We began and ended the day with Committee Meetings. Tuesday morning the process of legislation lurched forward as the different committees began to channel work into the different houses.
Our deputies are all here and accounted for. We enjoyed a nice gathering last night in our room. If you are here in Anaheim from the Diocese of Texas please join us at 6 in the Oasis Tower of the Marriot, room 1748.
There was good discussion last night and people shared their different experiences in committees.
We are joined in Anaheim by ECW and Daughters of the King representatives, youth and young adult representatives. I am so very proud of our representation here!
The newcomers to convention have eyes wide open and are taking it all in...
Today we begin with a brief legislative session, followed by an opening Eucharist. JoAnne and the girls will join me for worship.
I understand that we will end the day with the Archbishop of Canterbury visiting with the House of Bishops, then JoAnne and I and the kids will join our class of bishops for dinner.
Keep us in your prayers as we begin our work today.
Blessings,
Andy
Wednesday, July 8, 2009
Tuesday, May 26, 2009
Baccalaureate: Episcopal High School
The new priest was in the habit of attending daily mass with his rector. Normally one or the other would give the faithful eight a brief reflection on the lessons appointed for the day.
On this particular morning, 7:30 a.m. to be exact, the rector had invited a friend, professor and priest to give a brief homily.
The professor was 10 minutes into the homily on his second point of five delineating the nature of the Godhead when the priest sitting next to the rector first heard the voice of God.
It was deep and mumbling…what was it saying? Where was the voice coming from? He looked out into the cavernous church and over the top of the eight faithful listeners…what was that noise? It suddenly dawned on him it was snoring. Someone was snoring. And, as the professor rounded point three the snoring got louder. But where was it coming from? None of the attendees were asleep. Bored, yes. Asleep, no.
Then he realized the snoring was coming from the sound system.
He slowly turned to his right where his rector was sitting, sound asleep, snoring into his lapel mic.
Somewhere between points three and four the snoring turned into snorting…and now the rector was leaning on him with his head nodding back and forth.
The priest tried to wake him up. He called his name. He tapped his shoulder. Nothing would wake the man.
Finally, well into point four and bravely and loudly competing with the snoring/snorting, the eight faithful giggling, our hero decides to give the priest the strongest, right, jab to the gut he can.
He takes a deep breath. Hauls back and hits him square in the rib cage.
At which upon such a spiritual awakening the rector stands up in the middle of point five and says loudly:
I believe in God the Father, Almighty, Creator of Heaven and earth…(The Rev. Canon Chuck Robertson’s story)
After four years of Episcopal Chapel services, you have arrived. We are here in your last chapel service before you become alums of Episcopal High School. And, I assure you I do not have a five point sermon.
At the inaugural session of the Continental Congress – with the weight of war and the hope of freedom on their minds, on Wednesday, September 7, 1774, Mr. Duché an Episcopal Clergyman was invited to read prayers to the Congress. As it happened the 35th psalm was appointed for Episcopalians as a part of Morning Prayer. So Mr. Duché began, “Plead my cause, O Lord, with them that strive with me: fight against them that fight against me. Take hold of shield and buckler, and stand up for mine help.” (American Gospel, Jon Meacham, p.65)
June 28, 1836, it was an Episcopal service that accompanied James Madison, our 4th president and founding father, to his grave. (p.230) And, it was Episcopal prayers that accompanied the mourners in their grief.
It was an Episcopal Service of Morning Prayer with hymns that inaugurated the Atlantic Charter between Churchill and Roosevelt on the deck of the HMS Prince Charles on the eve of World War II. (p.160)
April 13, 1943, the Episcopal Presiding Bishop Henry St. George Tucker joined the president and five thousand people to dedicate the Jefferson Memorial with an Episcopal Prayer thanking God for raising leaders up among us. (p.248)
March 4, 1944, it was an Episcopal prayer that was read for our enemies at Roosevelt’s service commemorating his first inauguration in the midst of a nation at war. (p.167)
On August 20, 1965, Jonathan M. Daniels, an Episcopal seminarian, gave his life after following the call of Martin Luther King, Jr. to come to Selma, Alabama. It was there that Daniels lived with an African American family, and helped integrate the local Episcopal church. He found his strength in the vision of God preached in the Episcopal Church and through our prayers.
Three years later in the heart of the Country, Washington D.C., and in the heart of the Jonathan Daniels’ Episcopal Church, the National Cathedral, Dr. Martin Luther King Jr. climbed the thirteen steps into the pulpit during an Episcopal service and said, “We are tied together in the single garment of destiny, caught in an inescapable network of mutuality. And whatever affects one directly affects all indirectly. For some strange reason, I can never be what I ought to be until you are what you ought to be. And you can never be what you ought to be until I am what I ought to be. This is the way God’s universe is made; this is the way it is structured.” (p203)
On January 14, 2009, then president elect, Barack Obama attended an Episcopal prayer service at St. Johns Episcopal Church, Lafayette Square, prior to being sworn in as our 44th president of the United States.
From this nation’s very inception, our leaders have from time to time called upon the wisdom found within our Episcopal heritage of prayers and scripture.
In times of great discernment…In times of celebration…In times of peace…In times of justice…In times of war…and, in times of civil struggle…our leaders, those whose names we know and those whose names we do not know have called upon the strength of daily prayers found in our Episcopal Book of Common Prayer.
Through regular chapel, and Episcopal Prayer, we have hoped to provide you, the graduating class of 2009, with a solid foundation of wisdom, a solid foundation of prayer, a solid foundation upon which you may build a good and virtuous citizenship.
While we have hoped that those of you who are Episcopalians will have found strength and familiarity upon which to continue to build your religious life, we have also hoped that those of you without a church home will have found here your spiritual home. Perhaps you will have found here a place upon which to grow a healthy relationship with God. And we have hoped that those of you of every other denomination, creed, or faith background will have found a faithful and partnering denomination in the Episcopal Church, and a sure and certain knowledge of our friendship with all believers.
We have given this Episcopal heritage to you in order that together we might improve the lives of our neighbors.
President Theodore Roosevelt once said, “The real field of rivalry among and between the creeds comes in the rivalry of the endeavor to see which can render best service to mankind.”
Our goals have been through the Academic Pillar, The Art Pillar, the Athletic Pillar and most of all the Religion Pillar that you a diverse student body will reach independently your maximum potential here and in the years to come.
We have given to you the foundations upon which to become honest, moral, and upright members of our society.
That we may outdo one another in kindness and in compassion to our fellow human beings.
Our work has been to provide for you an Episcopal Foundation of Faith.
A foundation that can be drawn upon at times of discernment and when you are unsure of a course of action.
A foundation that can be drawn upon for your celebratory events as in marriages and baptisms, many of which will be done here in this very chapel.
A foundation that you can draw upon when you are in trouble, fearful, or in pain.
A foundation upon which you may find resources for the daily living of life.
A foundation upon which you may with others reshape and make the world a better place tomorrow than it is today.
Each one of you will be a leader, in your home and within your family, you will be leaders in academia, sports, and in the arts, you will be leaders in the marketplace and within our governments.
There will come a time for each one of you when every word will matter, every prayer spoken or silently prayed will count, every thought a necessary component of what comes next, every action an opportunity for change. Into these moments let the wisdom of our worship and prayer and scripture be present for you, uphold you, and sustain you.
Thomas Jefferson wrote, “I never told my religion nor scrutinized that of another. I never attempted to make a convert nor wish to change another’s creed. I have ever judged the religion of others by their lives. For it is in our lives and not from our words, that our religion must be read.” (p. 34)
May each of you take these next steps into your lives knowing you are well prepared by your faculty, well rounded by each of the pillars, and well grounded in a faith tradition that our country depends upon.
Take these steps into tomorrow, and so act in each of them that the world is changed and made a place where liberty and religion prosper, a place where freedom and goodness and faith are intertwined, a place were hope reigns.
Act so others may see in you what we have seen in you – a great and noble future. Act so that others may see in you the best parts of our faith imparted and the blessings of your formation lived out.
This is how people will know your true religion, your true faith. This is how they will know you are graduates of Episcopal High School.
In the name of the Father, Son, and Holy Spirit.
On this particular morning, 7:30 a.m. to be exact, the rector had invited a friend, professor and priest to give a brief homily.
The professor was 10 minutes into the homily on his second point of five delineating the nature of the Godhead when the priest sitting next to the rector first heard the voice of God.
It was deep and mumbling…what was it saying? Where was the voice coming from? He looked out into the cavernous church and over the top of the eight faithful listeners…what was that noise? It suddenly dawned on him it was snoring. Someone was snoring. And, as the professor rounded point three the snoring got louder. But where was it coming from? None of the attendees were asleep. Bored, yes. Asleep, no.
Then he realized the snoring was coming from the sound system.
He slowly turned to his right where his rector was sitting, sound asleep, snoring into his lapel mic.
Somewhere between points three and four the snoring turned into snorting…and now the rector was leaning on him with his head nodding back and forth.
The priest tried to wake him up. He called his name. He tapped his shoulder. Nothing would wake the man.
Finally, well into point four and bravely and loudly competing with the snoring/snorting, the eight faithful giggling, our hero decides to give the priest the strongest, right, jab to the gut he can.
He takes a deep breath. Hauls back and hits him square in the rib cage.
At which upon such a spiritual awakening the rector stands up in the middle of point five and says loudly:
I believe in God the Father, Almighty, Creator of Heaven and earth…(The Rev. Canon Chuck Robertson’s story)
After four years of Episcopal Chapel services, you have arrived. We are here in your last chapel service before you become alums of Episcopal High School. And, I assure you I do not have a five point sermon.
At the inaugural session of the Continental Congress – with the weight of war and the hope of freedom on their minds, on Wednesday, September 7, 1774, Mr. Duché an Episcopal Clergyman was invited to read prayers to the Congress. As it happened the 35th psalm was appointed for Episcopalians as a part of Morning Prayer. So Mr. Duché began, “Plead my cause, O Lord, with them that strive with me: fight against them that fight against me. Take hold of shield and buckler, and stand up for mine help.” (American Gospel, Jon Meacham, p.65)
June 28, 1836, it was an Episcopal service that accompanied James Madison, our 4th president and founding father, to his grave. (p.230) And, it was Episcopal prayers that accompanied the mourners in their grief.
It was an Episcopal Service of Morning Prayer with hymns that inaugurated the Atlantic Charter between Churchill and Roosevelt on the deck of the HMS Prince Charles on the eve of World War II. (p.160)
April 13, 1943, the Episcopal Presiding Bishop Henry St. George Tucker joined the president and five thousand people to dedicate the Jefferson Memorial with an Episcopal Prayer thanking God for raising leaders up among us. (p.248)
March 4, 1944, it was an Episcopal prayer that was read for our enemies at Roosevelt’s service commemorating his first inauguration in the midst of a nation at war. (p.167)
On August 20, 1965, Jonathan M. Daniels, an Episcopal seminarian, gave his life after following the call of Martin Luther King, Jr. to come to Selma, Alabama. It was there that Daniels lived with an African American family, and helped integrate the local Episcopal church. He found his strength in the vision of God preached in the Episcopal Church and through our prayers.
Three years later in the heart of the Country, Washington D.C., and in the heart of the Jonathan Daniels’ Episcopal Church, the National Cathedral, Dr. Martin Luther King Jr. climbed the thirteen steps into the pulpit during an Episcopal service and said, “We are tied together in the single garment of destiny, caught in an inescapable network of mutuality. And whatever affects one directly affects all indirectly. For some strange reason, I can never be what I ought to be until you are what you ought to be. And you can never be what you ought to be until I am what I ought to be. This is the way God’s universe is made; this is the way it is structured.” (p203)
On January 14, 2009, then president elect, Barack Obama attended an Episcopal prayer service at St. Johns Episcopal Church, Lafayette Square, prior to being sworn in as our 44th president of the United States.
From this nation’s very inception, our leaders have from time to time called upon the wisdom found within our Episcopal heritage of prayers and scripture.
In times of great discernment…In times of celebration…In times of peace…In times of justice…In times of war…and, in times of civil struggle…our leaders, those whose names we know and those whose names we do not know have called upon the strength of daily prayers found in our Episcopal Book of Common Prayer.
Through regular chapel, and Episcopal Prayer, we have hoped to provide you, the graduating class of 2009, with a solid foundation of wisdom, a solid foundation of prayer, a solid foundation upon which you may build a good and virtuous citizenship.
While we have hoped that those of you who are Episcopalians will have found strength and familiarity upon which to continue to build your religious life, we have also hoped that those of you without a church home will have found here your spiritual home. Perhaps you will have found here a place upon which to grow a healthy relationship with God. And we have hoped that those of you of every other denomination, creed, or faith background will have found a faithful and partnering denomination in the Episcopal Church, and a sure and certain knowledge of our friendship with all believers.
We have given this Episcopal heritage to you in order that together we might improve the lives of our neighbors.
President Theodore Roosevelt once said, “The real field of rivalry among and between the creeds comes in the rivalry of the endeavor to see which can render best service to mankind.”
Our goals have been through the Academic Pillar, The Art Pillar, the Athletic Pillar and most of all the Religion Pillar that you a diverse student body will reach independently your maximum potential here and in the years to come.
We have given to you the foundations upon which to become honest, moral, and upright members of our society.
That we may outdo one another in kindness and in compassion to our fellow human beings.
Our work has been to provide for you an Episcopal Foundation of Faith.
A foundation that can be drawn upon at times of discernment and when you are unsure of a course of action.
A foundation that can be drawn upon for your celebratory events as in marriages and baptisms, many of which will be done here in this very chapel.
A foundation that you can draw upon when you are in trouble, fearful, or in pain.
A foundation upon which you may find resources for the daily living of life.
A foundation upon which you may with others reshape and make the world a better place tomorrow than it is today.
Each one of you will be a leader, in your home and within your family, you will be leaders in academia, sports, and in the arts, you will be leaders in the marketplace and within our governments.
There will come a time for each one of you when every word will matter, every prayer spoken or silently prayed will count, every thought a necessary component of what comes next, every action an opportunity for change. Into these moments let the wisdom of our worship and prayer and scripture be present for you, uphold you, and sustain you.
Thomas Jefferson wrote, “I never told my religion nor scrutinized that of another. I never attempted to make a convert nor wish to change another’s creed. I have ever judged the religion of others by their lives. For it is in our lives and not from our words, that our religion must be read.” (p. 34)
May each of you take these next steps into your lives knowing you are well prepared by your faculty, well rounded by each of the pillars, and well grounded in a faith tradition that our country depends upon.
Take these steps into tomorrow, and so act in each of them that the world is changed and made a place where liberty and religion prosper, a place where freedom and goodness and faith are intertwined, a place were hope reigns.
Act so others may see in you what we have seen in you – a great and noble future. Act so that others may see in you the best parts of our faith imparted and the blessings of your formation lived out.
This is how people will know your true religion, your true faith. This is how they will know you are graduates of Episcopal High School.
In the name of the Father, Son, and Holy Spirit.
Friday, April 10, 2009
Good Friday Sermon: Lives Lived and Boxes Filled
Click the link to download the podcast.
Sometime in the early 1970’s the pop artist Andy Warhol moved from his studio at 33 Union Square West to a larger one at 860 Broadway.
As he looked at the acquired, comic, sentimental artifacts of culture that he had collected from both personal life and business affairs, he came up with a “crack pot filing system.”
Warhol from the time he was 11 had been fascinated with the 1939 time capsule buried at the New York World’s fair. This would be his idea; he would create time capsules.
So, he began to stuff time capsules with the artifacts of his life. Some required no more thought than emptying the entire contents of his desk drawer. Another devoted entirely to his mother contains articles of her clothing as well as correspondence. There is one which contains the contents collected on a Concorde flight in 1978. Still others contain taxi receipts, wig tape, invoices, a slice of Caroline Kennedy’s birthday cake, a 17th century German book on wrestling, a letter from Dennis Hopper, a valentine from the poet Allen Ginsberg, an invitation to the Vice-President’s house warming party, and an angry letter from his florist regarding an overdue account.
By the time he died in 1987 Andy Warhol had filled 612 boxes with the memories, art, artifacts and refuse of his life.[1]
How many boxes have you and I filled? What are in our boxes?
I imagine lives lived and boxes filled with joyful memories, happy times, blessed moments and hope for a future yet to be filed away.
Then I imagine there are lives lived and boxes filled with unexpressed pain, hidden suffering, wounds inflicted, wounds acquired, abuse of body and the bodies of others, and pointed words which can never return.
Sin and brokenness openly and secretly engaged are then hidden away. Late nights, trips, parties, pornography, alcohol, food, and over indulgence purchased with our lives on credit hoping the creditor never knocks on the door.
Boxes more subtly filled. Scarcity of food and resources globally stored by others on our behalf… boxes of wasted consumption. Boxes and bins filled with the refuse of a green planet now in decay.
Lives lived and boxes filled with vivid moving pictures and recorded sound of events played over and over again paralyzing our lives, relationships, and ministries.
Lives lived and boxes filled with a past we store away, peaking at in darkest hours then locking away again the world only seeing what we want to be seen.
Lives lived, boxes filled, -- stumbling blocks each – stumbling stones in our relationships and in our relationship with God … scattered throughout a life’s journey.
The joyous moments we discover will never be enough. The hope not quite what we thought it would be. The highest moments never quite high enough.
How many boxes? How many shelves of boxes? How many storage units of boxes?
Jesus’ journey into darkness carries with it a mass of boxes, each box, one by one, step by step is carried to Golgotha.
Jesus’ binding and arrest in the garden of Gethsemane binds our boxes of violence, betrayal, and darkest fears to the heart of Jesus.
Jesus’ trial before the high priest puts on trial our boxes filled with religious intolerance, religious abuse of power, religious abuse of authority, our tendencies towards conservative and liberal fundamentalisms, and our willingness to diminish faith into meaningless platitudes of inaction masquerading as concern for our common man.
The handing over to Pilate of Jesus opens for scrutiny our boxes of idolatry, scapegoating, our lack of honor, honesty, and onus. We see in Pilate’s courtyard our own willingness to allow others to sin on our behalf, abuse on our behalf, and falsely accuse and punish that our own consciences may be relieved of any wrongdoing and our feasts not spoiled by the true cost of our wealth.
The mocking of Jesus mocks our boxes filled with just enough faith to be respectable. Instead of the crown of our heart we give Jesus a thorny crown of false adoration. Instead of the throne of our souls we wrap Jesus in a purple robe to hide the wounds and lashings of an inactive faith that fails to make our relationships healthy and whole, the wounds of failed family and friendships, the scars of a faith that leaves people hungry and without shelter.
So painful is the work of Jesus, the picking up and opening of our boxes, one by one, humiliation by humiliation, pain by pain, sin by sin, scar by scar that when forced to look upon him we see all that we keep secret. And we do what we must in order to escape the truth -- we reject him.
When Jesus stands before the seat of judgment, upon the stone pavement, our boxes laid open around him, contents spilled and mingled, we are so ashamed that we must turn from him, we cannot bear our countenance, we cannot bear our humaneness bent down and taken upon him our God and our King.
So we say what we must…hoping to close our tiny boxes…hoping to hide again…we say: crucify him. Crucify him.
Lives lived and boxes locked away into the darkest recesses of our hearts cannot be hid before the suffering of Jesus. They are here and now brought out into the open and picked up and carried by Jesus to Golgotha.
It is so easy not to look now though. As he walks to the place of the skull it is so easy to turn away. Much better not to look at our lives carried up that hill. Perhaps the grey sky and the rain will hide what was once hidden. Maybe the mud will cover the remains of our life laid before him on the cobbled streets of Jesus’ walk to the cross. But they are not.
And so when we dare to look at his walking his caring we see that the weight of the cross is the weight of our lives and our boxes, our memories, art, artifacts and refuse. The weight is of those things done and those things left undone and those things done on our behalf.
Each step, then each nail, is a memory now of our pain, and sin, and brokenness.
For those who look now see something different than the death of a criminal. For those who look now see more than the death of a prophet or a wise man. For those who look now see more than just a man on a cross.
For those who dare to look with Mary and Peter and the few gathered we see the death of all that we have believed keeps us from the love of God. We see the death of every event, every word, and every action taken that has kept us from our God’s embrace.
We see the death of our sin.
We see the death of our hypocrisy.
We see the death of our consumption and the death of our indulgence.
And here we see the commingling of Jesus’ suffering with our suffering.
Here at the cross, with Jesus’ body almost lifeless, the pain a pain we wish not to imagine, the last boxes of lives lived are opened. Here are broken open the boxes filled with our pain inflicted by others. Here are our boxes of suffering from illnesses our bodies cannot fight alone. Here are the boxes of physical and mental abuse perpetrated by others on our lives.
And, here are the boxes filled with the pain we carry in our hearts for the death of our loved ones. Boxes filled with photographs of those lost at war, those lost from disease, those lost in tragedy, those lost with lives before them, and those lost after long lives lived.
We see today, again, perhaps for the first time, the bearing of our sins, pain and our own suffering here in this place.
We see our lives laid bare before us and before Jesus and his cross.
We mourn and we weep for Jesus and we mourn and weep for ourselves.
We must let this Jesus go. We must let him go and carry our lives with him into death. We must let him die and the brokenness of this world and of our lives die with him. We must let him and all of our hidden lives be buried in the tomb. We must let him be buried beneath the earthworks of our sin.
That is all, there isn’t anymore today. We couldn’t bear to see anymore.
So we watch and we listen. We listen for our cue.
And, we hear Jesus say, “It is finished.”
And it is. It is finished.
[1] Box Pop, author unknown, The World of Interiors, December 2008, n 12, p 172.
Sometime in the early 1970’s the pop artist Andy Warhol moved from his studio at 33 Union Square West to a larger one at 860 Broadway.
As he looked at the acquired, comic, sentimental artifacts of culture that he had collected from both personal life and business affairs, he came up with a “crack pot filing system.”
Warhol from the time he was 11 had been fascinated with the 1939 time capsule buried at the New York World’s fair. This would be his idea; he would create time capsules.
So, he began to stuff time capsules with the artifacts of his life. Some required no more thought than emptying the entire contents of his desk drawer. Another devoted entirely to his mother contains articles of her clothing as well as correspondence. There is one which contains the contents collected on a Concorde flight in 1978. Still others contain taxi receipts, wig tape, invoices, a slice of Caroline Kennedy’s birthday cake, a 17th century German book on wrestling, a letter from Dennis Hopper, a valentine from the poet Allen Ginsberg, an invitation to the Vice-President’s house warming party, and an angry letter from his florist regarding an overdue account.
By the time he died in 1987 Andy Warhol had filled 612 boxes with the memories, art, artifacts and refuse of his life.[1]
How many boxes have you and I filled? What are in our boxes?
I imagine lives lived and boxes filled with joyful memories, happy times, blessed moments and hope for a future yet to be filed away.
Then I imagine there are lives lived and boxes filled with unexpressed pain, hidden suffering, wounds inflicted, wounds acquired, abuse of body and the bodies of others, and pointed words which can never return.
Sin and brokenness openly and secretly engaged are then hidden away. Late nights, trips, parties, pornography, alcohol, food, and over indulgence purchased with our lives on credit hoping the creditor never knocks on the door.
Boxes more subtly filled. Scarcity of food and resources globally stored by others on our behalf… boxes of wasted consumption. Boxes and bins filled with the refuse of a green planet now in decay.
Lives lived and boxes filled with vivid moving pictures and recorded sound of events played over and over again paralyzing our lives, relationships, and ministries.
Lives lived and boxes filled with a past we store away, peaking at in darkest hours then locking away again the world only seeing what we want to be seen.
Lives lived, boxes filled, -- stumbling blocks each – stumbling stones in our relationships and in our relationship with God … scattered throughout a life’s journey.
The joyous moments we discover will never be enough. The hope not quite what we thought it would be. The highest moments never quite high enough.
How many boxes? How many shelves of boxes? How many storage units of boxes?
Jesus’ journey into darkness carries with it a mass of boxes, each box, one by one, step by step is carried to Golgotha.
Jesus’ binding and arrest in the garden of Gethsemane binds our boxes of violence, betrayal, and darkest fears to the heart of Jesus.
Jesus’ trial before the high priest puts on trial our boxes filled with religious intolerance, religious abuse of power, religious abuse of authority, our tendencies towards conservative and liberal fundamentalisms, and our willingness to diminish faith into meaningless platitudes of inaction masquerading as concern for our common man.
The handing over to Pilate of Jesus opens for scrutiny our boxes of idolatry, scapegoating, our lack of honor, honesty, and onus. We see in Pilate’s courtyard our own willingness to allow others to sin on our behalf, abuse on our behalf, and falsely accuse and punish that our own consciences may be relieved of any wrongdoing and our feasts not spoiled by the true cost of our wealth.
The mocking of Jesus mocks our boxes filled with just enough faith to be respectable. Instead of the crown of our heart we give Jesus a thorny crown of false adoration. Instead of the throne of our souls we wrap Jesus in a purple robe to hide the wounds and lashings of an inactive faith that fails to make our relationships healthy and whole, the wounds of failed family and friendships, the scars of a faith that leaves people hungry and without shelter.
So painful is the work of Jesus, the picking up and opening of our boxes, one by one, humiliation by humiliation, pain by pain, sin by sin, scar by scar that when forced to look upon him we see all that we keep secret. And we do what we must in order to escape the truth -- we reject him.
When Jesus stands before the seat of judgment, upon the stone pavement, our boxes laid open around him, contents spilled and mingled, we are so ashamed that we must turn from him, we cannot bear our countenance, we cannot bear our humaneness bent down and taken upon him our God and our King.
So we say what we must…hoping to close our tiny boxes…hoping to hide again…we say: crucify him. Crucify him.
Lives lived and boxes locked away into the darkest recesses of our hearts cannot be hid before the suffering of Jesus. They are here and now brought out into the open and picked up and carried by Jesus to Golgotha.
It is so easy not to look now though. As he walks to the place of the skull it is so easy to turn away. Much better not to look at our lives carried up that hill. Perhaps the grey sky and the rain will hide what was once hidden. Maybe the mud will cover the remains of our life laid before him on the cobbled streets of Jesus’ walk to the cross. But they are not.
And so when we dare to look at his walking his caring we see that the weight of the cross is the weight of our lives and our boxes, our memories, art, artifacts and refuse. The weight is of those things done and those things left undone and those things done on our behalf.
Each step, then each nail, is a memory now of our pain, and sin, and brokenness.
For those who look now see something different than the death of a criminal. For those who look now see more than the death of a prophet or a wise man. For those who look now see more than just a man on a cross.
For those who dare to look with Mary and Peter and the few gathered we see the death of all that we have believed keeps us from the love of God. We see the death of every event, every word, and every action taken that has kept us from our God’s embrace.
We see the death of our sin.
We see the death of our hypocrisy.
We see the death of our consumption and the death of our indulgence.
And here we see the commingling of Jesus’ suffering with our suffering.
Here at the cross, with Jesus’ body almost lifeless, the pain a pain we wish not to imagine, the last boxes of lives lived are opened. Here are broken open the boxes filled with our pain inflicted by others. Here are our boxes of suffering from illnesses our bodies cannot fight alone. Here are the boxes of physical and mental abuse perpetrated by others on our lives.
And, here are the boxes filled with the pain we carry in our hearts for the death of our loved ones. Boxes filled with photographs of those lost at war, those lost from disease, those lost in tragedy, those lost with lives before them, and those lost after long lives lived.
We see today, again, perhaps for the first time, the bearing of our sins, pain and our own suffering here in this place.
We see our lives laid bare before us and before Jesus and his cross.
We mourn and we weep for Jesus and we mourn and weep for ourselves.
We must let this Jesus go. We must let him go and carry our lives with him into death. We must let him die and the brokenness of this world and of our lives die with him. We must let him and all of our hidden lives be buried in the tomb. We must let him be buried beneath the earthworks of our sin.
That is all, there isn’t anymore today. We couldn’t bear to see anymore.
So we watch and we listen. We listen for our cue.
And, we hear Jesus say, “It is finished.”
And it is. It is finished.
[1] Box Pop, author unknown, The World of Interiors, December 2008, n 12, p 172.
Wednesday, April 8, 2009
Called by Grace
Click the Link to read the online discussion about ministry recently printed in the Texas Episcopalian.
I began to think that I might be called into the priesthood at a very early age. There are pictures of me dressed up in robes, from the dress-up bin, performing a burial for one of our family pets. Before me on a makeshift lectern is the Book of Common Prayer. I was 12.
People explore their ministries at different points along their journey. However, statistics show that most begin wondering about the work within the church at the same age. The reason why I became a priest is multidimensional but clear. God placed a call upon my heart to work for him and to work for his church. The church affirmed the calling; predominately through the men and women, laity and clergy in my life and later by the commission on ministry and bishop. Clergy serving as directors of summer camp sessions were essential along this journey. And, lastly I decided to follow and listen to Jesus.
The Rev. Laurens “Larry” Hall (Chair of the Commission on Ministry from 1984 to 1999)says you are a priest by the grace of God and you will be a priest by the grace of God. Father Hall is correct. We are called by grace and by grace we undertake our ministries. It is the church’s work to discern the order of the ministry and to help discern the manner in which it is undertaken over the years.
But there is a stumbling block within our system. The problem isn’t with the ordination process but rather with the confirmation process. Today when someone is serious about ministry we send them to a three year program of rigorous study at either a seminary or our Iona School for Ministry. In the first centuries of the Christian movement if you were serious about Jesus you went to a three year program of rigorous study and preparation. Deacons, priests, and bishops were the discerned outgrowth of ministry undertaken. These orders were created and people undertook them for the sake of the life of the community and direction of the mission of the church. One had to fulfill every other minor order in the church before ordination: doorkeeper, lector, exorcist and sub-deacon.
We need to do a better job at preparing people to follow Jesus. We must return to a preparation that allows everyone to find their place in the church. In my mind there are several essential ingredients to solid preparation for the adult journey of faith within the Episcopal tradition:
I began to think that I might be called into the priesthood at a very early age. There are pictures of me dressed up in robes, from the dress-up bin, performing a burial for one of our family pets. Before me on a makeshift lectern is the Book of Common Prayer. I was 12.
People explore their ministries at different points along their journey. However, statistics show that most begin wondering about the work within the church at the same age. The reason why I became a priest is multidimensional but clear. God placed a call upon my heart to work for him and to work for his church. The church affirmed the calling; predominately through the men and women, laity and clergy in my life and later by the commission on ministry and bishop. Clergy serving as directors of summer camp sessions were essential along this journey. And, lastly I decided to follow and listen to Jesus.
The Rev. Laurens “Larry” Hall (Chair of the Commission on Ministry from 1984 to 1999)says you are a priest by the grace of God and you will be a priest by the grace of God. Father Hall is correct. We are called by grace and by grace we undertake our ministries. It is the church’s work to discern the order of the ministry and to help discern the manner in which it is undertaken over the years.
But there is a stumbling block within our system. The problem isn’t with the ordination process but rather with the confirmation process. Today when someone is serious about ministry we send them to a three year program of rigorous study at either a seminary or our Iona School for Ministry. In the first centuries of the Christian movement if you were serious about Jesus you went to a three year program of rigorous study and preparation. Deacons, priests, and bishops were the discerned outgrowth of ministry undertaken. These orders were created and people undertook them for the sake of the life of the community and direction of the mission of the church. One had to fulfill every other minor order in the church before ordination: doorkeeper, lector, exorcist and sub-deacon.
We need to do a better job at preparing people to follow Jesus. We must return to a preparation that allows everyone to find their place in the church. In my mind there are several essential ingredients to solid preparation for the adult journey of faith within the Episcopal tradition:
- Biblical literacy – what is in the bible, its history, and key passages
- Jesus literacy – our church’s basic understanding of his life and ministry
- Church historical literacy -- with a focus on the first councils, creeds and reformation
- Spiritual literacy -- an understanding of the many different forms of spiritual practice in our church
- Liturgical literacy -- understanding of our prayer book and sacraments with particular attention to Baptism and Eucharist
- Stewardship – basic stewardship principals
including spiritual gifts discernment - Mission literacy – the evangelical work of the church to transform lives, and to share the good news of Christ in word and action.
Shaping and forming young adult and adult Christians is not just a matter of curriculum. It is the interweaving of people’s stories with the story of Jesus and our church that deepens our life of faith.
There are many ministries from evangelist to catechist, from altar guild to acolyte, from Christian formation team member to prayer minister. The work of the church is varied and God is sending us people to undertake our work. God provides for us every gift and every person needed to grow and build the kingdom of God. When we are focused on the Gospel, our numbers are added as well and we are able to do more and to reach out into the world more.
The danger is to believe that discernment and the varieties of ministry (more than can ever be described in church law) are limited for the privileged few. We must recapture a sense of abundance. The harvest is ripe, ask the Lord of the harvest to send out laborers.
I believe God is also sending us and working on the hearts of those who are to be our future deacons, priests and bishops. Are we listening to them (no matter what age) and taking them seriously, partnering with them, helping them to become disciples, and ultimately raising them up for an ordered life?
This work of preparation of all the faithful and the specific work of preparation of the future clergy is formation that depends not upon the diocese or the clergy. It depends ultimately upon all the people of God.
Formation and the disciplined life of the Christian have to be intentional, life-long development. By God’s grace we take steps into this Christian life. We also must be intentional and deliberate not to squander that grace and instead use it to partner with those around us (young and old) to help them find their way along Christ’s journey into wholeness.
Friday, February 27, 2009
The First Friday In Lent
This morning I got up and headed out to run some errands before I sat down to work for the day. I was listening to a group not known for its Holy or appropriate lyrics, The Red Hot Chili Peppers. I was listening to Throw Away Your Television, one of my favorite songs. The lyrics are:
Most of the time I hear people say they are giving up one of the following things: chocolate, sweets, alcohol, carbs, or some other such thing.
The Red Hot Chili Peppers and my Woodlands friend made me think though, what would be contemporary disciplines that you and I could give up in Lent that would make a difference in our lives and in our lives with God. If one of the essential works of Lent is to restore our relationship with God, restore the fellowship of the church, and restore our relationship with others what is really in our way?
So, I wondered, what what would it be like to give up:
the news
Television
my cell phone
blogs
movies
internet
negative media messages
Each of these would give us more time to spend with living people. We would be more present with people if we weren't tied to our cell phones. We would be more available for ministries and for church fellowship. We would be more available to our families. We would actually have to interact with people to get information.
Maybe your lenten discipline is leaving you flat or you haven't chosen one yet. Why not try one of these more contemporary disciplines. Give up your connected electronic state and get connected in a different way.
I thought to myself about my lenten discipline and then I thought about the lists of things people are taking on and people are stopping in order to reconnect with God. Then I remembered one of my favorite disciplines shared by a friend in the Woodlands..."I am quitting Facebook for lent." I of course read this on Facebook, LOL...or laughed out loud. But thought that is a very current discipline."Throw away your television time to make this clean decision master waits for it's collision now it's a repeat of a story told it's a repeat and it's getting old Throw away your television make a break big intermission recreate your super vision now it's a repeat of a story told it's a repeat and it's getting old[Chorus:] Renegades with fancy gauges slay the plague for it's contagious pull the plug and take the stages throw away your television now[Chorus] Throw away your television Salivate to repetition 'leviate this ill condition now it's a repeat"
Most of the time I hear people say they are giving up one of the following things: chocolate, sweets, alcohol, carbs, or some other such thing.
The Red Hot Chili Peppers and my Woodlands friend made me think though, what would be contemporary disciplines that you and I could give up in Lent that would make a difference in our lives and in our lives with God. If one of the essential works of Lent is to restore our relationship with God, restore the fellowship of the church, and restore our relationship with others what is really in our way?
So, I wondered, what what would it be like to give up:
the news
Television
my cell phone
blogs
movies
internet
negative media messages
Each of these would give us more time to spend with living people. We would be more present with people if we weren't tied to our cell phones. We would be more available for ministries and for church fellowship. We would be more available to our families. We would actually have to interact with people to get information.
Maybe your lenten discipline is leaving you flat or you haven't chosen one yet. Why not try one of these more contemporary disciplines. Give up your connected electronic state and get connected in a different way.
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