faithful minister of God and to speak the Gospel inspired me, and the congregation at St. Matthew’s. It was obvious, Fr. Mario was speaking out of the power of the presence of the Holy Spirit in his life.

I learned about the ministry of the priesthood from Fr. Mario. He taught me that the role of the priest is to open the window of the church so the people can see God. When we were serving together at St. Matthew’s there were four priests. Each priest had his own interpretation of how to celebrate the Holy Eucharist. One afternoon we got into a lively conversation about “the correct way” of doing things around the altar; really “important” things like when to touch the bread and when to elevate the host and whether to bow or cross oneself – you know the kind of things seminaries spend valuable class time teaching priests and most of the people in the pews could careless about – that kind of “important” conversation. Well, during the debate, Fr. Mario didn’t say much. Afterwards, he and I were alone and I asked him what he thought were the correct ways of celebrating the Eucharist. He told me this; the only thing that really matters is the people are drawn into the holy space of God. The next Sunday I assisted Fr. Mario at our four services, Rite I, Rite II with organ, our contemporary service and the Spanish language service. At each service he celebrated the Eucharist using different actions around the altar of God. That day I witnessed the power of the Holy Spirit covering Fr. Mario – the service was about the people and God. Fr. Mario had stepped out of the way and set his ego down in order for the window of the church to be opened.

Being a priest is like riding a roller coaster. Sundays you can anticipate the high points of the work of God. There are other days when the priest just kind of rides along the bottom of the track, slow and easy. The trouble is, you can never let your guard down.

It was a nice spring morning and Fr. Mario and I were standing in the church office having a cup of coffee, relaxing. The rector’s wife, Jean Hall, burst into the office, panicked, “Do either of you know CPR? Jennifer has collapsed in the bathroom.” We ran down the outside breezeway to where the young mother’s Bible Study class was huddled with their children near the bathroom door. Fr. Mario started trying to comfort and minister to young mothers and children who were obviously frightened.

The class had just ended and Jennifer, not quite eight months pregnant with a three-year-old at foot, had gotten up to go the restroom. A few minutes later another of the young women went to restroom, finding Jennifer collapsed on the floor. When I went into the restroom, I found Fr. John bent over Jennifer giving her CPR. She was already blue.

The paramedics arrived and worked on Jennifer for a while and then wheeled her into an ambulance. Mario and I followed the ambulance to the hospital. Mario and I waited for the family. It wasn’t long before the doctors came into the waiting room to tell us the tragic news that Jennifer had died, but they had taken the baby, who was still alive. The doctors needed to air-evac the baby to the children’s hospital. We went with the family to the ER and offered prayers over Jennifer. Then standing in the hallway, hovered over a small gurney were doctors and nurses. Fr. Mario dipped his finger in a small medicine cup, filled with water, and baptized Colin. Colin’s life was a short eight days – but the effect he had on St. Matthew’s community and the clergy was profound. I can close my eyes and see Fr. Mario’s bless the thimble of water, dip his finger into the cup and touch the water to a baby not as big as Fr. Mario’s hand. It was as if the hand of the Holy Spirit baptized Colin that day.

In the Gospel reading we are told Jesus was filled with the power of the Holy Spirit. This is not the beginning of the story. Jesus was not magically filled with Spirit. He was filled with the Spirit because was obedient to follow the Spirit into the desert of his calling. Jesus was baptized and then spent significant time in the desert listening, praying, and discerning the call of ministry. Then, coming out of the desert, he was filled with the power of the Holy Spirit, the power to bring the good news to the poor, heal the wounded, and liberate the oppressed. The Spirit of God filled Jesus’ soul.

Good people of St. Thomas, the same Spirit of God that filled the soul of Jesus 2,000 years ago, fills the soul of your rector, Fr. Mario. But, that does not mean he can walk on water, feed all the hungry, give water to all the thirsty, clothes the naked, visit all the sick, and those in prison, it does not mean he can embrace every stranger in this land. No - that is your job – because you too are filled with the same Holy Spirit by virtue of your baptism and your commitment to the baptismal covenant. Each of you is called to walk alongside Fr. Mario in ministry to this community, to the kingdom of God.

My spiritual director went on a holiday to Seattle to visit a friend. While he was there, his friend would get up early every morning. Make peanut butter and jelly sandwiches out of two loaves of bread. Then he would take the sandwiches down to a local bridge where the homeless lived and distribute the sandwiches. My spiritual director watched his friend do this for two weeks.

We my spiritual director returned home, he was so moved by his friend’s ministry that he wrote him a check for a large sum. He put a sticky note on the check that read, “For your ministry,” and mailed the check. A week later, my spiritual director received an envelope from his friend. He opened the letter expecting a thank you note, but discovered his check and a sticky note on top of his note reading, “Make your own damn sandwiches.”

Parish ministry is teamwork. Someone has to pitch. Someone has to catch. Someone has to play the other seven positions, each team member doing their own job. We are on the same team. We are wearing the uniform of God, following the directions of Jesus Christ, powered by the Holy Spirit.

St. Thomas, in my humble opinion, you could not have found a better leader than Fr. Mario, for he indeed is filled with the power of the Holy Spirit.

The Pilgrimage of the Labyrinth

2012-01-23T08:49:00.000-08:00

I have been meditating and reflecting on Psalm 62 this week, trying to be still and listen to God speaking into my life. Verses five through seven have dominated my attention. “For alone my soul waits in silence, for my hope is from him. He alone is my rock and my salvation, my fortress; I shall not be shaken. On God, rests my deliverance and my honor; my mighty rock, my refuge is God.” The psalm has three important spiritual markers that have most of my focus at the moment – the soul, the silence, and the rock.

Regarding the soul, I am continuing to explore the fullness of my soul as well as delve into the openness of the soul of God. My interest is where my soul and the soul of God intersect. My latest studies are leading me to conclude that my soul is a part of the cosmic soul of God. The psalm is teaching my soul to wait for God – for God completes me. And in my growing understanding, our souls complete the soul of God. Where do I wait for God? In the silence I wait for God. Where is complete silence? In the stone I find the silent presence of God.

This week I went on a brief retreat at the Redemptorist Renewal Center at Picture Rocks in the Sonoran Desert of Tucson, Arizona. There is a labyrinth on the property, made by volunteers with hundreds of hand-sized stones gathered from the nearby wash. The stones had been here for millions of years before they were called into place as a labyrinth. They will be there millions of years after this retreat center has long been forgotten. The stones are in the memory of God, just as each of us is in the memory of God.

This labyrinth is modeled after the one on the floor of the Cathedral of Notre Dame de Chartes built between 1193 and 1250 A.D. Some labyrinths have discovered that are over 3,000 years old. The labyrinth in Glendalough, Ireland is the shape of a womb and was built in the fifth century. The labyrinth of Chartes is a large circle, thirty feet in diameter. Around the outside circle are 128 half-moons representing the lunar cycle. The labyrinth is divided into quarters, the seasons of life. As you enter the labyrinth, you walk a serpentine path towards the center, the womb. It’s not a maze, you cannot get lost. The labyrinth represents the pilgrimage of life.

On the most pleasant of desert February afternoons I began to pray the labyrinth. I asked God to speak, I promised to listen. My walking further ensconced the depth of prayer and path. A few turns into my prayers I began to recognize the stones of the labyrinth path to be representative of the people I encounter in my life as spiritual director, pastor, and priest. Each person is the creation of God and placed along this path for a specific reason and purpose, at a specific place and time.

As I walk and pray, I begin to pay close attention to each stone, some grey, some reddish, some green, some blue, some white, some flat, some rounder than others, some random shaped, some have on them what appears to be a design, some are some smooth, some are jagged; the stones as varied as the individuals I see daily.

I walk the labyrinth carefully, acknowledging each stone, recognizing the vision of the face of each person I see. Offering a pray for each stone and each person. But I am careful not to disturb the stone. At some points on the labyrinth, especially at the turns, a walker making a corner too sharp has disturbed a stone. I stop, speak to the stone and ask it if it wants to be returned to place on the path. This particular stone acknowledged my presence and affirmed its desire to be in it original position. Gently, not lifting the stone, but carefully, I nudged it back into its intended place. This is my job as the spiritual director leader of this community.

As I left the labyrinth, I turned to face the path of stones, made the Trinitarian sign of the Cross, bowed, and offered the salutation, Namaste, the God in me recognizes the God in you.

A few yards away there was a sign, admonishing people to stay off the small hill of rocks that overlooked the labyrinth. A smaller sign warned people to deface any of the petroglyphs would result in prosecution. I walked a few yards around the path at the base of the hill and saw the petroglyphs, about twenty feet above my head. The carvings were most likely the work of the Hohoham people about 1100 A.D.

A few drawing depicted animals and birds. One petroglyph depicted the hierophant, priest, or shaman (known by the staff) was kneeling holding the head of an animal, possibly the shaman’s spirit animal. The main etching was on the largest flat surface in the center of the face of the hill facing the western sun. It was the drawing of a spiral. Similar to the spiral etching I have encountered at the Newgrange, the ancient Irish burial mound, over 3,000 years old.

Encircling the spiral were the drawings of people holding hands. Speculation is that the people, following the lead of their shaman, are dancing around the hill and offering their prayers. Most of the petroglyphs are dark and fresh, as if they were drawn yesterday. However, the spiral is worn, as if the people were dancing up the hill to rub their hands across the great spiral.

The spiral is positioned perfectly under another large stone so that, facing the Western Sun, on the solstice – equinox a sun sword moves is pointed exactly at the center of the spiral. As the sun moves across the spiral, the sun sword moves like a clock hand across the bottom of the spiral.

It was obvious to me that my labyrinth prayer and the prayer of the Hohokam a thousand years ago are connected. All of us God’s creation praying in the mystery of the circle of life and all praying across the same stones, created eons before our existence. The eternal connection was deeply felt in the silence of soul. I bowed once again, the God in me recognizes the God in the Hohokam people and their holy site.

In order for my soul to wait in the silence of the stones for God I must practice. I must have a practice that allows me to connect with my soul. To be silent, I must have a regular practice where silence is the intention. And to hear the silence of the stones speak the God I must have a practice that moves me into the presence of God’s creation, the stones.

I am not suggesting you adopt my spiritual practices. I am, though, encouraging to have spiritual practices that bring into the presence of the scripture, prayer, nature, and God. For without a spiritual practice you will be missing a multitude of experiences with the divine. Amen.

Sheep in the Manger?

2011-12-30T13:36:00.001-08:00

Have you ever wondered why there are sheep in the manger scene? Let me tell you the story.

In a land far, far away, a magical birth happened on a night like this, a thousand moons ago.

Just outside of a town called Bethlehem, perched on tiny rocky hill, there were two boys, keeping watch over their tiny flock of sheep. Malachi was twelve-years-old and Jacob was ten. This was their first night to tend the flock alone. Their father, Ezra had great trust in his two sons. He had given them the responsibility to protect the nine ewes and six lambs. These precious sheep were all that their family owned. Without the sheep, Ezra would not have any way to provide for his family. Malachi and Jacob were so proud that their father had put them in charge of the sheep this very night.

Malachi had learned from his father all that he needed to know about caring for the sheep. He had spent most of his days and many nights with his father tending the flock. Now, his father had decided that it was Malachi’s time to take a full share in the family business.

Being the older brother, Malachi decided to keep the first watch. Jacob snuggled up against Neddy, the oldest momma sheep. Neddy’s soft wool would keep Jacob warm through the cold night.

The sky was filled with thousands of crackly stars. Malachi even saw a falling star and he prayed that such an event would bring good blessings this most important night of his life.

Malachi was getting cold so he got up and walked around the small hill. He rubbed his shoulders and legs to create some warmth. He pulled is arms inside his tunic to feel the soft inner shirt his mother had made for him this spring because he was growing so tall. One of the lambs had followed Malachi. It made him smile. He picked up the small lamb, placed it on his shoulders and moved quietly back to the fold. The lamb’s mother had her head up, smelling for her young one. Malachi slid the lamb off his shoulders into the nestling of the ewe.

Malachi returned to his perch so that he see over the sheep and down onto the town of Bethlehem. He knew every family and every house and every stable of his hometown. His great grandfather had come to Bethlehem years ago with his new wife and three sheep. His great grandfather, grandfather, and father had sat on this same hill with their sheep. Now it was his turn.

The night was growing long and Malachi’s eyes grew heavy. He fought against sleep by counting the stars, but that made his eyes even more weary. He began to recite the prayers of King David, the first shepherd of the tribe. “Bless the Lord O my soul, bless his holy name. Bless the Lord O my soul, and forget not his benefits,” Malachi whispered.

Then, with a sudden movement, the nose of every mother sheep shot into the air. It startled Malachi to see such a strange thing. A wolf, he thought. He jumped to his feet and peered across the crevices of the rocky hill looking for any movement. Neddy stood waking Jacob. The sleepy little boy rubbed his eyes.

“Jacob, I think there’s a wolf near about,” Malachi said. But Jacob saw what had disturbed the sheep. It was so large and so mysterious and so magical that he could not open his mouth, he could only point to the figure floating in the air behind his brother.

Malachi turned to see a translucent figure hovering just a few feet from where the boys stood. Frightened, Jacob clung to his brother. The sheep stood, moving closer to Malachi.

What Malachi saw, he would later tell his father, was something that was as bright as a star, as clear as the water in the brook, as warm as the red coals of the cooking fire, as powerful as a Roman soldier, and yet as gentle as a newborn lamb.

“Who, what are you?” Malachi’s voice cracked.

“Don’t be afraid, shepherds. I am the angel of the Lord.”

Jacob let go of his brother and tentatively moved towards the angel. Malachi put his hand on Jacob’s shoulder. “An angel?” Jacob questioned.

“Yes, the angel of the Lord. My name is Gabriel and I am the Lord’s messenger. I have come to tell you that a special child is born this night in Bethlehem. His name is Jesus, born to Mary. He will be the savior of your people. He will be called Immanuel.”

“Here, in Bethlehem?” Malachi questioned. “Why would the Messiah be born in such a poor little village?”

“The child has been born to bring peace into the world, Malachi. This is kind of peace you felt when carrying the lamb back to its mother. Jacob, this is the kind of peace you felt sleeping next to Neddy. The child will bring this kind of peace into the hearts of every person. The child is born here in Bethlehem in order to fulfill the promise of peace. He must know the peace that can only felt here, in this village,” the angel Gabriel said.

Malachi started with another question but the angel interrupted. “Malachi, you and Jacob must go and see the child. You must bring the peace in your hearts so that Mary and the child can sense that know why he is being born in Bethlehem.”

“Our father has put us in charge and we cannot leave the sheep,” Malachi said.

“Do not leave the sheep,” the angel said. “Take them with you so that they may see the child.”

“No one lets sheep into their house,” Jacob said in order to inform the angel how the people in Bethlehem lived.

“Oh, the baby is not born in a house,” the angel said. “The child Jesus is born in a lowly stable, behind the Inn. The sheep will be welcomed by the other animals there.”

“We can’t do this. Our father expects us to keep the sheep here until the morning when he returns.”

“That may be so,” the angel said chuckling. “But I think you had better follow your sheep in town or else you are the ones that will be left here alone.”

The two young shepherds turned to see Neddy, the wisest of the sheep, leading the rest of the flock down the hill. The sheep understood the angel. They knew they would see the Messiah, the savior of the world. They knew that the baby Jesus would be the Lamb of God, the Good Shepherd. And they so wanted to be near this child who would bring peace to the world.

Malachi and Jacob followed Neddy and the small flock to the Inn where they found Mary and the baby Jesus. The sheep would lie down at the foot of the manger and the lambs nuzzled the baby. When Malachi and Jacob saw the baby, they truly felt the peace of the Lord spoken of by the angel.

And that’s the story of how sheep were to be found in the manger of baby Jesus. That is a story of peace.

Lisa Fry's Ordination

2011-12-20T16:13:00.000-08:00

Lisa Fry’s Ordination 12.19.11
St. Mark’s Episcopal Church, Little Rock, Arkansas

I bring you greeting from Bishop Kirk Smith, of the Diocese of Arizona. Lisa, I am humbled by your gracious invitation to preach at your ordination. Thank you Fr. Schieffler and Bishop Benfield for allowing me to take the pulpit in your parish and the Diocese of Arkansas.

Tonight we have a very interesting ordination. Lisa, of course is being ordained. Though, before tonight, she has been a clergy spouse. And Greg her husband, a priest, well now he is clergy spouse as well. So, that makes Lisa and Greg both priests and clergy spouses.

Zoe, I offer my condolences that both your parents are now priests and clergy spouses. My prayers are with you.

Lisa, I can see why you have fallen in love with this St. Mark’s and believe it to be such a good fit for you. St. Mark’s vision, “Seek to be a vibrant community of people who worship weekly, pray daily, learn constantly, serve joyfully and live generously,” could be the very words to describe you.

Lisa is a cradle-born Episcopalian. Her love of our liturgy and prayer is profound. She has been shaped throughout her life by the worship of the Episcopal Church. Lisa has studied, analyzed, and imagined new ways to bring fresh life to our liturgy and worship. She will bring her gifts of music, theater, imagination and creativity to the altar as she celebrates the Eucharist with the Church.

Lisa has been a lifelong learner. The past two years, the learning curve has been steep for her. She has had to reimagine and reinvent herself in many ways. She has worked hard to enliven her sermons. I read her recent Advent 2 sermon and she told three stories. That’s impressive. Her sermon reminds me of her preaching at St. Augustine’s where she served for eighteen months. She told stories of her childhood, her dreams and she even tried to explain the Trinity using a banana. If she tries that here, let me know how it went.

During Lisa’s preparation for the priesthood in the Diocese of Arizona, she had to reaffirm her theological training through mini-courses and tests and she had to consider new ways of leadership. She sacrificed family time, sleep and emotion over the twenty-six week trial of hospital chaplaincy; in my humble opinion, few experiences shape future priests as that of the training gained through Clinical Pastoral Education. Through her experience she shared stories of tragedy, heartbreak and joy. CPE formed Lisa’s life.

And still in all this, knowing Lisa, I am sure she is still hungry to learn from you, St. Mark’s.

Lisa truly serves with joy. Her smile fills the room and her laughter lightens the heart. Her willingness to serve embodies the example of Jesus on Maundy Thursday. I have witnessed Lisa take on new ministry challenges and face the frustration found in such endeavors and then celebrate the joy of success in the same project. She has been willing to take on the risks of service.

And Lisa lives generously. She lives full speed, full throttle, and holding little in reserve. Fr. Danny, you may need to remind her to take her day off and to just do nothing.

Lisa you are bringing your gifts, skills, talents and passion as a priest - to God, the Episcopal Church, this Diocese and to St. Mark’s. You have much to give. And much still to learn, for the formation of a priest is the lifelong work of God and the priest partnered together for the life of the Church and God’s people. Go slow and take time to breathe and listen to the sweet silence found in the presence of the Holy Spirit.

By your life you are to be an example to the people of God. Your example of walking slowly, taking time to breathe and the courage to sit in the presence of haunting silence will inspire the people, and frankly it will frighten them as well.

You see, when you bring your giftedness into the realm of the priesthood, God’s formation works on you, and the people, in a unique way. For when God does God’s work through the life of the priest, God will also form the community. God’s formation process will cause the sensation of struggle, question, doubt and resistance in your life and in the life of the community. This is a given. Look at the stories of the saints, Abraham, Sarah, Isaac, Rebekah, Jacob, Rachel and Leah, David, Ruth, Esther, Mary, Mary Magdalene, the apostles and of course Jesus. Never be afraid to step into the formative fire, for what will result in the fire of your formation is the beautiful creative artistic work of God. You are continually being made into God’s holy vessel.

My humble counsel to you is that you write the words of the Philippians text you selected for this evening, on your heart; just love the people, be gentle, instead of worrying, pray – trust God and think about God’s blessings. And – keep on doing the things you have learned and received and heard from God; for it is God’s peace that will sustain you in your ministry.

May God bless you and pour out the power of her Holy Spirit upon your life and ministry. Amen.

God's Little Secret

2011-12-20T16:11:00.000-08:00

Dinah, my sister, has Prader-Willi, a form of physical and mental disability caused by a deformity of Chromosome-15. One of my sister’s problems, unrelated to being Prader-Willi, is that she has a very limited ability to talk. This is due primarily to brain damage caused by a fever of 107 degrees during the first few weeks of life. Now, 56, she has a vocabulary of approximately 20-40 words. During the last ten years, her vocabulary and ability to communicate has increased significantly. I believe this marked improvement is the result of her participating in an art program. She draws, paints, and does ceramics, tie-dye, and latches rugs. In other words, she has accessed the artist that resides within her soul. By accessing her artistic side, she has opened new neuro-pathways that have increased her communication skills. (Granted this is my opinion and not scientific evidence).

Encouraging someone to access their inner artist is a tool often used by spiritual directors. I think everyone is at least a little bit of an artist within their being; they can paint, draw, write, play music, dance, garden, build, sculpt, tell stories, there are as many modes of art as there is an imagination to create.

Artistry can be the krater, the mixing vessel, of the soul. The krater, or the alchemical vas, is the vessel of spiritual transformation. It also is a feminine principle, like the uterus of spiritual renewal and rebirth.

So, this morning we hear the story of the angel Gabriel telling Mary that she is going to be the mother of Jesus, Immanuel God who lives among us.

This is a glorious story of Mary being willing to be the vessel of God. She will bring forth a son, the son of spiritual transformation. Historically, we have been told that the majesty of the story resides in God’s willingness to send God’s son, Jesus, to be the redeemer and savior of the world. In other words, Jesus’ birth into the world will be the cause of our spiritual rebirth.

But, what if for a moment, we thought about Jesus’ birth, as also being about God’s transformation? What if the birth womb of Mary was the story of God’s desire of seeking a renewed and rebirthed spiritual relationship with the creation? What if this story is also about God re-entering the ultimate story of creation, the feminine process of birth, to create a new story of God?

We know all too well the story of the irascible God of the Hebrew scripture. We are painfully familiar with the story of the God of punishment and judgment. We cringe at the story of the God who appears to love people one moment and then punish the people in the next scene of the story.

What if the story of the birth of Jesus is the story of God’s willingness to re-enter the vessel of spiritual transformation to be reborn as the humble, self-sacrificing God of unconditional love and unconditional forgiveness?

St. Paul writes in his letter to the Romans, “Now to God who is able to strengthen you according to my gospel and the proclamation of Jesus Christ, according to the revelation of the mystery that was kept secret for long ages but is now disclosed, and through prophetic writings is made known to all the Gentiles, according to the command of the eternal God, to bring about the obedience of faith – to the only wise God, through Jesus Christ, to whom be the glory forever! Amen.”

What if Paul’s writings about “the secret of the ages” are the story of God’s rebirth through the Incarnation of Jesus Christ? What if this secret is that God is the God of love and mercy, who brings power into the world through powerlessness and strength through sacrifice, and life through death. What if this secret is about God, who discovers wisdom through a child born in a manger, and maturity from a twelve-year-old boy teaching the elders in the synagogue? What if this secret is that God is willing to come into the world through the humility of a baby? What if the secret is that God, speaks through the greatest prophet, teacher and mystic, Jesus, who is born of a young girl, Mary.

But, the radical scandal of the story of God, Mary and Jesus does not end with the transformation of God – no, the same story of God extends to our own creative transformation.

Mary is our archetypal artist who creates in the krater of the body and the soul. What new vision of God will be birthed from our krater? What unknown alchemical substances only reside in our artistic soul? What creative force can be birthed by our soul, and our soul alone?

We are a part of the Trinitarian formula. God + Mary = Jesus. Now, it is God + Me = a new creative image of God.

Let me ask you to consider this; what if the gift you are to give this Christmas, is a gift that only you can give to the world. And what if this unique and precious gift can only be created by your intimate relationship with God? And what if this gift, that only you are able to give, is actually a new vision of God? Are you able to believe the angel Gabriel who says that, “nothing is impossible with God”? Are you willing to say, as Mary did, “here I am, the servant of God, willing to create and birth something entirely new”?

Like Mary, and like my sister, I have to wonder, “What new creation of God can we discover within the artistic vessel of our soul”? Well, we can only find out, if we are willing to be an artist. With God’s help, let’s see what we can create this Christmas.

The Oracle of Pink Jesus

2011-12-13T12:10:00.000-08:00

I’m holding a Christmas gift I just received. It’s 12 inches tall, molded plastic that has a ceramic feel and a nice weight. It feels good in my hand. It’s a pink Jesus with long flowing hair and robes. His right hand with two fingers extended in the sign of blessing is touching the exterior sign of his sacred heart. His left hand rests upon the sash draped across his shoulders. There is some temptation to not take this figurine seriously. However, I want to take note of certain aspects of this statue that suggest otherwise.

First, pink, often a color associated with Mary (as well as blue) is usually used to represent God’s love and forgiveness. Second, the devotion to the sacred heart of Jesus symbolizes Jesus’ love and his wounded heart, broken by our suffering.

The most fascinating part of this figurine of Jesus is when I turn it upside down. In the base is a clear plastic circle revealing blue fluid. Inside the figure is floating a multisided dice with messages like, Hallelujah, I would, Wait for a sign, for Christ’s sake, The holy water will sting, Have a little faith, let me ask dad, ye of little faith, I forgive you, yes my child, have a nice afterlife, watch out for the lightening, hypocrite, resist the devil, sinner, no chance in hell, it is not righteous, I still love you, pray harder.

Need an answer? Consult the pink Jesus. Sounds funny, odd, maybe a little sacrilegious, I guess that’s why I like it.

Finding answers from the pink Jesus, may be easy, but most likely not always reliable. It seems a lot of folks would like to find the answers of God the easy way. I mean, seriously, wouldn’t we like to have the oracle of the pink Jesus setting on the mantle at home.

But, as we all know, finding trustworthy answers that sustain our life can only come from the hard work of spiritual formation.

In this morning’s epistle (I Thessalonians 5:16-24) we hear these admonitions, “rejoice, pray without ceasing, give thanks, do not quench the Spirit, do not despise the words of the prophets, abstain from evil.” This is, indeed, our part in the hard work of spiritual formation. God’s part, the epistle says, is to sanctify us. Sanctification means we are in the process of being made holy by God. We yield ourselves to the process by doing the work - praying, listening to the Spirit of God, reading the words of the prophets, and avoiding evil; and while we are doing our part, God forming us into the image of Christ.

What is that going to look like for us? St. Paul who wrote the letter to the church at Thessalonica, says that God’s process of making us into the image of Christ will take place in our spirit, our soul and our body. God’s work is a holistic act. And our work of spirituality is also the complete work in the spirit, soul and body.
(I Thessalonians 5:16-24)

Our spirit, the pneuma, is the essence of our life and a gift from God. Like the wind, our spirit is invisible, immaterial and powerful. Our spirit comes alive in the creation of our life – it is the power of our being created in the image of God. We are responsible to be stewards of the gift of our life from God.

Our soul, the psuche, which is the root word of psyche, is the totality of our mind, the conscious and the unconscious. We are responsible for the development of our soul, our psyche. The work of the soul is difficult because it encompasses that which is not tangible, concrete or visible. For most people, the work of the soul goes against their nature because the work can be, at times, daunting. In the work of the soul we must study the scripture, encounter spiritual reading, take on spiritual practices and disciplines of prayer, we must consider the importance of our unconscious through dream work, and we must be about the work of reflecting upon our experiences with God (usually through journaling).

Our bodies, soma, is the instrument of life, the complete person. St. Paul makes at least two references to the value of physical training. While Paul makes it clear that the work of the soul supersedes the exercise of the body, he also wants us to know that we are to be good stewards of our physical health as well as our soul.

We are holistic beings who are gifted with life. We are expected to be good stewards of the gift of life by participating with God in our ongoing creation. We are co-creators with God in the maturation of our life. our whole life, complete life, spirit, soul, and body. We cannot ignore our responsibility of the stewardship of our life.

I have an example of how this formation process works. Thursday night at our St. Brigid’s gathering we celebrated the Feast of St. Nicholas, Bishop of Myra. The gospel for the evening was the story of children coming to Jesus. In the story, the disciples intend to dismiss the children but, instead, Jesus draws the children into the middle of the circle and tells his disciples that in order for adults to enter the kingdom of God they must become like the children.

For Thursday night’s sermon, I invited the children, ages 4 to 11, to sit with me on the floor. I asked them three questions, “Who is Jesus? What is your favorite story about Jesus? And, give me one word to describe Jesus.”

Nine children sat with me and told me the stories of Jesus, the message of Jesus and of their conversations with God. The air was holy.

I have always been convinced that the methods of Godly Play will bring the children to deeply hear the Bible stories and the make them their own stories by asking the “I wonder” question – now I have upped the ante. After sitting on the floor with our children and listening to them tell me about the life, story and teachings of Jesus – I am convicted that even if the church were to die, the word of God will exist in the life of these children for all time. The children’s relationship with God and their understanding of the stories of Jesus are mature beyond their years.

Of course, as soon as this powerful, holy, sanctifying moment was over, the kids were outside running and playing.

In a nutshell, this is the message of Jesus and Paul – You can know God by knowing the stories of Jesus in your spirit and your soul - and then go outside and run and play. It will do your spirit, soul, and body a whole lot of good. And you’ll get better answers than from the Pink Jesus, who says, “The Holy water will sting”.

Is it a Dream?

2011-12-07T08:50:00.000-08:00

Fr. Al Marcetti, who is a clergy member of our congregation, recently led two sessions in our Academy of the Soul about dreams. The two sessions were enthusiastically and well attended. Fr. Al shared with us a few books by his mentor Robert Bosnak. On Fr. Al’s recommendation, I read Tracks in the Wilderness of Dreaming.

Fr. Al’s class and Bosnak’s book have opened some new understanding for me in my dream work. Specifically, I have been working with a dream that I thought I knew what my subconscious was trying to tell me. As Fr. Al and Bosnak both pointed out, the more I work with the dream, the more I will learn from the dream. And, most likely, that what I originally thought the dream meant is now something much different.

Bosnak says that my dream is my reality and I must be committed to the continual work of uncovering my reality.

I’ve shared this dream with my wife, my therapist, and my spiritual director, Fr. Al and some of you. Dream work requires my intentional effort along with the participation of a community that is committed to supporting me and assisting me in discovering the depths of my unconscious.

Carl Jung tells us that our unconscious knows more than our consciousness and that our unconscious is always trying to inform our consciousness – many times through our dreams. Jung also tells us that our discovery of God will be in the depths of our unconscious – often a frightful place in which to travel. Scripture as well teaches us that God is discovered in our interior. And there, God may speak to us through our dreams. As Walter Bruggemann says, this can make our understanding of God illusive and requiring polyphonic interpretation.

This is indeed hard work. And this difficult struggle requires the work of a community – the interpretative community.

Last week I introduced you to Ellen Aitken’s work in which she encourages us to accept our roles as an interpretive community. She writes that this kind of community will allow the biblical text to occupy a central role in defining communal conversation, prayer, discernment, exploration, reflection and prophetic leadership. She continues, that the community of interpretation will be a community of struggle, questioning, doubt and at times resistance.

In this morning’s gospel we have an example of the community of scriptural interpretation. The Gospel of Mark is written forty years after Jesus’ death to a community that is suffering under oppression. The writer tells his audience, “Look back through our scriptural story for a reference point in order to look forward for hope”. The writer opens the Hebrew scripture by combining the texts of the ancient communities of Exodus, Malachi and Isaiah.

The writer interprets the three ancient texts and rewrites them into what we hear this morning, “See, I am sending my messenger ahead of you, who will prepare your way; the voice of one crying out in the wilderness: Prepare the way of the Lord, make his paths straight”.

The writer of Mark, then, reflecting on the Hebrew scripture begins to tell the new story – the story of Jesus. The story begins with John the baptizer, a strange, wild and prophetic character appearing in the desert and preaching confession and baptism as the way to God. John also humbly tells those whom he baptizes that another person is coming, and that person will baptize not just with water but also with the very Spirit of God.

This all sounds like a dream, does it not, a dream that came up out of the depths of the night? Who was this John the baptizer? How could such a weird and crazy figure be a prophet of God? Why would anyone go out into the desert to be baptized in the dirty Jordon River? And what does it mean to be baptized by the Spirit of God?

It’s just a dream, right? Surely, it’s not reality? Well, I don’t know. But, for us, it might as well be a dream – it happened so long ago, in time that no longer exists. But, just like my dream it is my reality and it requires the hard work of interpretation.

So, how do we interpret the ancient, foreign scripture? How do we make sense of these bizarre texts that were written thousands of years ago? Do we dismiss them? Do we take them literally? Do we make metaphors out of them?

Well, as Aitken says, an interpretative community struggles with the text, questions the text, doubts the texts and at times resists the text.

It takes everyone in the community, working together to interpret the illusive meaning hidden in the text. It takes those who understand the text as historical. And it takes those who understand the text as metaphorical. And it takes those who understand the text as the expression of a dream. It takes you and how you understand the text. It takes all us to be willing to tell the story of the God that resides deep within our interior in order for the rest of us to be able to see the uniqueness of the creation of the living God. If one of our individual interpretations of the text is missing, the picture of God is incomplete.

This kind of approach of being church together is hard work. It’s hard because we have to respect the fact that the person sitting next to us most likely does not see God the same way we see God. It’s hard work because we must acknowledge and respect the fact that the person sitting next to us probably does believe the same things about God, the Bible and the Sacraments as we do. It’s hard work because we must recognize and give acknowledgment to the fact that we are still in the process of interpreting the scripture together in community. It’s hard work because the only place to do this kind of hard work is in the “hot desert” of being a community.

My guess, though, is that you wouldn’t be here unless you were willing to do this hard work with your fellow desert dwellers. For some reason, you are attracted to this church in the same way those early people were attracted to the community that followed the crazy, wild, prophet John the baptizer.

This church is just like John the baptizer. We are telling people, “The one who will baptize you with the mystery of the Spirit of God is here” – here is each one of us, in you, in you, in you, and in you.

Sounds like a dream – sounds the reality of a dream – sounds like the reality of God trying to tell us something – and we have to do the hard work of continuing to struggle with God’s message; all of us working together, because the more we work with God’s message, the more we will learn what the Spirit is saying to our community of interpretation.

The Business of God

2011-11-29T10:10:00.000-08:00

Eight years ago I was privileged to attend the election of our Bishop. The gathering was held at All Saints, Phoenix. And the election was held within the structure of our regular Sunday morning Eucharist. The clergy processed in during the hymn, the collects prayed, the scripture read, a sermon given and then the election was held. The Church conducted its business as worship. I believe that is one of the reasons that this particular election went so smoothly and overwhelmingly in support of Bishop Kirk.

This is the way of the Episcopal Church. We have our lives steeped within the pages of the prayer book. In order to be spiritually formed as a community, we pray together, we worship together and we even do our business as worship. As we heard in this morning’s Hebrew scripture reading, God is the potter and we are the clay.

Following this pattern, in October our Bishop’s Committee gathered for a visioning retreat. We prayed, studied scripture and tried to envision our parish life in 2015.

We affirmed the strengths of our parish ministries and want to continue supporting them, Daughters of the King, Godly Play, IHELP, St. Benedict’s Closet, Lay Eucharistic Visitors, Lay Pastoral Care, Shawl Ministry, and The Art of Engaging Scripture.

The Bishop’s Committee sought guidance from the Holy Spirit and they saw eight possibilities for the future of parish life at St. Augustine’s.

• Stewardship - Educating and encouraging parishioners to contribute to the life and health of St. Augustine’s through good stewardship of their time, talent and treasure.

• Intentionally Welcoming - We will offer training for ushers, greeters and others who initially welcome first time visitors. And we will find specific ways to help visitors find avenues to connect with our parish.

• Contemplative Garden – We desire to offer hospitality and a spiritual respite to the thousands who walk, drive and bicycle by our property every day on their way to and from ASU. We will work towards establishing a contemplative garden that will be accessible from College Avenue. The garden will be developed through partnerships with ASU, in-kind and financial donations, and sweat equity.

• Hosting St. Brigid’s Community/Episcopal Campus Ministry at ASU - St. Augustine’s was founded as a university parish and hospitality to the ASU community remains an essential part of our parish identity. We will continue to host Episcopal Campus Ministry, known as “St. Brigid’s Community.” The diocese will continue to financially support Episcopal Campus Ministry at ASU.

• Robust Daily Office - Historically, the parish has offered the Daily Office in many forms. We are making a commitment towards developing a robust practice of the Daily Office at the parish. These additional services will afford more opportunities for communal prayer and allow the laity opportunities for leading prayer in the community.

• Youth Outreach - We are committing to an expanded and welcoming youth outreach to the local high schools. In time, this may require St. Augustine’s to commit more resources to youth ministry. This could be done with an initial grant from a Diocese Neely Foundation grant.

• Expanded musical experience - We value the role of music in Anglican life, worship and liturgy. We desire to offer a variety of opportunities for parishioners of all ages to be involved in our music ministry, including at each Sunday service. We will continue to offer our facility as a performance venue for the wider community and especially ASU faculty and students.

• Integrate the diversity of our parish – We recognize that in the diversity of our worship communities, we remain the one community of St. Augustine’s Episcopal Parish. We will strive to create opportunities for the congregants at our three Sunday services and St. Brigid’s Community to fellowship together.

In November, four families hosted gatherings in their homes to have Bible Study and discussions around the Visioning 2015 document. Over fifty adults joined together in these conversations. We asked each other, “what on this list attracts us” and “what is missing from the list?”

At every gathering there was a wonderful energy around the idea of creating a contemplative garden. We have had volunteers step forward to help develop and build the garden.

Already we have put into place a response to a more robust Daily Office by offering Morning Prayer during Advent and we will do the same during Lent. Other ideas on the visioning piece created excitement, some prompted questions. A few ideas emerged that seemed missing. Those are now being considered.

The importance of our visioning is that we are Incarnational people. We believe that God lives amongst us in a tangible and palpable manner. We do not see God afar off in the clouds of heaven. Instead, we acknowledge a God that moves, lives and has his being among us.

One constant in our visioning discussions was Bible Study. Our prayer in the opening Collect two weeks ago read, “Blessed Lord, who caused all holy Scriptures to be written for our learning: Grant us so to hear them, read, mark, learn and inwardly digest them…”

Ellen Aitken in a recent article in The Anglican Theological Review (“Relentless Intimacy: The Peculiar Labor of an Anglican Biblical Scholar,” Fall 2011) writes, “The Bible is not an exterior authority to be consulted when needs arise or used to buttress good ideas, but is instead interior, intimate, and resonant within the community and the individual.”

As Anglicans, we do not study the Bible because we are looking for the magic answer or to defend our way of life. We pray the scripture. And because we pray the scripture it can form our life from the inside out. Studying the scripture is not necessarily an intellectual pursuit, but instead a way of hearing how our soul resonates with the soul of God.

Aitken goes on to tell this story.

(In a conversation) with Bishop Mark McDonald (Deacon Dorothy Saucedo’s ordaining Bishop) about the practices of traditional indigenous Anglican communities such as the Cree and Inuit who, not without struggle, claim the Bible as their text but to whom the notion of Bible study as an isolated activity appears foreign and unnatural. A biblical text will rather occupy a central role in defining a communal conversation, a time of prayer, a period of discernment, as a context of reference and as an arena of exploration, reflection, and prophetic leadership. The “text” is a presence in the conversation, apprehended intimately and out of an understanding of its availability, witness, and resourcefulness.

Our work together in seeking the vision of God for the future of St. Augustine’s Parish and St. Brigid’s Community is one grounded in the presence of scripture in order that we might hear what the Spirit is saying to us. We did not find our vision magically written on page 1003, instead we prayed the scripture in order to hear God.

Aitken says later in her article that we as Anglicans are a “community of interpretation.” An earthen vessel she says, using St. Paul’s words. And as an earthen vessel, the mystery of the community of interpretation is that it will also be “a community of struggle, questioning, doubt, and at times resistance.”

Because we are a community that seeks God’s vision, we are a community of interpretation. That indeed takes a risk on our part. We must be willing to listen to one another, struggle with the scripture, question the text, doubt what God is saying and at times be a form of resistance to injustice in the world.

I am very proud of you because you have been willing to take the risk of hearing what the Spirit is saying to our community.

During this Advent season, as we look forward to the coming of Christ in our lives, we also look forward to the Spirit of God speaking in our midst. We look to hear the Spirit in the mystery of the scripture and the sacraments. We look to see the vision of God. And we look to find the Christ born among us in the face of each other.

Join me during the season of Advent by being intentional in your prayer and scripture study in order to hear what the Spirit is saying in your individual life and to us as a community.

Dancing in the circle of the saints

2011-10-31T10:20:00.000-07:00

To celebrate the 100th Anniversary of Arizona’s Statehood, the Arizona Republic has been featuring daily articles about the people of this land. Most recently, the newspaper has been featuring stories about the twenty-one Native Peoples in this region.

In Friday’s edition the featured article was a beautiful story about eleven-year-old Alexis and her passage from being a girl into womanhood. Family and friends of the San Carlos Apache Tribe gathered for the four-day ritual that culminated with the Sunrise Dance. It was a beautiful and powerful rite, complete with the customs of exotic costumes, dance, drums and singing. A rare picture of the rite appeared in the article. Alexis was standing in the field, with two holy dances circling her, painting her with white cornstarch. The ritual was complete and now she could join her the sisterhood of women.

Rituals are the vital and necessary components of the telling of our life story. Without ritual, we lack the power to translate the working of our inner life to the exterior world. Without ritual there is a void in our life.

The Revelation to John is a book of the mystical ritual and liturgy that tells the story of survival in a world filled with darkness and oppression. The vision of John is one of light and hope in a world that seems hopelessly depressed and void of any future. Revelation is about the here and now – about the world of the present, the reality of the living and the presence of the dead. From this vision we gain some of our Episcopal liturgy and therefore the Revelation influences our theology.

Hear me clearly - the Revelation of John seen through the eyes of a “Left Behind, rapture, pre-millennialist theology” is a mis-interpretation of John’s vision. The Left Behind sensationalism is a twenty-century Evangelical concoction that had not appeared prior to the 1920’s. It is not a historical theological interpretation but instead an attempt to drive, even scare, people forward in an old-fashioned altar call to salvation. Unfortunately, as with other parts of the Bible, Evangelicals have co-opted the longest held theological interpretations of scriptures from the Mainline Church.

So then what is the theology of this mystical vision of liturgy and worship of the Revelation to John?

This morning’s reading (Revelation 7:9-17) is about the universal radical inclusion of God’s salvation. “And there was a great multitude that no one could count, from every nation, from all tribes and peoples and languages, standing before the throne and before the Lamb…”

Picture this – Four angels are standing at the four corners of the universe holding the corners of the Tent of God. And in the middle of the God’s Tent is God’s throne where God is seated with the Lamb. Circling the throne, the altar of the Lamb, are the four living creatures, these are the evangelists of the Lamb.

According to Saint Jerome, in the fifth century, and to the inscribers of the Book of Kells, the four evangelists of the Lamb are the Lion, the Ox, the Human and the Eagle, each with six wings and the eyes to see all. The Lion, the Gospel of Mark, represents the royal kingship of the Lamb. The Ox, the Gospel of Luke, represents the sacrifice of the Lamb. The Human, the Gospel of Matthew, represents the nativity (the Incarnation) of the Lamb. And the Eagle, the Gospel of John, represents the Ascension of the Lamb.

Circling the four living creatures are the elders. These are the martyrs, the apostles, the Saints, and the mothers and fathers of the faith of Jesus Christ who have sacrificed much for the Kingdom of God and for our benefit.

Encircling these elders is the countless multitude from every nation, tribe, people and language. These are the ones to whom Jesus says are the “Blessed” – the poor in spirit, those who mourn, the meek, those who hunger and thirst for righteousness, the merciful, the pure in heart, the peacemakers, and the persecuted. These are the Communion of the Saints gathering around the Throne of God and the Altar of the Lamb. Our loved ones, our ancestors join in this circle dancing around the altar.

And finally, to complete this endless concentric circle in God’s time and God’s sanctuary are the angels of God’s creation.

In the circle, all of God’s Holy creation is present singing and dancing around the Throne of God and the Altar of the Lamb.

All of God’s creation is present to worship God in awe and majesty, singing, “Amen! Blessing and glory and wisdom and thanksgiving and honor and power and might be to our God forever and ever! Amen!”

And when does all this take place? Now! It takes place in this very moment as we gather around the Throne of God and the Altar of the Lamb. For when we gather around the Altar of the Lamb we will be encircled by the four living creatures, by the martyrs, the apostles, the Saints, the mothers and fathers of the faith, the Communion of All the Saints and by the angels of all of God’s creation.

We do not have to stand alone in our meager humanity to gravel at the table for a few crumbs and spilt drops of wine – absolutely not! When we circle this table we are caught up in the Holy Cloud of the greatest mystery in all of God’s time. No, we do not stand alone – we stand with Matthew, Mark, Luke and John, with Mary the Mother of Jesus and Mary Magdalene, we stand with Abraham and Sarah, with Isaac and Rebekeh, with Jacob and Rachel and Leah, we stand with St. Augustine, St. Brigid and with St. Margaret, and we stand with every person from every tribe, nation and language – and that includes every one of your ancestors.

When we gather around this Table, this Throne of God, this Altar of the Lamb we stand with the Communion of Saints, the Kingdom of God.

At this time, I ask that you bring the pictures, remembrances and names of the loved ones you have brought to the Altar of the Lamb. Bring these remembrances knowing that they are standing here with you and with all of us as we gather to celebrate the Great Thanksgiving – singing “Blessing and glory and wisdom and thanksgiving and honor and power and might be to our God forever and ever! Amen!”

Wisdom

2011-10-26T10:15:00.000-07:00

Cathy and I were blessed as young adults to know Ruth Wiles. Ruth was a long-standing member of the Baptist Church we attended. She was a woman of deep and abiding wisdom. We both sought her counsel on many occasions. In fact our leaving the Baptist world was due in part to Ruth’s wise counsel and encouragement.

Ruth was very intelligent, well read, thoughtful, introspective, and insightful. And she was courageous enough to share her pearls of wisdom at the most opportune moment, even in the face of opposition.

Ruth’s husband had been a Southern Baptist pastor. He died from a heart attack in his mid-fifties while serving a church in Texas. Ruth decided to go back to college, finish her teaching degree and move to Buckeye, Arizona where her husband had pastored twenty-five years before his death.

Without ever drawing attention to herself, she guided and mentored a generation of adults in that church and their high school children, including our son and daughter, who still refer to Mrs. Wiles as their most beloved and influential teacher.

Ruth Wiles was a wise person. She wasn’t born being wise. She had developed that wisdom over years of experience and maturity. But, just because she was older and experienced didn’t necessarily mean she had wisdom. Her wisdom came from her years of personal encounters with God, her prayer life, her study of the scripture, her being attentive and learning from countless difficult situations and her abiding humility. The way of wisdom came with a high cost for Ruth.

In this morning’s Hebrew scripture we hear that Joshua had the spirit of wisdom (Deuteronomy 34:1-12). In the reading it sounds as if Joshua received his wisdom simply by Moses laying his hands on him. However, the story of Joshua’s wisdom is much more complex than appears on the surface.

When Joshua first arrives on the scene we see him as a successful military leader. Later, in a much different role, he served as Moses assistant at the tent of meeting where God convened and conversed with the people.

And as the Israelites journeyed through the wilderness we learn that Joshua was the minority among the twelve spies who recommended to Moses that they should listen to the message of God and attack Canaan. Joshua was learning, maturing and changing throughout his life.

For Joshua’s years of faithfulness, courage and willingness to follow God and Moses, he was appointed Moses successor. Joshua came by his spirit of wisdom the hard way, through experience and maturity. The way of wisdom comes with a cost; the cost of experience, time and humility.

The Hebrew scripture, the Apocrypha and the New Testament are consistent in their teachings about the role of wise men and wise women. These sages are responsible for the transmittal of the ways of wisdom. They are to share their experience and the ways of successful living with those about them, in order that everyone can live the way of wisdom.

Together, Jesus and St. Paul offer us three markers about the way of wisdom from this morning’s texts (Matthew 22:34-46 and I Thessalonians 2:1-8).

First, according to Jesus, the demands of the gospel are simple and straightforward, the wise will love God and they will love their neighbor as themselves.

Second, as a mother cares for her children, the wise will be tender in there care for one another. The wise will share their wisdom with gentleness and love.

And third, the wise will be humble and vulnerable. The wise will share themselves in openness and with self-sacrifice.

St. James, the brother of Jesus, writes (James 3:17) that, “Wisdom from above is first pure, then peaceable, gentle, willing to yield, full of mercy and good fruits, without a trace of partiality or hypocrisy.”

Thankfully the way of wisdom can be learned. We can spend time in the presence of the Holy One and those who are wise in our midst. We can learn the way of wisdom by openly expressing our love of God, which in turns open our lives to love others as God loves us, tenderly and unconditionally without judgment or ridicule.

We can even learn to love ourselves as God loves us. As we accept God’s love and grace into our own life this in turn opens within us a capacity to live our lives in peace and gentleness, not needing to be right, but willing to bend our will to the will of God and the wise among us.

This kind of life will be reflected in our good works, our lack of partiality, which is an openness to all those who are different from us. We will be known by the fact that we love others as God has loved us.

There are those among us who are wise. People like Ruth Wiles. We will know them as we see them through the lens of the scripture. We will listen to them, learn from them and then share what we have learned with others who are willing to hear what the Spirit is saying through these wise mentors.

I pray we can be a community that is journeying together on the Way of Wisdom. For the Way of Wisdom is the way of Jesus - peaceable, gentle, willing to yield, full of mercy and good fruits, without a trace of partiality or hypocrisy. And that is worth sharing with others. Amen.

Peace sent from prison

2011-10-11T15:46:00.000-07:00

A few years ago, a friend of mine had spent almost four years in prison and was being considered for an early parole. He asked me come to the Florence prison for a hearing. I had visited him and others in prison and I knew the many changing regulations of prison visitation, so I checked the website and called before driving to Florence to make sure I was wearing the appropriate clothes and had the correct identification.

When I arrived at the prison, I left all my jewelry, phone and wallet in the car. Once in the prison, I presented my ID. Went through two metal detectors and then was searched.

The hearing room was a large open space normally reserved for visitations. There were two long tables at the end of the room where the three-person review committee was sitting. There were twenty chairs in four rows arranged for those speaking on behalf of an inmate. Facing the table was a solitary chair.

The west wall of the room was covered with large wire-messed windows that opened out onto a football-sized courtyard, which was surrounded by a twenty-foot tall fence topped by razor wire. Three prisoners, including my friend, were sitting in the sun, chained to a concrete slab.

Two armed guards ushered each prisoner when it came time for their hearing. My friend, who had lost at least thirty pounds during his time in prison, was wearing a prison issued bright orange jumper and flip-flops. There was a chain around his waist. His hands were chained to the waist chain and that chain ran down to the chain around his feet. He shuffled in the room to the sound of the rattling chains. When he sat in the lone chair in front of the hearing committee, his legging chains were fastened to a four-inch ring wedded in the floor.

My friends hearing lasted less than fifteen minutes. He was eventually denied early parole. His imprisonment would last another year. There was no room for joy in his confinement.

It is hard to imagine someone writing a joyful, hopeful, promised filled letter from prison. But, that is indeed what St. Paul wrote to the church at Philippi while he was imprisoned in Rome. The Letter to the Philippians is often referred to as the Epistle of Joy.

As a Roman colony, the city of Philippi had a rich history. Philip, the father of Alexander the Great, founded the city in 368 BCE. The city was the site of many historic battles including where Antony defeated Brutus and Cassius. The people proudly considered themselves Roman citizens and they worshipped the idols and gods of the Roman Empire.

The Christians of Philippi gathered under threat of imprisonment and death. These Christians were courageous and devout. They embodied the call to a life of costly discipleship.

Now, years after the establishment of their Christian community, Paul is writing them a letter of encouragement from prison. He pleads with them to live in unity and peace in spite of the divisive arguing of two members of the church, Euodia and Syntyche.

And what advise does Paul offer a church in division and argument? Does he tell them to excommunicate the offenders? Does he call for the theologically pure to leave and create their own church? No. Paul asks his fellow co-workers in the cause of the gospel to help these women who have sacrificed equally for the sake of the church community.

He asks the church to rejoice, be gentle, and not worry about anything – he exhorts them to pray and give thanks. These people are facing death, imprisonment and the possible dissolution of their Christian community and Paul is commending the peace of the God to them, a peace that “surpasses all understanding” and will “guard their hearts and minds”.

How do they rejoice in the face of such a threatening environment? Paul tells them to focus on the good, those things worthy of praise. In other words, he is saying, “Look around at the positive things that are happening and praise God for those things because that will bring peace in your life”.

Paul is offering them wise counsel and spiritual direction - for them individually and as a community.

These words could be encouraging to us as individuals and as a community. In the face of a disastrous global economy, having to endure personal pain and grief, forced to bear community loss and being confronted with what seems like many hopeless circumstances, Paul gives us this spiritual direction, “focus on the blessings of God and rejoice in them”.

Paul did not say it was going to be easy – he simply gave us an example to follow; he wrote the letter from the confinement of prison saying, “Keep on doing the things that you have learned and received and heard and seen in me, and the God of peace will be with you.”

Let us hear what the Spirit is saying to us – let us keep faithful to the task God has called to be about in our community, let us stay committed to being a place of prayer, discernment and hospitality. Let us not waiver from our vision for the peace of God will be with us. For the peace of God within us may be the only peace of God that another person may experience.

Namaste

2011-09-26T12:51:00.000-07:00

I grew up in a devoutly Christian home where I was taught to fold my hands and bow my head for prayer. You may have noticed that this sign of reverence has carried over into my liturgical practice of bowing my head at the Name of Jesus. It is a sign of reverence, respect and awe before God.

Some of you come from cultures where bowing is a regular part of your greeting to one another, a sign of respect. In many of the Eastern religions, a bow is the appropriate form of greeting. To bow and then say, Namaste, which can be translated, “the divinity in me bows to the divinity within you”.

It is easy to bow our head in humility at the mention of the Name of God. And, it may be, to some, the appropriate greeting to another, a sign of respect. But, can you imagine God bowing before us, and all of creation?

Theologian William Greenway writes that, “If a single image could capture the character of God…it would be a gracious bow”. Humility is a core characteristic of God. In creation, all of God’s work is for the sake of others, a complete act of humility.

As Christians, we believe the core essence of God is humility, because we believe God came into the world to experience life as one of us – in the form of Jesus. In Jesus (in what we call the Incarnation), God takes on human form. God is born as we are born. God grows as a child, as we grew as a child. God worked as a carpenter, as we have worked. God was hungry, thirsty, cold, hot, tired, sad, and happy – God grieved. God knows the full range of human emotion. God risked Godness by becoming human in Jesus. In this act of Incarnation, God bows in humility. The divinity of God bows to the divinity within God’s creation.

In St. Paul’s letter to the Philippians, we are told that Jesus, “though he was in the form of God, did not regard equality with God as something to be exploited, but emptied himself – he humbled himself”. In Greek, the word for empty is kenosis. The word kenosis is used because to ‘empty’ in this case, is not to empty on one’s own accord, but instead, to be emptied willingly.

Every Sunday we gather around the altar. We pour the sacramental wine, the presence of Christ, into a beautiful chalice. Then one of you takes that chalice and pours out the sacrament for the sake the person drinking the wine. The purpose is the chalice is to receive the sacramental wine and then to have that wine poured out for the sake of others. Jesus is the beautiful chalice of God. And just as Jesus is a beautiful chalice, so we too are the blessed chalice of God.

Kenosis, in the human context then, is to have the purpose of being poured out for the sake of others – what St. Paul’s describes as humility, the core characteristic of God. As followers of Jesus Christ, through formation by God, we will find ourselves being transformed to the point where we too have the core characteristic of humility, which is to be poured out for the sake of others. Spiritual formation, being made into the chalice of God to fulfill the purpose for which each of us has been uniquely created.

How does God perform this formation and transformation in our lives? How are we created into a beautiful chalice of God? Predominately, the historically theological answer to this question has been that, “By Jesus’ shed blood we, who are unworthy, are brought into the saving presence of God,” this is known as blood atonement theology.

However, what St. Paul is offering us in this ancient poem is a different answer – Paul’s answer is ‘atonement through the humility of God’. In other words, we are brought into the presence of God, given salvation, which means to be made whole, by God’s own act of humility. Jesus, in the form of God is God’s humility. We are being formed, being made whole, being transformed by God’s core action of humility – and in this formation, we are being made humble as well.

And, of course, our participation in the formation process is needed. St. Paul says, “Work out your own salvation with fear and trembling, for it is God who is at work in you”. Our part in the process is to be as near to the proximately of God as we can possibly be so that we might “take on” the nature of God’s humility. It’s like Dr. Adelson told us a few weeks ago, his brother could tell what kind of person you are by the friends you hang out with – in order to be like God, you have to hang out with God.

How do we hang out with God? Our Prayer Book teaches us then, that in order to take on the characteristics of God we must “read, mark, learn and inwardly digest the Holy Scriptures,” and that we must pray daily and weekly partake of the Holy Eucharist. If we want God to transform us into the humility of Christ, then we have to hang out with God.

The humblest Christians we know are those who are very intentional in their formation process, they choose to be close to God. Julian of Norwich prayed that her life would be intertwined with the Passion of Christ and the experiences of Mary Magdalene. Julian yearned for contemplative union with Christ. In the desires of her heart she experienced the mystical presence of God in visions and visitations. In the late fourteenth century, Julian writes of her encounters with God, being the first woman to write in the English language. Through her life of work, she continually eliminates any personal references in her writings, telling her readers that they should stop paying any attention to the “poor being, (who is) ignorant, weak and frail,” and concentrate on the revelation of God itself. Here, in the life of the great mystic Julian of Norwich, we have an earthly, human example of the humility of God being formed in someone’s life.

Sr. Joan Chittister says, “The irony of humility is that if we have humility, we know we are made for greatness, we are made for God.”

For Julian, as must be for us, the use of our gifts must be a reflection of God’s formation of humility happening in our lives. We are being formed into the image of Jesus, the image of God. That will make a recognizable difference in our life and in our actions towards others, for we will be as God created us to be; we will be creating for the sake of others. We are being made into the chalice of God, to live into the humble acts of God like the chalice – bowing before all, sharing our gifts for the sake of others.

Like the chalice, bowing the divinity within our lives to the divinity that exists in the soul of the other. Amen.

Can you lend us a hand?

2011-09-22T14:49:00.000-07:00

I am confident many of you have seen the video of several strangers risking their own lives to lift a burning car off of a trapped motorcyclist. It is an amazing story and the best way to describe the events is to simply show you the clip.

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=ikGeQrBLsrg

This is a modern day gospel story. In fact, I believe the beauty of this story is an example of one of Jesus’ teachings in this morning’s gospel from Matthew 20:1-16.

I want to be careful and not make some analogies that could be theologically misconstrued. The story of the man trapped under the car happened in real time. And Jesus’ story of the landowner and the workers happened in real time as well – these are stories intended to provide us a teaching that is applicable for our everyday life, in real time and in the present world.

The landowner, God, is seeking those willing to work. The kingdom of God exists in the desert heat and laboring in the field is hard work. There is often much to much incorrect theological conversation promised in the Christian community that the Christian life is an easier life, one without trouble and trial – that is just plain false, there is nothing in the scripture nor Christian history that would validate those erroneous ideas. The work in the kingdom of God can be stressful and dangerous. Just look the countless examples of people like Mother Theresa and Dietrich Bonhoeffer.

The landowner, God, needs lots of people who are willing to do the heavy lifting. No solidarity person can do the work alone. You saw in the video clip at first a single man tried to lift the car, then half-dozen people tried and failed. Then others joined them and still at the last moment one man arrives and pulled to victim to safety. Every person there was equally important and vitally needed. And so it is the same with the work in kingdom of God, some arrived at the early hour, some a bit later, some at noon, others still in the mid-afternoon and some in the last hour. But, God says, everyone is equally important in the work of the kingdom. Without every person willing to pull the weight, the hard work will not get done.

And the obvious point, which often gets overlooked in the church – is that the work of the kingdom is critically important. Everyone looking at the video recognizes the heroic effort of those people who risked their life to lift the car off that young man trapped under the burning car. We would all agree that what they were doing was very important. The question is, do we recognize the vital work of the church? Are we willing to put our shoulder to the hard and dangerous rescuing work of the kingdom of God?

Let me give this sermon some graphic reality – this little part of the kingdom of God, St. Augustine’s cannot continue to do the critical work that it does without everyone willing to do some heavy lifting. There are no rich donors, there is no endowment; this is a blue-collar church built on the backs of the last generation. In order for St. Augustine’s to have a future we need people willing to make some sacrifices. If you consider the work of the church to be important, then consider whether you are willing to lend to a hand to do that work. God may have called you here at the beginning of the church. Maybe you came along years ago, or ten years ago, or you’ve arrived in the last few years or even the last few weeks – all of us are equally important in the eyes of God and all of us are equally responsible for the work of the kingdom of God.

We are in a place where we must recognize the equal importance and the need of every person in doing the most vital and critical rescuing work of our community. It’s time for all of us to start lifting.

Dr. Roger Adelson's 9/11 sermon

2011-09-11T17:20:00.000-07:00

Dr. Roger Adelson’s sermon for St. Augustine’s Parish, 9/11/2011 - Dr. Adelson is Professor Emeritus of History at Arizona State University. He is an expert in the Middle East.

On this, the tenth anniversary of 9/11/2001, Father Gil asked me to give the sermon because the imam of Tempe’s Islamic Cultural Center was unable to speak as he had to go to Jordan. I had come back to Tempe early from my summer travels in Latin America to give lectures the past two Sunday afternoons about Islam and, more controversially, U.S. policies toward the Middle East since World War II. These talks drew upon my experience teaching history at ASU. But, as I reminded Gil last Sunday, I have never preached. Seeking his advice, he expressed confidence that God would guide me in what to say.

I see my sermon today as two-fold. First, as a historian with some knowledge of the Middle East, particularly the impact of British and U.S. Policies on that region during the past 150 years, I hope to indicate why hostility has been directed against us by Middle East Islamists. Secondly, as an ecumenically-minded Episcopalian, I hope to suggest what people of faith might learn from the terrible trauma of ten years ago that could make a difference in the future we all face.

When I was a teenager, one of my brothers told me that he could tell a lot about persons by the company they kept. What is true of those with whom teenagers associate may also be true of governments, and those with whom they have associated. Let’s look briefly at the Middle Eastern company the United States has kept since World War II.
During that war, the United States was very closely allied with Great Britain, which had more influence over more of the Middle East than any other foreign power since the late 19thcentury In the vast region bordered by Egypt, Turkey, and Iran. Washington deferred to London in the Middle East, particularly as regards oil, without which no mechanized army could wage war, and provided enormous aid not only to the British Isles, but to maintaining British dominance of the Middle East, although the United States adopted more independent policies in Palestine/Israel, Turkey, Persia, and Saudi Arabia. After I expressed surprise when my tutor in Cairo told me that few Egyptians distinguished between the British and the Americans because they both spoke the same language, she then asked me how many Americans distinguished among those who speak Arabic? Put another way, some “sins” of the British “fathers” in the Middle East may well have been passed on to their American “sons”

During the “Cold War”, the British tried to defend their empire in the Middle East until the late 1960s, when they announced their departure east of Suez. Unlike London’s pragmatic policies that had grown out of decades of experience with politics and economics in the Middle East, the Americans were relatively ignorant of the region, taking anti-communist ideology as their guide as they projected their competition with the Soviets in Europe and Asia on to the Middle East. As long as Turkey and Iran stood with us against the Soviet Union, we did not bother to ask about how and by whom these countries were ruled. As long as the U.S. government made sure that Saudi Arabia and the other oil-rich countries of the Gulf cooperated with Western oil companies, Washington did not worry much about other Arab countries until Nasser started to preach pan-Arabism, claim “Arab oil” and condemn Israel. The Israelis defeated the Palestinians and the surrounding Arab states in a succession of wars from the late 1940 to the late 1960s, this done without U.S. governmental aid or U.S. troops, which were then overstretched in Vietnam. U.S. direct involvement has escalated since the 1970s.

Henry Kissinger argued that U.S. interests in the Middle East were best served by backing a powerful Israeli Defense Force and a powerful Iranian defense force led by the shah, but Kissinger’s tactics soon started to fail over oil. First, an Arab oil boycott against those powers supporting Israel caused the four-fold increase in world oil prices that took place in the 1973-74 Arab-Israeli War. Then, in 1979, another three-fold increase in world oil prices occurred after the shah fell from power. No longer relying on Israel and Iran, Washington began to send more U.S. weapons and forces into the Gulf.

Such geopolitical matters are known to few people in the Middle East or in the United States, for that matter. Yet, learning about them in the U.S. media or classrooms is one thing, but seeing and hearing all the uniformed Americans in the Middle East, planes filling the skies, aircraft carriers and other big ships on seas made the U.S. presence obvious to the public in the Middle East, not just troops fighting against the Soviet occupation of Afghanistan, caught in the eight years of the bloody and expensive Iraq-Iranian War, or experiencing the so-called “Gulf War” as “Desert Shield” for Kuwait turned into “Desert Storm” and the first U.S. invasion of Iraq. With over a half million U.S. troops besides those in the so-called “Coalition”, new Middle East media reported what looked like the U.S. taking over the Arab world. That a few oil-rich Arabs gained at the expense of most poor Arabs impressed the growing number of young people in cities. Almost half the population of the Middle East today is under the age of 15, with half the males unemployed or underemployed, and lots of uneducated females already with children. Such trends make good recruiting grounds for the young stirred up by Islamist leaders to fight against Middle Eastern governmental leaders more concerned about Washington or Tel Aviv than the Arabs.

Killing innocent people and destroying U.S. property are crimes that violate U.S laws, but that has not kept the United States from being targeted by Arab extremists and terrorists before and after 9/11/01. Instead of referring to the religion of Islam or the history of Islamic Civilization, I use the word “Islamists”, which more accurately characterizes those ideologues and their often young followers who blame others, particularly Americans, for everything that has gone wrong in the Islamic world in recent decades. Anti-western ideologies have been in the Islamic world for a couple of centuries, but only a few Wahhabi fundamentalists wanted to purify Islam from all the modern and materialistic ways of foreigners. Wahhabis actually had little influence until they gained Arabian legitimacy through the Saudi Royal House, which not only protects the holy cities of Mecca and Medina, but sits astride half the world’s known oil reserves. The narrow Wahhabi ideology has tried, but failed to topple Saudi rule, which pays for U.S. protection, like other oil-rich dynasties in Kuwait and the United Arab Emirates. When Islamists such as Osama bin Laden wanted to free the Holy Places of Islam from the Saudis and their U.S. protectors, he found considerable backing for the global jihads he proclaimed in Afghanistan, Somalia, and on line.

By the 21st century, the Gulf had become “an American lake” after having for decades been called “a British lake”, but the Gulf was now not only rich in oil, but astonishingly rich in capital. Since the seven-fold increase in oil prices during the 1970s, the transfer of wealth from the oil-consuming nations to the oil-producing nations has caused the greatest global transfer of wealth in all history, and made such cities as Kuwait City and Doha powerful magnets that attract financiers, media, architects, designers, and academics from the United States and throughout the world.

Such arrangements between some U.S. governmental and non-governmental leaders with leaders in various capitals of the Middle East have enriched the few at the expense of the rest of us. U.S. taxpayers still have not paid for the trillions of dollars borrowed by this country since the U.S. occupation of Afghanistan began in 2001 and Iraq in 2003. To be sure, Kuwait, Saudi Arabia, and other oil-rich Gulf States contributed billions to the Gulf War of 1991, but other war costs and the postwar fly-overs in Iraq from the mid-1990s to the early 2000s, as well as the post 9/11/01 military occupations in Afghanistan and Iraq have been mostly financed by the United States. When the U.S. public blames the politicians in Washington, they in turn blame the terrorists for all our problems, which merely copies the Islamists blaming Washington for all the Middle East’s problems.

Let us turn, more briefly, to the second part of my sermon, i.e., what can a conscientious Christian do in these circumstances as we all seek a better future? Let me use the three goals of St. Augustine’s Parish: hospitality, discernment, and prayer.

The readings from Paul’s letter to the Romans points out how people of different faiths have different dietary laws and holy days, urging that Christians “never pass judgment on a brother or treat him with contempt” since “we all have to stand before the judgment seat of God.” That view is echoed in the 49th chapter of the Qur’an, when God, Allah, declares: “We created you from a male and female and made you into nations and tribes that you might know each other, not despise each other.” Both of these passages recognize the need for greater understanding and tolerance in today’s world so driven by new technologies, some of which are creative, and some of which are just as destructive.

For hospitality, I recall the interfaith service at the Tempe mosque that was attended by hundreds of Christians, Jews, as well as Muslims on a Saturday night in September, a year ago, when a Florida preacher had announced that he was going to burn the Qu’ran. I was so proud of Tempe that night, particularly Dorothy Saucedo speaking on behalf of Native Americans and the Episcopal Church. And I look forward to attending the interfaith gathering at Neeb Hall on the ASU campus this afternoon at 3 p.m., when I again plan to demonstrate Christian hospitality, rather than hostility, towards Muslims and Jews. For discernment, we have lots to learn at St. Augustine’s parish, as do most other churches, synagogues, and temples . My public education in Kansas excluded Muslims, who for all I knew marched around a big block they worshipped in Mecca. Not until my senior year in college did I begin to learn about Muslims, and not until I was a graduate student at Oxford did I learn of the global importance of Islam. For prayer, may I conclude with the prayer distributed at the last interfaith meeting at the Tempe Islamic Cultural Center last September:

“O God, you are the source of life and peace. Praised be your name forever. We know it is you who turns our minds to thoughts of peace. Hear our prayer in this time of war. Your power changes hearts. Muslims, Christians, and Jews remember, and profoundly affirm, that they are followers of the one God, children of Abraham, brothers and sisters; enemies begin to speak to one another; those who were estranged join hands in friendship; nations seek the way of peace together. Strengthen our resolve to give witness to these truths by the way we live. Give to us: Understanding that puts an end to strife; Mercy that quenches hatred, and Forgiveness that overcomes vengeance. Empower all people to live in your law of love. Amen.”

What will we do with our Remembrances?

2011-09-06T08:46:00.000-07:00

I had a dream Monday. I was alone in the parish hall and there were plates of uneaten food on all the tables. I was picking up the plates and taking them to the kitchen. In the kitchen I was scraping the food carefully off each plate into a large bin. As the bin was filling, I stood back – I heard a voice ask, “Why didn’t they eat the food?”

***
Through a burning bush, God called Moses to lead his people out of Egypt. Moses felt inadequate, insecure and incapable of following God’s call. But, God assured Moses that God would be fully present to Moses, giving him the voice he needed to lead.

Moses is now ready to lead the people out of the land of the Egyptians. Egypt, the most powerful and dominant empire of its time, culturally and politically sophisticated, innovative, advanced in religious ideology. Egypt was the superpower and the stutter, Moses, was standing toe-to-toe with the Pharaoh.

God had empowered Moses through the suffering of the people. God has emboldened Moses through his own weakness and failure. God had led Moses to victory, not by using a powerful war machine, but through faithful obedience and discipline.

God tells Moses to mark this event as the new beginning of time. God instructs Moses to establish this monumental event in the life of the people by Remembering God’s saving grace. Salvation means the people are being made whole. The immigrants, the isolated, the desolated people of God were going to be made whole by God.

God guides Moses to instruct the people to prepare a meal of remembrance. The meal is to be of the best lamb from the flock. Each person in the family is given an equal portion of the roasted lamb, with unleavened bread and bitter herbs. And they are to eat the meal, standing, fully dressed for travel.

The people would remember the saving grace of God by eating the thanksgiving meal, prepared to take a new spiritual journey, leaving the old ways of the slavery of revenge and the oppression of the empire behind.

In the face of oppression and annihilation, God leads the people with a wispy cloud by day and the flicker of fire by night, without the security of map or the certainty of a plan, delivering the people from the crushing empire of Egypt, across the dangerous unknown water of the Red Sea, into the foreboding desert, and going in a direction away from the promised land.

The people find little comfort while on their journey to the new Promised Land – they grumbled - that while in the throws of the empire they had food and drink - now in the desert they were afraid and hungry. They wanted to go back to what they thought was a better time – back to the good old days, back to the way things used to be. Their desire to go back to the way things used to be was an indication of their being stuck in arrested maturity. They were unwilling to go through the firry harshness of the maturation process. But, they would learn that there is no turning back – it is impossible to return to the good old days. They were where they were – in that time – in that situation – they needed to turn, not to the empire for salvation, but to God.

And in the midst of the angry confused voices of the people, Moses continually cries out to God, “Why – how - what’s next - I can’t do this anymore!” God listens patiently, quietly, attentively, and then God faithfully reminds Moses to Remember, Remember that God never forsakes.

***

Wednesday I saw a vision in the western sky – the west, the direction of autumn, darkness and death. I saw the dragon flying north - the north, the direction of the blue winter, the place of peace and self-reflection. The dragon’s underbelly was the purple of death’s blood. But, the side of the dragon was the patchwork of the multiple colors of rose pink, sugar brown, sparkling gold and marsh mellow white. And at the risen hump of the dragon’s back was the shocking brilliance of a blinding divine light.

This week, as a collective nation, we will be asked to remember – remember the dragons in our lives - pains, emotions, fears, frustrations, angers and deaths in our lives. The question is - what will we do with our memories, our dragons.

Rilke said, “Perhaps all the dragons in our lives are princesses who are only waiting to see us act, just once, with beauty and courage. Perhaps everything that frightens us is, in its deepest essence, something helpless that wants our love.”

You are a saint

2011-08-30T15:53:00.000-07:00

We all have people in our lives that are, in our estimation, saints. That person might be a parent, or grandparents, a friend, a spiritual guide, there are people who we can point to and say, “Yes, that person is saint” and I usually also think, “I want to grow up one day and be just like Mike”. But most of the time that seems to be an impossible task for me to achieve.

We study the saints of the Church – we even try to emulate them. Every Sunday we pray that we can be like the blessed Virgin Mary, Saint Augustine of Canterbury, Saint Brigid, and Saint Margaret. But we still struggle with the idea, that we, I, just a normal person, could actually live a daily life like one of our revered saints.

This morning (Matthew 16:21-28) we hear Jesus say to Saint Peter, the founder of the Church in Jerusalem and the father of the Church of Rome, “Get behind me, Satan!” That might be something I might expect Jesus to say to me, but not to Saint Peter. How did Peter move from suffering the wrath of Jesus, to sainthood?

Peter walked the same journey of our life – our journey to everyday sainthood. Yes, I do believe that Jesus calls all of us to be everyday saints. So, the question is how do we do such a thing in the face of so much personal humanness?

Saint Paul outlines for us some excellent spiritual direction in the regards of everyday sainthood. (Romans 12:9-21)

"Let love be genuine; hate what is evil, hold fast to what is good; love one another with mutual affection; outdo one another in showing honor. Do not lag in zeal, be ardent in spirit, serve the Lord. Rejoice in hope, be patient in suffering, persevere in prayer. Contribute to the needs of the saints; extend hospitality to strangers.
Bless those who persecute you; bless and do not curse them. Rejoice with those who rejoice, weep with those who weep. Live in harmony with one another; do not be haughty, but associate with the lowly; do not claim to be wiser than you are. Do not repay anyone evil for evil, but take thought for what is noble in the sight of all. If it is possible, so far as it depends on you, live peaceably with all…if your enemies are hungry, feed them; if they are thirsty, give them something to drink….Do not be overcome by evil, but overcome evil with good."

I don’t know about you, but that takes sainthood right out of my reach. It is so confounding at times – any attempt to live the mystical Christian life is just plain impossible – isn’t it?

That’s the point I had reached almost twenty years ago – when I had deconstructed Christianity into non-existence in my life. And then someone handed me a copy of Dietrich Bonhoeffer’s Letter’s and Papers from Prison.

"Jesus calls us, not to a new religion, but to life. But what does that look like, this participation in the powerlessness of God in the world?....I am still discovering right up to this moment, that it is only by living completely in the world that one learns to have faith. One must completely abandon any attempt to make something of oneself, whether it be a saint, or a converted sinner, or a churchman, a righteous person or an unrighteous one, a sick person or a healthy one….I mean living unreservedly in life’s duties, problems, successes and failures, experiences and perplexities. In doing so we throw ourselves completely into the arms of God, taking seriously, not our own sufferings, but those of God in the world – watching with Christ in Gethsemane. That is, I think, faith…and that is one becomes a person and a Christian. How can success make us arrogant, or failure lead us astray, when we share in God’s sufferings through a life of this kind?" (LPP 1967, pages 201-2).

Bonhoeffer is saying that to be saint, we don’t need to try and be a saint, we simply live real life in the world and that act in itself will throw us into the arms of God. And living life in the arms of God removes the fears of success and the fears of failure, replacing them with the love of Christ for others.

I do think this is the kind of life we are being called into by Saint Paul, a life of love, service, hope, prayer, patience and hospitality. These are the characteristics of everyday sainthood. And even when we fail, because we will, we are still falling into the arms of God. For God will catch us, hold us, comfort us, and encourage us, and then God sends us back out into the world to be Christ for others yet another day.

This was one of those weeks when it seemed impossible to be an everyday saint, or even a Christian. I had to close our preschool this week. That meant I had to tell a dozen people they were out of work. And I had to tell thirty parents they needed to find new childcare. There was obvious confusion, pain, hurt, and upset. But God was in the mess and suffering in it all – even when that seemed impossible. God was there in the faces of beautiful children. God was there in the maturity of staff beyond their years. And God was there in majority of understanding parents. God is here, living in the every day of life.

Jesus is not calling us into a new religion, but to a new life – a life that is lived completely in the world, totally reliant upon God to sustain us when it seems impossible to human or even Christian, much less a saint. But that is the life of the everyday saint – living in the arms of God.

A Counter-cultural community

2011-08-24T15:30:00.000-07:00

The previous three weeks my sermons have had the focused intent of leading us into the discernment process of hearing what the Spirit is calling us to be and to do over the coming five years.

First, we discovered that decisions are made from a discerning heart. Next we considered that God is calling us into new ways of being church. Last week we heard that we are called to follow the dreamers, risk-takers and mystics among us.

This morning, the letter of Paul to the Romans outlines some very practical ways of being a church community.

The letter to the Romans is considered by many to be Paul’s most important work, an expression of “his mature theology”. However, Paul’s letters are not a theological treatise and should not be considered doctrine. They are, after all, letters and should be read as such. And the problem with the letters is that we only have half of the conversation, Paul’s half.

It appears that Paul wrote the letter to the church in Rome while he was in Corinth preparing to go to Jerusalem. His intent was to stop and visit, for the first time, the church in Rome, a church of which he was not the founder. The letter was written about the same time as his letters to the Galatians and the Philippians. These letters should be read in conjunction with one another and not is isolation.

It’s also very important to recognize the influence of the cultural context on Paul’s writing. Rome was the center and seat of the Empire. The culture was pluralistic, filled with many and various religious practices, ideologies and philosophies. The population of the city was about 1 million, of which between 20,000-50,000 were Jewish. By the time Paul wrote his letter (somewhere near 60 CE), Christians were growing in number, although a small minority.

No one is absolutely sure why Paul wrote his letter, but it seems that one of the causes was probably the conflict that existed between the Jewish Christians and the Gentile Christians.

Now we turn to this morning’s reading, Romans 12:1-8. Paul is pleading with the church, the community, to live a life of Christ. As the collective body of Christ, the church, Paul is urging the community to practice kenosis, self-emptying by placing the Christ of others ahead of their personal needs. When, as a community, we practice kenosis, it is then that we are worshiping God in true spirit – remember the spirit is the heart. Therefore, by the church practicing kenosis, we are truly worshiping God with the spirit of our collective heart and when we are worshiping God with our spirit we can then discern God’s will for our community.

As a worshiping community, we are the body of Christ, comprised of individuals, with unique gifts of grace. Each individual must discern their gifts and then, in and through corporate worship, share these gifts with the community for the benefit of the community.
Paul then gives a short list of gifts of the Spirit, a list that in not an all inclusive list, but a sample.

•Prophecy – speaking forth the mind and counsel of God.
•Ministry – the word is translated, diakonia, deacon, the one who waits on table, the servant of the poor.
•Teaching – the interpreter of the scripture.
•Exhortation – the one who gives spiritual advice that is encouraging, as in spiritual direction.
•The giver – one who is charitable and generous.
•The leader – the one who sees into the soul of the community, being attentive to the ongoing restoration of the community into the fullness of its being and union with God.
•The compassionate – those who take on the suffering of others to the point of mutual joy.

When we use our gifts we are worshiping God. So, in our postmodern world, what will this church community look like who practice these gifts? Paul tells us that this kind of church community will be counter-cultural, transformative and discerning.

The church will be counter-cultural in that it will have the courage to speak out in a prophetic voice which ministers in compassion to the poor, the marginalized and the suffering.

The church will be transformative in that it will teach the scripture and provide spiritual direction for its people.

The church will be discerning in that the leaders will make decisions for the purpose of guiding the people to be who God is calling them to be.

And what makes this kind of church possible? It is possible because the people of the church will be charitable with their time, talents and resources.

The history of St. Augustine’s is like every other church, it has had it periods of up and downs – but, now is a unique time in the future of our church – God is fetching us out to move into the fullness of our being – to be a mature community that knows its place in the world and is willing to live into the place.

We sit at the corner of Broadway and College where 25,000 cars drive by everyday. We are one of the main portals in the largest university in America where hundreds and hundreds of students, faculty and staff make their way onto campus each day. We are the Episcopal Church and that positions us with a unique voice for the 21st Century. We are a beautiful community of prayer, discernment and hospitality.

Our community is poised to take the next steps – I exhort you once again, pray for your leaders and pray for yourselves as the congregation – that our hearts will have the ears to hear the Spirit and the courage to do what we being fetched to do.

And I exhort you to practice your gifts as a means of emptying your spirit in order to serve God.

A Word to the Remnant Community

2011-08-15T13:01:00.001-07:00

A word to the remnant community

A few years ago a young friend of mine became incredibly incensed by a discussion that I led entitled, “Resurrection, So What!” He sent a long, late night email bewailing his shock of my non-orthodox ideas. As I read his email I was more than surprised – I was stunned, because he was an avowed agnostic. Finally, near the end of his multiple page diatribes he said that the reason he was so dismayed by my thoughts was that I, as a chaplain and priest, must maintain the consensus orthodoxy of the Church, in order that he could be against it. In other words, I had to stay in his conceptual box so that he might be able to maintain his own. And that box he wanted me to stay in is filled with lots of historical and institutional baggage that actually drives people away from Christianity.

Some of you have told me that you are afraid to call yourself a Christian because you don’t want to be lumped into the assumptions of my young friend. That leaves you and me outside the box of what is considered normal by mainstream Christianity. Paradoxically, the Bible repeatedly calls this ‘being outside the box’, “The Remnant Community.”

Today’s readings offer us, the remnant community, some words of encouragement and instruction.

In Genesis we hear the continuation of the story of Joseph. Remember, his brothers sold him to the Ishmaelites because the brothers hated his arrogant behavior and dreams. Then the Ishmaelites took Joseph to Egypt and they sold him as a slave to the Pharaoh. Eventually, because of Joseph’s ability to interpret dreams, he made his way in the Pharaoh’s court and into a seat of power.

Now a famine had devoured the land and because of Joseph’s shrewd management of Egypt’s food stocks, starving people were coming from neighboring lands begging for food, including Joseph’s brothers. The brothers had no idea that the man standing before them was the brother they sold into slavery. Joseph was overcome with emotion and love for his brothers. He told them not to be afraid. He didn’t seek revenge. Instead, Joseph thanked God for sending him ahead of his brothers, in order that he might preserve them as a remnant community.

Joseph is the Jesus figure in the story – sold into the death of slavery, he is resurrected, and through forgiveness and unconditional love, he saves the remnant community.

Then also this morning we heard this strange story about Jesus. This isn’t the kind, gentle and loving Jesus we are familiar with, is it? Jesus wanders into Tyre, the land of the Canaanites. The Canaanites were idol worshippers and ancient enemies of Israel. The Canaanites were also the people of Jesus’ lineage, according to Matthew. Tamar, Rahab and Ruth were in Jesus’ family tree.

And now, a woman, a Canaanite, whose daughter was demon possessed, was confronting Jesus and the disciples. They ignore her, but she won’t go away. She is verbally persistent. And what is she saying? Keyrie eleison, Lord have mercy. Keyrie eleison, Lord have mercy. Keyrie eleison, Lord have mercy!

And what is Jesus’ response to her begging for mercy? He says, “It’s not fair to take the children’s food and throw it to the dogs.” Jesus is telling her that only the children of Israel are to God’s holy people and that she, a Canaanite, is doomed to be a worthless mongrel dog.

The story could have ended there – the woman could have crawled away wounded by Jesus’ words, or she could have taken up stones and hurled them at Jesus. Instead though, she participated in Jesus’ conversion of thinking. She says, “Yes, Lord, yet even the dogs eat the crumbs that fall from their master’s table.” Of course, those are the words of our Rite One Eucharist, known as the ‘prayer of humble access’.

Her humility converts Jesus to see that the kingdom of God is universal. And that puts Jesus outside the box of orthodoxy.

Finally, we heard in Romans this morning that this theme of universal salvation became the hallmark of Paul’s message to the remnant community. His message is that salvation is about the full inclusion of Jews and Gentiles into the same worshipping community. A community that is grounded in the grace of God where there is no longer Jew or Greek or Gentile or Canaanite, no longer slave or free, no longer male or female, but all one in Christ. Paul says that God’s call into this remnant community of grace is irrevocable.

Karl Barth writes that this theme of universal salvation by grace is the unique Gospel of the Remnant community.

But, we are keenly aware that being a Remnant community has a cost. Being a Remnant community means that we are often invisible. Our views of forgiveness, unconditional love, and full inclusion are the disturbing ideas of subversion. Holding to the concept that conversion is a lifetime process that includes the reality of suffering is not popular to the masses of Christianity, but it is the narrative of the scripture.

As a Remnant community we are not called to follow popular Christianity nor to offer a marketable form of Christianity that will be attractive to new members. No, instead, we are called to practice our irrevocable gifts of grace – our gifts liberate us from worrying about whose saved or whose lost, who agrees with us or who disagrees with us, whose orthodox and whose a heretic, and whose going to heaven or hell – none of these things matters because our gifts of grace call us to love others as God loves us – with fully inclusive unconditional love and forgiveness.

Yes, we are Remnant community. Obscure, invisible, tiny and even marginalized – but we are walking in the ways of the God of Joseph, Tamar, Rahab, Ruth, Jesus and Paul. And they were all outside of the box. Amen.

Leaders who are Dreamers, Risk-takers and Mystics

2011-08-09T09:06:00.000-07:00

Leaders who are Dreamers, Risk-takers and Mystics

Dreamers, risk-takers and mystics, not typically the kind of people you would hold in high regard as your leader. However, the biblical story, if taken seriously, does indeed teach us over and over again that it is the dreamers, risk-takers and mystics who will be our spiritual guides, not the strategic planner, decisive decision maker, nor the organizer. Leadership, according to the Bible, is messy, unclear, and just plain a little freaky.

In today’s Lectionary readings we have three examples of leaders, Joseph the dreamer, Peter the risk-taker and Jesus the mystic.

Joseph, the dreamer, is the youngest son of Jacob. Remember Jacob, his name was changed to Israel, meaning, “One who has wrestled with God and survived”. Joseph will come to be known as one of the greatest interpreters of dreams and he will be the protector of the future heirs of the people of Israel. Without Joseph’s gift of dreams of power in leadership, the story of the people of Israel would be much different.

In today’s story Joseph has two dreams, the dream of the sheaves of wheat and the dream of the sun, moon and eleven stars. In the first dream, Joseph’s eleven brothers bow down to him and in the second, not only do his brothers bow down, but also his father and mother. Joseph shares his dreams with his family. Of course, his brothers are infuriated. And because he is the favored son, the baby of the family, his brothers conspire against him, eventually selling Joseph to traders, who in turn, sell him into Egyptian slavery. Joseph, the dreamer, finds himself the distain of brothers, nearly killed, sold into slavery, and taken hundreds miles away from his home. Yet, in a few years, because of his ability to interpret dreams, Joseph will rise to power in Egypt and actually provide salvation for his family.

Dreams are the place of visions and new possibilities.

Next, we hear the story of Peter, the risk-taker. Jesus has fed the 5,000. Night has fallen and Jesus needs time alone to pray. So, he puts the disciples in a boat and tells them to go to the other side of the Sea of Galilee and tells them he will meet them later.

Now we find the disciples in the middle of the lake. They have been there all night, battling a storm, trying to row themselves from one side of the eight-mile wide lake to the other. It’s early in the morning. The wind is pounding them, and shockingly, they see Jesus walking on the water towards them. It frightened them – no kidding (the Bible can be little understated at times).

Jesus reassures them with gentle words, “Don’t be afraid”. And then Peter, says, “Lord, if it you, command me to come to you on the water.” So, Jesus says, come on out here. At this point, Peter is taking a tremendous risk, for he is willing to risk his safety and his life to walk into the fetching of Jesus. Peter, the one Jesus calls the rock upon whom the first church will be founded is the great risk-taker.

The risk lies in the treachery of the water. For water is the symbol of the destructive power of nature over life. Water is the symbol of the dark forces of life and it is the symbol of all that we fear. By Jesus walking on the water, we are reassured of Jesus’ power over water and its destructive force. And now, Jesus is inviting Peter to participate in his divine power.

Like any of us who have been challenged to participate in the divine battle with the destructive forces of the dark world, we can become frightened and lose our courage – we take our eyes off God, and we begin to sink. This story is told to provide us comfort and reassurance that in our risk and in our failures, Jesus, the mystic, is there to save us.

Jesus, the mystic – Jesus the mystic who feeds thousands of people with a few loaves and fish – Jesus, the mystic who walks on water – Jesus, the mystic who rescues the drowning Peter – and how does Jesus do all these mystical things? What I read in this story is that between the feeding of the 5,000 and his walking of water – Jesus goes off alone to pray.

How is Jesus in mystical union with God? He prays. How does Jesus enact the power of God to miraculously feed a multitude? He prays. How does Jesus overcome the destructive forces of nature? He prays. The consistent spiritual practice of Jesus’ life is prayer. From his prayer comes his mystical life.

What can we learn from these three men, these leaders, the dreamer, the risk-taker and the mystic? What does dreamers sold into slavery, drowning risk-takers and mystical water walkers have to do with us?

Being Christians does not eliminate the perils of life. There are times it will seem that we are failing. We may wake up one morning feeling like we are at the bottom of dry well. Or we may feel one day that we are in boat that is about to swamped by a ravishing storm. And there may be days that we feel like we are drowning. But we are assured that when the storms come, and the waves crash over us, and we know we are sinking – our prayers, our life with God, Father, Son and Holy Spirit, will sustain us, indeed, it will save us.

Being in a Christian community we know that there are dreamers, risk-takers and mystics among us. And at times, we will be asked to follow them into risky waters.

We also know that but praying, we as a community will be one with God. This is our assurance in the face of peril.

Let us be a community of dreamers, risk takers and mystics. Dream your dreams, risk getting out of the boat of security, walk on water, be a mystic – pray deeply - but, do not be afraid, for God is with us.

What do Christians have to offer the overwhelmed?

2011-08-03T09:08:00.000-07:00

The events of the last two weeks have threatened to throw my spiritual rhythm off its center.

Holy Spirit Episcopal Church was closed July 17th. I attended the secularization of holy space service the following Thursday. I went to support their priest, my good friend, The Rev. Julie O’Brien, who, course, many of you know. It may have been the most demoralizing things I have witnessed in my life in the Church.

That was stacked on top of the horrific news of a crazed and Islamophobic gunman murdering 76 innocent people, many of who were young people. And it happened in the most open, tolerant and peace loving country, Norway.

Sadly, Amy Winehouse, one of my favorite singers, died at the age of twenty-seven. Once again, the disease of addiction destroyed a beautiful and creative life. It’s a story I deal with much too often in the lives of young adults most of you never see.

And this week I was in Houston for a mediation hearing in Federal Court. Godly Play Foundation and Church Publishing, Inc. were suing each other over breach of contract on the publishing rights of Godly Play materials. You either have to laugh or get nauseous.

It’s all enough to be overwhelming. But, as a Christian, how do I respond to such global, local and more importantly, personal crisis? Do I comfort others and myself with statements like, “I just need to get over it and move on”, or “I need to toughen up”, or the most often used, “It could be a lot worse”. Frankly, none of these are helpful. As a Christian then, what do I tell people about how to handle life when it feels overwhelming? In other words, as Christians, do we have anything helpful to offer people in distress?

I think last week’s gospel flowing into the story of the feeding of the 5,000 has some possible answers.

In Matthew 13 we heard Jesus teaching his disciples that the kingdom of God is like a good seed among the weeds. The kingdom is also like a treasure found in a field. And the kingdom is like a pearl of great treasure. Finally, the kingdom is like a net to catch fish. Then Jesus asks an indicting question of the disciples, “Do you understand what I am teaching you?” The disciples said, “Yes.”

Jesus then gave them this obtuse and esoteric blessing. “If you understand, then, you will be a new kind of teacher, a rabbi in my tradition. And in this new tradition, you will teach the treasures of the old and the treasures of the new.”

What does this mean? While it is opaque, let me suggest that Jesus is expecting the disciples, and us, to be a part of a new kind of rabbinic tradition. In this new tradition, we are to be schooled in the mysteries of the ancient ways and in the new teachings of Jesus. With our training we will be practiced in offering healing ways for those who feel overwhelmed.

What are these ancient practices and new teachings that we have to offer?

In Matthew 14, we are told the story of Jesus feeding the 5,000 with a five loaves of bread and two fish. Taken literally, the story is about a miracle Jesus performed 2,000 years ago and has little importance for us today. However, seen through the eyes of the mystic Christian, the new rabbi, this story is about living the life that does have something of great value for a suffering and overwhelmed world.

Jesus’ first teaching is obvious. We are to take what little we have and find ways to multiple our resources in order to meet the needs of others. Last week, a couple stranded in Phoenix came to our parish. They needed bus tickets to travel back to their home in Houston. The wife was pregnant. I called Sky Harbor Traveler’s Aid, a Christian ministry located near the airport. I have worked with them before. With a little help from our discretionary funds, partnered with the Sky Harbor ministry – we turned a few dollars into enough money to buy two bus tickets.

The second teaching of Jesus may be a little more illusive. While the three Abrahamic faiths have distinctive teachings, they also have in common the central practice of caring for the poor. Every week, hundreds of people are fed through the IHELP program. This program was started in Tempe as a response to the 9.11 tragedy. Christians, Muslims and Jews work side by side in this feeding program. It is a measure of our willingness to follow the teachings of Jesus. We turn our once a month offering into the housing and feeding of people every night in Tempe.

The third teaching of Jesus takes us deeper into the esoteric ancient teachings. Several times each week we gather around the Eucharistic table. At this table a few slivers of bread and a small cup of wine is blessed, broken and shared in order to feed our spirits. We are nourished by the broken body and by the spilt blood of Christ. And each week we take some of the shared Eucharist to those who cannot attend the service. A few shards of bread and a few drops of wine are given in order to strengthen the weak and the infirmed.

These blessed teachings and ministries encourage us because we are practicing them already. Still, there is more to be gleaned from the Holy Scriptures and the teaching of the ancient ways and from the Way of Jesus. It is in these other teachings that we must seek a richer involvement. We have much more to offer a physically and spiritually hungry world.

Some of these teaching involve mystical prayer, healing touch, more fully incorporating ancient teaching and practices into our community life, a new way of living and being church, expanding our social service outreach, and being more creative in our outreach to young adults. The deeper we go, the more the we learn, the greater the risks we can take, the more we will discover about the way of the ancients and the Way of Jesus.

We are on the cusp of Jesus’ new way of rabbinic life – yet, we are “just” on the cusp. We have not crossed the veil. We can only make this journey if most of us are willing to take on the fullest expression of our gifts. That will mean something unique from each of us, but we must be willing.

At the end of June, I called us into a season of discernment about the future of our parish. We have grown mightily in spirit and number the last five years. But, now it is time to begin thinking of the next five years. I have asked the Bishop’s Committee to join me in September in order to take a look of how our vision of prayer, discernment and hospitality will be understood in the next five years. I am asking you as a congregation to pray for the Bishop’s Committee, the congregation as a whole and, for yourself – so that all of us will know the way God wants us to be able to make our offering to an overwhelmed world during the next five years. Let us pray.

The Decision Making Process of a Wise Heart

2011-07-25T10:10:00.000-07:00

Making decisions can be paralyzing. I can find myself torn between two really good possibilities. Of course, I can make lists of pro’s and con’s, play mental Ping-Pong, and waste of lot energy stewing over “what to do?” You know, staring at the ceiling at two in the morning, counting how many times the ceiling fan goes around.

Another way of making decisions is known a spiritual discernment. Discernment includes prayer and contemplation about a particular situation. Spending reflective time with God can move us into a place of confidence in God and our decision making process.

In I Kings 3:5-12 we have a beautiful insight into the spiritual and somewhat mystical world of making good decisions.

King Solomon had an eclectic spiritual practice. He was at Gibeon, the site of a high place. The scripture tells us that Solomon walked in the ways of God, but also offered sacrifices of incense at the high places. It was here in Gibeon that Solomon anticipated receiving a theophany.

Indeed, then God did appear to Solomon in a dream. The subconscious was working in synchronicity with God. In the juncture of the dream world, subconscious openness, and our conscious anxiety, we become still enough in our sleep to hear God speaking.

In Solomon’s dream, God asks what Solomon desires in order to be successful. Solomon asks God for a listening heart, lev shome’a (translated as understanding mind in the NRSV).

God is pleased by Solomon’s request and grants Solomon a wise heart, lev chakhom, and a discerning heart, lev hakam venavon.

So what can we learn about discernment from Solomon’s dream?

First, note that Solomon was in a holy place readying himself and anticipating God’s presence. In order to hear God, we must be in a place of intentionality and preparation, having a keen desire to hear God.

Second, note that Solomon did not ask for wisdom, but instead, he asked for a listening heart. In order to discern, the first action is to listen – listen to God, listen to our own heart and listen to the hearts of others.

Third, note that nowhere in this conversation between Solomon and God is Solomon asking for a specific answer to a question – nor is God offering such a thing. Also note that, while the NRSV uses the word “mind” as the place where decisions are made – the Hebrew language places discernment in the “heart”- the place of the spiritual, the feminine characteristic of God. Discernment is an action of the spirit, which is of the heart – the spirit is the mediator between heaven and earth, mediator between the divine and human and mediator between the mind and the body. Decisions made in the heart are decisions of mediation, middle ground, and mutual benefit that are products of the life-giving heartbeat of the spirit.

Decisions of the heart will feel a woman giving birth. The process of the discernment of the heart is laborious an painful, producing a beautiful gift, while the final outcome is uncertain.

Fourth, God gave Solomon a wise heart – the wise heart will imitate the characteristics of God, which are patience, peace, love, forgiveness, self-sacrifice, lack of fear, and the courage to make bold and risky actions. Dietrich Bonhoeffer called this boldness “responsibility ethics”.

We are often paralyzed in decision-making because we want to make the “right” decision. We want to make the right decision because we are afraid of being wrong. Bonhoeffer says that we can never know with absolute certainty what the pure and true will of God is, until maybe at the end of life as we walk across the veil looking back over our shoulder, but even then only maybe could we know.

What Bonhoeffer says is that in making decisions, we have to use the tools and resources that God has given us, spend time with God and then we must make the decision and – and here is the difficult part – we must accept the responsibility for our decision, not passing the blame for its possible failure to God or to someone else. We must accept the responsibility of the beautiful gift of our decision in the face of an uncertain outcome.

A wise and heart will make decisions based on spiritual sensibilities and then have the courage to accept the responsibility for the outcome. That takes Godly courage.

A wise and discerning heart will, 1) prepare to hear God, 2) have a listening heart, 3) be willing to do the labor that produces a beautiful gift, and 4) accept responsibility for decisions, while living with the uncertainty of the outcome.

To quote Thomas Merton:

My Lord God, I have no idea where I am going. I do not see the road ahead of me. I cannot know for certain where it will end. Nor do I really know myself, and the fact that I think I am following your will does not mean that I am actually doing so. But I believe that the desire to please you does in fact please you. And I hope I have the desire in all that I am doing. I hope that I will never do anything apart from that desire. And I know that if I do this you will lead me by the right road, though I may know nothing about it. Therefore I will trust you always though I may seem to be lost and in the shadow of death. I will not fear, for you are ever with me, and you will never leave me to face my perils alone. (Thoughts on Solitude)

Welcoming dragons

2011-06-27T13:17:00.000-07:00

Is there anyone in your life that annoys you? Despite your best effort it seems impossible to be hospitable to them. You try, you work at it – you want to be welcoming to them, but there is something about that person that bars any kind of meaningful relationship. Do you know that person? Well, of course not. But, in case a friend ever asks advise about such a situation in their life – this sermon is for them.

Jesus is pointing us towards the pathway of an intimate relationship with God. Jesus, ever the wise counselor, sets us up with his first statement. “Whoever welcomes you welcomes me and whoever welcomes me welcomes the one who sent me.” That sounds easy, right? Everyone has to welcome me. And what does that mean, “to be welcomed”? We know what it feels like to be welcomed, don’t we? We want to be greeted warmly and we want be invited into the inner circle.

Then in true fashion, Jesus turns the tables on us; whoever welcomes a prophet, whoever welcomes a righteous person, and whoever welcomes a child will receive the reward of God. Prophets, the righteous and children can, at times, be the most annoying people.

So how do we deal with, much less welcome, the annoying? In verse thirty-nine, Jesus says, “Those who find their life will lose it, and those who lose their life for my sake will find it.”

What does losing your life have to do with welcoming the annoying?

Whatever annoys me about another person is triggering something that annoys me about myself. Let me repeat that. Whatever annoys me about another person is triggering something that annoys me about myself. When that happens it should cause me to stop and do some honest reflection about my life – asking the question, “What is it in me, that is causing me to react to this person with such annoyance?” What is the dragon in my inner being that is breathing fire towards another person?

Once I do this self-discovery, then what? Do I try to get rid of the dragon? No, not all; I need to make friends with the dragon.

There is a wonderful Pixar movie, How to Train Your Dragon. I love it how children’s films are not for children. The producers trick the adults into bringing their children so the filmmakers can teach the adults good life lessons. The underlying theme of the film is about dealing with our fears, the dragons in our life. And the way to deal with our fears is to make friends with those fears. Once we make friends with our fears, our dragons, those same dragons will liberate and empower us.

To use Jesus’ words, dying to self is accepting our true identity, dragons and all. Being honest about having two sides to our personality, and not denying this reality, is the beginning of being able to embrace the dragon in our life. Once we make friends with our dragons, our fears, our dark side, our weakness, we will be set free to be who God has created us to become.

In the ancient Irish religion there are two goddesses. Brighe is the goddess of the summer, light and fertility. Cailleach is the goddess of the winter, darkness and death. These two goddesses are one in the same, two sides of the same coin. The goddess’ are the reflection of our life.

We have two sides – neither is bad or good, both are vital to our integration. The dragons in our lives are not bad, they are not sins, they are not evil – they are who we are as an integrated being. Without darkness, there is no light. Without Cailleach there is no Brighe. In order to be fully integrated we must welcome our inner dark. We must greet our dragon and invite it into the inner circle of our life.

Once we can welcome the dragon in our life, then, we can welcome the prophet, the righteous and the child, even the annoying. In the name of Jesus and in the name of the apostles, we are called to be welcoming, hospitable, inviting others into our inner circle.

Of course taming the dragons in my life is dangerous work, I might have to welcome the annoying to the dinner table, it might even be a fire-breathing dragon.

Hearing what the Spirit is saying

2011-06-24T13:16:00.000-07:00

The summer is always a good time for reflection, evaluation and planning for the fall. We have been very faithful to our vision of prayer, discernment and hospitality. And we have seen the fruits of our commitment to this path for our community.
From this vision we have created opportunities to be a community of prayer, including Morning Prayer, Evening Prayer, Contemplative Prayer, St. Margaret’s Chapter of the Daughters of the King, the Benedictine Sisters and Brothers of St. Brigid and our vital community of Godly Play.

Together we have been listening to the Spirit. We have discerned our creation of more worship opportunities on Sunday. Immediately, we have witnessed the Spirit’s movement in our congregation. Each service has established its own identity, and we have experienced overall growth in our Sunday attendance. St. Brigid’s Community is nurturing the souls of many young adults and families. And we have worked very hard to integrate our preschool in the life of the parish.

Our community of hospitality continues to reach out to others, providing food for the homeless, a safe haven and nourishment for the bereaved, comfort and assistance for the sick, the establishment of St. Benedict’s closet for those who walk in off the street needing immediate help, and a faithful commitment to our discretionary fund that helps parishioners with larger needs.

God has blessed our faithfulness. Now, however, is not the time to sit back and tell ourselves how spiritual we have become. No, now is the time to pray and discern what the Spirit is saying to us. I have preached that maybe the Spirit is asking us, “What is next?” As we continue to walk into the vision of being a parish of prayer, discernment and hospitality, I believe this “next” is that we are being fetched into new possible ways of being a spiritual community. This will require us to be curious of the Spirit’s beckoning, experimental with our means of engaging with God, and the willingness to risk our resources in doing the work God has given us. I am asking you to pray specifically that we will be a courageous community, filled with individuals of wisdom. If God will grant this to us, we will be able to hear what the Spirit is saying and then in wisdom and with courage, we will act appropriate upon the fetching of the Spirit. Please join me in this season of prayer.

Doubts and all

2011-06-20T15:49:00.000-07:00

Even though it happened over ten years ago, I am still frequently asked, how I went from being the president of a Southern Baptist College to an Episcopal Priest. Over the years I’ve tried to boil the answer down the “elevator version, less than fifteen stories”.

But now, the simplest answer may be found in the few sentences of this morning’s gospel (Matthew 28:16-20).

Ironically, what the Southern Baptist use as a foundational building block of their faith is found within this text; “Go therefore and make disciples of all nations, baptizing them in the name of the Father, and the Son and the Holy Spirit…”

However, it’s the preceding few sentences that put the grain of sand in the oyster. “When they saw (Jesus) they worshipped him; but some doubted.” Room for doubt does not exist in the realm of the Southern Baptist kingdom – but my life has been filled with doubt. The harder I tried to convince myself that I absolutely knew what I believed and that I did not have doubts – the bigger the wave of doubts would crash over my intellect.

Richard Rohr, in his latest book, Falling Upward: A Spirituality for the Two Halves of Life, offers a language around which to build a context for developing a spirituality that is a container large enough to hold the tension of doubt and the belief in the Trinitarian God. He writes that in the movement from the spiritual first half of life to the second, we let go of our certainty and embrace the ambiguity of life – we move from the lens of literalism to the worldview of openness. We no longer see ourselves as keepers of truth instead we are eagerly listening to the stories of others to hear what they have to tell us of God. I found the Episcopal Church to be a safe place to live into this dialectical tension.

As with the disciples, I can show up to worship, even with my doubts. And the beauty of the image of standing there amongst the doubting disciples is that Jesus offered to them and to me, his final blessing. “And remember, I am with you always, to the end of the age.” Even in my doubts, Jesus remains present to me.

Then the obvious question then, is, “How is God present to me?” Jesus is inviting us into the Trinitarian community; God, Father, Son and Holy Spirit, Creator, Redeemer, Sustainer - is the community of faith in which Jesus wants us to be full participants.

The thrill of this invitation is that the biblical story reveals this Trinitarian relationship to be one of co-creating, co-operating synergy of all the participants. And because it is a co-operating relationship, God, the Trinitarian community, is affected by God’s relationship with humanity. We are continually a part of the Trinitarian dance, the vibration of the cosmos, the creation of life force.

How do we have an affect upon God? Process theology tells us that God does not know exactly what is going to happen in the future, not even in the next moment. God has given us free will – therefore – we are free to act. And God’s love is so unconditional that God will act accordingly to our decisions as we make them. It’s like a parent who knows their child intimately, while we can make a pretty good guess as to what our child might do, we don’t know for sure. God, with an eternity of experience, knows pretty well what his creation is going to do next – but, not absolutely sure. God’s love is so immense that God continues to love us, no matter what choices we are making. We are in co-operating relationship with God.

David Gushee writes that the “relational dynamic within the Trinity…involving endless mutual self-giving, a delighted deflection of attention to one another and joyful love.”

We, as followers of Jesus and participants in the Trinitarian life, share in this mature spiritual life of endless self-giving, delighted deflection of attention to one another and joyful love. This is the model community of which we are invited by Jesus to enter.

It’s easy for me to tell my story about why I am a follower of Jesus and why I live out my life in the Episcopal Church – I am lured by the fetching of God into a life lived within the Trinitarian community God where my doubts are as important as my worship because both my doubts and my worship have an affect upon God. And this relationship with God is mutually shared within my community where we offer endless self-giving, deflection of attention to one another and joyful love. It matters to God that I show up – doubts and all.

Precious gift

2011-06-14T08:32:00.000-07:00

My daughter made a rosary for me ten years ago – it was a surprise gift. The cross is from Cambria, California, a favorite ocean side spot that has nourishes Cathy and my souls these past several years. The beads are entwined together with a heavy hemp thread; reminiscent of the strength and courage it takes to pray faithfully.

I carry this rosary daily, praying it often. It has traveled with me to Ireland, dipped in the Lakes of the Two Angels, in Glendalough. This rosary has been to Rome and rubbed across an altar in St. Peter’s. It has been ground in the holy dirt in Chimayo, New Mexico where people have been healed for generations.

This rosary has been held between me and the dying, the grieving, the anxious and the uncertain. It seems, now, as if, it has a calming effect on those who will sit with it and feel its weight – that is, if the person holding it will give their burden back to the rosary – then, it often feels so very light. I am convinced that the experience is a mystery unto each who beholds these prayer beads. I cannot explain the mystery, I am simply repeating what others tell me.

But what if I had taken this precious gift and put it back in the box and stored it in a safe place to protect it – what then of the potentiality of the gift? Would it have the same aura surrounding it?

In this morning’s text we hear that Jesus breathed the gift of the Holy Spirit upon the disciples. In turn, Peter breathed the Holy Spirit upon the people gathered at Pentecost – using the prophecy of Joel; Peter gives the gift of visions, dreams, and salvation to the new church that stood in the face of oppression. The disciples then breathed the Spirit upon the convert Paul. Paul, the mystic in turn shares the power of the Spirit with all who will “hear what the Spirit is saying.” And the breath of the Spirit has been breathed upon each of us down through the centuries. We are as close to the power of the Spirit as the disciples were at the very moment Jesus breathed upon them.

Our theology of the Sacramental Presence is a gift to us. Apostolic succession, passes down a moving of the ontological to us down through the centuries – Bishops call upon the Holy Spirit to consecrate successive bishops – who call upon the Holy Spirit to set aside priests through the ages – who call upon the Holy Spirit to be Present to bless the elements of bread and wine – which feeds us and transforms us in the gifts of the Spirit.

St. Paul tells us that we each have been given a specific gift of the Spirit for the common good – to one, the utterance of wisdom, to another knowledge, to another the gift of healing, and another, the faith to perform miracles, to another the gift of prophecy, yet to another the discernment of spirits, still to another the gifts of tongues and to one, the gift to interpret such speech. We are given these gifts, Jew and Greek, free and slave, male and female, all to drink of one Spirit - for the common good.

Our community has been these gifts – some amongst us behold one of these gifts, not one person all gifts, and not all these gifts are among our community – but, some of these gifts are here – and what are we to do with them? Do we say, “thank you so very much Holy Spirit for the gift you have given me,” and then keep it hidden in safe place where no one will know our gift? Or do we take it out – humbly, gently, as the Wisdom of the feminine of the Spirit would share her love with us as children – sharing our gifts with others for the common good?

Hear me, this work is not an easy task – it can be a burden, a challenge, a threat, a danger – using the gifts will put more stress into our life. We run the risk of our treasured gift being soiled or broken – however, using these gifts for the common good will bring integration, healing, hope and the promise of God’s love into our community. It is a risk well worth taking.

It is time we pray to the Holy Spirit to release the gifts amongst us – to see a new vision – to have new dreams – to imagine what has yet to be experienced.

Let us pray that the gifts of the Holy Spirit will dance like tongues of fire on our spiritual heads. And let us pray that we will have the courage to share our gifts with one another and the world in which we live. Amen.

The Art of God

2011-06-06T10:56:00.000-07:00

The shell of the Nautilus is an example of the fascinating art of nature. The creature that lives in this shell spends its life building new compartments in which to live. The compartments are built in logarithmic proportions, each section of the shell will be exactly eleven percent larger than the current “house” of the Nautilus – the creature is at one with itself and the mystery of creation while at the same time, evolving and growing to reach the next level of its own development. The Nautilus is on its life pilgrimage to reach maturity.

As a church community, we have been on a pilgrimage the last six months. The journey of our church year began in the long night’s darkness near the winter solstice of Advent. Shrouded in the cold desert nights, God came to be one of us, “Emmanuel, God is with us.”

Together, we have walked that long six months pilgrimage with our Lord, in anticipation of the birth of the Messiah, to the lowly birth of Jesus, his baptism, the forty days of Lent, Passion Week, the fifty days of Easter Season, the Ascension and now, we stand poised for the birth of the Church next week at Pentecost.

We have traveled from the darkness before the winter solstice to this moment, approaching the summer solstice. We have come out of darkness into the light. It has been a process of spiritual maturity – steadily growing each step of the way.

Together, we hear the words of the resurrected Jesus Christ, the mystical words, “So now, Father, glorify me in your own presence with the glory that I had in your presence before the world existed. I have made your name known to those you gave me from the world…I am asking on behalf of those you gave me, because they are yours…Holy Father, protect them in your name that you have given me, so that they may be one, as we are one…(v 20) I ask not only on behalf of these, but also on behalf of those who will believe in me through their word, that they may all be one.”

Jesus Christ, the holy one, the high priest, prays for the apostles, his disciples, and his followers – he is praying for us. Our great high priest is praying that we may experience the same presence, the same oneness that Jesus Christ experiences in the presence of God. We are being fetched into the inner life of God, the presence of God, the Trinitarian community of God.

Mystically speaking – being one with the Trinity – one in three, three in one. It is unexplainable – but we can use the only thing we have, which is language to work meaning of our symbols.

Mystically speaking - One, the monad, is simply the “one single identity.” One is the potentiality of all numbers and God is the source and the potential of all creation.

Two, the dyad, is a pair in relationship, like the mother and child. Two is associated with dualism and the possibility for division and strife.

Three, the triad, is wondrous harmony, a chord of three musical notes.

To become one with God, is to be joined into the harmonious triad of the Trinitarian community. We do not think of ourselves as being in dyad with God. Instead, we see ourselves in community, the triad.

It is like this – to be in the triad is to become as if a note sung by God, (chanted) Father, Son and Holy Spirit, Creator, Redeemer, and Sustainer. The scriptures are clear that Jesus and the disciples sang – more likely chanted – Matthew 26:30 “When they had sung the hymn, they went out to the Mount of Olives.” They were chanting the Hallel, Psalms 113-118, the psalms sung on the first night of the Passover.

To be one with God is to have the vibration of our spirit, our soul, joined into the harmony of the Trinity. The spirit of our soul is being in the indistinguishable harmony with the perfect tone of the Trinitarian God.

How do we tune the voice of our soul to that of the voice of the soul of the Trinity?

First, we can know that it will happen because Jesus Christ has prayed for us that we, indeed, will be one with God.

Second, we are sanctified, made holy. Being made holy comes about by our participation in the work of Jesus Christ – our three-fold participation in the work is – 1) contemplation (which is our prayer), 2) Communion (which is our participation in the mystery of the Sacrament of Eucharist) and 3) by our actions of justice (which is our intercession on the behalf of others) – contemplation, communion, and action. This is the work of being one with God – this is the work of the mystical life. The work of the mystical life can be compared to the life’s work of the Nautilus, a long steady and logarithmic process.

If anyone of the three components, contemplation, communion or action - is missing in our life – then we are not integrated beings, not complete Christians, we are missing out on being fully one with God. But, take heart – it’s a lifetime of work, this life and the next.

It’s time to start singing the hymn of the Nautilus. Let the voice of our soul resonant with the soul of the Triune God in our contemplation, communion and action – it will make harmonious music in the ears of the soul of our God. We are the art of God.

Awe

2011-05-16T13:07:00.000-07:00

We are a Resurrection Community. Our vision is one of prayer, discernment and hospitality. Evidence of being a Resurrection Community and living out our vision surround us.

At Lent One we began three Sunday morning services. In 2010 our average Sunday morning attendance was 120 and before Lent One we were running slightly ahead of that number. Not counting Easter Sunday, which by the way this year we had 50 more than in 2010 – we have averaged 140 – now that’s pretty amazing. Over the last five years our attendance has increased ten percent each year – and this year we are on pace to exceed that rate of growth.

While numbers aren’t everything - they are the measuring stick often used to determine how we are doing. For a frame of reference the average Sunday attendance for an Episcopal Church is 66. And the average age is 62. While I haven’t done an exact calculation, my guess is our average age is in the mid-thirties.

That leads me ask two questions, 1) what good things have we done to create this growing environment and, 2) what’s next?

This morning’s readings from the Acts of the Apostles contain the answer to both of those questions.

The early days of the Church were held together by a tiny band of women and men, including the Apostles, Mary and Mary Magdalene. These people were a radical Jewish sect, a new spiritual movement that lived a subversive life.

In one sentence (Acts 2:42) their strategic plan and vision statement is outlined for us. “They devoted themselves to the apostles teaching and fellowship, the breaking of bread and the prayers.

First, they devoted themselves – this kind of devotion to the apostle’s teachings created an inner transformation in the lives of those who devoted themselves to the practice of studying the scriptures. Their devotion to the scripture transformed their souls and changed their actions. These people were so devoted to the apostle’s teachings that before they were called Christians they were known as “The people of the Way.”

Second, they devoted themselves to hospitality. In verses 43-47 it tells that these people shared all that they had with each other. They gave what they had for the benefit of others. They were good stewards of their resources.

Third, they devoted themselves to a Eucharistic life. The Eucharist was the center of their worship life, which was the model for living their life out in the world. They followed Jesus Christ who emptied himself for the sake of others and they worshipped Jesus by breaking the bread and they worshipped Jesus by modeling his life.

Fourth, they devoted themselves to the prayers. There is strong evidence that these followers of the Way memorized the Lord’s Prayer, the psalms and other pieces of scripture they used in a very liturgical style of worship. These people prayed together as a spiritual practice of life.

And when they devoted themselves to these four spiritual practices, scripture, hospitality, Eucharist and prayer – God added to their number.

From the birth of the Church, devotion to these four spiritual practices have been the marks of every successful Christian community.

1. The community studies the scripture.
2. The community is hospitable.
3. The community life is Eucharistic.
4. The community prays together.

I think our growth can be attributed to our “commitment” to these four spiritual practices.

But, now the question is, “What’s next for us?” Do we go around congratulating ourselves about how successful we are? Hardly. While we can be proud of our commitment – I have a hard time thinking we stand up to the measure of the early church being filled with awe because “many signs and wonders were being done by the apostles.”

I think what’s next for us is to move from being committed to being devoted.

Committed means, we do what we do because we think that whatever we are doing is good for us, or that it’s the right thing to do.

Devoted, however, means, we do what we do because, despite the cost and the sacrifice, we know it will transform our soul and the soul of our community.

We are on the cusp of being awed by the wonders and signs of what God is going to do in our midst. But, to go from the cusp of the experience to being in the center of an actualized experience, I believe we have to move from commitment to devotion.

Together, we must discern and hear where God is calling us into the spiritual practices. Trust God’s calling – we will know it is God’s calling when it has the feeling of being fetched into something that is awe inspiring, filled with the wonders and signs of God’s Presence in our midst.

What’s next? What’s next is something that is awe-inspiring. I can feel it. I can hear it coming.

A Dude's Cry for Resurrection

2011-04-27T11:40:00.001-07:00

Just like Mary, just like Peter, and just like John, we come to the empty tomb looking for something. While we all may be looking for something different – many of are looking to be healed – to be touched by the risen Lord – and we are looking to make sense of this resurrection story.

Last week, walking south, back from the ASU campus, towards St. A’s, a young man, not thirty, stopped me near the railroad tracks. He appeared to be Hispanic, but he talked about being from “the rez.” His black hair was buzzed close to his head. He had outline tattoo on his left shoulder – the skeleton of death with flames shooting out of the top of the head. He was a bit shorter than I am. He wore an undershirt like my grandfather used to wear, with a blue t-shirt rolled and flung over his shoulder. He had on blue and white shorts that went to his mid-calf and hung low off his hips. He was wearing tennis shoes with white socks. He was clean but I could smell the strong aroma of alcohol – he was functionally drunk – an alcoholic by his own admission.

He said he was attracted to my jewelry. He wore a few wire strand rings himself. He wanted to touch my rings, bracelets and watch. He asked where I got the turquoise. I told him when my father-in-law died that my mother-in-law wanted me to wear them for him.

“I like the turquoise, man. I like this gold ring. He pointed to my wedding ring. It means commitment, man, right?”

“I have been married for forty years,” I said.

“My girlfriend doesn’t want me around anymore. She says I drink too much.”

“Who are you man?” he said. “You might be the devil,” he laughed. “Or God or Jesus – who are you man? Come on, tell me.”

“I’m just some guy walking down the street. What’s your name? I’m Gil.”

“I am the earth. I am the sky and you don’t need to know my name and I don’t need to know yours. One day we will meet in the spirit world and we will remember this day and remember each other. We won’t have this flesh, he pulled at his face, and this skin, but we will know each other and we will talk about this day.”

I kept looking in his eyes – listening, trying to be present.

“You afraid the world’s going to end?”

“Are you,” I asked.

“We are all going to die. My uncle tells me that the radiation from Japan is going to float in the air over here and kill all the plants and animals and kill us. We are all going to die because the Japanese have nuclear plants and they shouldn’t.”

“Why are you so afraid of dying,” I asked.

“I keep having this dream, man. I’m trying to beat on this man, to drive him away. But my arms are like rubber and they just bounce off and there is nothing I can do to get him away from me. And then he kills me. I die in every one of my dreams. You know what it means, don’t you? I know you do.”

“I think we are each person in our dream and you are beating on yourself because you don’t like what you see is probably killing you.”

“I drink too much. My mom tells me I drink too much. Everyone wants me to stop drinking, but I can’t. I drink to stop the pain. I miss my girlfriend. I miss my kids. I miss my mom and it makes me drink more. I wake up every morning and I’m sick. My stomach is sick and I throw up and I have to drink to calm down my stomach. And then I start drinking all over again - and I can’t stop. I want to stop but I can’t. I need help, man, you know.”

“I know. I can find ways to get you some help, if you really want,” I said.

“I’ve tried counseling, I’ve tried AA - nothing works. I go to the meetings and that makes me want to just drink harder, you know.”

He pulled a pack of cigarettes out of his back pocket. “You want one?”

“No thank you.”

“Does that offend you?”

“No,” I smiled.

He put one cigarette behind his right ear and lit the one in his mouth.

“I don’t want to die. But, I think I’m killing myself. I don’t know what I’m doing to my stomach and my kidneys and my liver.” He took short drags and never breathed deep the smoke, but he quickly smoked the cigarette to the butt. “My mom tells me that I gotta get my shit together – she says I can’t keep living like this. And my girlfriend doesn’t want me anymore, ‘cause she says I drink too much – she won’t let me see my kids. I gotta quit drinking but I can’t. Do you have some magic dust you can just blow on me, puff-like?” He blew his imaginary dust in my face.

“No, I don’t have any magic dust. But, I can pray for you.”

The conversation circled around again – he lit another cigarette.

“I don’t even know where I am man.”

“Where do you think you are?”

“Somewhere in Tempe, I guess. Who are you man? Are you the devil?”

“I am the spirit of life,” I said.

“You sure you don’t have some magic dust.”

A young woman walked by. He leered after her. “Man if I wasn’t standing here talking to you, I would just follow her and get me some pussy.”

I stared into his soul.

“You’re creeping me out, man,” he said. “Look over there, don’t look at me.” He moved to stand beside me for the first time. I turned to keep eye-to-eye contact.

“You said your mom wants you to get some help?” I asked.

“I love my mom,” his eyes filled with tears. “I don’t want to back to jail. I can’t stand being locked up. Walls here, walls here, walls here all around, penned in a tiny space. I can’t take it. I have to be out in the open. Months and months locked up, I can’t go back to jail. My parole officer says I gotta stop drinking. But, I tell him, you know dude…but he says, I ain’t your dude. So I say, what are you a girl? You are a dude, man, right? You are a dude? Is that hair real man?”

“You said you want help, do you?” I asked.

Another female student walked by, “Hey, hey, whoa, you see that man?”

“You said you need help, is that right?” I asked.

“Can you pray for me?” He looked around nervously.

“Yes, I can pray for you.” Students had been walking around us in a big circle, traveling to and from class. “Do you want me to pray for you right now?” He looked up and down the street. I had kept my eyes focused on his eyes the entire time we talked.

“Don’t you have just some magic dust man, that will just make me feel better and take this all away?”

“I can pray for you. Can I touch you?”

He looked around again and then put his head down.

I put my hand firmly on his head and pressed down. “Holy Spirit, fill my brother with the courage to seek the help he wants and set him free from the demons that have captured his soul. Give him release and freedom. Lord heal my brother from all that owns his soul.”

He had never been more than twelve inches from me during the entire conversation – now he drew closer. “I’m going to walk right by you and go down the street to the liquor store. I’m going to drink down some Yukon Jack and some beer and get all messed up again. But, right this minute, standing here talking to you, I’m starting to sober up – I do need some help and I’m afraid of dying. Sometime, in a moment of being sober I can see. But I don’t know. I’m going to walk right be you, down the street and start it all over again.”

“If you want to keep talking - if you want some help, I’m at the church right here on the corner – I’ll get you the help you need.”

“Maybe. But I will see you again, maybe in this life, maybe in the next.” And he slid by me and walked away.

Was he real? Will I ever see him again? Was that a demon, a spirit, a possessed soul, or just a young man who is an alcoholic that was crying out for someone to listen to him? This is I know, he is somehow connected to my resurrection.

Our offering of prayers of healing for others and our reaching out a helping hand to others – our work for others is our co-creativity with God and that creativity is our resurrection.

Saved by the humility of God

2011-04-18T10:52:00.000-07:00

Palm Sunday – wow, what an emotional rollercoaster. Ten minutes ago we were, singing Hosanna in Highest and waving palms to honor our King. And now, we join the crowd and we said, “crucify him.”

The power of the Liturgy juxtaposes two images of the King – the popular view of a king who is a take charge, powerful person who can lead us into clear victory – set against Jesus, the humble, the poor, the innocent who is be to crucified as a criminal.

Who is our King? The powerful God or the weak God? That is the question for Palm Sunday.

Some perspectives of Christianity will simply skip over the crucifixion and move quickly to the Resurrection.

Other perspectives will linger at the crucified Jesus - waiting for the Resurrection to happen in the afterlife.

Some say the crucifixion was a necessary act of God – God is a God of justice. Sins have been committed and a sacrifice is necessary to forgive the sin – therefore, Jesus, the perfect Lamb of God, must be sacrificed by God in order for our sins to be forgiven.

Still others suggest that Jesus was simply a dangerous prophet who was executed by the Romans in order to keep the peace.

Why is Jesus’ crucifixion so central to the Christian story and what meaning does it have for us, today?

I believe the crucifixion is central to our life as Christians because it expresses the very essence of the character and nature of God – God is a humble God. And in God’s humility, God deepest desire is to be at one with us.

At the Cross, God became one with Jesus, thereby becoming one with humanity. At the Cross, Jesus suffered our greatest fear – the terror of death. While Jesus hoped for the Resurrection, he could not have been absolutely certain. For if Jesus knew with divine certainty that death was only a short three-day journey through hell, then the mystery of the cross is gone. For the cross to be our understanding of God’s oneness with us – God must have suffered our pain, agony, loneliness and fear of abandonment at death. There is no Easter without the lonely death of Good Friday.

How then, do we become one with God? How are we saved then - by the blood of Jesus? No - we are saved by the humility of God in Jesus. God is not a transactional God – God is the God of unconditional love and grace. Our salvation is assured by God’s personal knowledge of our horror, of our death, and thereby the removal of any barrier to the presence of God.

If we believe that Jesus was at one with God – then we will want to follow Jesus by being at one with God – not by our by sacrificial death – no, but our being humble as Jesus was humble.

St. Paul said it this way, “Let each of you look not to your own interests, but to the interests of others. Let the same mind be in you that was in Christ Jesus, who, though he was in the form of God, did not regard equality with God as something to be exploited, but emptied himself…(and) humbled himself.”

We are the disciples of the humble King Jesus, who emptied himself – who choose to be one with us by being born of a woman, walking the dusty pilgrimage of life, living a life of the poor and being executed, though innocent, as a criminal.

Our nature is to want Holy Week to hurry along to Easter. Our tendency is to be like Peter and say I do not know him. Our weaker self joins the crowd and yells crucify him. But, we are here – we have not walked away – we will follow the humble God through this next week – to the Cross, to the tomb, to the bed of death – and we will wait – we will wait with the hope given to us by our humble God, that the Resurrection of Easter is the reality of our life together as a Resurrection Community of humility.

Resurrection Community

2011-04-11T11:56:00.000-07:00

Lent is not the typical time for baptisms. It was the custom of the early Church that Lent be a time of preparation for those to be baptized. Baptism would be conducted in the liminal space between the darkness of Lent and the sunrise of Easter.

We continue those customs with our Episcopal 101 class, preparing those who desire baptism and well as those to be received and confirmed. And it is also our practice to conduct baptisms in that liminal space between Lent and the sunrise of Easter at our Easter vigil service.

However, this morning at our 10:30 service we are going to deviate from this practice and we are going to baptize Breanna and Sophia. Actually, conducting a baptism on the Sunday of the story of the resurrection of Lazarus is very appropriate. Baptism is our own resurrection story.

The story of the resurrection of Lazarus, found only in the Gospel of John, is a story best read through the lens of the metaphorical story in Ezekiel 37, which we read this morning. For the story of resurrection 2,000 years removed from any event must be understand for its present day relevance or it has no meaning at all for us today.

The story of Jesus raising Lazarus from the dead is the writer of the Gospel of John’s attempt to allow Jesus to explain and interpret the resurrection of his Easter Day.

Jesus uses this story to outline his vision for Resurrection Communities, those communities that would continue Jesus’ work after his crucifixion.

I found in this story at least three marks of Resurrection Communities.

First, Resurrection Communities are grounded in an integrated, Trinitarian and feminine spirituality.

As individuals, Martha, Mary and Lazarus do not appear to be fully integrated persons. Yet, as a trio, a trinity if you will, they are complete and a model for the integrated community. Jesus wants us to see ourselves as a community before we see ourselves as individuals. It is this self-emptying of our individual striving that begins to create space within our own souls for the presence of others.

Johannes Metz writes, “Humble acceptance of our authentic Being is self-love in the Christian sense. It is (our) bearing witness to (ourself) professing loyalty to (our) radical poverty, and shouldering the weight of self-emptying. It is (our) consent to self-surrender.”

The integrated community sees itself as Mary, who poured her most expensive perfume onto the feet of Jesus. The integrated community sees itself as Martha, the servant of radical hospitality. And the integrated community sees itself as Lazarus, who has died to self - the ego must die in order to be raised into a new life. In other words, by the community dying to its own ego, space is created in the soul of the community, thereby seeing the needs of others first.

Practically speaking the Resurrection Community will move away from the age-old model of the Church existing for the sake of itself and move towards living for the sake of others. More pointedly, the Resurrection Community will care more about who is not here than who is.

The Resurrection Community will understand that living a life of radical transformative hospitality has a cost – that is the cost of Calvary, that is the cost of self-emptying (Greek “kenosis”). And the Resurrection Community will willingly take on the cost of reaching out to a hurting and lonely world. That is why we offer an open table for communion. That is why we involved are in interfaith dialogue. That is why we are involved in IHELP. That is why we reach out with our many ministries.

Second, Resurrection Communities live a life of mutuality in its relationships with one another and the community in which it exists. The Resurrection Community takes serious the words of Martha as she told Mary, “The Teacher is here and is calling for you.”

The Teacher, in Greek “didaskalos” – the one who opens the window to truth and points us towards what is good. The Resurrection Community will be a community that studies and follows the Teacher and in turn shares the Word of truth and good with the community in which it exists. The Resurrection Community will be like Martha, going to its sisters and brothers with the word of grace and spiritual direction, “The Teacher is here and calling for you.” In other words, the Resurrection Community will see itself as place of spiritual education. That is why our foundational model for education in every means is Godly Play, which birthed The Art of Engaging Holy Scripture and nurtures our Academy of the Soul.

Third, Resurrection Communities will be a healing community that will “unbind the dead.” Resurrection communities of healing will weep like Jesus for the lost, the grieving, the dying and the dead. Resurrection Communities of healing will pray to God for God’s will to do the impossible work of resurrection in a world that only knows death. Resurrection Communities of healing will do the prophetic work of calling the dead to come out of their graves of despair. In other words, Resurrection Communities of healing will not be silent in the face of the death of injustice. This is why we offer healing services and The Mourner’s Path, lay pastoral care ministry and lay Eucharistic Visitors.

Resurrection Communities live out a theology of integrated, Trinitarian feminine spirituality, embodying radical transformative hospitality. Resurrection Communities practice spiritual education and spiritual direction as a way of life. And Resurrection Communities are communities that practice healing for the body and soul.

We are a Resurrection Community, of which I am proud to tell you that I love you for being such a community – we are practicing our vision or prayer, discernment and hospitality – and I am proud to tell everyone I meet that you are a Resurrection Community. But Resurrection Communities also recognize that our work is only just beginning – we have not arrived. Just as baptism is not the end of the story – only the beginning of the path well traveled, we must remember, it is only the fifth week of Lent – we are still journeying towards the empty tomb of Easter.

Warning - listening to the soul of a child can be disturbing

2011-04-04T18:21:00.000-07:00

This morning’s readings from Samuel and from the Gospel of John present stories about “seeing” as the way God would have us see.

The Book of Samuel is the story of Samuel the Seer or Samuel the Prophet – a book filled with fascinating stories about the ecstatic mystic who, by the visional direction of God, anointed both King Saul and his successor King David. In the story we heard, God tells Samuel to see as God sees, not looking on outward appearance, but looking on the heart.

The Gospel of John is book of theology and mystical writing. The story we heard is of the healing of a blind man by Jesus placing mud made from on the man’s eyes and then sending the blind man to the pool to wash.

Both texts suggest the possibility that we might see as God sees. The book of Genesis 16:13 tells us that God is El-roi, the God who sees. But what does God see? Is God’s knowledge the same as God’s seeing? Does God see everything before it happens? Does God see the future as a way of knowing the future but not controlling or manipulating the outcome?

I don’t have the answers to these questions. But, I do study theology and have my own suspicions about the God who sees. Process and Open theologies seem to provide a construct for understanding God as the one who knows all that has happened to this moment while at the same time being a God who grants free will to humans and allows for the natural course and order of creation and therefore does not necessarily know what will happen next and must adjust according to our decisions.

However interesting those questions and theories might be, we are left with the simple question – What does God see when God sees and how can we see as God sees?

God tells Samuel that, “the Lord looks on the heart.” And what does God see when God looks into the heart – the hidden soul, the real inner emotions, reason and will of us all? God sees God own image mirrored back to God.

Johannes Metz writes (in the Poverty of Spirit) that “The only image of God (we will see) is the face of our brother (and sister), who is the brother (and sister) of God’s son…Our human brother (and sister) now become a Sacrament of God’s hidden presence among us, a mediator between God and (us).”

And how do we see as God sees, the creator within the creature? By having our eyes opened by God. As Jesus opened the eyes of the blind man with mud, so our eyes opened by God with the mud of life, which is pressed into our spiritual eyes.

Paul writes in Ephesians (1:18) “With the eyes of our heart (soul) enlightened you may know what is the hope to which he has called you.”

When we see God in others, we will have the eyes of our souls healed so that we might see the intentions for God in our life.

Over the years I have discovered, in my own life, that when I see God in the poor, the marginalized, the child and the dying – the closer I am to seeing with the eyes of my soul. In other words, seeing like God sees.

At our Thursday night gathering I offer a brief homily on the coming Sunday text. Some times I talk about some of the points I am working on for Sunday and sometimes I don’t. This past Thursday I was a few minutes into my five minute homily when three-year-old Willam got his small chair and sat it directly in front me only six feet away.

About that moment in the sermon, I asked a question about the text and Willam offered some rambling stream of consciousness answers. They were pretty good answers. I asked another question, and this time he pulled his chair over to the coffee table-altar and sat down, propping his feet up on the table. I asked yet another question to the gathering and Willam again gave his answer. Finally, Willam said, “I want to talk to God.”

I let go. “Well, if you want to talk to God, come over here and let’s talk to God,” I said. He got out of chair and stood by me, we were face-to-face, inches apart. “Willam, how do you talk to God?”

“I don’t know,” he said looking at the ceiling.

“Well then, Willam, how does God talk to you?” I asked.

Willam said, “In things and in my dreams.”

“Your dreams?” I asked. “What did you see in your dream?”

Willam said, “I saw Ira (his older brother) running away. And I was in my mommy’s tummy.”

The conversation hung suspended and the silence poured out like fresh water into my burning eyes.

Now at this point, we can either act like everyone in the story of the man born blind and be doubtful, suspicious, and dismissive, in other words, we can remain in our own blindness. Or, we can be like the man born blind, when Jesus put the mud of life in eyes, he went, as told, to the wash his eyes in the pool of the Spirit (Siloam that means sent – as in sent out by the Spirit). And when we are washed, engaged in the Sacrament of the water, seeing God in the Sacrament of the man – we begin to see as God sees. And we can pay attention to what Willam is telling us.

Now here, I want to offer the warning found in the Gospel of Thomas (saying two), where Jesus said, “Those who seek should not stop seeking until they find. When they find, they will be disturbed. When they are disturbed, they will marvel and will reign over all.” Listening to the other can be disturbing.

If we can be so bold as to draw near to see as God sees, what does God sees in the dream of our seer Willam? Maybe, and I offer these musings as only maybe – just maybe?

Jung says we are represented in all the people in our dreams. In the purity of a three-year-old, trying to find his self identity – he wants to run away, maybe he does run away – but, in the eye of his soul he sees that he must rest in the womb of his mother, for that is where it is safe – the safety he knows of God in his mother who is talking to him and the God he wants to talk to. Maybe? It sounds so familiar, it sounds like my own story – running away, but wanting to be safe in the womb of God where I can talk to God.

We can see as God sees, seeing the God in all of us, if we can stop, let go, be present to the moment when the God in someone else is talking to us – and when we do, we might hear what God is saying to us – maybe God is saying to us, “anoint that one,” or maybe God is saying, “put the healing mud of life in the eyes of the soul of that one.” Or just maybe God is saying to you, “go, wash your eyes in the pool of the Spirit – and then be sent to testify to God’s healing grace.” Maybe God is saying, “Rest here in the womb of my safety.”

Holy moments may not happen that often – so we need to have our eyes ready to see what God has in store for us.

What are you seeing in the soul of the other? What is God seeing reflected back in your soul?

Jesus was her Spiritual Director

2011-03-28T11:25:00.000-07:00

Ireland is filled with holy wells. These are places set aside because they are the wells of saints like Brigid and Kevin. Today when you visit these wells, some of which are very obscure, you will find pictures, ribbons and rosaries tied to the tree near the well – signs of someone offering prayers for healing. These prayers are offered in anticipation that God will be present at the well. Somewhat like what God told Moses (Exodus 17:1-7), “I will be standing there in front of you on the rock at Horeb. Strike the rock, and water will come out of it, so that the people might drink.”

The story of the Samaritan woman at Jacob’s well has that same anticipation. The woman may have been coming to the well for water to drink – instead, something holy happened. She found God sitting on the side of the well.

The story of this unnamed woman is rich in subtle layers. And I think this story is a beautiful example of how Jesus encountered individuals and groups through spiritual direction.

In the story, Jesus and his disciples are walking north heading to Galilee. They have to walk through the region of Samaria. When they arrive near the town of Syhcar, the disciples leave Jesus at the well and go into town to buy some food.

The Samaritans were and still are (there are approximately 500 Samaritans still practicing their faith) a sect within the broad spectrum of Judaism, although Jews consider them “heretics.” Samaritans count their ancestors as the tribe of Joseph, Ephraim and Manasseh. They adhere strictly to their own redaction of the Torah, counting only the Pentateuch as their scripture. The Samaritans hold Mount Gerizim to be the holy site of their worship and not Jerusalem.

The Samaritan woman approaches the well caring a pot that she intends to fill and carry back to her home. At the well of her ancestor Jacob, she finds a man, a Jew sitting alone on the side of the well.

Now, Jesus has to cross several personal barriers to speak first to this woman. Indeed, she is a woman who has come to the well alone and she is a Samaritan, of whom a good Jew would not engage in any manner. But, Jesus crosses those boundaries and speaks to her first.

I wonder, what barriers and boundaries Jesus has to cross in order to speak to me?

Here is where the spiritual direction process begins. Jesus encounters this woman on her territory, on her terms. He asks her a simple question – “will you give me a drink of water?” It’s a safe and non-threatening question. Jesus becomes one with her by recognizing his own thirst and his lack of any means of fetching a drink of water.

I wonder, what means do I have of giving the thirsty Jesus a drink of water?

The woman responds to the question from her place of understanding, from a place that seems obvious to her. Then Jesus gently moves the conversation from the concrete to the spiritual. The dialogue is no longer about water that quenches thirst, now the conversation is about water that heals.

As the woman begins to open her soul, Jesus pushes the spiritual direction to a level where healing can take place.

(Chad Sundin shared this brilliant insight with me Thursday night.) The Samarian woman is carrying deep wounds in her life. She has obviously been the subject of abuse and scorn. She has been divorced by five men and now, in order to survive, is living with a man who is not her husband. Notice that Jesus does not condemn the woman – she is not the one who has done anything wrong, she is the victim. Only a man could divorce a woman, she has been the one cast aside by five different men. She is the one being avoided. She is the one being humiliated. She is the one who is stigmatized.

This woman is a poster child for Paul’s litany in Romans; “suffering produces endurance, endurance produces character and character produces hope, and hope does not disappoint because God’s love has been poured into our hearts through the Holy Spirit…”

When the woman realizes that Jesus recognizes and acknowledges her pain – she calls him a prophet.

Once again, Jesus spirals the encounter to a deeper spiritual level. She engages Jesus in a theological discourse. This woman knows her faith. But Jesus is not interested in theological debate about where to worship or how to interpret the scripture – no, Jesus is only interested in the worship of the mystical of God, whose Spirit, reveals truth.

At this point, the woman begins to hear Jesus at the soul level. Symbolically, she leaves behind her jar, representing her previous spiritual worldview and returns to town to be a witness of Jesus, the Christ, the Messiah, the one who calls himself, “I am.”

I wonder, what of my spiritual worldview do I need to leave behind in order to be a witness of what Christ has revealed in my life?

For the Samaritan woman, an encounter with the Triune God brought a feeling of love, acceptance and recognition into her life that she had never experienced. This was her testimony, her witness, to her neighbors. Her witness led these Samaritans to proclaim Jesus as the Savior of the world. (Ironically, this is the only use of the word “Savior” in the Gospel of John.)

Jesus’ work of spiritual direction with the Samaritan woman brought her to a place of personal liberation – and her liberation, in turn, inspired others.

I wonder, what Jesus motivated love and liberation in my life needs to be shared with others?

The Triune God wants to be in relationship with us. If we are willing to go to the well of spiritual direction, we will find God present, standing or sitting there on the rock, on the side of the well. If we will listen to God’s questions, we will receive spiritual direction – we might hear words like, “lead these people,” or “go on that journey in stages,” or “give me a drink of water.”

If we are willing to set down our jar and engage with God, we will know God’s love and we will experience God’s liberation. And we will begin to see that our suffering does indeed produce endurance, and character, and a hope that does not disappoint.

I wonder, should we take our empty jars and journey in stages to the well of the living water?

We need a new imagination

2011-03-21T11:08:00.000-07:00

As an Episcopal priest I have stayed away from preaching on this text because I bring so much baggage from my Southern Baptist past into the reading of the text. This is the quintessential Baptist salvation scripture. It goes like this, “In order to be saved. And to go to heaven, you must be born again. And to be a born again Christian, you must pray to accept Jesus Christ as your personal savior.” It’s taken me a long time to be able to say that without being critical of the theology that underlines that kind of thinking. All I can say now is that this is no longer my theological construct.

I just finished reading, Introducing the Missional Church? by Alan Roxburgh and I was pleasantly surprised to find an interpretation of John 3:1-17 that was enlightening and congruent with a broad salvific theology.

When the mystic and theological writer of the Gospel of John pens the words of Jesus, “You must be born again,” Roxburgh suggests that it could be interpreted as Jesus saying to us, “You need a new imagination.”

You need a new imagination and you must be willing to risk in order to have a new imagination. A new imagination will bring about the reconstruction of a new worldview for you and it will help you create a new theological way of thinking.

How is a new imagination born into the soul of our life? The writer of John says, by discerning the winds of the Spirit. Roxburgh writes, “the sailing crew focuses on how the winds are blowing and then the sailors work the sails to capture the winds – but the crew has no control over where the wind will blow.

When I was coaching baseball at Grand Canyon we were playing a series in Lubbock, Texas. We were supposed to play a single game Friday, a doubleheader Saturday and a single Sunday. We arrived Thursday night. It was a warm April weekend. When we woke up Friday morning the wind was blowing hard in from the West – filled with so much dust you could barely see ten feet. Larry Hayes was the coach of Lubbock. He told me we probably wouldn’t be able to play Friday but we needed to be ready at any moment to come to the park – because the wind could shift directions without much notice.

The dust blew all day Friday. We awoke Saturday morning to an even heavier cloud of dust. Larry told me he thought we might be able to play sometime Saturday night if the wind shifted. About seven in the evening he called and said he had talked to a friend of his northwest of Lubbock and the wind was shifting from the West to coming out of the North. Larry said we should come to the park now and wait and as soon as the wind shifted we should hurry and get ready to play. He warned me though that the temperature was going to drop as much as thirty degrees.

I hustled around and got our players ready. Our players were grumbling as they got into the vans about how crazy this was – the wind was howling out of the west and we could barely see to drive to the ballpark. We hung around about a half-hour at the park and all of the sudden, the wind stopped blowing. The dust still hung eerily in the air. Larry’s players hustled onto the outfield and started playing catch. So we did the same. It still seemed impossible that we could play. By the time the players got loose, the wind started blowing out of the north – the air cleared and the temperature began dropping with each passing minute.

We finished the doubleheader that night after midnight – frozen stiff like popsicles. The next morning Larry called at about seven. The wind has stopped, the sky was clear and the temperature was rising. We played two games that day under clear and warm skies.

The wind of the Spirit blows out of the four directions – as it wills – not as we want it to blow. But we must discern how we will live our lives in concert with the shifting wind of the Spirit.

Discerning the wind of the Spirit will cause us to be sensitive to the presence of God – we will have to live our life ready to shift and move as the wind of the Spirit moves – as Anglicans we call that living in the ambiguity of the presence of God – living outside of our comfort zone – willing to ask vulnerable and courageous questions of ourselves and of God. Discerning the wind of the Spirit will cause us to live into a new imagination of God.

This new imagination, new theology will move us away from the personal and into the communion, the Trinity, the community of God. Our collective new imagination, new communal theology will become a prophetic and poetic theology. The new theology will be constructed out of our local context with an ever-widening circle. The wide circle will be vital to our new theology, our new imagination, because those who are at the periphery of our context will speak new words to us, influencing our conversation, helping us to weave the new understanding of the theology of the wind of the Spirit into every aspect of our communal lives.

As a community, we will begin to turn our sails into the presence of the wind of God – we will desire to be in rhythm with God’s new dream for God’s creation. We will begin to work together for God’s intention that God’s people collectively live into God’s way of life.

God’s new dream will fetch us into living into God’s radical hospitality, God’s radical forgiveness, God’s dream that we will radically break down barriers and that we live out God’s dream for us to live like Jesus in a radical self-sacrificing love.

Living God’s new dream, with a new imagination and new theology will move our community into God’s way with a new courage – a courage that causes to ask, “I wonder what God wants,” and to stop worrying about, “What will they think?”

Deacon Dorothy, Cathy and I traveled with Imam Ahmad Shqeirat from the Islamic Culture Center here in Tempe to the Episcopal Virginia Theological Seminary this past week. With a Luce grant, VTS brought together 44 Christians and Muslims from 19 cities and eight countries. Episcopal Bishops, priests, deacons and laity were present with Islamic Imams and laity to discuss the possibility of imagining a new way of thinking about interfaith dialogue and to develop a peaceful response to the coming tenth anniversary of 9.11.

Imagine, your priest and one of your deacons were amongst some of the most creative and imaginative theological minds in the world. The wind of the Spirit is blowing in a new direction. God is fetching us to think in new ways – and we have our sails up ready to navigate among these new imaginations of the dreams of God.

This year, September 11th is on a Sunday. Our community will once again gather that evening with churches, mosques and synagogues in Tempe to hear the Abrahamic stories of Judaism, Christianity and Islam. We will honor our sacred texts. We will honor our similarities and we will respect each other’s differences. We will listen to one another.

And on that Sunday morning, I have invited, with the Bishop’s approval, Imam Ahmad to be our guest preacher at our 10:30 service. We will listen to his words as a way to hear what the Spirit of God is saying to us. We will listen with our new imagination.

The winds of the Spirit are blowing in new directions and God is fetching us to throw up our sails and catch the imagination of God. You must be born again, get ready.

The powerlessness of God

2011-03-14T18:13:00.000-07:00

In response to the devastating earthquake and tsunami that struck Japan Friday, I heard the question asked, “Why would God let such a tragic thing happen?”

I wonder if God’s greatest temptation is to want to intervene on our behalf and to alter the world’s natural order that God has created?

This morning’s gospel (Matthew 4:1-11) is typically viewed as a story about the temptations of human life. Unfortunately, we often hear this story being about Jesus’ perfect will to resist the most trying temptations as a condemnation of our attempts to be better Christians.

Another way to look at the story of Jesus’ temptations is to see this pericope through the lens of God’s risk of becoming powerless in the face of the temptation to act as an irascible God.

Being a Trinitarian people, we acknowledge our monotheistic belief in One God, the integrated God of three revelations. Jesus is the visible manifestation of the humanity of God –Jesus fully human and Jesus fully divine.

Jesus was born of his mother Mary with all the risks we risk at birth, grew up like we grow up, was hungry, thirsty and tired, just like we are. Jesus suffered all the fears we suffer. And Jesus suffered death. At the same time, God, through Jesus, limited Godself to the created order.

In this morning’s story, the devil is tempting Jesus to accept the power of the avoidance of life’s hard realities. The devil tempted Jesus to avoid the emptiness of hunger, the fear of loneliness and the desperate feeling of not being able to fix problems and make everything better. The devil wanted Jesus to avoid the empty feelings of humanity. The devil wanted Jesus to avoid the fear of being totally alone when faced with a decision. The devil wanted Jesus to give into the temptation of to relieve people of their own personal journey through life. The devil wanted Jesus to take on the power of control and reject the self-imposed powerlessness of God.

Why did Jesus make the choice to accept the powerlessness of God?

First, we have to recognize that Jesus had to make a choice. Decision-making is the formation of the soul. The wilderness temptations were Jesus’ spiritual formation process. Thornton (Prayer: A New Encounter) says that “choice implies risk, outgoing and self-forgetful risk, which is an overlooked attribute of God. Risk and make your soul…for the way of decision requires greater responsibility and a more developed powers of discernment.”

Jesus had to experience the agony of choice in order to be a fully integrated human being.
Second, we can be thankful that Jesus did chose to accept the powerlessness of God, because his choice brought the loving salvation of God into our world. Johannes Metz (Poverty of the Spirit) writes, “Satan’s temptation (of power) is an assault on God’s self-renunciation, an enticement to strength, security and spiritual abundance; for these things will obstruct God’s saving approach to man in the dark robes of frailty and weakness.”

He goes on to say, “Christ…experienced the poverty of human existence more deeply and more excruciating than any other man could. He saw its many faces, including those shadowy aspects we never glimpse. In the poverty of his passion, he had no consolation, no companion angels, no guiding star, no Father in heaven. All he had was his own lonely heart, bravely facing its ordeal even as far as the cross.”

In other words, God, through the presence of Jesus among us, chose to be one of us in every way – in order to know every once of our human struggle, pain, fear, despair and our every temptation to avoid our emptiness, our every desire to avoid our fear of loneliness and our desire to want to fix the problem’s of those we love. God felt every emotion that was felt on the earth this past Friday – and today – and will tomorrow.

The formation of our soul is just like the formation of the soul of Jesus. The formation of our soul is our deciding to take the risk of the long slow walk through our own desert of temptation – the temptation to decide to accept the illusion of the power of control - or the decision to accept the saving grace of the powerlessness of God.

What will we chose, the illusion of the power of control or the poverty of God?

These are risky decisions. To chose the poverty of God is to chose to stand with the impoverished, to stand with the weak, to stand with the marginalized, to stand with those in pain, to stand with the dying, to stand with the suffering and to make hard choices on their behalf. It means to stand with the people of Japan and do what we are called to do in helping them.

We live in painful and tragic times. Our temptations are – to turn away, to look the other way, or to throw up our hands in despair of the hopelessness of the situation, or we are even tempted to blame God.

The other choice is to do what Jesus did – he gave up the illusion of control and accepted the self-chosen powerlessness of God – and then he went out do what he was called to do.

We are called to do the same – we are called to be the hands and the feet and the heart of God in the world today. I want to encourage you to go to the Episcopal Relief and Development website and see how you might become involved in helping the people of Japan.

Let go and tend to the holy

2011-02-28T15:19:00.001-08:00

“Strive first for the kingdom of God…so do not worry about tomorrow, for tomorrow will bring worries of its own. Today’s trouble is enough for today.” (Matthew 6:33-34)

“Think of us this way, as servants of Christ and stewards of God’s mysteries…the Lord will bring to light the things now hidden in darkness and will disclose the purposes of the heart.” (I Corinthians 4:1,5)

The world has been, is and always will be in turmoil – today, no matter where you turn you can’t get away from troubles; revolution in the Middle East, show downs in the Far East, earthquakes in New Zealand, strikes and protest in Wisconsin, and of course, if you get board, you can always check-out the “peaceful” Arizona politics. I know the temptation is to hide our head in our hands and pray it will all go away. However, Jesus has told us that there will always be wars, earthquakes, famine and general trouble in our world.

Fr. Martin Thornton wrote in the 1980’s, “The present generation of Christians must learn to live with chaos; it is a providential vocation.” (Prayer: A New Encounter) His words ring true for us today. As Christians, we live in world forever in chaos and that world is looking for something –as vocational Christians we can offer, not answers, and not even peaceful solutions, but instead, we offer a way of, in the words of Kay Northcutt, “letting go…into the purposefulness of God…while we tend the Holy.” (Kindling Desire for God: Preaching as Spiritual Direction)

These are the words we hear from Jesus and St. Paul in our readings today. Jesus reminds to let go of our worries, letting go of the things over which we have no control – and instead, work for the kingdom of God, which Paul tells us is to be stewards of God’s mysteries - tending the Holy.

During the past year at St. Augustine’s, we have worked at this process in our parish. During this time we heard a yearning among some of our members for their need to have a familiar way for them to pray on Sunday mornings. They expressed this need to the priest and to the Bishop Committee members. We heard their desires.

Three months ago a proposal was developed and the Bishop’s Committee began to pray about presenting this proposal to the congregation. After a period of discernment, the Bishop’s Committee presented the proposal at the Annual Meeting. For the next five weeks we continued the discernment process. I preached a series of sermons on Anglican Spirituality as a way of providing education about our way of prayer and worship and why these are so important to us our community. We also offered a forum for people to express their thoughts and to ask questions. During this time the Bishop’s Committee continued to pray and discern.

Last week, at our regular monthly Bishop’s Committee meeting, we again prayed and had discussion as a way of discerning what is best for our congregation. One of our Bishop’s Committee members was away attending a family funeral and I chose not to vote. By secret ballot, the Bishop’s Committee voted 10-0 to add a third service beginning Lent I, March 13. This is Episcopal governance. And this is the vision and path of prayer, discernment and hospitality. We prayed and discerned to ensure that we are a hospitable people, offering multiple ways for people to engage in worship.

We are learning to deal with chaos – we are learning not to worry about tomorrow – we are learning to tend to the mysteries of God today.

This model of community life can be an example for us in our personal and family life.

First – we take the time to pray and to listen to God, because we love God.

Second - we listen to others; we hear because we care about the concerns of others, helping them to set aside their worries of tomorrow.

Third - we take the time to carefully create safe space because we are called to tend to the holy and sacred in the community’s life together.

I have learned a great deal through this process and continue to be formed as a priest as I listen and pray each day. And I continue to seek God’s guidance and to rely on God so that my life is not filled with the worries of tomorrow but instead, focus on today – tending to the holy mysteries of the kingdom of God.

Tending to the holy mysteries means nurturing a prayerful life for the community, providing spiritual direction for the community and modeling presence.

However, the priest cannot do things alone – we are all called at baptism into the priesthood of all believers. As followers of Jesus, we are called into a vocation of letting go of those things we cannot control while we tend to the holy mysteries of today.

What will you let go of? What mysteries of God must you tend to?

Holding out our empty hands

2011-02-24T15:07:00.000-08:00

This is the concluding sermon of a five part sermon series on Anglican Spirituality.

My sermons have been based on the works of Anglican priest Martin Thornton, whose several works include Essays in Pastoral Reconstruction, The Heart of the Parish, and Spiritual Direction.

The outline for the series is following a five-fold pattern that Thornton suggests is the Anglican spiritual journey: 1) God fetches us into the spiritual life by various means, 2) Anglican spirituality does not require us to check our brains at the door, 3) prayer is the pattern of Anglican spirituality, 4) worship is the heart of our mature spirituality, and 5) service is the resulting act of our mature spirituality.

Christian service can be defined as giving of one’s time, talent and resources. It can also be described as serving the Christ in others with the Christ in me. And Christian service can be carried out in as many ways are we called to act of the compassion of our heart.

However, understanding service as the resulting act of our mature spirituality moves social justice action and service beyond the mere act of doing something into the realm of a new way of being spiritually mature.

My pastoral care mentor Sat Kartar Kalsa Ramey taught me that to be present the other I had to feel their pain. Being present means more than a comforting chat and some soothing prayer. Being present is about sitting with the other and accepting their pain as my own. If they are having breathing troubles, what is suffocating me in my life? If they are having heart problems, what relationships of love are broken in my life? If the other is having emotional disturbances, what disconnections exist in my life? Can I feel the other’s pain through my own pain? Can I be present to them in their pain?

Sat Kartar taught that to do this hard work I had to soften the edges of my life and personality so that I might be in touch with the pain of the people I encounter.

This kind of softening of the edges requires a stewardship of the edges of our soul – for it is at the edges, the borders, the boundaries of the soul where we can truly encounter the soul of the other. Stewardship means that we are intentional, thoughtful and caring about our work at the edges of our life – we intentionally work in our life at being open at the edges.

This morning’s reading of Leviticus is the very epitome of teaching on the mature spiritually of service through the soft edges in our life.

The reading begins by exhorting us into holiness. We are called to be Holy like the Holy God is Holy. And how do we accomplish such an impossible task? Actually, we cannot do such a thing. It is God who does the doing – we are simply to be - to be in the presence of God forms us into the character of God. By being in the company of God, we become like God. We become the broken bread we eat, we become the spilt wine we drink, we become like God by being with God.

By being with God, and becoming like God, the writer of Leviticus tells us, we will be stewards of the soft and open edges in our life. The scripture tells us, “You shall not reap the very edges of your field…you shall leave them for the poor and the alien.” Further on in Leviticus 19:33 we hear, “The alien who resides with you shall be to you as the citizen among you; you shall love the alien as yourself, for you were aliens in Egypt.”

In other words, to serve the other - our neighbor, the poor or the alien - we must love that person as ourselves. Loving them in this context means being stewards of the soft edges – literally to share what we have with the poor and literally to be at one with them – to be in touch with their pain, to be in touch with their hunger, to be in touch with their thirst, to be in touch with their loss of dignity and to be in touch with their feeling of being marginalized.

We are called to a mature spirituality of more than just offering a hand out to the poor. We are being called to be present to the poor, the alien and our neighbor. We are called into a way of life of being present, to ourselves, to each other and to the stranger.

Every Sunday morning we come to the altar rail holding out our empty hands to God. We bring our needs to the rail. And faithfully, every Sunday morning, God fills our hands with the Blessed Sacrament that will feed and nourish our soul for another day; at that moment, we one with God.

In turn, when someone in need holds out their hand to us, can we be the Blessed Sacrament for them? Can we be present to them? Can we be the Eucharist for them?

Am I mistaken, Lord
Is it temptation to think
You increasingly urge me, to go forth and proclaim
The need and urgency of passing
From the Blessed Sacrament
To your other presence just as real,
In the Eucharist of the poor?
Theologians will argue,
A thousand distinctions will be advanced.
But woe to those who feed on you
And later have no eyes to see you,
To discern you, foraging for food among the garbage,
Being evicted every other minute,
Living in sub-human conditions
Under the sign of utter insecurity.
(Helder Camara)

Who is holding out their hand to us?

Learning to pray from a five-year-old

2011-02-07T10:24:00.000-08:00

On Thursday night we have our regular St. Brigid’s Community worship and gathering. It’s the job of one of the children to advance the powerpoint during the service. Typically, one of the children who can read, take this responsibility. However, last Thursday, Silas wanted the job. Silas is in kindergarten and hasn’t quite mastered reading our liturgy yet. But he told me if I would just tap him on the shoulder he would know it was time to advance the slide. Well, since he was so confident in his plan, how could I refuse?

Silas was kneeling in front of the computer screen, staring intently as if he could read every word of the Eucharistic Prayer. While Silas hasn’t advanced in his reading skills well enough to know what he was looking at, he knew most of the liturgy. He prayed the “sursum corda” with us, “The Lord be with you,” and he responded, “and also with you.” He sang the Sanctus, “Holy, Holy, Holy.” He said the Lord’s Prayer and he sang the fraction anthem. What I realized as well, was that he advanced most of the slides before I touched his shoulder. He had an intuitive feel for the rhythm of the Eucharistic Prayer.

How is that possible? Well, Silas, like many of the other children, have been taking an active part in our services for five years. They have been steeping their tea in the Holy Spirit of Anglicanism faithfully for quiet some time.

For you see, Silas has learned to pray before he has learned to read.

This sermon is a third in a series on Anglican Spirituality. My sermons are based on the works of Anglican priest Martin Thornton, whose several works include Essays in Pastoral Reconstruction, The Heart of the Parish, and Spiritual Direction.

The outline for the series is following a five-fold pattern that Thornton suggests is the Anglican spiritual journey: 1) God fetches us into the spiritual life by various means, 2) Anglican spirituality does not require us to check our brains at the door, 3) prayer is the pattern of Anglican spirituality, 4) worship is the heart of our mature spirituality, and 5) service is the resulting act of our mature spirituality.

Prayer is the pattern of our life together – we live and move and have our being in and through the Book of Common Prayer. Everything we do is prayer – we pray without ceasing. We view life as one constant moving prayer - when we work we pray and when we play we pray – life is a prayer.

Thornton writes that “The health of the soul depends upon the health of the prayer” life.

A fair number of people come to me for spiritual direction. Many of them come with questions about prayer. How do I pray? And how do I take my prayer life to a deeper level?

St. John of the Cross, teaches us the first step of prayer. He writes, “The whole progress of the soul consists of being moved by God; but our part remains in placing (ourselves) in a state to receive this motion.” In other words, we have to place our stone in the river of God – we have to show up to speak to God and to listen to God.

Showing up at church, in a meeting, at home, at work, in the hospital, in the parking lot – there are more places to pray, than there are ways to pray – the point is that we must show up to pray.

The second step is to rely on God, the Holy Spirit in the name of Christ to show up as well. We must be still, be quiet and then God will be present. When we are still, then the Spirit will begin God’s work in our soul.

Our Presiding Bishop, Katharine Jefferts Shori is visiting our Diocese this weekend and the clergy were invited to meet with her Saturday. She gathered us by inviting us into the deeper meaning of conversation – by listening. After a few brief words of introduction, she asked us to spend five minutes in silent meditation, listening to God. Our Presiding Bishop provided a beautiful model for Anglican prayer and spirituality, for which I am deeply grateful. What a wonderful model for pastoral leadership – listening to God and then listening to one another in conversation.

The third step is the act of voicing our pray, the thinking and speaking part, which can take many forms; praying the Office in the Prayer Book, praying the Eucharistic liturgy, healing prayer, contemplative prayer, intercessory prayer, Centering prayer, prayer of Examen, prayer of tears, prayer of adoration, prayer of thanksgiving, meditative prayer, petitionary prayer, prayer of suffering, lectio divina, praying the psalms – prayer can be silent, written, said or sung. If you can think of way to pray – pray it – and pray it from the depths of your soul.

And the fourth step of prayer is for us to listen for the Spirit to speak to us.

St. Paul tells us that, “the Spirit searches everything, even the depths of God.” And when the Spirit is present then we can know “God’s wisdom,” “secret and hidden,” that is taught to us by the Spirit, “interpreting spiritual things,” to us, that we may “discern spiritual things,” ourselves and we may “have the mind of Christ.”

Show up, be still, pray from the depths of your soul and listen to the Spirit.

My sister is mentally and physically handicapped. She can barely string three words together to make a sentence. She has about twenty-five words you can understand. And she can pray. Whenever she prays she has the same pattern. She puts her hands in her pockets and she bows her head. Then there is silence, long silence. Suddenly, without warning, she says plainer than anything else, in a loud and distinct voice, “God.” It is at that moment that I know that God has been summoned and God is very present. After that, I can barely make out what she says. And it doesn’t matter. She’s there and God is there, talking to each other

You may believe whatever you like

2011-01-31T12:12:00.000-08:00

The first day I showed up to work in the fall of 1980 at Grand Canyon University as the new head baseball coach and the dean of students I was greeted by Dr. J. Niles Puckett, who in 1949 was the founding professor of theology at the university. He walked into my new office on that hot August day and with hat in hand introduced himself, by saying, my name is Niles Puckett and I will pray for you everyday. With that, he turned and walked out of the office.

Dr. Puckett was a teacher and model from whom I learned a great deal over the next twenty years. In 1987, I took a class from Dr. Puckett entitled, the “Life and Teachings of Jesus.”

He started every class in the same fashion – for five minutes he would entertain questions regarding the previous day’s lecture. Quickly, a pattern emerged in the class. Every morning the same three young men, who Southern Baptists called “preacher boys,” would ask Dr. Puckett questions about his orthodoxy – they were attempting to trap him so that they might “prove” that he was not a faithful and true Southern Baptist. He would listen to their presumptuous and accusatory questions very politely, questions that didn’t “ask” anything but instead “told” him what he should actually believe - and then, after the allotted time for questions was ended, he would say, “You may believe whatever you like.”

For some time, I thought he was saying - that literally, they could believe whatever they wanted to without critique from him or anyone else. That was a mistaken assumption.

Several years ago I went to hear Fr. Richard Rohr. In his lecture, he discussed the two halves of life. In the first half of life - people need rules, guidelines and boundaries. Children need to know that if they touch a hot stove they will get burnt. However, in the second half of life people move from a ten commandment and rules understanding of God to a life that is more about the questions of wonder and ambiguity – much like we teach children in Godly Play, “I wonder.” The sign of maturation is moving from a life of foundational rules and regulations to a place of asking the bigger questions of life, questions that rarely have definitive answers.

This helped me to understand that Dr. Puckett was telling those young preacher boys that, they would eventually mature and learn to ask questions that were much deeper and more important – It’s not about having the correct answers. Instead, it’s about asking the questions that really matter.

This is the third sermon in a series entitled, Anglican Spirituality. Today’s topic is the intellectual spirituality of Anglicanism – what we so proudly proclaim is that “You don’t have to check your brain at the door.” It is okay to ask the deeper questions here without having to expect an answer.

Let me suggest, in a gentle way, that the intellectual striving of Anglicanism is that we become one with the mind of God. What Joan Chittister describes as “Being steeped in the mind of God.” Being one with the mature mind of God is critical thinking abound in paradox, ambiguity and the deepest questions of life and spirit.

So what is the mature mind of God? Micah says the mind of God is thinking about “Doing justice, loving mercy and walking humbly by God’s side.” The Psalmist tells us that the mind of God is thinking about “Walking blamelessly, doing what is right, speaking truth and doing no evil.” And Jesus tells us that the mind of God is focused on poverty of spirit, the broken heart, meekness, mercy, peace and the union with God’s soul. These are the thoughts that energize the very soul, heart and mind of God. And they are the thoughts we can share with God.

In Saint Paul’s letter to the church at Corinth we hear that the church is divided – separating itself over factions, differing teachings and interpretations – creating schools of thought with favorite teachers.

Interestingly enough, Paul does not take on the role of referee, he never disputes or refutes any of their specific teachings, and he never passes judgment about who is right or who is wrong.

He says, instead, that first and foremost that the humility of Christ is the lens through which we should measure all teaching. Paul teaches us that God’s wisdom is the wisest – and what is God’s wisdom? God’s wisdom is considered foolish, weak and filled with love. But, the foolishness, weakness and softness of divine love, paradoxically, is our strength.

Like Jesus, we too, can have the mature mind of God when, like Jesus, in weakness, are poor in spirit, when we, like Jesus, mourn, when we, like Jesus, are meek, when we, like Jesus, thirst for justice, when we, like Jesus, are merciful, when we, like Jesus, have an open heart, when we, like Jesus, are peacemakers – in Jesus’ weakness, and in our weakness, is the union with the mature mind of God.

We, as Anglicans, do not check our brains, or our hearts, or our bodies, nor our souls at the door when we come to worship – no, we bring all of our selves into this the experience of the broken bread and the spilled wine. Our desire is to be like Jesus, by thinking like Jesus, thinking on things that matter to God and by asking the questions that probably don’t have any answers. It is our weakness and at the same time, our strength.

Of course, you may believe whatever you like.

How will Margaret hear God's voice?

2011-01-27T10:58:00.000-08:00

Today we are going to baptize Margaret Elisabeth Gant. It’s the beginning of a lifetime pilgrimage for Margaret. And while she is just a baby, God has begun to fetch her into the life of Spirit. God’s formative process is just starting.

And what does God’s voice sound like to Margaret at such a young age? God’s voice sounds like her mother and father’s voice. God’s voice sounds like the singing of the hymns. God’s voice sounds like the Deacon reading the Gospel. God’s voice sounds like water being poured into a basin. God’s voice sounds like the congregation praying for her. God’s voice sounds like my voice, saying you are baptized in the name of the Father, and the Son and the Holy Spirit. God’s voice sounds like water trickling down her face. God’s voice has endless sounds and comes from countless places. God’s voice is all around us.

I wonder how Margaret will hear God’s voice as she matures.

I wonder if Margaret will hear God’s voice through the Father, the Creator. We hear God in the Christmas story. We hear God speaking to us in the nature of the world. God whispers to us in the wind, shouts at us in the clap of thunder and holds us in the warm sunshine. The very sound of the presence of God the Father surrounds us like a great symphony.

I wonder if Margaret will hear God’s voice through the Son, the Redeemer. We hear God’s voice in the crucifixion story. God speaks to us in the earthiness of humanity. We hear God in the cries of the oppressed seeking justice. God’s voice is in sound of the empty stomachs of the suffering children. God’s voice is in the moaning of the dying. God’s voice is in the voice of the Son in every human being. And God’s voice is in the silence of the empty tomb.

I wonder if maybe Margaret will hear the voice of God through the Spirit, the Sustainer. We hear God’s voice in the Resurrection story. God’s voice speaks through the bright light of the glory of God. God’s is heard in the mystery of the unseen and the unexplainable. God’s voice sounds like the flicker of candle.

I wonder what you might tell Margaret about how you hear God’s voice. Some of us might say we have heard God speak to us in all of these ways – or none of these ways. Some might say, “God speaks to me all the time.” Still some may say, “God has spoken to me once, and that’s been it.” And others might say, “I have never heard God speak to me.” All may be true.

The beauty of God is found in the complexity of the Trinity. God wants us to hear God’s voice so desperately that God will invent a new and unique way of speaking just for us, in order that we might hear. God speaks to us in, as many ways are there people to hear. And we might hear that voice many times or once, or maybe we’re not ready to hear – and God will keep inventing new ways to speak to us.

God is the relentless lover, pursuing, wooing, and fetching us into a love relationship whereby we might hear God’s special word for us – as individuals and as a community.

And what will we hear when God speaks to us? What does Margaret need to hear this very moment? What’s the one thing Margaret’s parents will say over and over to Margaret that mean more than anything else they could ever tell her? Simply, if the only thing they ever told Margaret was the most important thing they could tell her – they will tell Margaret every day, “I love you.” That is enough, that will sustain life and that will comfort tears and fears.

And that is the one thing God is straining desperately to tell us, “I love you.” Hearing God say I love you is sustaining and will comfort our tears and fears. Hearing God say, “I love you,” is enough – and it is overwhelming.

I will with God's Help

2011-01-17T15:34:00.000-08:00

I have been at the border the last three days. Of course, the conversation there is filled with the same question we have all been wrestling with; “How do we respond to the tragedy in Tucson?” Whether it is my imagination or not, I don’t know, but the intensity and the power of the question seem so much more poignant in Congresswoman Gabrielle Giffords’ district, especially standing at the border in Douglas and in Naco.

I don’t have any answers. And I don’t know how to respond. What I do know is that our Anglican spirituality affords a safe and sacred space to work with our emotions, feelings and concerns.

Anglican spirituality is a pilgrimage through life. It is a life that has moments of tragedy as well as moments of joy. More often, our pilgrimage through life, though, is a life of the mundane.

Our pilgrimage of Anglican spirituality is like steeping tea – it takes patience and time, it takes the mundane-ness of waiting for something to happen. This mundane waiting is known as the mystical work of being in union with God. It’s mystical work, because we wait while God works. As the psalmist (40:1) wrote, “I waited patiently for the Lord.”

Our Anglican spirituality offers a pattern for our waiting – waiting in times of the mundane, waiting in times of joy and waiting in times of tragedy.

The Anglican pattern of our life together is five fold - and over the course of the next few weeks - I will be preaching each week about one of these specific patterns.

1. First, God fetches us into the spiritual life. Isaiah 49:1 tells us that God called us before we were born. And this morning we also heard Jesus called the disciples as adults into a new life together. Vocation is a constant calling.
2. Second, our spirituality has a specific place for our intellectual exploration and questioning of the tradition and the scripture. Anglicanism teaches us that our prayer life and faith is dependant upon on tradition, scripture and the reason of our intellect. In other words, our tradition encourages us NOT to check our brains at the door.
3. Third, as we mature in our faith we discover a desire for a life of prayer that is patterned and formative. We often hear ourselves telling each other how much we love the liturgy. This is why we have The Book of Common Prayer. Every facet of Anglican spirituality and life is prayer.
4. Fourth, as Anglicans, our worship is the expression of a mature Christian spirituality. We are sacramental people. The Eucharist is the center of our life together. We pray the prayers together expecting time to form our lives in such a way that we become the broken bread and wine. In other words, we pray that we will become as Jesus, because we, as the disciples, desire to be in the presence of Jesus, the Christ, the Son of the Living God.
5. And that leads us to the fifth stage of a mature Anglican spirituality. The true sign of our adult Anglican spirituality is the active life of modeling Christ as servants. We become a congregation that does what our Deacons tell us to do, we “Go in peace to love and serve the Lord.”

As Anglican’s then, our response to the violence enacted upon our sisters and brothers in Tucson, will be that during the remaining Sundays of January, we will renew our Baptismal Covenant during every service and then we will go into the world to act upon our commitment.

Our Anglican spirituality teaches us that our baptism is a call into following Jesus, being like Jesus, and being Jesus for others. Those daunting tasks are spelled out for us in our Baptismal Covenant (page 304 of The Book of Common Prayer).

Will you continue in the apostles’ teaching and fellowship, in the breaking of the bread, and in the prayers?
Will you persevere in resisting evil, and whenever you fall into sin, repent and return to the Lord?
Will you proclaim by word and example the Good News of God in Christ?
Will you seek and serve Christ in all persons, loving your neighbor as yourself?
Will you strive for justice and peace among all people, and respect the dignity of every human being?

We are asked to respond – “I will, with God’s help.”

We do this to remind and to encourage us to be the people God is fetching us to be, with God’s help. And with God’s help, we say pray our prayers and we wait for God – even in times of tragedy.

On Thursday night of this week, I was in Aqua Prieta. Our small group had a meager dinner at the migrant center with five migrants that had been deported from the US. They were going to get on the bus Friday morning and ride 30 hours to their home in Mexico City.

Victor was the most outspoken of the five. He told us about paying coyotes to get them across the border and then being caught, taken to jail, processed and then deported. He told of hiding in the freezing cold desert that surrounds the Douglas area. He told that he and friends would read the Bible and pray every night. They prayed for their families and for their own safety. You know how it is when you are with somebody that has a deep and rich prayer life - that was Victor. I was deeply moved by his presence that obviously had been formed by his being in the presence of our Lord Jesus Christ on such a regular basis.

Before our group left the migrant center, we stood in a circle and held hands. We prayed together, in English and in Spanish. And then I put my hands on Victor’s head and blessed him. For a few moments, in prayer, we stood in the presence of God. It was our response, the only response, to the circumstances of our lives that had been momentarily thrust together by God.

Let us pray the renewal of our Baptismal Covenant as our response to the circumstance of our lives together - waiting in the times of the mundane, in the times of joy and in the times of tragedy.

I wonder what Mary gave Jesus for his birthday?

2011-01-03T13:23:00.000-08:00

I wonder what kind of gifts Mary gave to her son Jesus? I wonder if there was one little trinket or keepsake he carried with him? I imagine Mary gave her son Jesus many gifts – I would imagine many of these gifts where gifts of words.

I’m sure many of you have gotten a memorable gift – a gift that remains as a reminder of a special person or wonderful time in life – or maybe a gift you have received that has started you onto a certain path in life.

My parents gave me a Bible on Christmas Eve 1960. I was seven years old. By some of the dates I had written in this Bible, it is clear that I used the Bible for at least ten years.

When I thumb through my old Bible it brings back some interesting memories. It’s as if I can smell the smells and see the sights of our old church building. I had written the names of teachers, preachers, and church leaders in little notes I made in the Bible. When I see their names written in my Bible I can see there faces and hear their voices.

One of the most fascinating realizations of looking through my old Bible, is that while my theological understanding is far beyond what it was at that time in my life – some of my scripture verses I now find most meaningful in my life, are ones that I had marked in my childhood Bible. The gift of words is very important in our lives.

Tonight, we come, once again, to celebrate the birth of Mary’s child, Jesus. We celebrate God coming into the world to become one of us – a human being, born as a vulnerable and defenseless baby. But Mary gave birth to more than the baby Jesus – Mary gave birth to the Word, a word that would become a new language. It is a new language through which we encounter God in a new way. (Radcliffe, What is the Point of Being a Christian?)

This new language is a language that is fleshy, earthy, it is a language we can get our hands on – for no longer is God out there, but God has become one of us - Jesus; born of woman, Jesus, who learns to walk by falling down, Jesus, who learns to drive a nail by banging his thumb, Jesus, who gets thirsty, hungry and tired when he walks all day, Jesus, who gets frustrated when his friends don’t get his meaning, Jesus, who cries when his friends die, Jesus, who suffers doubt about God’s inaction, and Jesus, who despairs at God’s absence when he dies a horrible and unjust death.

It is new language that teaches us that our bodies are important, because if it were not so, Jesus would not have been born as a child.

This new language is a language of intimacy – the intimate language, earthy language that Jesus used to call God, “Daddy.” It is a new language that lets us cry the same tears Jesus cried. It is a new language that lets us defend the helpless. It is a new language that teaches us to pray as Jesus prayed.

It is a new language that teaches us that God is present to us in the simplest forms of creation – bread and wine – and that we can share in the presence of God when we eat the bread and drink the wine. It is a new language that ensures us that God is not off far, far, away but instead, here, present, with us.

The new language we have been given opens to us the reality that every day we can begin again – start anew and afresh. Just as we do tonight, we come to celebrate once again – this new language allows us to celebrate the new birth every day of our lives.

The Word of God, the new language of God, is not confined to the words in the Bible, it is not frozen on the pages of history, it is not owned by any one individual who tells us the Bible’s hidden and secret meaning – instead, thanks be to God, the Word of God is still living, ever fresh and still new, because the Word of God is still being written on the pages of our lives every day.

My prayer for all of us this holy night – is that, for this Christmas we will hear with fresh hearing the new language – and that this new language will continue to be written into the story of our lives with God.

Here are some good words from Jesus that I marked in my Bible long ago – “Peace I leave with you, my peace I give unto you; not as the world giveth, give I unto you. Let not your hearts be troubled, neither let it be afraid.” (John 14:27)

The stress of making a decision

2010-12-20T10:13:00.000-08:00

The holidays are filled with stress. Our lives are filled with the stress of the human drama – family stress, stress at our jobs, community stress, stress from the daily news – the stress of life’s decisions. It’s just too much stress.

Mary and Joseph were faced with stress – some of the same stresses we encounter.

Imagine the stress Mary must been under during her pregnancy. She was an unwed mother to be, who had been visited by an angel telling her that the Holy Spirit was the child’s father. Mary was supposed to wed Joseph, but now he was planning to send her away, which means she would be a single mother in a foreign land, probably destined to starve to death. We can only pretend to understand what her parents were thinking and saying to her. And what about her extended family, friends and the rest of the village, what were they saying behind her back and to her face?

Place yourself in Mary’s situation. What would your prayers sound like?

Maybe she prayed the prayer of Psalm 80? “O Lord God of hosts, how long will you be angry with your people’s prayers? You have fed them with the bread of tears, and given them tears to drink in full measure…Restore us, O God of hosts; let your face shine, that we may be saved.”

I wonder how much courage it took for Mary to pray such a prayer in the face of so much stress and trial?

And what about Joseph? What was he feeling? How much stress what he enduring? He had heard Mary’s story, maybe her pleading – maybe he heard her prayers? He had a choice, the best way, the logical way and the easiest path was to send her away. But he knew there was another possibility and that was to believe Mary – could he believe her? Joseph was a good man who wanted to make the right decision. How much anguish did he suffer in trying to make the best decision for everyone?

Joseph may have heard the words of Isaiah. “Ask a sign of the Lord your God; let it be deep as Sheol or high as heaven.” Maybe Joseph prayed for a sign?

Don’t you know that Joseph prayed for Mary and that Mary prayed for Joseph?

But how can something that will bring salvation to the people cause so much pain in Mary and Joseph’s lives? Is the way of the Spirit, a life of stress and tribulation?

Timothy Radcliffe writes that, “God comes from within, inside the deepest interiority.”

This interior place, I contend, is the subconscious – the world of our unseen soul. This is the world of dreams. In the stress of Joseph’s dilemma, he has a dream. And the dream was a sign.

An angel appears to Joseph in his dream. The angel reassures Joseph to not be afraid. The angel encourages Joseph to take Mary as his wife – that her pregnancy is truly of the Spirit of God. And in the dream the Angel instructs Joseph to name the child Jesus, Emmanuel, “God is with us.”

When Joseph awakens from his dream he still has the same set of choices he was faced with before he went to sleep. God did not “fix” the situation or undo the circumstances. Mary was still pregnant. The rumors and talk of the family, friends and community still abound – the stress and the anxiety were still as prevalent – none of the fear and none of the doubt and none of the burden had disappeared – only now, though, did Joseph have a vision from God. The question was would he act upon his vision.

The great mystic, St. John of the Cross, tells us “the whole progress of the soul consists in being moved by God; but our own part remains in placing our soul in a state to receive the motion.”

The stone I am holding came out of the Housatonic River in West Cornwall, Connecticut. This stone is smooth. However, there are still a few lines that hold some edge on the stone. I wonder how long this stone was in the river? I wonder how rough this stone was before it was in the river? I wonder how this stone got in the river?

The whole process of the soul is likened to us placing our soul in the river of God and letting God form our soul. But, in order for us to be formed we must place our soul in God’s river, it is our choice.

Joseph had choices. Joseph was moved by God because he placed himself in a state to be moved by God. Joseph placed his life in the river of God and God then gave him direction – not an easy decision, but the direction of God.

We have choices. Will we place ourselves in a state to be moved by God? Will we place our souls in the river of God? Even knowing God’s direction may not be easy.

Let us place our choices before God. Let us ask God what we should do. Let us pray that God will guide us. Let us place our soul in the river of God – and wait for God to smooth our soul and answer our prayers. Let us be willing to hear God in the many ways God will move us; God moves us through our dilemmas, through our reading of the scripture, through our prayers as well as through our dreams.

Sometimes the stress is not relieved, the problem does not go away and we are left with difficult decisions – the question is, will we hear God and follow God’s direction?

From darkness to light

2010-12-13T13:38:00.000-08:00

North of Dublin, Ireland, forty-five minutes by train, is the ancient burial mound, Newgrange. Scholars date the site at 6,000 BCE, in the time of the pre-Celts. Biblically speaking that’s about the time of Abraham.

The ancient people of Ireland cut stones from a quarry north of the burial mound. Each stone weighs about 2,000 pounds. They floated the stones down the river and then rolled them uphill about a mile. The stones were placed in circle, about 50 yards in diameter. A triad of clover swirls was carved into each stone. The circle of stone was filled with dirt, making a mound twenty feet high.

On the south side of the mound, an entrance was cut and dug into the center. As tourist, we were allowed, twelve at a time, to enter the site with a park guide. The entrance was low and the path to the center was narrow and lined with jagged stones.

The center was a small circular room ten feet across. The walls of stone rose to the ceiling, which was almost to the top of the mound. This interior room had remained dry for 6,000 years, quite a feat for Ireland. There are three ante-rooms, like small altars, within the center room. The room is designed as if it were a womb – much like the center of the prayer labyrinth. In this tomb the ancient people buried the cremains of their holy women and men. In death they returned to the womb of the earth.

Once inside, the guide turned off the lights so that we might experience the absolute darkness of the space. I held my hand in front of my face to see if I could anything – nothing, total darkness.

Here, we were told, that above the entrance, the ancient people had cut a rectangular box about two feet by six inches. The light box was aligned in such a way that at the winter solstice the sun would be directly in line with the box allowing the light to stream into the inner darkness at the center of the burial mound. The park had lights designed to simulate the winter solstice light moving across the inner room. First a sliver of light, then a wedge of light and finally the room was filled with the sun’s light and as it moved across the southern sky the light diminished in the same fashion.

It was at the winter solstice, scholars surmise, that the ancient people would perform rituals and burials of their holy women and holy men.

Advent, when the light of God comes streaming into our inner darkness.

“The Lord sets the prisoners free; the Lord opens the eyes of the blind. The Lord lifts up those who are bowed down; the Lord loves the righteous. The Lord watches over the strangers, he upholds the orphans and the widow.”

There is a choice of liturgical colors for the Advent season. Most often, purple is used, thus, Advent is unfortunately referred to as “Winter Lent.” The other option is blue, Mary’s color. Mary and the color blue symbolize patient waiting for the expectant light of life, the light of the world. In other words, God had come to bring us light by living among us.

This is the heart of Anglican theology – we call this “Incarnation” – God coming to live into the humanity of the world, not only in Jesus, but also into all of God’s creation, including each of us.

Imagine, the Divine Presence of God, living in you like a child waiting to be born. The child is growing, getting stronger, bigger, maturing each day. The Hebrews named this act of God, “Shekinah.” It is a feminine word as in the “beloved spouse,” the “daughter,” the “Sabbath Queen,” and “Wisdom.” These all describe the Divine Presence of God as the mother who loves the child.

Our souls are in the soul of God, as a child, growing and maturing. And it is as if each of us, simultaneously, like Mary, is carrying the Divine Presence of God within our lives.

These are the words you hear each week in our Eucharistic Prayer taken from the Episcopal Church supplemental worship guide, Enriching Our Worship.

“You made us in your image, and taught us to walk in your ways.
But we rebelled against you, and wandered far away; and yet, as a mother cares for her children, you would not forget us.”

This is a very difficult time of the year for many of us. It feels, at times, as if we are sitting in a tomb of darkness. It seems as if we are alone. We feel empty. Like sitting in the ancient burial tomb in Newgrange.

But, then, the Light of life, the Light of the world, the Light of the Son, begins to stream in the room and we realize we are not sitting in a tomb, but instead, we are resting in a womb. We are inside the very Divine Presence of God.

Close your eyes for a moment. Relax, breathe in deep, exhale – imagine leaning your head back slightly into the hands of God. God’s hands are warm, strong, and yet gentle – you feel safe, you feel loved – you are in the Divine Presence of God. God is holding you. Rest here for a moment – feel the warmth of the Light of God, feel the Presence of God. Experience Advent. (Silence) Amen.

Patiently waiting

2010-12-02T09:56:00.000-08:00

Psalm 122

Breakfast may be my favorite meal of the day. I start by making the coffee. Using a Chemex cruet, which is shaped like an hourglass, I place the specially made cone-shaped filter into the cruet. Then I grind Thad’s dark roast beans twice, so that they are very fine. I boil the water. And then, slowly pour the water over the ground beans, allowing them to bloom. As each pour drips through, I slowly add more water. The aroma fills the house creating a warm, holy space.

Then I cook my Irish steel oats. I start with one cup of water in a small pot, and then I add about a half-cup of oats and a tablespoon of flax seed. I bring it to boil over medium heat and then reduce the heat letting the oats simmer for about 25 minutes. The simmering oats add their nutty aroma to that of the coffee creating a symphony for the nose.

Cooking, for me, is a prayerful act of art. Much of the enjoyment of my breakfast is in the time that it takes to make – a time for quiet – and the time spent is like taking a tiny pilgrimage across Ireland every morning.

During Advent, we will be making our journey through the Psalms as a way of reflecting on our spiritual pilgrimage, with Mary, through this season of the expectation of the coming of Christ. Expectation takes time and patience. Walking the pilgrimage means taking your time and enjoying the journey.

Psalm 122 is part of a grouping of Psalms known as the Psalms of Ascent – the songs of the pilgrimage of going up to Jerusalem. Jerusalem, the root word ‘shalem’ means completeness, wholeness, sounds, or Shalom, peace. The word ‘peace’ is used three times in this short poem. The writer wants us to know that peace is the central theme.

“I was glad when they said to me, ‘Let us to go to the house of the Lord!’” Why is the psalmist so joyous about the pilgrimage to Jerusalem? The psalmist is glad for the sake of peace that can be experienced in that liminal space found within walls and the holy temple of Jerusalem.

But, the ancient city of Jerusalem, historically, has not been a place of peace. Repeatedly, in the Biblical narrative, the City of Jerusalem has been destroyed. And of course, in our own times, the city is anything but a bastion of peaceful life.

Is the psalmist calling the people to pray for peace in a specific geographical location? In one way, we have to say yes. However, more importantly, the psalmist is calling the people to pray for peace among the community. The prayer for peace, then, is an expression of the longing and hope for the restoration, unity and peace of the community. And the psalmist knows that the pilgrimage of peace will take prayerful patience and time.

I’m reading this fascinating little book published in England in 1960. Fr Martin Thornton wrote Essays in Pastoral Reconstruction. The theme of these essays focus on spiritual direction where, together, the priest and the people are ‘hammering’ out their theology together each week through meditation on scripture and daily prayer of the Office.

Thornton spends a significant amount of time reminding his reader that the ‘work’ of the parish is prayer, specifically the Daily Office. He makes a strong case, that what he calls the Remnant Church, will be a local congregation with a prayerful priest who takes the Daily Office seriously and a congregation that will also take a serious vow to pray the Daily Office. He states clearly that the local congregation cannot work out its practical theology if the clergy and the people are not grounded in prayer.

It is imperative to recognize that Thornton’s interest is in what he calls ‘ascetical’ or practical theology. In other words, how we live out our lives in light of the gospel of the good news. He relies heavily on the historical works of the Caroline Divines, those influential Anglican writers of the 16rh and 17th centuries. These men, including Lancelot Andrewes, who supervised the translation of the King James Version, laid the groundwork for the Anglican via media of Catholic worship and Protestant theology, held together by scripture, reason and tradition bathed in the constant prayer found in the Book of Common Prayer.

The Caroline Divines practiced the Anglican middle way of the priest and the people doing practical theology together in parish life. Thornton states that ‘applied pastoral theology’ or practical theology adapts to the circumstances of the era. He writes, “the Christian ascetical approach to life changes and adapts itself, but is neither weakened nor overthrown.”

The Caroline Divines and Thornton might provide an excellent model for the experiment we are conducting at St. Augustine’s and St. Brigid’s.

Yes, we are an experiment of sorts – the melding together of the ancient and the future, the modern and the postmodern, that which was a way of parish life into what might be a future way of parish life. Time is changing congregational life in the Episcopal Church and we are adapting to that change.

No longer can we rely on the priest to be the driving force of the parish or be a full-time employee and hang out in the office all day. No longer can we expect ten percent of the congregation to provide ninety percent of the resources. No longer can we just open the door and expect people to flood in to fill the pews. Time has changed this model.

But, actually, this kind of change is good. And in the truest sense, our experiment here is to return to some of the days of our earliest roots. A time where Anglicans worked out their theology of life around the scripture and bathed in the daily office of the prayer book. Returning to day when the people were willing to take the time necessary to, in equal stead with the clergy, hammer out their life and practical theology together. This kind of congregational work of prayer and practical theology takes time and patience.

Why is this experiment worthwhile? It is for the sake of the peace of the community. It is for the sake of the peace that passes all understanding, for the sake of the peace that Jesus Christ brings to the people.

The peace is worth the work. The peace is worth the prayer. The peace is worth the wait. Join me in the patient, prayerful, theological work of a lift together.

Hope

2010-11-24T14:45:00.000-08:00

My sister is physically and mentally handicapped, she has what’s known as Prader-Willi Syndrome. One of her issues is that she has a very difficult time speaking with a vocabulary limited to about 45 worlds. She struggles desperately to make everyone understand her story. Even those of us who have lived with her our entire lives have trouble, at times, making sense of what she is trying to tell us.

When she gets really frustrated she says, “You no hear me,” Meaning, you are not taking the time to listen and interpret what I am really saying to you. Her hope, and our hope is, that somehow we can make meaning of what she is desperate to say. The longer we sit still and listen, the better possibility is that hope is fulfilled.

“Hope is the thing with feathers,
that perches in the soul,
and sings the tune without words
And never stops – at all.” Emily Dickinson

As Christians, we believe that the “Crisis of Hope” that Jesus experienced at the Cross, birthed the “Sacrament of Hope” we now experience in the Church. Sacramental hope is the hope that we as Anglicans offer to the world. Sacramental hope is the hope of the very Presence of God in our pain, grief and angst. Sacramental hope is the hope that God comes to us in our trouble. Sacramental hope is the hope that God knows, through being in Jesus on the Cross, our greatest fear, death. Sacramental hope is the ultimate extravagant hope.

St. Maximus the Confessor says that hope is the “the immeasurable force of wisdom.”

Thomas Aquinas writes, “Hope is for a difficult but possible future.”

Walter Wink writes, “Hope envisages its future and then acts as if that future is now irresistible, thus helping to create the reality for which it longs.”

Timothy Radcliffe wrote in What is the Point of Christianity? “Hope expresses God’s eternal youthfulness.”

What is the point of Christianity? What is the point of Church? The point is to extend hope to the hopeless. The point is to release the dignity of the hope of each person that already exists in the incarnation of Jesus Christ in his or her life.

Can we as individuals and the Church live the life of hope as a spiritual practice?

The purpose of church is to create safe and holy space where we can tell our stories to one another – a safe space when we can tell our stories of hopelessness and where we can tell our stories of hope.

This is how we, at St. Augustine’s and St. Brigid’s Community, can offer hope to a world without hope. This is our vision

Prayer – Through the prayers of St. Margaret’s, St. Brigid’s Community and their vowed members, Contemplative prayer, Wednesday night evening prayer & healing services, Wednesday morning prayers – we are going to add to next year a class in the Mourners Path facilitated by Rob Groovers and Becky Williamson.

Discernment – discernment is the process of learning to hear what God is saying to the people. We hear what God says to us sitting in stillness, quiet and with our mind’s ear wide open. Sometimes the hard part is when I hear something from the Spirit different than you hear, and then we have to have the hope that we can sit together and hear the Spirit. We begin the process of teaching discernment in the Nursery, then Godly Play, on to the Youth on Sunday evenings, through The Art of Engaging the Holy Scripture, the Academy for the Soul, Episcopal 101, Advent and Lent devotions – and our ministry of discernment. We are becoming a community of discernment.

Hospitality – Through our Altar Guild, the Hospitality Committee, coffee hour, IHELP, discretionary fund, St. Matthew’s Food Bank, Shawl Ministry, gathering clothes for the border centers and our Senior Santa program we offer a ministry of hospitality.

Our Bishop’s Committee are the ones given the stewardship responsibility of focusing their energy on the ministry and mission of the parish. They offer their time and talent of prayer, discernment and hospitality for the organization of the parish.

This year, we are going to incorporate all three of these components of our vision into a focused lay ministry program, which we are calling St. Augustine’s Community of Compassion; this will incorporate our Lay Eucharistic Visitors, pastoral care, calling circles, healing services during Advent & Lent and once a month during ordinary time.

Through our prayer, discernment and hospitality we can extend the hope of Jesus Christ to every person – that is the reason we exist - that is the reason we come to church – that is the reason you should give one dollar to this or any other church.

Do we know what the future will bring? No. Do we have hope for the future through Jesus Christ? Yes.

The future will not be seen with the eyes, only felt and experienced by the soul. The futures laughs at those who attempt to plan its inevitability; the future knows it can only be discovered. Close your eyes, feel the Spirit blowing into your face and walk towards the whisper of the fetching of God. Do you hear what the Spirit is saying to us.

The flight of the crows

2010-11-08T16:15:00.000-08:00

My cousin lived in the Oklahoma countryside. As boys, we would wander through the tree groves, playing endlessly. If we went down into the groves near evening, the crows would fill the trees. Even though it would give us the creeps, we loved to sit in the dark shadow of the trees and the setting sun and listen to crows “talk” to one another.

Both my Irish and Cherokee ancestors place great symbolism in crows and ravens. The Celts saw the crow symbolizing the feminine death deities. The Cherokee crow medicine understood the crow being able to be in two places at once, the ‘shape shifter’ – and was the omen of impending death.

There has been a great deal of interesting research in regards to the crow. They are very intelligent birds that are quite handy at using tools. It seems the young crow stays with their parent for five years, learning such skills from the parents. Crows mate for life. And when a crow dies, the flock will gather in silence in large trees near the site of their companion’s death. The crows memorialize the loss of one of their own.

From the beginning of humankind’s history, we have, with the crows, memorialized our lost loved ones.

Today is the Vigil for All Saints Day, allhallowsmas, or more commonly known as Halloween. The roots of Halloween are found in the Celtic festival of Samhein (Sawin). It was the summer’s end harvest festival. Samhein is the god of the dead. On this one night of the year, Samhein would allow the souls of the dead to visit their home. The villagers, then would gather in the fields and celebrate their relatives visiting, of course, they didn’t want to be anywhere near these visitors, that’s the reason they celebrated in the fields and not their homes.

Somewhere around 800 AD, the Roman Church established November 1 as All Saints Day and near 1000 AD, November 2nd was set aside as All Souls Day, the commemoration of the dead in our families.

As a priest, I have been troubled by the growing trend of avoiding the dead and the dying that I have witnessed over the past few years. As a hospital chaplain, I sat with countless people in the last hours of their life, while the family was absent. And there have been times that I have had to talk families into having a funeral or memorial service for the loved one. I have done my own tiny, unscientific research by asking other clergy, funeral directors and even reading the obituaries and all of these has affirmed my personal experience. As a culture, my observation is that we are avoiding talking about our death and the end of life. Why?

I am sure there are as many reasons as there are people who avoid such uncomfortable conversations. The avoidance of engaging in the reality of death and suffering may be the avoidance of the deeper conversation with God.

This morning’s Hebrew scripture is from Habakkuk, a prophet of which little is known. In this text we are encouraged to embrace God in the conversation about the suffering of life and the reality of death.

From Habakkuk’s writings, it appears he was very familiar with his communities worship, leading some scholars to the conclusion that he was a leader in the temple worship. In reading the brief book, it appears very possible that the poetry and hymns were indeed temple liturgy.

Habakkuk’s name means to “embrace” and his oracle, vision from God, is a lament – he is crying out to God. His oracle is one that we most likely can relate to – he asks the question, “Where is God in our suffering?”

In the later part of the seventh century BC the people are under attack from warring neighbors. Other prophets in the Old Testament have taken such opportunity to prophecy that such situations are the punishment of God for the Israelites disobedience.

Habakkuk, however, takes a different view. Habakkuk cries out to God that these warring enemies are unjust in their attack – they are wicked, fierce and impetuous. Habakkuk does not blame God for the Israelites peril – but instead he asks God how long will God remain silent.

Habakkuk does not receive an answer as to why he is suffering or how long he will suffer – he is only told that he must be patient and faithful – for in his patience and faithfulness he will eventually see the vision.

Where do we gain the strength to be patient and faithful in the face of our suffering and God’s apparent silence?

Habakkuk summons up his courage as he says to God, “I will stand at my watch post, and station myself on the rampart; I will keep watch to see what God will say to me, and what God will answer concerning my complaint.”

We are being given permission to complain, cry out, and even yell at God. There is much suffering and injustice in our lives - during the next three days, give yourself permission to voice your suffering in the loss of loved ones.

This is a three-day feast - tell God how much you have suffered and tell God how much your loved ones suffered. Express yourself, freely, fully, and then on November 2, All Souls Day, celebrate your life and the life of your loved ones. Tell God and one another about your life and the good life of your loved ones; celebrate life and death, ritualize life and death, memorialize life and death and remember to call upon God to give you the vision, the vision of our

The God-man

2010-10-25T08:26:00.000-07:00

A very good pastor friend told me this amazing story. His parish situation is very similar to mine, including that we both have preschools.

He said he was walking by the playground and the four and five-year-olds were playing with a Frisbee. As children like to do, they were trying to throw it over the fence. Finally, one boy shouted with joy, “Teacher, the Frisbee went over the fence.” My friend told the boy he would retrieve the Frisbee. The little boy shouted to his teacher, “Never mind, the God-man is going to get it.”

At first, my friend thought to himself in brief moment of pride, “Wow.” In the next second he realized the gravity of the child’s proclamation, humbly praying “Oh, my God.”

Humility is one of the central tenets of the Christian life. To be a Christian, therefore, is to be a humble person.

One of favorite authors on spirituality, Joan Chittister, writes, “Humility is, then, the foundation of our relationship with God, our connectedness to others, our acceptance of ourselves, our way of using the goods of the earth and even our way of walking through the world, without arrogance, without domination, without scorn, without put-downs, without disdain, without self-centeredness. The more we know ourselves, the gentler we will be with others.” (The Rule of Benedict: Insights for the Ages)

Our model for living the humble life is, of course, Jesus. Saint Paul tells us that Jesus, though he was God, “humbled himself.”

Jesus’ parable of the Pharisee and the Tax collector is meant to help the disciples, and us, understand Jesus’ model of humbleness.

The Pharisee in the parable trusted in his own righteousness and “regarded others with contempt.” In contrast, the tax collector knelt before God, confessed his sins to God and depended solely on God’s mercy.

Jesus’ concept of humility would be derived from Tenakh, the Hebrew scripture, where humility or ‘anah,’ is used to describe someone kneeling before the king; to give the king our eyes, our ears and our mind. For the Jews, humility has nothing to do with down playing one’s strengths. Instead, humility is, to use Saint Paul’s words, an emptying of one’s self-mindfulness and then a turning of one’s complete attentiveness towards God.

That leaves us asking the question, how do we do such a thing?

Jesus’ answer to that question is found in verses 15-17, the text immediately following this morning’s reading.

People were bringing even infants to him that he might touch them; and when the disciples saw it, they sternly ordered them not to do it. But Jesus called for them and said, “Let the little children come to me, and do not stop them; for it is such as these that the kingdom of God belongs. Truly I tell you, whoever does not receive the kingdom of God as a little child will never enter it.” (Luke 18:15-17)

Saint Brigid’s Community gathers on Thursday nights. It’s primarily a young adult community, but I would invite all of you to attend. Anywhere from 20-40 of us gather on any given Thursday night, including, at times, 15 children under the age of ten. We get together in the parish hall, sitting on sofas, chanting Vespers. At the Eucharist, we invite the children to sit around our coffee table altar. The coffee table is just high enough for a three-year-old to knee and place her elbows on the table. Each night, the children take turns serving as acolyte/deacons. One operates the computer. Another sets the table and the third child serves the Eucharistic sweet bread after it has been blessed. The children know all the songs and the prayers. I’m confident that a few of them could recite the entire Eucharistic prayer by heart. Our children enter the holy space with all due reverence, though at time we have a few accidents.

When our Bishop visited us in February, I had given him the full run down of the service. He chuckled and said he was comfortable with the set up. It came time for the Eucharist and the children gathered around the table. Willam, our three-year-old muse, crawled into the Bishop’s lap. When the Bishop leaned forward to elevate the chalice, Will slid out of the Bishop’s lap, then, just when the Bishop began to lower the chalice table, will jumped up, spilling about a coffee-cup’s worth of blessed wine on the table.

The Bishop smiled and just kept going with the liturgy while the young acolyte/deacons helped clean up the table. The Bishop was so enamored with our community that he invited us to lead the music at the Convention Eucharist. And standing with the Bishop at the Eucharist were some of our children, including Will, who the Bishop has taken to calling his “three-year-old acolyte.”

In Jonathan Sacks challenging book, The Dignity of Difference, he writes that the goals of religious traditions are to “build communities, shape lives and tell the stories that explain ourselves to ourselves.” Religious traditions, he says, “frame the rituals that express our aspirations and identities.”

At Saint Augustine’s and Saint Brigid’s, we are working very hard to build a community that does indeed shape our lives and tell our stories. We use words like messy monasticism to describe our life together. Our “monastery” is being built upon the foundation of Godly Play and The Art of Engaging Holy Scripture, where we tell the stories of our faith and ask our selves the most important question, “I wonder…”

To be a Christian, to be humble, is, in Jesus’ words, to receive the kingdom of God as a little child. I am humbled to be a part of this community where children and the theology of children are at the center of our life together. And I believe that the more we humble ourselves, the more we focus on God, the more we see the face of God in children, and the more we learn from our children, the more humble we will become and the closer to God we will be in our life together. Maybe then, a child will proclaim to us, “Here comes the God-woman and the God-man.”

Worn kneelers

2010-10-19T14:54:00.000-07:00

This week, I found myself watching the Chilean miners being brought to the surface after being trapped underground for over 70 days. Watching the experience was emotional. It’s hard to imagine the feelings of the miners and their families.

I wonder how they felt during those first 17 days, the miners praying for their rescue while they heard the drill miss their location several times? I would imagine their prayers were filled with desperation, fear, anger and hurt. And eventually, their prayers were jubilant with thanksgiving.

Even though probably none of us has experienced being trapped in an underground mine, many of us may have experienced feeling buried in a deep dark place. Maybe you are feeling that right now?

Maybe, you have said, “I pray so hard, why isn’t God answering my prayer? I have lived a good life. I have been a good person. Why isn’t God hearing me? Is God punishing me or trying to teach me a lesson? If God is trying to teach me a lesson, I sure wish I knew what was it was.”

Sound familiar? I hear these questions quiet frequently and they are legitimate questions, given how most of us have been taught to view the nature and characteristic of God to be irascible.

This morning’s parable is the story of the Persistent Woman and the Unjust Judge. The story is short and very straightforward. Luke lays out the meaning of the parable for us in the first sentence, “Jesus told them (the disciples) about their need to pray always and to not lose heart.” Seems pretty simple, doesn’t it? Of course, it might be easier to take if Luke would have just made the statement and not told Jesus’ parable. Or, al least, it would be a lot more palatable if Jesus would have told an easier parable to understand?

In order to get a better handle on prayer and this parable, let’s break the story down into two parts - the first being, the nature of God and the second part, our response to the nature of God.

In this morning’s gospel, Jesus equates God with a judge. That picture has been portrayed for us through Christian history as a condemning God. But Brian Mclaren points out that the ancient Jewish God is not the one of condemnation, but instead, “a Judge who comes to bring you justice…as the universal judge God has every human being’s well-being in mind. God is interested in the interests of the other, not just our concerns,” (“Suicidal vs. Life-Giving Religious Narratives,” Tikkun, September/October 2010).

So, if God is looking out for the best for us all, then why isn’t God answering my prayer for personal justice, healing and reconciliation?

Part of the answer lies in the faithfulness of God. As opposed to the unrighteous judge who did not fear God nor respect any person – God has respect for the creation God has put in place and for the God’s created creatures. In other words, God created the world that has rhythm and seasons, creativity and destruction, and life and death, and God interacts with that world in an appropriate and non-capricious manner. And God expects us to participate in the life and justice of this world.

And this is where the second part of the parable speaks to us; “what is our response to God?”

In this parable, we hear the persistence of the widow, even to the point of annoyance. Day after day, night after night, she never lets up her insistence that she be granted justice. Finally, in exhausted self-defense, the unrighteous judge relents and grants her justice.

Sr. Joan Chittister writes, “The will of God for us is what remains of a situation after we try without stint and pray without ceasing to change it…It is not perfection that leads us to God; it is perseverance,” (The Rule of Benedict: Insights for the Ages).

So then, what is the benefit of perseverance in prayer? That we wear God down and then get our way? Are we to be like a two-year-old vying for her mother’s attention, “mom, mom, mom, mom,” until mom finally, in exasperation relents? Is this what our prayer life is supposed to be like? Hmm, maybe? Well, maybe not like the two-year-old. But, instead, like the obedient faithful servant we heard about two weeks ago.

Our unceasing prayer, our faithfulness is to not lose heart; this is our obedience.

Frequently, I go to the hospital to pray with someone. And every Sunday, after each service, and many times during the week, you ask me to pray for a loved one. I do my very best to write down every name in my journal and offer daily prayers for each person. Every Sunday morning at the eight o’clock service and every Wednesday night, we pray for people by name. The request for prayer can be overwhelming.

Here is the beauty of our Prayer Book. We have at our disposal, hundreds of prayers for the sick, the dying, those who need guidance, for peace, for employment, for natural disasters, the list goes on and on. The common thread through every prayer is the faithfulness of God to be present to us. The question is, are we present to God and present to those who request our prayer.

A few years ago, I was privileged to be able to visit Canterbury Cathedral. We happened to be there at noon when there was a call to prayer. Everyone was asked to pray the Lord’s Prayer in his or her language or to pray silently. I happened to be in the undercroft in a small side chapel. There were four kneelers in front of a tiny altar. The kneelers were stone. As I knelt there in the glow of hearing hundreds of people pray the Lord’s Prayer in dozens of languages, I realized that the stone kneelers were worn down from centuries of those who had prayed before me. Over a thousand years, how many people prayed there and how many prayers did it take to wear down those kneelers?

Our faithful obedience is to be in prayer every day, to pray without ceasing. Our faithful obedience is to pray, “thy will be done.” Our faithful obedience is to wear out the stone kneelers on which we find our selves each day of this hard life. Our faithful obedience is to pray always. Our faithful obedience is to not lose heart. Our faithful obedience is to pray that God, the Son of Man, will hear the faith of our obedience.

Forgiveness is our obedience?

2010-10-04T10:45:00.000-07:00

When I was president of Grand Canyon University, it seemed that every day I was faced with some insurmountable problem. There was daily financial crisis, students in distress, angry faculty, a depressed staff, aging buildings, disgruntled alumni and demanding donors – it was enough to, well, at times, enough to be overwhelming. Regularly, some well meaning person would say to me, “Gil, just pray that you will have more faith. If you have more faith, it will all work out great. If you just will have more faith, then God will be bless the University.”

My sister is mentally and physically handicapped. My mother has told me countless stories of people saying to her, “Loretta, if just had more faith, Dinah would be healed and be normal.”

So, I can relate with the disciples in this morning’s text, when they scream at Jesus, “Increase our faith!” The disciples weren’t asking Jesus how they could increase their own faith. No, they were demanding that Jesus implant more faith into their lives.

But, why were they making such a demand on Jesus? Did they need more money? Did they need someone to be healed? Did they need a miracle in their lives?

Well, maybe. But, the reason they were imploring Jesus to increase their faith was because Jesus has just told the disciples that they must forgive one another seven times for the same offense. Wow, no wonder they were demanding that Jesus increase their faith. Money problems and health issues seem to pale when it comes to my willingness to forgive someone over and over and over again.

Does Jesus grant their wish for more faith? No. Instead, he tells them that they already have enough of God’s gift of faith. What they need is more obedience.

Ah, nuts. I didn’t want to hear that and I’m pretty sure the disciples didn’t want to hear that either. I think it would be a lot easier if Jesus would just give me a spiritual workout program, or a sinner’s diet, or some Bible study program that would ensure that I would have more faith in order to activate God’s good gifts in my life. In case you were wondering, that’s known as prosperity theology and you can hear about that on Channel 21 everyday, all day.

But, that is not what Jesus is teaching us. We already have all the faith we need. We have the faith of Jesus Christ. Not faith “in” Jesus Christ, No, we have the faith “of” Jesus Christ, already implanted in our live. (See Paul Among Postmodern, Douglas Harink). Now, I may demand more faith from Jesus because I feel like I don’t have enough faith, or any faith at all – but the faith of Jesus Christ is already inside of me and inside of you.

So, what do I do when I feel like I don’t have enough faith to even get out of bed in the morning?

Jesus tells the disciples they need to be obedient to the master. Now, admittedly, this kind of language is highly offensive to us. Slavery, sex-trafficking, abusive clergy, abusive spouses, abusive parents are all the results of the misuse of authority.

In the mouth of Jesus, though, these words take on a much different meaning than blind obedience and the wielding of destructive power.

Who is Jesus? Jesus is the willing servant, who in few weeks down the road from this story will stoop in front of the disciples and wash their feet.

Obedience is trusting that the one placed over us is looking out for our best interest. Authority should only be given to the one with the heart of the servant and to the one who is willing to wash our feet.

I coached college baseball for twenty years and I prided myself in the fact that our teams worked harder than any other team we competed against. I wanted my players to work hard because this is what was best for the team and for each individual. I have had several players who went on to play professional baseball tell me that, at the time they were playing for me, they wondered, silently, why they had to work so hard. They told me they figured it out when they went out into the professional world where the expectation is that they would prepare themselves to get ready to play – no one was going to tell them how and when to get ready. They had to do it all on there own, so they relied on what they had been taught in college about hard work. Of course, I’ve had dozens of former players who didn’t play professional baseball tell me that this same work ethic carried over into every aspect of their lives.

Jesus is not asking us to yield blind obedience to a vengeful, angry, raging God. No, Jesus is telling us that God loves us so much that we can trust God as much as Jesus trusted God, even in the face of what may seem like an impossible situation, resurrection can happen.

Our obedience to God identifies us with Jesus, who was the obedient servant and is the Resurrected servant.

This is a hard lesson and may seem to be impossible to follow. I can understand this, and relate to it. Trust me, I’ve been told I have authority issues – and I have to obey the bishop. What to do?

What is the point of Jesus’ story about the obedient servants? His point is that the servants, served willingly. So, what is our service as servants? Why did the disciples ask Jesus to increase their faith? So they could be forgiving. And what then is our service to others? Forgiveness is our service. Forgiveness is our obedience.

Forgiveness is the ultimate impossibility, isn’t it? It’s easy for me to preach about forgiveness. But, I’m not Tyler Clemenit’s father; he’s the Rutger’s freshman who committed suicide last week as the result of his roommate posting, on the Internet, Tyler having sex with another male student. If I was Tyler’s father I don’t know if I could forgive his roommate.

But, that’s what obedience is all about; I must obey the God who forgives me by being a forgiving person. I must forgive myself for not being able to forgive and then forgive others for their unspeakable acts. Forgiveness is our obedience even if I don’t believe I have enough faith. This is teaching is, indeed, difficult. Amen.

Jesus, the Shrewd Manager

2010-09-20T10:54:00.000-07:00

My grandfather was a master storyteller. Like all good storytellers, he had his staple of memorable tales, while at the same time he was always attentive to life and what new story he could add to his repertoire.

The power of my grandfather’s stories lay in their exact repetition. His stories were reliable in their telling, so much so, that I can repeat them almost verbatim. I even have his mannerisms down. Especially the way he would hold his cigarette. He held the filter between his index finger and thumb with the burning ember carefully protected from the Oklahoma wind by his palm. He would take long, but gentle drags, from his cigarette. He never blew the smoke out, instead it just drifted easily from the air escaping his nose. Of course he exhaled the smoke with each word of his story. He could hold his cigarette and pick up a cup of coffee with the same hand, balancing the cup with his three bottom fingers against his index finger that held his cigarette. And I always the point of his story was directed at me when he pointed cup and cigarette in my direction.

I have been able to imitate my grandfather from the time I was twelve. But, no matter how well I imitate him, you can’t understand the full meaning of his stories without having been present to get all the subtleties of his telling. Still, though I’ve been mining the deeper meanings of his stories, as I’ve gotten older. As he used to tell me, “with age comes freedom. “ I have come to realize that that means, as I get older I have more and more freedom to interpret his stories against the meaning of my own life.

Maybe, with that freedom, we might approach today’s parable from Luke 16:1-9 (10-13). It appears that with some of Jesus’ stories you may have to have been present to understand the full meaning.

Joseph Fitzmyer (Anchor Bible: The Gospel of Luke) describes this parable as a part of the “The Gospel of the Outcasts.” The Gospel of the Outcasts begins with last week’s parables of the lost sheep and the lost coin. The parables of the lost are followed by the parable of the Prodigal Son, then this morning’s parable and finally the parable of Lazarus and the Rich Man.

This morning’s parable, the parable of the Shrewd Manager, is probably one of the most puzzling parables of Jesus’ many complex stories. In my research, I read eight commentaries on this text and got eight different interpretations. So, this morning, you’re going to get a ninth version, mine.

In order to keep from suffering theological nausea at the hands of so many disparate views, I have resorted to a default lens, through which I interpret the majority of text that I encounter, especially those that are the most difficult to decipher.

As simply as can be stated, the theological lens that I am using is derived from Dietrich Bonhoeffer’s “Nonreligious interpretation of Biblical Concepts,” or more commonly known as his idea of a “religionless Christianity.” (See Christ for us in the Theology of Dietrich Bonhoeffer, John A. Phillips)

Most of Bonhoeffer’s theology on this topic boils down to the profound question, “Who is Jesus Christ for us, today? ”From Bonhoeffer’s perspective, as Christians, our responsibility is to the interpret the scripture by always asking the question, “what is the relevance of this text for the post-modern world to come?” As we interpret the scripture and are witnesses to the gospel, we must take into account the condition of the secular hearer. We must, Bonhoeffer says, proclaim the gospel in nonreligious language.

In other words, using non-religious language is having the capacity and skill to tell the story of Incarnation, redemption and resurrection in everyday twenty-first century language with an eye towards the next generation. No interpretation is valid if it only serves the generation in which we live – it must make meaning for the next generation or else our faith in not dynamic, which reflects the Living God we serve and worship.

With Bonhoeffer’s non-religious interpretation in mind, let’s look at this morning’s gospel.

I have chosen to follow Fitzmyer’s titling of this parable as “The Shrewd Manager,” in opposition to the more common title of “The Dishonest Manager,” because I think Jesus may represent the manager in this story who stands, not between God and us, but between the secular world or our understanding of the world, with an alternative model for economic justice.

In the Palestinian culture of Jesus’ day, in was custom for an absentee landowner to hire a man to manage his affairs, which include buying, selling and contracting loans. An interest bearing loans was forbidden by Levitical law, but commissions were permissible. It was common for a property manager to extend deals to the customers for a commission or fee.

Imagine Jesus sitting in circle with his friends, telling stories. in Jesus’ story, the parable, the landowner accuses the manager, in some manner, of mishandling his property. The manager expects to be fired, so in order to endear himself to the people of his community, he tells the debtors to rewrite their bill without the manager’s normal commission. Jesus is creating a new economy for the world.

The landowner is thoroughly impressed with the shrewd, wise, and self-sacrificing act of the manager, an act, which he may have done out of a self-serving motive, but, still achieved a higher, if even unintended, goal. The good of all was arrived at, even if accidentally. It’s a new economy that benefits, in a fair manner, everyone in the system, the landowner, the manager and the debtors.

If we are to be children of the light and heed to Jesus’ economic model, then we will have to intercede on behalf those who have been overcharged, manipulated or mistreated by the economy of the society in which we live. The children of light are those who will share the wealth for the common good, sharing the wealth even it is defies the economic system of the culture in which we find ourselves.

Here at Saint Augustine’s, we have been modeling the shrewd manager.

When we were told we couldn’t feed the homeless in our IHELP program, potluck style – we had to be shrewd in order to work around the city of Tempe who wanted to shut us down. We did just that and have continued to feed Tempe’s homeless.

Shrewdly, we have taken clothes and medical supplies across the border to the immigrant ministries with which we have formed relationships.

We have worked by shrewd means to defeated SB 1070.

Shrewdly, we partnered with our interfaith community to offer a peaceful response to 9.11.

And this morning Christy Dargas is going to tell us about one more we can be shrewd in countering hateful legislation in our State.

Continually, we are going to be faced with the necessity of being shrewd, creative and bold to act behalf of the common good – to be like Jesus, the shrewd manager.

Jesus drank Guinness

2010-09-14T10:20:00.000-07:00

In the summer of 2007 my son and I made a walking pilgrimage across Ireland. While we had a map, it seemed we were always in a state of being lost. We quickly learned to stop and asked for directions. When you are walking and carrying a forty-pound pack, going one mile in the wrong direction means having to walk an additional mile back in the other direction.

The Wicklow Mountains are a long series of sloping hills. You walk up for a mile and then down for mile, then back up and back down again. Walking ten miles feels like twenty.

On the fourth day of our pilgrimage we were going from Glendalough to Granabag along Saint Kevin’s Way. Saint Kevin’s Way in not a well-marked or well-maintained trail. It may have been at one time. But I’m sure over the years, hikers have taken the trail markers as souvenirs. At least that’s my excuse for getting lost so often.

We had gotten off the trail a few times, but had managed to successfully re-find our way each time. At one point we had to leave Saint Kevin’s Way and start walking down a main road in order to get to Granabag. We had asked for directions and felt like we were on the correct road.

As the day wore on, we were having our doubts. We felt like we had walked too far, but at the same time we thought we were on the right road because we were following the directions of a local.

It was getting late in the afternoon, near evening, when we heard a car coming up from behind us. The roads are extremely narrow in rural Ireland so we stepped to the side of the road to let the car pass. The driver slowed the car down and stopped next to us. She rolled down the window and leaned out.

“Are either of you, Gil?” she asked.

I’m in the middle of Ireland, in the middle to nowhere in Ireland and someone calls me by name. Shocked, to say the least, I told her I was Gil.

“Well, your lost. You’ve walked down the wrong road. Get in the car and I’ll take you back to my place where you’re supposed to be staying.”

She told us on the drive to our accommodations that she had called the hostel in Glendalough to find out what time we had left. She guessed how long it would take us to walk and when we were two hours overdue, she got in her car and started looking for us. She told us if she hadn’t found us, she would have called the Mountain Rescue to search the trail, fearing one us might be hurt.

I had so many emotions running through me. I was confused, angry, frustrated and I was grateful.

This morning’s gospel could be used to prove that Jesus may have been Irish. I mean it’s the kind of story you could hear told in any Irish pub.

We find Jesus with tax collectors and sinners, which is translated as, he’s at O’Kelly’s Pub hanging out with the bookies and the hookers. I desperately want to make a tee shirt that reads on the front, “What would Jesus do?” and on the back it would say, “Drink Guinness.”

Anyway, a priest walks into the pub (sounds like an Irish joke). He sees Jesus sitting in the corner booth with his disreputable friends. The priest walks over to Jesus and scolds him for drinking too much and for consorting with the wrong crowd. What does Jesus do? Does Jesus retaliate, make excuses or tell the priest to get lost (or worse)? No, Jesus, the great storyteller spins a yarn that we call a parable.

There’s a man, Jesus says, who has a hundred sheep. (See this is really an Irish story. There are thousands of sheep in the Wicklow Mountains.) And the man realizes one of his sheep in lost. He searches and searches the hills and until he finds the lost lamb. When he gets back home with his lost lamb, he calls all his friends to come and have a big party to celebrate finding that which was lost.

And Jesus goes on to tell another story about the woman with ten silver coins. Upon losing one of the coins, she sweeps every corner of the house until she finds her prized possession. In her joy over finding the lost coin, she too calls her friends together for a joyous celebration.

What is Jesus telling us in this story? First, take note that Jesus uses a man and a woman to represent God. God is the shepherd with a lost sheep and God is the woman who lost the coin. (Penny Dixon, Feasting on the Word)

We are the objects of this story. We are the lost lamb and the lost coin. We, who may not feel lost or who feel hopelessly lost are the one’s for whom God is searching.

God will do anything to find us. You cannot be so very lost that you cannot be found by the love of God. There is no place too dark, too desperate, too alone, and too dangerous, that God will not travail to find you.

We believe that God’s love sent Jesus to descend to the dead in order to share God’s love with the self-proclaimed lost. Both the Apostles’ Creed and our Baptismal Covenant affirm I Peter 3:19 that Jesus descended to the dead to preach the Good News and that “God waits patiently,” for those who resist the irresistible grace of God. God waits patiently even for the dead.
God’s grace is boundless and limitless. That’s why I am a Universalist. I believe that all will rest one day in the Holy bosom of God. Not one soul will resist the patient waiting of God. There is no eternity long enough to out wait God’s patient love.

Wait, you say. What about the sinners in this story? Who are these people that have repented and cause even the angels of heaven to rejoice? Are they the tax collectors? Are they the sinners who are listening to Jesus’ story? No, God has already found them.

So who are these sinners who repent and bring joy into heaven? Those sinners are the religious “insiders” who have constructed fences around God’s grace to keep others away. Repentance is needed from those who believe that there are some that are “in” and some that are “out.”

Jesus’ story tells us that all are in the loving, grace filled arms of God. You can run from God, you can resist God, you can deny God, but you cannot out wait God’s patient love. You can consider yourself lost, you can feel lost, you may be lost, but God will find you.

And even if you are convinced that there are sinners who are going to die and go to hell – God’s grace is most likely irresistible to you and you will too will be found by God’s unconditional love.

Okay, it’s time to stop talking and join Jesus at the Table of the Great Thanksgiving feast. Sorry, no Guinness today, only wine. But we can head over to Casey Moore’s after the service and hang out with Jesus and his crowd. Amen.

Paul and full inclusion

2010-09-07T16:09:00.000-07:00

My usual practice of writing a sermon begins on Monday morning. I pray the Daily Office and use the lectionary texts for the following Sunday for my readings. My intention each week is read the Hebrew text, pray the psalm, read the epistle, and then focus on the Gospel as the text for my sermon.

This week as I was reading Philemon I was attracted by the statement at the end of Paul’s letter that Epaphras was in prison with Paul. Robert Jewett and others have made a strong case that Epaphras may have been the author of the Letter to the Hebrews.

Because of my keen interest in Hebrews I re-read the letter to Philemon with a new interest, this time looking for clues about Epaphras. What I found were some profound insights into Paul’s ethics and his attempts at encouraging other Christian leaders to allow the good news of Jesus to transform their ethical behavior.

How we read this text may say something about how we interpret scripture.

Paul is the undisputed author of this letter. He is writing from prison, so this letter was either written in 56 CE from Ephesus or in 62 CE from Rome shortly before Paul was executed. Because Paul reminds Philemon that he an old man, it fits better to take the later date.

It’s very interesting to always take note of the chronology of Paul’s writing in relationship to his emerging theology. Over the course of his life and writing there is significant and substantive evolution of his theology and ethics. This may have been one of the last letters from Paul that survived. Therefore, his theological ethics may be at the full maturity of their development.

Paul is writing to Philemon who hosts a Christian church in his home. Not a few scholars hold to the idea that Archippus is the pastor of the church in the town of Laodicaea (William Barclay) where Philemon may have lived. Paul has written this letter with the intention that it is to be read to the entire congregation in this house church.

Onesimus, a runaway slave of Philemon and the subject of the letter, is the one who carried the letter to Philemon. It appears from the letter, that when Onesimus’ ran away from his owner he may have stole some things from Philemon.

At some point, in running away, Onesimus encounters Paul, probably in Rome. Paul encourages him to become a follower of Christ. Now Onesimus finds himself sitting at the feet of Paul and learning to be a true servant of the Lord. He becomes, as Paul says, useful or “profitable,” as Onesimus’ name actually means.

Paul is very clear and persuasive in his letter to Philemon. Paul is asking Philemon to consider a threatening and life changing matter. Paul wants Philemon to accept Onesimus back into his home, his Christian home, not as a slave but as a brother in Christ. Paul tells Philemon that on the basis of his apostolic succession he could as much, order Philemon to comply. But instead, out of the consideration for the love that Paul and Philemon share as Christian brothers, he wants Philemon to voluntarily love Onesimus with that same Christian love.

Paul is asking Philemon to make an enormous sacrifice by forgiving Onesimus. Philemon is being asked to forgive the fact that Onesimus not only ran away, but also, stole from him. To be so magnanimous, Philemon would lose face with his community. Slavery was a way of life and to treat one’s slaves with any amount of dignity in the face of disobedience was to set a precedent that the culture would not tolerate.

The second thing Paul is asking of Philemon is to accept Onesimus as an equal, as his brother and not as a slave. Paul wants Philemon to treat Onesimus in the same manner that Philemon treats Paul. In other words, Paul is asking Philemon to emancipate Onesimus. That is a tall order.

Paul was teaching the infant first century Church that by being followers of Christ they are to become different people, a people that are a “new creation,” and “all members of one body because there is one bread,” “one Christ” (I & II Corinthians). Remember Paul’s words in his letter to the Galatians, “there is no longer Jew or Greek, there is no longer slave or free, there is no longer male or female; for all are one in Christ.”

It would be nice to know whether Philemon heeded Paul’s request or whether he considered Paul’s admonition too difficult to follow. But we get a clue from another source of what might have happened. Fifty years after the writing of Paul’s letter to Philemon we have a letter from another saint of the Church, Ignatius. At the time, Ignatius was being taken from Antioch to Rome for execution. Along the way he writes letters to the various churches. In his letter to the Church at Ephesus, he commends the wonderful work of their bishop, Onesimus, who Ignatius calls “the profitable one.” Is it the same person? Could a slave and a thief become a bishop of the Church? No one knows for sure. But, Paul obviously wrote hundreds of private letters to individuals. However, the letter to Philemon is the only such letter to survive in Paul’s collection. Is the letter’s survival due to the insistence of the bishop Onesimus who had been tutored by Paul and liberated at Paul’s insistence? It could well be.

It seems pretty clear that Saint Paul intended the followers of Christ to become a transformed people, regardless of the demands of the culture and the cost to them personally. And while Paul did not have the time in his life to fight the cultural ills of slavery, he did take issue with slavery being condoned by those in the church; “no longer Jew or Greek, slave or free, male or female, but one in Christ,” he wrote.

Today, it’s easy for us to see Paul’s point. We don’t condone slavery. It did take Western civilization another nineteen hundred years to come around to Paul’s way of thinking, but, today, in 2010, no right thinking person would approve of any form of slavery.

In the same manner, to exclude a baptized believer from any aspect of the Church is, in essence, a form of slavery, which keeps that person shackled to the pew and away from the altar.

The Episcopal Church has worked hard at being fully inclusive of all people into the Church by living into our Baptismal covenant and liberating all people in the name of Christ. To fully include and liberate someone, they must have full access to the Church and that includes the deaconate, the priesthood, becoming bishop and Presiding Bishop, without regard to gender, race, nationality and sexuality.

I found it an odd turn of the tables this week that in my reading of Paul’s letter to Philemon, Paul is being supportive of our Church’s ethic of full inclusion. You might find that a hard leap, but stay with me for a moment.

For example, Saint Paul is often quoted in order to denounce a GLBTQ lifestyle. He wrote the only two sentences in the New Testament that make any reference to homosexuality. Romans 1:27 is the most cited text. Quickly, let me say that Paul was not writing about a committed relationship between two people of the same sex. He was condemning sexual acts in temples between adult men and young boys.

In light of Paul’s letter to Philemon regarding slavery it seems to me that to point to four verses in the Hebrew scripture and two verses in the New Testament, of which none came from the mouth of Jesus, as a basis for the exclusion of our gay and lesbian brothers and sisters or anyone from any aspect of the Church, seems to beg the need to consider Paul’s request of Philemon. “Perhaps he was separated from you for a while, so that you might have him back forever, no longer as a slave but more than a slave, a beloved brother – especially to me but how much more to you, both in the flesh and in the Lord. So if you consider me your partner, welcome him as you would welcome me.”

There is no way that one verse or one author of any book of the Bible can be read as the definitive answer on any cultural issue or even theological dilemma. Tough questions require deep and intentional study, faithful prayer and an open and listening heart. These characteristics are indeed, the best characteristics of this community and for that I am humbly grateful to be your priest. Let us pray together, discern the Spirit together and be welcoming to all just as we would welcome Jesus and Saint Paul.

It is important to remind ourselves that we are a Church and a congregation that is welcoming and liberating. This feels good, truly it does – but, we can stop or back away from our calling. We are not finished being transformed, there is still a lot more work to be done to ensure that everyone feels fully and completely welcome, included and has full access to the altar both as communicant and celebrant. Amen.

Pilgrims on a morning walk

2010-08-31T09:19:00.000-07:00

My dog, Jesus Jameson, and I were on our morning walk Wednesday. I like walking down the canal bank, there is more to keep Jesus amused and less to distract me so that I can just walk and meditate.

The city of Goodyear has contracted the prison at Perryville to keep the landscaping along the canal bank under control. There are usually two crews of women, wearing their orange jumpers, who are trimming countless number of scrubs and trees that have been planted parallel to the canal as a path for people like me to walk our dogs, jog or ride bikes.

Because the work crew moves up and down the canal bank, I don’t always walk by them. But on this particular morning we walked right through them as they were gathered around their van and trailer. It was just after five in the morning. The young women, mostly between the ages of 18 and 30, were sitting on the canal bank eating a donut before starting their work.

I said, “Good morning,” and I could see appreciation on their faces that someone would look at them, smile and be polite. Of course they like Jesus, he is cute you know. One of the young women asked me if he was friendly. So, I stopped, told her he was very friendly. She bent down and petted him. Two other young women joined her and starting taking to him. They asked me his name and when I told them it was Jesus they had a big laughed.

After a few minutes, they thanked me. I was taken aback. I smiled and said something lame like, “sure, no problem.” Jesus and I continued on our walk and the young women from Perryville prison started to work. I just couldn’t stop thinking about how no one must spend anytime actually talking to these young women.

When I got home I told Cathy that Jesus had been doing his prison ministry that morning.

As I have been reading the text from Hebrews this week, I have been struck by the opening lines of chapter fourteen, “Let mutual love continue. Do not neglect to show hospitality to strangers, for by doing that some have entertained angels with knowing it. Remember those in prison, as though you were in prison with them.”

I have been asking myself, “What separates me from those young women in Perryville, or my friends who have been in Durango Jail or Douglas Prison?” I keep coming back to the answer, “Nothing separates me from them.” We are all pilgrims on the road of life.

That’s the point of the Letters to the Hebrews. The emphasis is so profound that Robert Jewett entitled his commentary on the Epistles to the Hebrews, Letter to Pilgrims. Jewett points out (and so does George Buchanan in his Anchor Bible commentary To the Hebrews) that this fascinating and mystical text was most likely written to a monastery-like community. And being a monastic community, pilgrims would constantly be at their doors asking for a nights rest and a meal.

The writer of Hebrews was providing, Jewett says, “A pilgrim’s ethic in a secular world.” In other worlds, the writer was trying to answer the question, “How do we as Christians live in a world that is not Christian?” Chapter thirteen is as close to a Rule of Life for monastic living as there is presented in the New Testament.

Most of us are familiar with the European monasteries which Saint Benedict and others founded. The work of monasteries was primarily prayer and hospitality. These monasteries were for men and for male children who were dedicated by their families to the monastic way of life. The monks and priests were celibate.

The Celtic monastic model is somewhat different than the European model. Until the Council of Whitby in 633, Celtic monasteries were centers of family life. It wasn’t until the insistence of Rome at the Council of Whitby did the practice of celibacy in the priesthood begin to take over. Celtic Christian priests, prior to the council, were more often married with children and those who headed the monasteries usually had women who served alongside them in sacramental function. The Episcopal Church often points to the early Celtic church and monastery as its mother.

This Celtic type of monastic living was most likely similar in the community to which the Letter of Hebrews was written. Probably the monastery in Hebrews was a collection of small house churches. It was a series of extended family homes sharing worship, meal and service to the poor.

The writer of Hebrews was encouraging his readers to create an environment of hospitality that received pilgrims, visited prisoners, kept marriage sacred, kept their lives free of the love of money and worshipped the eternal and Incarnate Jesus Christ.

When I say that we at Saint Augustine’s Parish and Saint Brigid’s Young Adult Community are following a new monastic model, this is what I am talking about. We are trying to follow the Celtic monastic model, which was the model of the Jewish Christians in the first century.

We live in our homes. We come to this location to share our worship together and to share our resources in order to provide hospitality to fellow pilgrims, those who are poor and those who are in prison. It’s a pretty simple model. It has worked for centuries.

This type of monastery has a spiritual leader. The leader follows a Rule of Life, which is common to the members. A good example of the Rule is found in Hebrews chapter thirteen as well as the Rule of Saint Benedict. We come together to pray and celebrate the Eucharist. We give of our resources so that the less fortunate can receive the ministry of Christ in their need, whether that is food, shelter, or anointment of the sick or empathizing with the imprisoned.

It’s kind of like that corny but cute movie, “Back to the future again.”

Frankly, a strong argument could be made that the worse thing that happened to Christianity was Constantine’s recognition of our religion. His proclamation eventuated in the political necessity of calling together the Council of Nicea in 325 AD, which gave us the Nicene Creed and the canonizing of the scripture by the Council of Carthage in 397 AD. The days of Origen and the open ended questioning of the meaning of Christianity before creeds and canons can be an important place of learning for us in the twenty-first century. We are Christians worshipping in the Episcopal Church in the twenty-first century trying to pray, celebrate the Eucharist and care for the poor and marginalized in our midst. These are the most vital parts of our lives and ministry together.

I have one and only one suggestion. Let me suggest that in order to do this, we major on the majors and minor on the minors. Let’s pour our energies into praying, discerning the Spirit of God and being hospitable and let other issues be minor. That does not mean you are going to like every form of prayer we practice, nor agree with how the Spirit of God may be discerned in every situation, nor that you will agree with my interpretation of the word hospitality – and that does not mean that I am suggesting that we just “get along and sing cum by yaw.” But, it does mean that we should be able to continue to walk together as pilgrims of Christ.

What we are trying to practice in this particular place is something new, grounded in the ancient. It is an attempt to live in mutual love, not neglecting hospitality to strangers, or angels, while remembering those in prison and those less fortunate. We are trying to do this in the world of the Episcopal Church with an open heart to the past and the future. We are pilgrims, even when its on our morning walk

Holistic healing

2010-08-25T17:37:00.000-07:00

I’m sure many of you have had this experience. Cathy and I walked into a restaurant and ran into some old friends we haven’t seen in years. Fortunately we were able to sit down next to them and catch up. Of course we had to know how our children are doing, what about our jobs and old friends, we had a great conversation. Because one of our friends is in health care, we had several mutual friends at the hospital where I did my Clinical Pastoral Education. At one point my friend, who is an administrator, began to explain that their hospital has eliminated several chaplain positions.

“You know,” she said, “when you are cutting the budget, if it’s someone in surgery or someone in the spiritual care department, you don’t have a choice, which is unfortunate for the chaplains.”

I really didn’t know how to respond. The subject quickly changed. It was later when I was processing the conversation with Cathy that I realized my lack of response troubled me. I’m not so sure about her “obvious” decision.

In preparing to write this sermon I wanted to do a little research on how important our health is to us. So I did what all preachers do in order to research, I Googled “Our Health.” In 23 seconds I got a list of 1,470,000,000 sites. That’s right, one and half billion possible sites dedicated to our health.

It does make sense that our health may be the most important aspect of our life. If we don’t have our health, then what do we have? We know from our own experiences that when we don’t feel well everything else in our life seems a distant second.

My Clinical Pastoral Education mentor spent a lot time teaching us that we are holistic beings, that our mind, body and soul are intertwined. She taught us to take each aspect of our patients health into consideration when providing pastoral support in the healing process.

Our class would spend hours discussing our conversations with patients. These were called verbatim. Our responsibility was to write down the conversation word for word. That took some practice but it taught us to listen carefully to every word the patient was saying. We would include our observations of the lightening in the room, and what else was in the room, for example flowers. We would also include our observations about family or friend that may have been in the room. Then our class would discuss the verbatim, the patient’s illness and our methods of providing pastoral care. We did this in order to learn the holistic approach to the healing process.

My CPE mentor taught me to listen, observe and to consider the subtle and unspoken information gathered from the patient and the environment. She also taught me to consider the perspective of each person I encounter by using a method of contemplation where I place myself in their circumstance. The idea is to go so deep into the meditation that you can actually feel the pain of the patient. Of course, this requires care as to not take on the patient’s symptoms.

Using that as a backdrop, I would like for us to take a close look at this morning’s gospel (Luke 13:10-17) with the intent purpose of learning what Jesus has to teach us about the healing process. So, let’s make a careful examination of each person in the story.

Reading through the story we can identify several characters. Let’s list them in the order they appear in the story, Jesus, the crippled woman, a spirit that Jesus later identifies as Satan, the leader of the synagogue and the crowd, which included opponents of Jesus and those who rejoiced over Jesus’ healing of the woman.

The story is pretty straight-forward. Let me read it to one more time, like a verbatim.
Now let’s put ourselves into the circumstance of each person in the story. Let’s start with the crippled woman.

We have been afflicted with spinal pain for eighteen years. Our condition is so bad that we can’t straighten up. We are stooped over looking at the ground. We’ve been in this situation so long that everyone around us accepts our illness as who we are – in other words no one really sees us. And we even accept it ourselves because in the presence of Jesus, the healer, we don’t seek his help, we just stand at the back of the crowd.

Can you feel the woman’s pain and isolation?

Now, let’s turn to Jesus.

We are teaching on the Sabbath, in the synagogue, in an unidentified village. While teaching we see a woman, at the back of the crowd, it’s as if she just appeared. She’s so bent over that she cannot stand up straight. We call her over. We proclaim her free of her ailment. Then we lay our hands on her and she is healed.

Can you feel Jesus’ compassion for the woman? Can you feel the surge of healing power go through your body and out your hands into the woman?

Now, let’s take on the role of the leader of the synagogue.

We have heard of this Jesus. We’ve seen his kind before, traveling teachers and healers. They show up here at our synagogue that we are responsible to care for, and do they contribute to its upkeep? No, they just use our space. Now, he’s actually healed this woman who we have seen come in here for years and he’s gotten the crowd all stirred up. What to do? How can I move this Jesus along without turning the congregation against me? Hmm, I know, he shouldn’t be healing on the Sabbath, save your work for another day and another place. What? He’s calling me a hypocrite! Who does he thing he is?

Can you feel this man’s frustration? Can you feel his enmity? Can you feel the indignation rise?

At this point we should have some empathy for each of the main players. So let’s analyze the healing process and see what we can learn from it.

The woman has a physical malady. She’s bent over in the back. She’s been like this for eighteen years. Jesus could have assumed it was something out of her control, like arthritis for example. But Jesus says it was Satan who had bound the woman. So what does that mean? Did the spirit of Satan cripple this unfortunate woman? Well, I don’t know. But, if we try and put this story in our cultural context we might be able to learn from the story.

We are holistic beings. Our bodies can become ill. We get older and our bodies begin to betray us. Illness is a reality that we often have no control over. But, because we are holistic beings we can do is contribute to our healing process. When our minds are focused on the healing process and we do the good positive work of healing, we can contribute a positive attitude. We know that a good spirit contributes to healing. We can also partner our souls with the soul of God and allow the healing prayers of others to bath us in the spirit of God instead of the spirit of the negative and dark forces that are not God.

And what can we learn from the leader of the synagogue?

It seems fairly clear that while he couldn’t stop her healing, he did not want Jesus to heal anyone else in the synagogue on the Sabbath. He was blocking the power of God.

Do we do anything that blocks the healing power of God? Sit with that question. Spend time with it. Don’t dismiss that question too quickly. Before we pray for others to be healed or for our own healing we need to ask God if there is anything in our life blocking God’s work and will in our life. Being self-aware is being aware of God. Being self-aware, working on our weaknesses and being aware of God, allowing God to work on our weaknesses, contributes to the healing process of others and ourselves.

What about Jesus the healer? Can we be a healer? Scripturally the answer is yes. Jesus told us that we might do things greater than he did. So how can we be healers like Jesus?

What can we learn from Jesus? First, Jesus saw the crippled woman. Can we see the hurting? Then he talked to her, offering liberation. It is very liberating to listen to someone’s story and then ask them, “How may I help you?” That in it self is a very healing act. Then Jesus touched her. Can we touch the untouchable with our healing words? Of course, Jesus defended the woman. Do we have the courage to defend those weak and ill in our midst? Yes, we can be twenty-first century healers. We can partner with God’s gracious and powerful will by praying on behalf of those in need.

Let me encourage you – that when you are ill ask for God’s life giving spirit and ask others to pray on your behalf, let others offer their healing touch. And let me encourage you when others around you are ill, be self-aware of anything in your own life that may be blocking their healing. Finally, let me encourage you to be aware of the healing powers of the community, and individuals, who pray in the name of Jesus.

Jesus said, “You are set free, healed in mind, body and soul

Love and Division

2010-08-19T12:06:00.000-07:00

I really should cancel my subscription to the Arizona Republic. Not that I don’t want to be connected to the world anymore, well, maybe I should rephrase that because I do not want to be overwhelmed by the daily news, therefore, maybe I should do myself a favor and become disconnected. But, the reason I think maybe I should stop taking the newspaper is because the heartburn and heartache I experience while eating my morning oatmeal is probably counter-acting the health benefits of the oatmeal.

In Wednesday’s editorial section there are two comments juxtaposed in true ironic fashion. I must give it to the person who lays out the page – they must one wicked sense of humor.

Benson’s cartoon is front and center. It’s a picture of Ground Zero with a sign that reads “Ground Zero, Home of the US Constitution and Freedom of Religion.” Of course, his cartoon is taking to task those who are opposed to the building of an Islamic mosque near the site of the World Trade Center.

Just beneath Benson’s carton in the Letters to the Editor is the headline, “Jesus would follow the nation’s law.” Henrietta Bronte of Phoenix wrote a letter to the editor in response to a letter in Sunday’s paper entitled “Would Jesus shun illegal migrants?” Henrietta response was, “What would Jesus do about illegal immigration? If you really want to know check your Bible, especially Romans 13:1-7, where it tells us that we are to submit to the laws set by the government authorities.”

The beauty of the depth of this incredible double irony goes even further, in that Henrietta stopped her quotation at verse seven. Verse 8-10 of Romans chapter seven reads, “Owe no one anything, except to love one another; for the one who loves another has fulfilled the law. The commandments; You shall not commit adultery; You shall not murder; You shall not steal; You shall not covet; and any other commandments, are summed up in this word, ‘Love your neighbor as yourself.’ Love does no wrong to a neighbor; therefore, love is the fulfilling of the law.”

So, let me re-cap.

Benson is critical of those who want to stop the building of a mosque near Ground Zero in a country that espouses a constitution that guarantees our freedom of religion. Below that caricature, is the headline, “Jesus would follow the nation’s law,” in which Henrietta asks what would Jesus do by quoting Saint Paul who wrote the letters to the Romans probably twenty-five years after Jesus has walked the earth. But, Henrietta chooses to exclude the quotation in which Paul actually does quote Jesus, saying to love our neighbors as ourselves.

Of course, the irony gets thicker. That was Wednesday morning. And what meeting am I supposed to attend first thing on Wednesday morning? Our local interfaith clergy group is meeting to develop a response to the Florida church that has called for September 11th to be “International Burn a Koran Day.” The Dove World Outreach Centre describes itself as a New Testament church.

Now, I’m not sure whether to laugh hysterically because this all just too absurd or to fall down weeping uncontrollably because this just can’t be happening. Can it? Surely not here, not in American, can it? I mean this is the kind of bigotry and hatred Dietrich Bonhoeffer preached against in Germany in 1939. This is American in 2010. Isn’t it?

But, alas, salvation comes from the scripture, does it not?

What does Jesus tells us this morning? “Do you think I have come to bring peace to earth? No, I tell you, but rather division! Father against son and daughter against mother.”

That doesn’t sound like salvation. Why would Jesus say such a thing? That doesn’t sound like it’s going to alleviate my morning heartburn.

Let’s take a deeper look at what Jesus was saying. Jesus was quoting the prophet Micah. Micah had preached 800 years before Jesus. Micah’s sermons condemned the corrupt political and religious leaders of his day, in defense of the poor shepherds and farmers. Micah preached that religious worship without social justice is meaningless. However, speaking out against social injustice and meaningless religious worship will not bring peace, but instead, division. Micah gives us our direction. “What does the Lord require of you, but to do justice, and to love kindness and to walk humbly with your God?”

So, to quote Saint Paul, who quoted Jesus by saying, to love your neighbor as yourself, will not bring peace, but instead, division. There will be those in your family, in your community and in your very church who will upset when you say, love your neighbor as yourself. Just for fun, try it out at your next family reunion and see what happens.

Therefore, we say to our neighbors who want to build a mosque at Ground Zero, we follow Jesus and he tells us to love our neighbors as ourselves.

And we say to our neighbors who want to stop the mosque, we follow Jesus and he tells us to love our neighbors as ourselves. But, we know this will cause division in our family.

We say to our neighbors who enter this country illegally, we follow Jesus and he tells us to love our neighbors as ourselves.

And we say to our neighbors who quote the Bible in defense of SB1070, we follow Jesus and he tells us to love our neighbors as ourselves. But, we know this will cause division in our family.

We say to our neighbors who are Islamic, we follow Jesus and he tells us to love our neighbors as ourselves.

And we say to our neighbors who intend to burn copies of the Koran on September 11, we follow Jesus who tells us to love our neighbors as ourselves. But, we know this will cause division in our family.

For Micah, who preached 2,800 years ago, religious worship without social justice was meaningless. He preached against injustice and it brought division to families.

For Jesus, who preached 2,000 years ago, religious worship without social justice was meaningless. He preached against injustice and it got him crucified. It brought division among families.

In 2010, what we will do? Well, if we follow Jesus, we will do as he has taught us and we love our neighbors as ourselves, even when it brings division to our family.

It takes courage to preach love. It takes risk to condemn social injustice. It takes hard work to go deeper into meaningful worship. These are the things, I believe, Jesus has called us to as his followers.

On September 11, I encourage you to join me and our sisters and brothers of the Abrahamic faiths for an evening of listening to our sacred stories. Our sister, the Reverend Dorothy Saucedo will be telling a sacred story from our Christian tradition. It will be our response to say, we love our neighbors as ourselves, as Jesus has taught us. Amen.

Inception, the sermon?

2010-08-09T10:35:00.000-07:00

Inception has been the number one movie for three consecutive weeks. Staring Leonardo DiCaprio, this may be the most talked about film of the summer. It’s one of those movies I love to discuss because there are so many layers of unseen possibilities. It takes a million eyes to hear all the subtle stories.

Inception is a long and complex film about the multiple layers and dimensions in which we exist and may perceive as real or not. The deep generational question of what is reality and what is truth permeate the essence of this fascinating and mind-bending story. It’s a postmodern Jungian story that requires a fluid mind and flexible imagination. This is one of those movies I intend to watch multiple times.

One of the many complexities of the movie deals with multiple dream levels, a dream within a dream within a dream. It posses the possibility of the layers of dimensions wherein we might live, move and have our being.

What so intrigues me about this film is that it dares to ask questions about the nature of the intimate relationships we may share or choose not to share with one another. This film, I believe, begins to probe at some very spiritual notions about living in a post-Christian world. It asks the question, do I care enough to listen deeply and enter into your story? Most of us live at the surface level and never want to get that deep with one another. Do I dare go into the multiple dimensions of the other and will I contribute to their story? Is the story of God and the other bigger than my story? For me, this film is about connecting with life and reality in a wholistic manner, it’s a story of redemption and resurrection. It’s a story of faith.

Faith, there’s a word we cavalierly throw around loaded with assumptions and projections. It’s one of those words I can use, meaning something totally different than your understanding. Yet, we will both nod in agreement at its use. This is an example of surface listening, or simply, “I hear you but I neither see you nor do I want to enter into your story.”

This morning we heard one of the most quoted verses in the New Testament. “Faith is the assurance of things hoped for, the conviction of things not seen.” Someone usually drops that line on us when bad or unexplainable situations are overwhelming our lives. Using faith in that context is a search for definition in an indefinable happenstance.

Faith, however, is one of those illusive constructs that defy definition. Often and mistakenly, the idea of faith is moved from the mystical realm of the soul conversation into a more tangible rhetoric of intellectual text proofing.

For example, you’ve seen the bumper sticker, “The Bible says it, therefore, it’s a fact and I believe it.” That would be fine if we worshipped the Bible and were expected to have faith in the Bible.

But, we don’t worship the Bible and we are not to place our faith in the Bible. We worship God and we are to place our faith in God. Our faith is in the unseen.

Faith, as we understand it, is found in that thin place between the seen the unseen. It is a place we can exist. It is the place we are traveling to, while at the same time we are already in that place. As the writer of Hebrews tries to explain, that as a people of faith we are “strangers, foreigners on earth…seeking a homeland…a better country, a heavenly (place).”

Faith is learning to deal with and manage the discomfort of being a displaced alien, a traveler in a foreign land.

Like many of you, I can remember living in Arizona in the days before Air Conditioning. We lived in a house that had an evaporative cooler. And during this time of the year, we suffered because, with the humidity, there wasn’t any evaporation going on to provide the cooling. I remember the first car my dad bought that had an AC. I was in high school when my dad bought a used station wagon that he installed one of those single AC units that sat of the floor between the driver and the passenger. Of course, my sister and I sat in the back and never got cool. Thank God someone invented central air.

Have you ever traveled in a country where you didn’t speak the language? In 1974 I played for the Thetford Mine Miners, in Ontario, Canada. The Canadians spoke French and only French. The first morning I tried to order breakfast was a disaster. Instead of scrambled eggs, I got a raw egg in glass of vinegar. Trust me, I immediately went a to bookstore and purchased an English to French translation.

The agitation and discomfort we experience when living in a foreign, unfamiliar or unpleasant land that we strangely designate as “real or literal,” will move us to act in order to change the circumstance.

That’s why we have the faith to dare pray, “Our Father who art in heaven, thy kingdom come on earth as it is in heaven…” While we live in this foreign world, we yearn for a heavenly place on earth, therefore, as Isaiah teaches us we, “learn to do good, seek justice, rescue the oppressed, defend the orphan and plead for the widow.” In other words we are bringing cool air to a hot and exhausted peoples whose language we need to learn.

Yet, as Christians, we do not need to live as if this world we see, is the only world of reality. We also live in a heavenly reality, the mystical reality between the world of the seen and the world of the unseen. We live in that ”in between place” where we must care for the world and those who live in the world of the seen, while at the same time, we can live, move and have our being in the world of the unseen, the mystical, silent and prayerful world of God. It’s the paradox of paradoxes. It’s living in the dream of a dream of a dream. We live a wholistic life, of being here and there at the same time – not dualistic, not separated, but living in the here and now – painful at times, yet complete.

Is all this possible? Or it is just word games and mind gymnastics? Maybe it’s the imagination of the wyrd, or it maybe the musing of the mystical? Actually, I think it’s what the author of Hebrews is writing about - it is the possibility of living the mystical Christian life.

Practically speaking, what does this kind of life look life?

This kind of life is listening to the depth of the other person’s story – listening to the story underneath the story that is below the surface of that story. It’s not just the back-story, it’s the story behind that story that let’s us see the full story of our traveling companions. We listen to their story at such a depth that we are willing to enter into their story and be a participant at risk. We contribute to their life at the risk of our own.

This kind of life confronts the ugly realities of the desperate world in which we live. We stand up to that world and take some action to bring the kingdom of God into this reality. We feed the hungry and clothe the naked. We visit the sick and those in prison and we embrace the stranger in our land, who are just like us, foreigners in a strange land.

This kind of life is ever more in tune with the realm of the unseen, the thin place between this world and the next. We sit quietly to hear the word of God. We strain our soul’s eye to see the face of God. We breathe in the mystical incense as it if were the oxygen of the spiritual life. We walk with God towards God.

I recognize this stretches the elasticity of the soul’s mind. I also have faith that this is the kind of language that mystical Christians are searching for – a way of living in this world while not being sucked into the ugliness of the ways of this hateful world. It’s the way of living in the Naked Now, a wholistic approach to mystical living. I also have faith that this is what Jesus meant when he said, “Where your treasurer is, there your heart will be also.” I pray my treasurers of this world of the seen are in rhythm and in sync with the world of the unseen. That what I experience on this level is a pattern that is consistent with the deeper levels – the levels of a life within a life within a life.

God's Playmates

2010-08-02T10:03:00.000-07:00

In the July 20, 2010 edition of the Arizona Republic there appeared two, quarter-page advertisements side by side. The ad on the left says “Free to dance, to pray, to report, to tweet – Thanks to the First Amendment, you can be whoever and whatever you want to be – Iforall.us – Show us how free you can be.” I checked out the website and it’s an interesting and worthwhile project.

However, juxtaposed to the advertisement for “Free,” is an ad for “The Dignity Memorial network: America’s leading funeral homes and cemeteries.”

How ironic. Actually, it’s parabolic. It’s as if Jesus ran this edition of the newspaper and handed if to the man in the crowd who demanded, “Teacher, tell my brother to divide the family inheritance with me.”

Jesus’ parabolic prophecy about the man who thought his soul was built by obtaining more possessions still stings today, “You fool,” Jesus says, “this very night your life is being demanded of you. And the things you have prepared, whose will they be?” Those words could be translated for today’s audience, “So you think your free, well, tonight all that will come to an end.”

While Jesus’ parable may have been told to first century Jewish listeners, it may have more application for twenty-first century American consumers who have found their salvation in Capitalism instead of the economy of God.

The Rev. Stan White, rector of Christ the King Episcopal Church in Valdosta, Georgia, in his talk to the Episcopal Chaplains at their gathering in Athens, Georgia, said that the consumerism model of first world Christians is causing the shriveling of the soul. He said practicing a life of “addition,” in other words, a life of consumerism, is leading to the death of the soul of our culture. And it’s leading to the death of the soul our Christian community because the Church is no different than the secular world of consumers.

The Church’s measure of success is found in numbers and dollars. The annual parochial report that is required by the National Church and the Diocese only wants information about our average Sunday attendance and how much money we collected. There are no questions on the report asking about our ministry or the narrative of the lives of our parishioners. What sets the Church apart from our consumeristic world? Little.

Stan told us that in order for us to reverse the shriveling of the soul, to renew the soul, we must “become our own alchemists, sorting out the journey of our soul…by resurrecting the mystic within us and awakening the inner artist we each have in our lives. We need to release our inner prophet for the sake of holy compassion. The rebirth of our souls,” he said, “comes through an organic, simple, earthy and messy play with God.”

That’s right, he said spirituality is about having a relationship with the playful nature of God.

Dogma is one my favorite movies. It’s a quirky, postmodern tale about young adults encounter with God. Early in the film we learn from the angel Gabriel, that God loves to get away for holiday by going to Atlantic City to play skee ball. That image alone should clue you in to humor of the film writers.

The scene that makes the movie for me is near the end, when God, played by singer Alanis Morissette, is trying to do a handstand against a giant oak tree. There is God, in bohemian dress, playing in the churchyard under the symbolism of the mystical oak tree. The scene is supposed to shock us and bring us to our senses. It had its desired affect on me. The notion of the playfulness of God continues to be a shaping force in my theological development.

Saint Thomas Aquinas, the patron saint of agnostics, those who seek and question, says that one opens the soul through joy, holy curiosity, contemplation and play.

Lady Julian of Norwich tells us that the soul is to be open to newness, reverent wonder and surprise. She says the soul is sensual.

Hildegard of Bengin says that when the soul is juicy, it backs up into our eyes for all to see.

These saints of old taught us that our soul is God’s playground.

What path do we take to get to this childlike theology of being God’s playmate?

Jerome Berryman is the founder of Godly Play. In his latest book, Children and the Theologians: Clearing the Way for Grace, Berryman quotes Herman Hesse.

“I know it from my own experience and from the documents of many other souls. Always, at times in history and in all religions and forms of life, we find the same typical experiences, always in the same progression and succession: loss of innocence, striving for justice under the law, the consequent despair in the futile struggle to overcome guilt by deeds or by knowledge, and finally the emergence from hell into a transformed world and into a new kind of innocence.”

This is cyclical thinking. The idea of returning to a state of childhood innocence fits with Jesus’ admonition to become like children in order to enter the Kingdom of God.
Sometimes, though, it can feel like our path is stuck in the hell of existence. It may seem to us that life is spinning of out of control. It may appear that everything is going to erupt and blow apart.

But, for us, as we practice Benedictine spirituality, we are reminded by Sister Joan Chittister, that our life in Christ is about beginning again. Beginning again as the children of God. Renewing our childlike nature. Releasing the creative artist and the natural mystic of our childhood. The Christian life is about beginning again, it’s about entering a new kind of innocence, in other words it’s the story of resurrection.

We are in a time of transition. The soul of the world is vibrating.
Let me suggest that this is a time of beginning again, a time of renewal and reformation.

Things are emerging out of a kind of hell, the death of an old way of life is happening. The old ways of greed and “meism” are dying, not without a fight, mind you, but they are coming to an end. We are in that place where life as we have known it, will be over, never to return again, and that’s not a bad thing.

We are in a place where we are ready to experience the emergence of God to be seen in new way. So, instead of fighting the inevitability of change, prepare yourself, expand the capacity of your soul. Open your soul. Enter into God’s playground.

Liberate the child that resides within, create, dream, prophecy a new vision. Get out some crayons, lay on floor with God and draw out who God has created you to be, “rich with God,” that’s true freedom. Go to the playground of your soul with God and do a handstand against the old oak tree. See what visions that will bring to your head. Lay on your back and you and God stare into the clouds and dream new dreams.

This is the best time to be alive in God because something new, something resurrected, is about to appear, something full of the soulful treasures of God. You want to play?

Disturbing the soul

2010-07-30T12:01:00.001-07:00

A few years ago I was asked to offer the opening prayer for a Martin Luther King, Jr. Interfaith breakfast. Fortunately, I was given ample time to prepare for such a daunting task. I knew many of the people who were participating in the program. There were a wide variety of Christians, a Jewish Rabbi, an Islamic Imam, and a Sikh.

When asked to lead prayers at an Interfaith or ecumenical gatherings, my practice typically is to pray from the Psalter. But, for various reasons, that didn’t feel right for this particular circumstance. I scoured the Prayer Book and nothing there moved me. I knew well enough not to pray extemporaneous, that could get off track at times. After a lot of prayer about how to pray, the thing that seemed to be most appropriate for that gathering was to pray as Jesus had taught his followers to pray. It felt risky, but it felt right.

When called upon, I stepped to the podium and said, “Let us pray.” I started the “Our Father,” and by the third word, people started to join me.

From the time I sat down, and for days after, I got one compliment after another thanking me for praying the most Interfaith, ecumenical and least offensive prayer. The most telling comment came from Rabbi Kravitz who told me, that he always cringes at those type of events because the prayers can be offensive, but I had chosen a prayer, that he, as a Jew, could pray with comfort and a confidence. A prayer, he said, taught by a Jew, prayed by a Jew.

Prayer is formative and creates space for change. While on one hand we might hope that prayer could be the one thing that all faiths could do together, I am not surprised that it’s something where, not even all Christians can find unity.

It’s little wonder the disciples asked Jesus to teach them how to pray. Praying can be overwhelming. Prayer exposes vulnerabilities, weaknesses, and failures. Prayer reveals our frustrations and fears. To pray can be frightening because it is so personal. Prayer is relational. And prayer disturbs our souls by calling us into participation with God’s actions.

Prayer is creative and generative. Therefore, it should cause disruption in our personal lives and the life of the community. Why? Because if we pray as Jesus taught us to pray, we are imploring God to bring God’s will and God’s kingdom into our earthly life. God’s kingdom on earth will change everything.

By praying, we are giving testimony to our intimate relationship with God. Prayer intends a relational theology between the one who prays and the One who hears.

Many of you are familiar with Brother Lawrence, the monk who prayed for his brothers when he went to the market to purchase the food he would cook for the community. And he prayed for the brothers as he washed their bowl after the meal. He saw his every action as prayer.

As Anglicans, Episcopalians, we have that same relational understanding of prayer. We understand that our prayer shapes our belief. That’s why we have a Book of Common Prayer instead a Book of Common Belief. Our beliefs don’t inform our prayer, it’s our prayer that forms and shaped our belief.

For Episcopalians, everything we do is prayer. A good example of that is our worship. It goes without saying that our prayers are just that, prayers. And, of course, the psalms are prayers. But, also, our songs are prayer. Our reading of the scripture is prayer. Even the sermon is supposed be a form of prayer. Trust me, a lot of prayer goes into my sermons.

Our community life here at Saint Augustine’s and Saint Brigid’s is a vision of prayer, discernment and hospitality. We see that vision through the monastic model of a community living a life of prayer. I recently picked up a term from a PD James novel, which I think describes our life together. Anglo Celtic is a way of describing an earthy, messy, real way of living a spiritual life.

So our worship is prayer, the Daughters of the King is prayer, the Art of Engaging Holy Scripture is prayer, Godly Play is prayer. We offer a space for contemplative prayer. We knit and distribute prayer shawls. We create spaces for people to discern and pray together. And just like Brother Lawrence, our hospitality is prayer. Last Friday we served the homeless and at the same time hosted a reception for the grieving family of Nita Christiansen.

The more we pray, the deeper the prayer affects our life. That’s why I think chanting is so important to our community’s prayer life. The chant creates a space for God to work in our collective soul. Yes, it will disturb your individual soul. That is what it is supposed to do. And it will disturb the collective soul of our community. The chant causes a vibration in our very essence where God can call us to listen.

When our collective soul is disturbed, we will be called into God’s action. And those actions are typically revolutionary and disturbing. In other words, the more we pray, the more disruption will be brought into the community.

It causes us to protest SB 1070 and gather shoes and jeans for the deported. It causes us to be vocal about providing a safe and inviting church for our sisters and brothers who are gay and lesbian. It means we will feed the hungry and clothe the naked in our neighborhood. And it means these things may make some people not want to be a part of our community, it may make some of our neighbors mad. Prayer disturbs the soul and calls us into God’s action.

I’m starting my fifth year at Saint Augustine’s and my sixth year at Saint Brigid’s. The most important thing I have done, can do and will continue to do is to say to you, “Let us pray.” When we pray together, we create space in order to hear what the Spirit is saying to collectively. The more we pray – the deeper the prayer – the more disturbing the action of the community of God. Our

The Rev. Mark Sutherland July 4, 2010

2010-07-28T15:25:00.000-07:00

Let me introduce myself. I am Mark Sutherland and since coming to Phoenix 18 months ago I have been working as a chaplain at Good Samaritan Hospital. Recently Bishop Kirk appointed me as Canon Pastor at Trinity Cathedral. During the time I have lived in Phoenix Fr Gil has become one of my very best friends. As you know he is a wiley sort of a guy and some time ago he asked me if I would come to St A’s on the weekend of the 4th of July. Now I am a nice guy and I like to please my friends and so I said yes not really connecting the 4th of July with the 4th of July until it was to late to back-out. What does one say on the 4th of July?

So let me begin with posing a couple of questions.

Consider a moment – why are you an Episcopalian? To what tradition are you heirs?

What does it mean to stand in the Anglican Tradition?

As Episcopalians of the Anglican Tradition we are belong to the ancient Catholic Faith and full heirs of the Catholic Tradition as it was at the time of the Great Schism between the Eastern and Western Church.

Our particular Anglican take on this is that we are the Catholics of the local rather than the universal. We are Christians with the Benedictine heart. Each Benedictine House is autonomous yet shares a common rule and ethos with all other Benedictine Houses. The Benedictine emphasis on stability which means a commitment to the local. This is a commitment centered on a life of common prayer, worship and service.

What distinguishes our Anglican – Episcopalian approach is the commitment to an engaged tension between lived experience and received tradition. This is a awkward place to sit because it means that we cannot rely on the easy answers supplied by a dogmatic privileging of Scripture and Tradition over lived experience nor the other way round – an editing of received tradition from the more enlightened perspectives of contemporary knowledge and experience.

Everything occurs within the clashes and tensions of context. No one context can claim to be timeless, i.e. beyond time and space. So the contexts in which a piece of scripture was first recorded needs to be understood in order to discover the message that emerges from an active engagement between its context and ours.

There are three core Anglican hermeneutical (interpretive) tools that aid us in this tension between lived experience and received tradition. It’s variously known as the three legged stool or the three stranded cord.

The three legs-strands are:
• Scripture -primacy of the Gospel message of Love
• Tradition –doctrinal continuity of transmission for purpose of protection of mystery
• Reason - application of human intelligence and insights of natural law

Application of these principles leads us to an active engagement between lived experience and received tradition.

In approaching any Biblical text no actual text can be used to contradict the law of love which is the heart of the teaching of Jesus. No line of text can be taken out of the context of Jesus’ teaching and so you cannot take a line form Leviticus and have it contradict the teaching of Jesus on love, acceptance and inclusion.
No understanding of a Biblical text can contradict the liberation from obedience to the Law that comes through acceptance of Grace and relationship – one with another in the power of the Holy Spirit.

The central message at the heart of our Anglican Tradition is that right relationship is more important than right belief

Over the past few Sundays we have been reading from Paul’s Epistle to the Galatians. The arguments in this letter are often difficult for us to understand until realize the contours of the context within which Paul is writing.
So its interesting to note that behind the text of Paul’s letter to the church in Galatia we see a struggle very similar to the one that we as Anglican Christians in the Episcopal Church are encouraged to enter into.

The Apostles are a closed band of brothers headed by Peter and James. The interloper Paul comes knocking at the brotherhood’s door. There ensues an argument the main lines of which are:

Divergence between Paul’s teaching to the Gentiles and the line being taken back at head office.

Argument over the place of tradition (the law) in the lives of Christians, both Jewish and Gentile. An agreement is arrived at at the Council of Jerusalem in about 49AD. Its an agreement via the processes of consensus rather than one side imposing its views on the other. The problem with consensus is that its often hard to prevent the parties reverting to interpreting things their own way when everyone leaves and goes home.

Can we read in Peter’s visit to Antioch head office checking up on Paul? Paul seems to think so. He wins Peter over on the issue of foods (Peter’s dream) but then, James possibly anticipating Peter’s tendency to waver in the face of sound argument sends a delegation of heavy hitters. Upon their arrival Peter runs for cover.

Paul is incensed. He is incandescent and accuses Peter of hypocrisy. When we turn to Galatians 6 read this morning we find the following themes:

• Paul speaks of Transgression and what he seems to mean here is that transgression is living against the law of love The Spirit restores us to a spirit of gentleness.
• He speaks of resisting temptation but what temptation? Paul’s comment bear one another’s burdens, and in this way fulfill the law of Christ puts this into context. We must resist the temptation to look out only for ourselves and leave others to sink or swim.
• Let our lives show forth this teaching so that whenever we have and opportunity we must work for the good of all , and especially for the family of faith. But the family of faith he is not advocating evangelical exclusivity he simply means we must begin with those closest at hand and move outwards from there.

Today is the feast day of the Declaration of Independence. In its assertion of separation from the British Crown the D-of-I is along with the Magna Charta (an older assertion against tyranny) one of the great assertions of liberty. It was a protest against a British political culture that felt it could deny the rights of its colonial subjects. Yet, as a protest against the British political culture of the period it is nevertheless a great affirmation of the values of human reason and natural law that are the foundation stones of English Common Law. To this day The British do not have a written constitution for the very reason that the values of political freedom are enshrined and protected in the English Common Law.

If no Biblical text can be allowed to run contrary to Jesus’ teaching on love - no interpretation or amendment to the Constitution should contravene the overarching vision of the D-of-I that :

• We hold these truths to be self-evident, that all men are created equal, that they are endowed by their Creator with certain unalienable Rights, that among these are Life, Liberty, and the Pursuit of Happiness. That to secure these rights, Governments are instituted among Men, deriving their just powers from the consent of the governed

In contemporary America the interpretation of the Bible and the Constitution are hotly contended political issues. We have seen this in the Senate confirmation hearings for a new Supreme Court Justice. At stake is a clash of world views.

On the one hand we have a world view that says everything has already been worked out. The revelation of God in Christ is complete and fixed for all time. That the Constitution embodies the intention of the founding fathers which is a clear and precise compass for navigating the challenges of the modern world. Here both revelation and constitution protect us from the anxieties of living on the edge of the yet to become known.

On the other side we have a world view that sees the revelation of God in Christ as a fullness of truth the meaning of which is continually evolving within the negotiation of tensions. These tensions results whenever we bring our lived experience of living on the edge of the yet to become known and engage with with the overarching themes that God has revealed to us in the revelation through Christ and the mysteries of creation.

Likewise the Constitution embodies a living spirit and is not just a legal document that we worship as medieval Christians placed relics of the true cross upon their altars.

In the Gospel for this morning Jesus sends his disciples out into the world and after noting the harvest is great but the laborers are few he offers this instruction: when you enter a house first say peace be to this house. If this peace is received then it will indeed bear fruit. But if it is rejected then shake the dust from your feet and move to where you are welcomed and where God’s peace is shared.

Drawing upon this image what have we as Episcopalian – Anglican Christians to offer the world around us?

Does our tradition equip to go out into our communities, our nation and the world with a special take on the Christian message? I believe we are so equipped with the following things to offer that are unique to us:

1. Our Benedictine heart commits us to living in the tension between our experience of the world and our faithfulness to received tradition as mystery rather than prescription.
2. We embody living communities centered on the communal life of common prayer, worship and service operating at the local level actively working against religious universalizing tendencies towards the idea that one size fits all.
3. Out of the first two points comes our commitment to an informed engagement with the lived experience of our context.
4. Privileging of right relationship enables us to embrace difference within the overarching commandment to love one another and live lives guided by the presence of the Holy Spirit among us rather than slavish adherence to the law.
Let everyone we encounter see the depth of our love, the strength of our tolerance and the courage of our faithfulness – all elements so needed in our increasingly polarized communities, nation and world.

Our lived experience shows us we continue to live in a world where
• the rich are privileged over the poor
• Being Anglo and White is privileged over being Black or Hispanic
• Where being straight is privileged over being gay
• Where still, being male is privileged over being female.

Our Anglican tradition emerging out of managing difference and the potential conflicts that elsewhere at the same time led people to kill one another over their differences has given birth in our tradition to the novel concept that right relationship is more important than right belief. This seems to be a concept whose time has come – once again.

Disruptions

2010-06-22T09:08:00.000-07:00

“My soul thirsts for God, for the living God. When shall I come and behold the face of God? Psalm 42:2

“Why are you cast down, O my soul, and why are you disquieted within me? Hope in God, for I shall again praise him, my help and my God.” Psalm 42:5, 11 & 43:5

Over the past few months I have preached sermons based on the works of Richard Rohr, Karl Rahner, Albert Nolan and Stanley Hauerwas. These men have challenged my way of thinking and living, using the ideas of, “living in the naked now,” “developing a spirituality of radical freedom,” “being a mystic Christian,” and “living out of control.”

In each case, these authors have beckoned us to live into the radical freedom of being a follower of Jesus. And at the same time they have warned us that living this kind of radically free Christian life will be disruptive to our lives and that of our community. The liberation of Christ brings disruption. How do we dare live such a life together?

In Susan Howatch’s novel, The Heartbreaker, we find a beautiful, yet dark young man named Gavin. He’s one of those characters I find myself drawn to – he is a desperately troubled person who rages with his inner demons, denies the existence of God and yet, paradoxically, craves the healing intimacy with the God he proclaims is beyond his imagination.

Howatch’s main character is Father Nicholas Darrow, a spiritual director and healer. The priest offers his prospective on how to intercede to God on the behalf of Gavin’s fatally flawed life.

“I think this is one of those cases where we have to acknowledge the conventional rules and then summon the courage to step outside them…only by wholeheartedly embracing (the) monastic framework could a monk know when it was safe to step outside that framework in order to serve God in a situation where an orthodox response seemed inadequate.”

I know that many of you are attracted to this place because of our near high Church liturgical practices that encase our progressive theology. In the Church of England this is known as Catholic-Anglicanism. We embrace the framework, so that we know when to step outside the framework – we seek to serve God in situations where the orthodox response seems inadequate. This is living in the naked now, radically free as mystic Christians who live out of control.

While the lectionary is no way is intended to provide a singular story – yet, in a synchronistic random moment, all four of our texts provide us a window into living a radical and mystical Christian life.

The story in I Kings, Psalm 42 and 43, Luke 8 and Galatians 3 all require much more in depth study than we can afford this morning.

These stories and text are about the human frailty of feeling inadequate, of living with the melancholy of depression, the reality of the sometime presence of the demonic in this world and the inadequacy of the rules of orthodoxy to provide an appropriate response in the pre-Christian world in which Jesus lived.

Elijah summons the power of God to disrupt the worship of Baal – then he hides in fear of the evil Jezebel. Depressed, he asks God for death. Instead of the power of the wind or the wrath of the earthquake, God reveals God’s own face in the healing of “shear silence.” Elijah is sent back onto the Damascus road, back into the world to continue to be a disruptive force for the Kingdom of God. It’s a story of Elijah’s liberation from his fear and depression. It’s the story of God acting outside the box of orthodoxy.

Jesus appears in a foreign land. On the rare occasion that Jesus ventures out of Galilee, he in confronted by a myriad of the demonic. A homeless, naked and poor man has been overrun with forces outside of his control, disease of the mind, demons of the soul, the scourge of society – it’s all entrapped in one ravaged human being. Jesus confronts the demons with his peaceful nature, liberates the man and sends him into his town be a disruptive force of change. It’s a story of this man’s liberation. It’s a story of Jesus thinking outside the box of orthodoxy.

Saint Paul tells us we are no longer trapped by the rules and regulations of orthodoxy, but instead we are liberated by the faith of Jesus Christ. We are liberated to all be the children of God. We are liberated, in that God no longer sees us as Jew or Greek, slave nor free, male or female. And we are liberated to no longer see each other as Jew or Greek, slave or free, male or female. But, this liberation will be disruptive. It will undo the orthodox religions of the day and turn upside down the right thinking politics of the Roman world. Liberation does bring disruption.

Yes, we must have a full understanding of the teachings of Jesus. Yes, we must have a disciplined spiritual practice. Yes, we must have a deep sacramental worship.

No, will not live trapped by a literal reading of the Bible. No, we will not be held hostage by one form of Christian living. No, we will not see worship as confined to this building, in this time and in this way.

Yes, we will embrace our Catholic-Anglican framework so that we might live outside it when it is necessary for the service of God.

These stories and text are about our human frailty and our feelings of inadequacy. These stories are about our living with the melancholy of depression. These stories are about our accepting that the reality of the sometime presence of the demonic is in this world. And these stories are about the inadequacy of the rules of our orthodoxy to provide an appropriate response in our postmodern, post-Christian world.

These stories are our need to find answers that are sometimes found outside the box of orthodoxy.

Do we dare live a life of radical freedom as mystic Christians in the naked now, who live an out of control Christian life? Do we risk the liberation that brings disruption? Do we have any other choice?