Fiat Lux

St. Paul's African Development Project wins Bishop's Outreach Award

2012-01-27T10:13:00.002-05:00

Bishop Johnston, left; Sue Rainey, middle;
Wilma Bradbeer right;
receiving the award this morning

RESTON -- The big news for us as the annual Diocesan Council opened this morning is that our very own African Development Project won the Bishop's Award for Outreach, conferred by Bishop Shannon Johnston. Hundreds of people applauded as Sue Rainey and Wilma Bradbeer accepted the award on behalf of the dozens of volunteers here and in Kenya who have worked so hard on this project since 1985.

The certificate states: "The Bishop's Outreach Award honots an Episcopal church or related faith-based non-profite organization within the Diocese of Virginia whose mission and ministries for those in need give practical expression of exemplary Christian service and love of neighbor."

Here is more background on the African Development Project from the nomination forms:

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Begun in 1985 at St. Paul’s Memorial Church in Charlottesville, the African Development Project has supported specific, effective programs in East Africa that enable participants to grow more food, improve their heath, education, and income, and care for the sick and orphaned. ADP has direct links with the leaders of these programs, many of whom have visited Virginia over the years. This means that ADP’s supporters often feel a personal connection with those they are helping and are confident their donations are well used. ADP’s assistance goes directly to these programs and involves no overhead expenses.

Since its inception, ADP has worked with World Neighbors, an international development organization with several projects in Kenya, and the Oyani Christian Rural Services, directed by the Rev. Peter Indalo in western Kenya. Many guests from Kenya have spoken at events such as ADP’s fund-raising dinners called “Harambees.” They have taught ADP volunteers much about their needs and what works to bring lasting change. In 2007, Melanie Macdonald, the CEO of World Neighbors, discussed how communities are organized to solve problems in sustainable ways. Brief descriptions of these two projects follow:

World Neighbors program in Busia district, directed by Chris Macolo, teaches soil and crop improvement, goat and poultry management, and better nutrition for children and those with HIV/AIDS.

Oyani Christian Rural Services, led by the Rev. Peter Indalo, plants trees, provides clean water, teaches cabinetry and metal work, and provides school uniforms and fees for over 60 orphans.

Since 2005, when three women from ADP went Kenya, these projects have stretched its resources to help several additional organizations, including two that focus on helping AIDS orphans and their caregivers by creating new “families” in local communities:
Nyalwodep Project for Orphans, led by Rev. James Ouma, pairs orphans with widows who look out for their wellbeing, and provides meals and education.

The Kitui Development Center, led by Janet Mumo, enables thousands of villagers to meet their basic needs primarily through women’s groups and combats child labor and exploitation by teaching vocational skills. During the terrible unrest after the contested election in December 2007, the leaders asked for special contributions for their endangered participants; with generous donations from ADP supporters we sent emergency gifts that made a real difference.

The African Development Project holds an annual fund-raising dinner, the "Harambee," at St. Paul's Memorial Church, and sometimes at Trinity Episcopal Church, in Charlottesville. Since 1985, more than $600,000 has been raised for ADP through the Harambee dinners and with other gifts. The last fund-raiser, on September 30, 2011 had more than 100 people who attended. Those who attended heard inspiring, informative talks by two special guests from Kenya: Pastor James Ouma, and Kenya's Ambassador to the United States, Elkanah Odembo.

Pastor Ouma, who with his wife Alice directs the Nyalwodep village, where 65 widows care for 120 children orphaned by HIV/AIDS. The pressing needs are for money for food, better shelter, school fees, and a better water source.

Ambassador Odembo is an old friend of ADP, who visited here twenty years ago when he worked with World Neighbors. He described numerous positive changes in Kenya that inspire hope for the future. He also met privately with ADP and church leaders, talking candidly about the challenges facing East Africa and how the Episcopal Church can strengthen its presence and partnerships in his country.

Glowing sunrise, glowing ruby: How is your January?

2012-01-26T07:10:00.001-05:00

I am up before dawn most mornings and I sit by a lit candle and look out a window into the bleak darkness. My window faces west, and as I write this, the sky is dark gray. Eventually there will be a pink or orange glow on the Ragged Mountain range a few miles distant.

The sun will rise to my back behind our house, and will soon see its reflection on these mountains as I look at the window to the west. Each morning, I often think of the people I love who are beyond those mountains who will see that sunrise a few minutes, or a few hours later. I feel very connected to them by the glow of the sunrise.

Later today we are heading north to Reston for the annual Diocese of Virginia Council, the gathering-in-convention of clergy and lay delegates for the business of the diocese. This year's Council has no major controversies that anyone has seen. The Council's main business will be to thank and honor Bishop David Jones upon his retirement after 17 years as Bishop Suffragan. I will be blogging from the Council, so stay tuned to this space.

I leave you this morning with a gift from our friend Karen in Tennessee. This poem is on the sensual side, but our bodies are temples from God, so I hope you will take it in that spirit. I also give you Karen's commentary that went with it. Enjoy your day:

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January is an unusual time for all of us in the spiritual sense. One the one hand it provides us with a time of cleansing and redefinition. But this month also reminds me of a quote about alcoholism, "When you stop, the problem is that you have to deal with yourself." No one wants to deal with their own self in January. But this is the gift that is given to us in the bleak and cold and dark- this grace period of opportunity and beginnings.

The Sunrise Ruby
By Rumi

In the early morning hour,
just before dawn, lover and beloved wake
and take a drink of water.

She asks, "Do you love me or yourself more?
Really, tell the absolute truth."

He says, "There is nothing left of me.
I’m like a ruby held up to the sunrise.
Is it still a stone, or a world
made of redness? It has no resistance
to sunlight." The ruby and the sunrise are one.
Be courageous and discipline yourself.

Work. Keep digging your well.
Don’t think about getting off from work.
Submit to a daily practice.
Your loyalty to that is a ring on the door.

Keep knocking, and the joy inside
will eventually open a window
and look out to see who’s there.

Photo by Vidal Peterson of the Ragged Mountains at sunrise.

Brian McLaren to join us at St. Paul's

2012-01-25T08:22:00.000-05:00

A few years ago I came across the writings of Brian McLaren, and then I saw him on a webstream as he addressed the Anglican bishops at their worldwide gathering at Lambeth in 2008, a once-every-ten-years convocation of hundreds of bishops. I was quite taken by Brian's vitality, creativity and his ability to make recast ancient concepts, and make them alive in our complicated multi-cultural chaotic world.

I've been trying ever since to get him to come to St. Paul's. And he will soon be with us!

Brian McLaren will conduct an all-day workshop called "Why Everything Must Change" on Saturday March 3, and he will preach March 4. He has a book by that title that I would recommend reading before he comes. We are then planning to build our Sunday Lenten adult education around what we hear from Brian and the issues he raises. I am very excited, and if you are in our area, I hope will come. His appearance is made possible for us by the Koinonia Foundation.

Let me also recommend another book that is terrific, and take a deep breath -- it has a long title that by its length tells you something of his perspective: A Generous Orthodoxy: Why I am a missional + evangelical + post/protestant + liberal/conservative + mystical/poetic + biblical + charismatic/contemplative + fundamentalist/calvinist + anabaptist/anglican + methodist + catholic + green + incarnational + depressed-yet-hopeful + emergent + unfinished Christian.

I am very excited that we will be hosting him and I hope you can join us.

Sacred stones: Observations from a friend

2012-01-24T00:01:00.002-05:00

My friend and former journalism colleague, Ilana DeBare, recently visited Israel and she has posted a number of fascinating observations on her blog, Midlife Bat Mitzvah, about what she experienced and the conflict there. I don't usually mention a person's religion, but it does help to know that Ilana is Jewish and she had once lived in Israel for time.

She posted this yesterday, and I think it quite insightful and very much worth your consideration:

Walls, stones and what is sacred

January 22, 2012

I’m a writer and I swim in words. But occasionally, there is an image that expresses things better than any words I could write.

When I was in Israel back in November, I took several photographs of the stones of the Western Wall because I loved all the textures and colors. It’s a classic image; I thought it might be useful sometime for this blog.
Then, as I wrote about in an earlier post, we walked a few hundred steps outside the Old City to the disputed Arab neighborhood of Silwan. And this is what I saw:

Photo by Ilana DeBare

When I squinted my eyes, those images blurred and became the same — both patchworks of textured white stone.

One was the Wall, the most sacred site in Judaism. The other was a workaday Palestinian neighborhood.
The Torah portion for my Bat Mitzvah service almost a year ago concerned construction of the Tabernacle, and I talked about how places — official “sacred” places, places in wild nature, other kinds of places and settings — can help us get in touch with the spiritual part of ourselves.

But physical places can also become idols, false gods.

I understand how, for many people, the Western Wall is a sacred place. But what those photos say to me is that living communities — the people in them, no matter the nationality or religion — are equally sacred.

To me, the people of Israel and Palestine will always be worth more than any particular place. No stone wall is worth a human life, no matter how many thousands of years of Jewish history it embodies. No olive tree is worth a human life, no matter how many generations of Palestinian family tradition it represents.

That’s the basis of the land-for-peace concept, the basis of a two-state solution. Both Israelis and Palestinians must give up some places that are precious to them in order to save lives that are ultimately more precious.

With right-wingers like Netanyahu and Lieberman running the Israeli government, and the rejectionists of Hamas tying the hands of Palestinian moderates, that solution seems almost impossibly distant these days.

But governments can change — maybe Israel’s will. And perhaps a more open Israeli government will spark a parallel openness among Palestinians. What we can do, in the meantime, is keep reminding ourselves and our leaders that human lives are more sacred than any walls, trees or stones. That’s why I support groups like J Street and Americans for Peace Now.

There! It just took me 379 words to deliver this preachy message.

When really, all it takes is looking at those two images.

The Monday Funnies

2012-01-23T00:01:00.000-05:00

The Jokester Department took the weekend off -- again. Something about the football playoffs and the 49ers. Anyhow, I dug through the departmental filing cabinet and found this oldie from Pat Hill. Enjoy your Monday . . .

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Bible Theme Songs

Noah "Raindrops Keep Falling on My Head"

Adam and Eve "Strangers in Paradise"

Lazarus "The Second Time Around"

Esther "I Feel Pretty"

Job "I've Got a Right to Sing the Blues"

Moses "The Wanderer"

Jezebel "The Lady is a Tramp"

Samson "Hair"

Salome "I Could Have Danced All Night"

Daniel "The Lion Sleeps Tonight"

Joshua "Good Vibrations"

Peter "I'm Sorry"

Esau "Born To Be Wild"

Jeremiah "Take This Job and Shove It"

The Three Kings "When You Wish Upon a Star"

Jonah "Got a Whale of a Tale"

Elijah "Up, Up, and Away"

Methuelah "Stayin' Alive"

Nebuchadnezzar "Crazy"

The real miracle of Jonah

2012-01-22T10:40:00.001-05:00

Today is the Third Sunday after Epiphany and the lessons are Jonah 3:1-5, 10, Psalm 62: 6-14
1 Corinthians 7: 29-31 and Mark 1:14-20. Here is my sermon from this morning:

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Today we wade into the water with one of the most extraordinary but overlooked books in the entire Bible, the Book of the prophet Jonah.

You may be familiar with the tale from popular lore. Jonah is tossed overboard and is swallowed by a fish. He prays to God to be saved, and ends up on shore, where he delivers his message to the city of Nineveh and they are saved.

This biblical story has a major footnote in our modern conflict between religion and science.

In the Scopes trial of 1925, wherein a school teacher in Tennessee was charged with a crime for teaching evolution, the great trial attorney, Clarence Darrow, famously cross-examined his rival attorney, William Jennings Bryan, about whether he believed that every word of the Bible was factually true.

Bryan said that he did.

What about the whale swallowing Jonah, Darrow asked.

It was a fish, Bryan corrected.

Ok, a fish. Do you think a fish swallowed Jonah?

“If the Bible said so,” Bryan replied rather smugly. “One miracle is just as easy to believe as another.”

Or just as hard, Darrow shot back.

And so the Book of Jonah, at that very moment, began to stand as a great continental divide between those who read the Bible as inerrant fact and those who think it a fishy tall-tale.

Unfortunately that divide did something else to the Book of Jonah. Modern people – Christians especially – lost sight of the point of the story of Jonah – and the point was not that a fish swallowed Jonah.

To gets the real point, it helps to hear the story of Jonah through the ears of the people who wrote it.

Start with a bit of background about the book of Jonah that Clarence Darrow and William Jennings Bryan were apparently clueless about:

Jonah was written as a satirical tale. If you lived 2,000 years ago in Israel, you would think it a funny fish tale, and funny with a sharp point. In fact, one commentary I read pointed out that the structure of Woody Allen's humor is based on Jonah.

Jonah in Hebrew is Noah spelled backwards.

Instead being saved on the ark – a boat – Jonah is tossed overboard from the ark. Instead of Noah saving all the creatures from the flood, Jonah is tossed into the flood and saved by a creature.

How did Jonah get himself in this fix?

Jonah has been sent on a mission by God to warn the people of Nineveh that they will be destroyed if they don’t return to the way of God. But unlike Noah, Jonah wants no part of what God wants him to do.

Jonah loathes this mission – he is from Israel, and Nineveh is the enemy of Israel.

Jonah doesn’t want the people of Nineveh to repent; he wants God to destroy them.

Nineveh, by the way, is the same city that is now called Mosul in Iraq.

Jonah tries to escape his mission by going in the opposite direction. He gets on a ship bound for Tarshish, or Carthage, on the African coast.

A storm kicks up, and the ship’s crew tries to figure out who is responsible for the storm. It’s Jonah, so he tells them to toss him overboard.

He’d rather die than complete his mission to save the enemies of Israel.

Jonah is swallowed by a fish, and he realizes he cannot escape God or his mission, and he prays to be saved. The fish spits him out on shore.

Jonah begrudgingly goes to Nineveh, and warns them of the peril they face. Then to his disgust, the people of Nineveh repent and are themselves saved.

Jonah can’t believe God would save Nineveh, and so Jonah sulks. He resents that these foreigners – his enemies – are just as loved by God as he is.

The writers of the Hebrew Scriptures put this book in the Bible to remind us of this universal truth – that God really does love all people – people who aren’t like us – people who don’t share our language, or our religion, or our politics, or our way of doing things.

God loves even our enemies, and that may be as hard a concept for us to comprehend as it was for Jonah.

The miracle for Jonah is not that he is saved by being swallowed by a fish.

The miracle is God’s grace that connects Jonah to his enemies, and connects all of us together on this earth.

The sin of Jonah is his lack of compassion for people who aren’t like himself. His sin comes from not seeing the connection he has to the people unlike himself.

In Jewish tradition, the entire Book of Jonah is always read aloud on Yom Kippur, the Day of Atonement, which this year begins at sunset September 25.
The reason Jonah is read on Yom Kippur is the story is presented as a lesson about how the entire nation of Israel needs to repent for the sin of ignoring the poor, the foreigner, the enemy, the other.
Everyone is responsible, no one is off the hook. Repentance is not just personal, its communal.

Our idea of Lent as a season of personal atonement and repentance is directly based on Yom Kippur, so as Lent draws near, we do well to pay attention to Jonah.

We are on the hook, too, and like our ancestors, we are called to repent for the sins we share together.

“Repent” means to turn around, to change and to see what is in front of us that we’ve ignored.

Repentance has no meaning unless it comes with actions. Like Jonah, we are called to act with compassion toward those we overlook, especially for those we find it hardest of all to see and love.
Yesterday we had the first of our listening sessions as we discern where God is leading us as a parish.

A participant in our group mentioned that a good starting point for us as a parish is to ask what repentance would look like for the entire Church if that repentance contained not just words, but actions?

That is not a question easily answered but is one central to who and what we should be about.
There is great hope in this story of Jonah. In spite of himself, Jonah does what God calls him to do.

Jonah is certainly an imperfect messenger, but God chooses him anyway.

The biblical accounts are filled with stories of imperfect messengers.

In the Gospel of Mark today, Jesus calls his disciples to follow him, and they know not where they are going or how it will come out.

They are ordinary fishermen, and in the days ahead, these fishermen will be filled with doubts and fears, and their flaws will be on full display. They don’t always get it.

These first followers will encounter to people not like themselves, just as Jonah does. They will be called to pray for their enemies, and they do. They will be called to cross social and religious boundaries, and they do.

And they will surprise even themselves, and we are the beneficiaries because they answered the call to follow.

“The time is fulfilled, and the Kingdom of God has come near,” Jesus proclaims. And so it is, even with us. May we learn how to answer that call and follow, and bring the Kingdom closer to all God’s people. AMEN

A look at recent Catholic and Episcopal Church relations

2012-01-21T00:01:00.001-05:00

I've been staying out of church politics for a good long while on this blog, not out of any lack of interest but more out of a feeling others are more knowledgable and saying things better than I could. And as I have mentioned a number of times, church politics is like plate tectonics -- it mostly moves beneath the surface, but erupts now-and-then with an earthquake.

We've had several of those tremors recently from the Vatican, and while those events may not directly affect daily life at St. Paul's Memorial Church, it is nonetheless worth looking at for how it may impact our greater Church and sense of who we are as church. Here is a commentary published Friday in the Erie Times-Union that is quite readable written by The Very Rev. John P. Downey, the Dean of the Cathedral of St. Paul and the Ecumenical Officer for the Episcopal Diocese of Northwestern Pennsylvania:

Downey: What's next for Episcopalians, Catholics?

BY REV. JOHN DOWNEY
Contributing writer

Two recent events mark a significant change in the ecumenical relationship of Roman Catholics and the Episcopal Church.

First, a new translation of the Mass was introduced at the beginning of Advent. Then, on New Year's Day, the Anglican Ordinariate for the United States was officially launched. The Ordinariate will serve much like a diocese created especially for Episcopalians and others of Anglican heritage who wish to be in full communion with the Pope. Such folk would fully accept Roman Catholic teaching and authority while retaining some aspects of their former life in the Episcopal Church such as liturgical texts, married priests, and (limited) democracy in governance.

With regard to worship, the recent change is a departure from decades of working together along with other ecumenical partners to provide common worship texts in the various churches and denominations.

The new Mass translation was undertaken unilaterally by the Roman Catholic Church, apparently with no ecumenical consultation. Other Christian bodies, including Episcopalians and Lutherans, made major liturgical changes after Vatican II with ecumenical optimism and a commitment to shared translations among themselves and Roman Catholics. This hopeful project has been abandoned by Rome and we have the curious situation that the "old" Mass texts can now be found in Lutheran and Episcopal churches!

As for the Ordinariate, it is likely that very few will take advantage of the offer, however grateful those few might be for the opportunity. Life in the Episcopal Church is an entire culture, and it remains to be seen if a few parts of it can be successfully grafted onto a very different understanding and practice of Church. Given that Roman Catholics will not be permitted to join Ordinariate congregations, its future will depend on further conversions and evangelism.

This does bring into focus, however, the deep distinction these events and others have revealed between Roman Catholicism and the Episcopal Church, which is the matter of governance. The Roman Catholic Church is structured as a monarchy, governed by the Bishop of Rome. Even though this governance is shared in communion with other bishops, in the end, full authority is vested in the Pope, trusting that this is Christ's will for the Church.

The Episcopal Church is structured as a representative democracy, modeled after the United States Congress. All matters are deliberated and decided upon by elected governing bodies that include bishops, clergy and lay people. Episcopalians trust that, even if some of their decisions are mistaken, the Church will not fail in it basic grasp of the truth, and God will eventually correct any errors.

The relative merits of these two understandings can be debated, but it has become clear that this is the source of the differences between Roman Catholicism and the Episcopal Church. The ecumenical progress of the last decades has shown that both churches share a wide and deep range of common doctrine, including some areas where conflict was once assumed, such as the meaning of the Eucharist and the priesthood. This has allowed a sense of friendship that will probably not go away despite the recent changes.

Nonetheless, the different forms of governance have led to differing outcomes in matters such as contraception, remarriage, ordination of women, and the full inclusion of gays and lesbians in all aspects of the church's life.

We have entered a time of differentiation that will probably not be resolved in the foreseeable future. Traffic is moving in both directions across the Roman Catholic/Episcopalian border.

Hopefully, this time will be lived with both honesty and charity and with the prayer and hope that these differences will not harden divisions, but will motivate a desire to discover a godly diversity in unity that will be a gift to the world.

THE REV. JOHN P. DOWNEY is dean of the Cathedral of St. Paul and ecumenical officer of the Episcopal Diocese of Northwestern Pennsylvania.

Finding the place where you can breathe of the Holy

2012-01-20T07:26:00.003-05:00

The story of the Samaritan woman at the well, and her encounter with Jesus, continues today with Jesus telling her about her life with five husbands in John 4:16-26. Hearing this, she recognizes Jesus as a prophet, but says that he is not fitting into her familiar categories of religious dogma and debate.

She notes that her people believe God should be worshipped at their mountain, the place of Jacob's well, and they have a firm historical basis for making that claim.

Jesus's people, she says, maintain that God should be worshipped at the Temple in Jerusalem, on Mt. Zion. She could have said, but politely did not, that Jesus's people have a shakier historical claim. The Temple can only trace its lineage to King David, rather late in comparison to Jacob's well, the founder of all Israel.

Jesus cuts through all this religious muck by telling her: "Woman, believe me, the hour is coming when you will worship the Father neither on this mountain nor in Jerusalem."

You will worship God everywhere because God is everywhere.

Last summer on our journey through the Holy Land, the members of our pilgrim group came to roughly the same realization at roughly the same time: That we all felt stifled by the religious conflict and the oppressiveness of religious dogmas on full display.

The wall separating Palestinian communities
from Israeli communities

The Armenian monks sneered at the Greek monks, the Hasidic Jews looked disdainfully at the Reform Jews, and the Muslims kept to themselves or live behind walls and checkpoints built by the Israelis to keep them separated. Everyone wore distinct garb to separate themselves from everyone else. No one could be neutral, and certainly no one could openly question their own religious dogmas and identity, not without being ostracized or worse. "There are no atheists in Jerusalem," someone told us.

It was hard for us to feel the presence of God in this place that is supposed to be "holy." God felt confined so tightly God could not escape.

Let me explain this another way, because I think Jesus was getting at the same idea in his encounter with the Samaritan woman.

Jesus declared: Let God out.

Look for God beyond the confines of the expected and the dogmatic.

God cannot be enclosed in a temple or a well or in a book, no matter how sacred all of those are. To attempt to confine God into a box is to stifle the holiness within ourselves. God needs to breathe for us to breathe.

As we walked through Jerusalem I began to appreciate more deeply how my own sense of the Holy had grown and been nurtured in sacred places other than Jerusalem. The Holy City was amazing and I would certainly go back. But my sense of the holy has come more deeply in small retreat centers, in the Mojave Desert, on the Karuk Indian rancheria, and in the churches where I have worshipped and formed lasting friendships. I longed to go somewhere like Iona in Scotland.

There are many holy places on this earth. God dwells everywhere and with each of us, in every living creature, in every rock, in every sea, in every tree. We are connected through the sacred, and that makes us sacramental beings to our core. I hope and pray you will find the sacred places and sacred moments that touch you deeply so that you might breathe of the holiness within yourself.

Art: Depiction of Jesus at the well with Samaritan woman painted in the 4th century in a Rome catacomb.

What inside you is thirsty for the living water?

2012-01-19T08:57:00.002-05:00

Today's gospel reading John 4:1-15 is the story of the Samaritan woman at the well. Jesus pauses on his journey back to Galilee. He and his followers have taken a route through Samaria, considered by their pious countryman to be unclean, not because of the water but because of the people who live there.

Jesus breaks several religious, gender and social taboos by asking a Samaritan woman for a cup of water. She is startled that a Jewish man such as he would ask her, an untouchable, for a cup of water.

Then he goes all mystical on her.

"Everyone who drinks of this water will be thirsty again, but those who drink the water that I will give them will never be thirsty," he tells the woman.

She responds by asking for his water "so that I may never be thirsty."

I am struck by many things in the story, and many have preached it from many directions. It is a declaration of faith in Jesus as the "living water." It is a story of a woman who sees him for who he is and responds by following. That may be lesson enough from this story.

But there is more.

The story of the Samaritan woman at the well is a story of Jesus reaching the untouchable, the one who others consider foreign and unworthy for a holy man to reach. She is the wrong gender, the wrong religion, the wrong ethnicity. That makes the story a clarion call to the followers of Jesus to reach the outsiders, the untouchables, the lowliest in our own country. Who are the untouchables for us? The homeless? The alien? The poor? Who are the religious untouchables in our land? Jesus reminds us that the water of his living well connects us all together. If we really are followers of Jesus, we will go to the well and find the people who live there and invite them to have a cup of water.

John's Gospel is also a mystical gospel, and it can be heard as a story of the inner life, not just the outer life. The entire gospel can be heard as a pathway for how Jesus draws people to a deepening awareness of their union with God, and a deepening awareness of what they need to change inside themselves to be living in the fullness of their life with God.

The story of the Samaritan woman at the well invites each of us to ask a very hard questions about ourselves: What is untouchable inside each of us? What is poor in ourselves? What inside us is thirsty for the living water?

Art: "Samaritan Woman at the Well," by He Qi.

Water is a miracle: A homily by Dudley Rochester

2012-01-17T00:01:00.001-05:00

One of the great treats of being at St. Paul's Memorial Church is our Wednesday Evening Prayer at 5:30 pm. We invite members of the congregation to give the homily, and we have been treated to some extraordinary reflections (and I wish more people would come).

Last Wednesday, Dudley Rochester gave this homily on the spirituality of our Earth's limited water resources. Dudley has spent a great deal of time studying and reflecting on this, and he has ably served on the Diocese of Virginia Committee on Stewardship of Creation. We've posted his homily on our sermon website. Here is the top of his homily, and below that is a link to the full text:

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Earth, Water and Creation
By Dr. Dudley Rochester

The literature of the Bible and other ancient works indicate that man 5,000 years ago was as intelligent, creative, thoughtful, emotional and aggressive as we are now. I like to think that we who live now have some ideas in common with the authors of Genesis about the meaning of creation. Of course, how we think about creation in the 21st century is profoundly influenced by science, but I believe that miracles and mysteries remain in abundance.

Earth is a miracle. The universe as we know it has unfathomable dimensions, and our planet Earth is an incredibly small fragment of the total. Imagine a sphere big enough to contain our sun and its planets. A sphere that big could hold almost a billion, trillion Earths. The whole universe can hold that many solar systems!

Water is a miracle. The chemistry of water is exquisitely right for Earth itself, as well as for life on earth. All our water has been on Earth for almost 4.5 billion years, being used and re-used countless times. Indeed, water contributes to its own stability.

How Much Water Is There?

Far out in space, in the Orion Molecular Cloud, enough water molecules to fill all of Earth’s oceans are made every 24 minutes. Unfortunately, that water is not available to us.

It is thought that Earth received its water from space, very early in its existence. Ever since, the amount of water on Earth has remained remarkably constant.

Roughly 80% of the water on Earth is totally inaccessible. It is contained in, and is chemically part of, rocks that are hundreds of miles below Earth’s surface. Oceans cover 71% of Earth’s surface, but comprise only 1/1000 of Earth’s diameter. All the water in Earth’s oceans, ice caps and atmosphere comes to 0.03% of the mass of the planet. Only 2.5% of all the oceanic, ice cap and atmospheric water is fresh water, and accessible fresh water is about 1/4000th of that.

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To read the full homily, click HERE.

Photos by the extraordinary Gary Hart.

Lift Every Voice and Sing!

2012-01-16T20:31:00.000-05:00

Today is when we remember the Rev. Dr. Martin Luther King, Jr. And we can't just let the day slip away without this. Get out of your chair!

The Monday Funnies

2012-01-16T00:01:00.002-05:00

The Jokester Department here at Fiat Lux Productions is lurching back into high gear -- or low gear -- now that the egg nog season has finally finished. Here are a couple of very bad jokes from Pat Hill. Enjoy your Monday . . .

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A preacher was making his rounds to his parishioners on his bicycle when he came upon a little boy trying to sell a lawn mower.

"I've been needing a lawn mower. How much do you want for it?" asked the preacher.
"I just want enough money to go out and buy me a bike," said the little boy.

After a moment of consideration, the preacher asked, "Will you take my bike in trade for it?"

The little boy asked if he could try it out first, and after riding the bike around a little while, "Mister, you've got yourself a deal."

The preacher took the mower and began to try to crank it. Pulling on the cord a few times with no response from the mower, the preacher called the little boy over, "I can't get this mower to start."

The little boy said, "That's because you have to cuss at it to get it started."

The preacher said to the little boy, "I am a minister, and I cannot cuss. It has been so long since I have been saved, that I do not even remember how to cuss."

The little boy looked at him happily and said, as he rode off, "Just keep pullin' on that cord. It'll come back to ya."

* * *

Two boys were walking home from Sunday school after hearing a strong preaching on the devil. One said to the other, "What do you think about all this Satan stuff?"

The other boy replied, "Well, you know how Santa Claus turned out. It's probably just your dad."

The way of followership

2012-01-15T10:40:00.001-05:00

My sermon today touches on all of the lessons appointed for the day: 1 Samuel 3:1-10(11-20), Psalm 139:1-5, 12-17, 1 Corinthians 6:12-20 and John 1:43-51.

+ + +

Today we come to a very open-ended story:

Jesus goes to the Sea of Galilee. When Phillip, Peter, Andrew, and Nathanael see him, they drop everything and follow Jesus.

Just like that.

What did they see that so compelled them? And what was inside themselves that made them follow?

Many of have speculated over centuries about why the first disciples followed. Had they known Jesus since childhood? Were they waiting for a signal from him for when this great project would begin? Or did they just happen into this like Nathanael?

None of the gospels tell us.

Maybe we are to find these answers in how we ourselves choose to follow.
We get a common thread lacing through all of the biblical stories we hear today.

The thread is followership.

The young Samuel hears the voice of God in the night and he follows the voice wherever it leads.

The psalm declares God is always with us and knows us better than we know ourselves.
The apostle Paul dishes up hard medicine for followers about their harmful behaviors.

And the Gospel John gives this story of how the first followers of Jesus begin their followership with no real idea of what would happen or where they were going, but they went anyway.

The topic of followership is not one we hear much about in our world today. We would rather talk about leadership.This great university across the street devotes enormous resources and intellectual power to the training of leaders, and don’t get me wrong – this world needs great leaders.

Yet, our society doesn’t place much value on followership. I checked Amazon.com yesterday, and it is currently selling 71,136 books on leadership.

There are only 187 titles with the word “followership.”

We would rather look up to great leaders and dissect what it takes to be a great leader.

We are in the throes of a presidential election that, at some level, is a debate about the nature and quality of leadership.

We rightly celebrate the leadership of the Rev. Dr. Martin Luther King Jr. this weekend.
But what of being a follower?

There is no holiday for followers.

Dr. King would be the first to tell you that without followers who stood their ground…
without followers who withstood the taunts; without followers who withstood the fire hoses and the jail cells, and the beatings and death itself; without followers, Dr. King’s leadership would have been absolutely worthless.

Dr. King would be the first to tell you that followers make the difference. Followers always make the difference.

You and I make the difference.

In a very real sense, our parish is embarking on a new season of followership, or to use the church term: discipleship.

This winter, we are engaged in a season of discernment and listening so that we can become clearer about the path that God would have us follow as a faith community.

We may not be faced with fire hoses and jail cells, but we are no less faced with challenges in our personal lives, and in the life of our congregation that require courage and strength, and especially require deep listening for the presence of God in our midst and within ourselves.

I hope you will pick up one of these. It summarizes a year of work by our Vestry and a task force that has examined the context and challenges facing us as a parish.

And I hope you will sign up for a listening group. There is information about them in this.
Everyone can participate because everyone has something to contribute from your life experience and your experience of being in this church.

This season of listening to God’s call in our parish can be extraordinary of we are open to it.
Yet some may find the concept of discernment uncomfortable, or risky, or even fraught with peril – and in it is.

After all, haven’t we met or heard about mentally unstable people who claim they are speaking for God? Shouldn’t we question whether we are hearing “God” or just our own voices?

Yes.

That is why we do this together.

All of the biblical lessons today underline this theme as well: that God is with us, but God is not easy to hear or see, and you should never blindly follow.

We are human, we are not God. We make mistakes. Everyone in these stories questions.
The lessons today also provide a map for authentic listening and discernment. Let tell you what I hear in these lessons that can help us:

Discernment begins with open-mindedness. Nathanael was open to Phillip bringing him to meet this unknown Jewish rabbi, Jesus, and Nathanael was open to what he experienced.

Nathanael had many pre-conceived ideas about who the messiah would be, but he was open to a new epiphany that would turn his previous notions upside down.

Listening takes perseverance.

Listening may take more than one try, as it did for Samuel in the Old Testament today.
Samuel and Nathanael both make mistakes, but they keep at it – they keep coming back – and that is another reason why discernment should be done in community.

We need each other to do this.

We can only know if our discernment is legitimate if we test it with other people. We need to always be open to the possibility that we’ve heard things wrong, that we didn’t get it right, that we heard only our prejudices speaking.

From that springs humility, a word rarely heard in our culture. Our epiphanies will come not out of our arrogance or the certainty of being right, but from a sense of confidence that the Spirit dwells in us as individuals and as a community.

Look for the surprising.

The Spirit may be speaking to us from unexpected corners, and that often takes a whole community to see and hear.

Psalm 139 proclaims that the One who knows us more deeply than we know ourselves will find a way to speak to us in a way that that is unique to each of us.

You may hear God in a physics equation or in the soaring notes of a Mozart concerto.

That also means the Spirit can reach the person sitting next to you in ways unique to him or her. When you honor the next person, especially when it is hardest, you honor the Spirit, and that is the definition of humility living in community.

Next comes healing.

We need to ask whether our followership brings about healing to the whole community, or brings about harm. Healing starts with healing for each of us.

It is exactly what the apostle Paul is driving at in his letter today. He asks us to take a hard look at what corrodes our relationship with God and corrodes our relationship with each other.

For us, what gets in the way? Possessions? Addictions? Callousness? In what ways do we abuse our bodies, this great gift from God?

Heal yourself and we will go a long way to healing our community.

Then we must ask: Who around us needs healing? Who is poor and neglected, lonely and forgotten? Do we hear their voices? When we do, we are close to hearing God.

Next comes resolve, and with it, courage.

We need to put one foot in front of the other, one day at a time, just like Samuel and just like Nathanael. We are called to do something and do it well, and not be hamstrung by endless analysis.

Our actions will bring new insights, new epiphanies, new inspiration, new discernment.
Our path of discernment will have many turns and surprises, and there will be rocks along the way. True followership – true discipleship – is not easy.

We will be transformed as individuals and as a community – and we will change the world by our followership.

Dr. King’s followers changed everything in our world, nothing was ever the same again because they listened with openness, they spoke with humility, and they acted with resolve.
They knew how to follow with courage.

And you know what else? Those are same qualities great leaders have as well: listening, openness, humility, resolve and courage.

May it always be so with us here at St. Paul’s.
AMEN.

Art by He Qi

Heather Warren and her hip groovy cool class

2012-01-14T08:13:00.000-05:00

Our very own Pastor Heather Warren is featured in UVA Today. She doubles as a professor at the University of Virginia. Here is the top of the story:

J-term Course Digs into Religious Inheritance of the 1960s and '70s
January 12, 2012 — "Cool." "Groovy." "Hip." "Heavy." "Square." Such words are among the better-known legacies of the 1960s and '70s that today we take for granted (along with things like civil rights and women's equality).

But the era also created a number of other, less obvious, legacies, as students learned in a University of Virginia January Term course on "Religion in the 60's and 70's," taught by religious studies professor Heather Warren of the College of Arts & Sciences.

For instance, the "centering prayer groups" at many American churches, as well as the "mindfulness" classes offered at the U.Va. Medical Center, come right out of Asian practices of meditation, primarily Buddhist and Hindu, first popularized in America in the 1960s, Warren explained in an interview. The turn toward Asian religion often came in reaction to Protestant traditions feeling too dogmatic, she said.

To read the rest of the story, clicking HERE.

The feast of Hilary (and a few other thoughts)

2012-01-13T09:12:00.001-05:00

Today is the feast day of Hilary of Poitiers (300-368), a bishop in that time of foment and conflict and the emergence of orthodoxy (though that took another 200 years or more to fully solidify). Hilary was known as "the hammer of the Arians" for his confronting the followers of Bishop Arias of Alexandria (250-336) who saw in the Trinity a hierarchy of divine persons. Hilary was of the camp that saw co-equals in the Father, Son and Holy Spirit.

It is, of course, a good deal more complicated than this. It helps to know something of Greek philosophy to get all this. It also helps to understand politics. The 4th century was a brutal age, and the players fought hard and took no prisoners. The 4th century makes our presidential primary season look rather tame. And all of this could have come out differently, and we should be reminded that the strands of thought in the Church were many from the very beginning.

Christianity has always been diverse despite the efforts of some to claim that their understanding is the only path. As my seminary history professor Rebecca Lyman reminded me this morning, "history is a crooked tale."

Oh, and one more thing: Today is the 11th anniversary of my ordination to the God's Holy priesthood. The path these 11 years has been rich, enlightening, full of wonder and grace, but not always easy. I've gone places I never imagined I would go, and done things I never thought I could do. The path is crooked at times, and doubtless will always be so. Thank you for your prayers, support, friendship and good wishes.

Art display featuring work by artists with disabilities

2012-01-13T00:01:00.001-05:00

Charlottesville High School's Center for the Performing Arts will soon feature an art show with works by local artists who struggle with disabilities. Channel 29 did a story on it, and it features our own Margaret Lee, a member of St. Paul's with many gifts including her singing in the choir and her harp playing at many of our special services. You can see the Channel 29 feature here, and I hope you will go see her work if you are in the area:

How old is the earth? The splendor of God's creation

2012-01-12T08:35:00.001-05:00

Laser astronomical instrument
at Mauna Loa Observatory
Photo by NASA

There was a report Wednesday about a poll that says American Protestant pastors overwhelmingly reject the theory of evolution but are evenly split on the age of the Earth. Almost half think the earth is only 6,000 years old.

Scientists will tell you that it is 4.5 billion years old, give or take a few 100 million years.

More than three-fourths of the pastors believe that the Genesis story of Adam and Eve is literally true. You can read the report by clicking HERE.

This poll is probably no surprise, but I find it sad.

I was thinking about this during Morning Prayer this morning because the Old Testament reading, Genesis 4:17-26 is about the children of Adam and Eve, and their wayward son, Cain. In the story, Cain takes a wife and builds city. It seems to me that the idea that the Adam and Eve story is literal fact breaks down pretty quickly with Genesis 4:17. Just where did Cain find a wife if he was the only living offspring of Adam and Eve?

The attitude of these American Protestant pastors is off base not just as a rejection of honest scientific inquiry but as misguided theology. Let me point out that I count myself as a Protestant (The Episcopal Church and Anglican Communion are products of the Protestant Reformation) and I am definitely a pastor.

We can debate (endlessly) how we interpret the Bible. But to not grasp the wonder of evolution and the length of time this earth has been evolving is to miss out on the wonder of God's amazing creation. As I watched the sun coming up this morning, as I do most mornings, I gave thanks for a new day. There will never be another sunrise like the one this morning, and God has provided 4.5 billion years worth of sunrises on this planet. Why would anyone think humans can place limits on God and God's time?

Scientists in recent years have identified thousands of planets around other suns that were heretofore unknown to us, and doubtless there will turn out to be billions more planets. Some planets that have been discovered are in the "comfort zone" that can sustain life. In all likelihood, there are other planets besides ours with life, and some of that life may be intelligent. Who else is out there giving thanks for a sunrise?

God is infinite, and God continues to create. The question for us is to open to this amazing universe God has created in all of its splendid variety and enormous depth of time. God gave us the amazing gift of intelligence to plumb the wonders of the universe. Shouldn't we show thanks to God by using that gift? And why would anyone want to use the allegory of Adam and Eve to limit their understanding of God and God's creation? The position of these American Protestant pastors is not only bad science, it is bad theology.

The Holy Spirit in our questions: A special workshop at St. Paul's

2012-01-11T08:07:00.000-05:00

We are embarking as a parish into a season of listening for how the Holy Spirit is calling us into a new commitment to mission. How are we called to grow? What ministries are vital? What needs to fall away?

We are providing many avenues for participation in this listening process, and I want to invite you to one of them: a workshop that I will be leading on Saturday Jan. 21 from 9 am to noon.

The method we will use was developed by the “Emergent Church” movement and is based on the idea that sometimes we can hear God in our questions rather than in the certainty of our own answers.

We will spend our morning in prayer, conversation and questions about our future. Come ready for the possibility of surprise.

The method has been successful used by the Diocese of Virginia for small groups and planning retreats. I won't spoil it by saying more about the method, but I've been a participant twice in the method and found it fruitful on many levels.

You can also find out about other kinds of listening groups by going to our website HERE.

And please let me invite you to the read the report about our parish and the context where we live. This report was prepared over the last year; it is quite readable and rich with information. You can read it by clicking HERE.

The dogs who have shared our lives

2012-01-10T07:23:00.000-05:00

Our friend Karen in Tennessee has given us many gifts of poetry over the years. Her beloved dog Blue died the other day. Blue was 15 years old. Sometimes I believe our dogs are angels sent from Heaven to make us laugh and dry our tears. Here is a poem for Karen today:

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The Dogs Who Have Shared Our Lives
By Linda Barnes

The dogs who’ve shared our lives.
In subtle ways they let us know
their spirit still survives.
Old habits still make us think
we hear a barking at the door.
Or step back when we drop
a tasty morsel on the floor.
Our feet still go around the place
the food dish used to be,
And, sometime, coming home at night,
we miss them terribly.
And although time may bring new friends
and a new food dish to fill,
That one place in our hearts
belongs to them…
and always will.

The Monday Funnies

2012-01-09T00:01:00.000-05:00

It took a little prodding, but Patrick Hill and the overpaid and bloated Jokester Department here at Fiat Lux Productions has finally got back to work and produced a few new jokes.

Some are barely printable, and some in poor taste, but you get what you pay for. Enjoy your Monday . . .

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A young man came to a rabbi and said, "Rabbi, I know I'm a fool but I don't know what to do about it."

The rabbi retorted, "Son, if you know you're a fool then certainly you are no fool."

"Then why does everyone say I am a fool?", asked the young man.

"If", said the rabbi, "you yourself don't know why you're a fool but listen to others who say you are, then you surely are a fool!"

* * *

A bishop visited a church in his diocese. Only three people turned up to hear him preach.

He asked the pastor, "Did you give notice of my visit?"

"No," replied the pastor, "but word seems to have gotten round anyway."

* * *

The minister conducting the funeral was speaking of his last moments with the recently deceased. "I was standing by his bedside," he said, "and he was obviously in some distress."

"I spoke some words of comfort, and he wrote a short note and handed it to me, and then he died. In fact, I have the note here, in my pocket."

He took out the note. "I forgot about it until now. It says, 'Please take your foot off my oxygen hose.' "

Being bold: Anglican Journal poses seven questions every church should ask

2012-01-08T00:01:00.001-05:00

We will soon embark upon a season of intentional listening to what the Holy Spirit is calling us to do at St. Paul's.

The Vestry spent much of 2011 laying the ground work for this process, and you will hear more about it today from Lloyd Snook, our junior warden.

In the weeks ahead, there will be many opportunities for people in our parish to get together to talk, listen and pray together, and to dream about what we strengthen and renew in our ministry. Two years ago, Presiding Bishop Katharine Jefferts Schori came to St. Paul's to help us celebrate our centennial, and she challenged us to "be bold." Her words resonated with our Vestry and parish leaders and laid the groundwork for what we hope to do now in this listening process. I will have much more to say about this process in this space and in the pulpit.

We are not alone in this discernment process -- other churches are engaged in very similar listening projects. I came across this item the Saturday in the Anglican Journal: an article by the Rev. Dr. Gary Nicolosi entitled "Seven questions every church should ask." These are great questions, and to read the full article, click HERE. The seven questions are:

1: What would be lost, and how would the world be worse off, if our church ceased to exist?

2: How does our church add value to people’s lives that they cannot live without–whether they know it or not?

3: What challenges in the fulfillment of mission does our church face and what can we do to bring about that new thing God wants our church to be?

4: What are the barriers to seeing reality that our church needs to move beyond?

5: What issues does our church need to face within the next year so that five years from now, we won’t have to say, “We wish we had…”

6: If money were not an issue, where would you like your church to be five years from now?

7: In what ways can we affirm “Jesus is Lord” without appearing to be bigots?

The work of Christmas continues: To make music in the heart

2012-01-07T07:29:00.001-05:00

We got Christmas "put away" yesterday -- the tree down, the ornaments packed, and everything lifted back into the attic above the garage. I always have a great sense of accomplishment when Christmas is stored away for the season, and when the task is done it truly feels like the New Year has begun.

That we got Christmas packed up on the Feast of the Epiphany was appropriate, but for us, purely a coincidence. We've had a few years when the last of the Santas didn't get boxed until Valentines Day.

So dear readers, it is true that Christmas is done for another year. But it is also true the work of Christmas continues. A parishioner sent this yesterday as a reminder:

The Work of Christmas
Howard Thurman

When the song of the angels is stilled,
When the star in the sky is gone,
When the kings and princes are home,
When the shepherds are back with their flock,
The work of Christmas begins:
To find the lost,
To heal the broken,
To feed the hungry,
To release the prisoner,
To rebuild the nations,
To bring peace among people,
To make music in the heart.

Source: The Mood of Christmas

One day you finally knew what you had to do

2012-01-06T00:01:00.001-05:00

Today is the Feast of the Epiphany when we mark the journey of the wise men -- the Magi -- who come from the East, and follow a star to Bethlehem to find the Christ child and his family. The story of the Magi appears only in Matthew 2:1-12, and nowhere else.

The story leaves more questions than answers. We know almost nothing about these wise men. The gospel does not tell us how many wise men there were, though legend puts it at three. Were they the only ones who saw the star? No one else seems to see it. What did they see that no one else saw? And did they get home again?

The Magi innocently tip off King Herod, who proceeds to murder all the boy infants of Bethlehem to get at Jesus. The Magi leave by another route, warned of what was to happen. Were they chastened by what they had unwittingly unleashed? Were they truly wise in following the star? We get precious few answers from this story.

What are we left with then? It may be some comfort that this legend is probably only that -- a legend that made its way into the Bible to make a larger point. Herod did not massacre the children of Bethlehem, though he certainly killed many innocents. Matthew uses the story to propel Jesus into Egypt so that he can emerge as the "new Moses," and that is the greater message that the gospel writer wants us to hear.

Yet the story is entrancing. The Magi just had to follow that star. The wise thing for the wise men to do would have been to stay home. But they set aside that "wisdom" and followed the star across the continent to a foreign land. The lives they saved were there own, and indirectly ours, too, because of their example. There are times we need take a risk, follow the star, put aside everyone else's wisdom, and go where the star might lead. Poet Mary Oliver captures the idea as only a poet can:

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The Journey
By Mary Oliver

One day you finally knew
what you had to do, and began,
though the voices around you
kept shouting
their bad advice--
though the whole house
began to tremble
and you felt the old tug
at your ankles.
"Mend my life!"
each voice cried.
But you didn't stop.
You knew what you had to do,
though the wind pried
with its stiff fingers
at the very foundations,
though their melancholy
was terrible.
It was already late
enough, and a wild night,
and the road full of fallen
branches and stones.
But little by little,
as you left their voices behind,
the stars began to burn
through the sheets of clouds,
and there was a new voice
which you slowly
recognized as your own,
that kept you company
as you strode deeper and deeper
into the world,
determined to do
the only thing you could do--
determined to save
the only life you could save.

The Raising of Lazarus and the emptiness of Hell

2012-01-05T08:12:00.000-05:00

Today comes the story of the raising of Lazarus from the dead, found in John 11:17-44, the only place in the New Testament where the story is found. Jesus goes to the tomb where his friend, Lazarus, has been dead for three days. He hears the anguish of Mary and Martha, and so Jesus orders the dead man to come out, and then tells the startled onlookers "Unbind him and let him go."

For many it is a dark, broody disturbing story. Jesus weeps, Jesus is "disturbed in spirit." The dead man has a stench, we are told, and his new life will not last long. The authorities, hearing of this, immediately begin to plot the death of both Jesus and Lazarus.

The incident can also be heard as a foretelling of the Holy Saturday story of Easter, when Jesus himself goes into the tomb, and to Hell itself to unbind everyone and let them go. The unbinding of people in Hell is at the heart of message of the Gospel, and makes Jesus more than a mere rabbi or wisdom teacher. It is why we describe Jesus as "Savior" and divine.

You will note there is no "Jesus died for your sins" in these stories, and maybe that is another reason the story is hard to take for some. This unbinding comes as a pure act of love with no strings attached, no conditions. Lazarus has not asked to be saved, but salvation comes to him. It makes all this the harder to comprehend. Humans don't act this way. Only the divine is capable of that.

The placement of the story of Lazarus on the last day of Christmas and the Eve of the Epiphany is meant, I think, to show us the true meaning of the light of Christ coming into our lives. It's not really about magi bearing gifts to Christ, but Christ bearing gifts to us. This light comes in the hardest moments and at the gates of death itself. It is a reminder that Christmas is inextricably connected to Easter and the Resurrection and the empty tomb.

Many theologians have tried to explain this, and many a preacher, including me, has tried as well. The poets sometimes explain this better with fewer words, so I leave you with a quote from one of my favorite contemporary theologians and with a short poem:

+ + +

“With this we can say… that Hell exists, as the Church has always maintained; nevertheless it is perfectly possible that there is nobody at all there.”

James Alison, Raising Abel, 1996

HELL

But if they were condemned to suffer
this unending torment, sooner or later
wouldn’t they become the holy?

Franz Wright, God’s Silence, 2006

Art: "Mary, Martha and Lazarus," by He Qi

Seeing with two eyes

2012-01-04T08:37:00.000-05:00

Salisbury Cathedral

ROSLYN -- I’ve been away from the parish these last few days on a personal retreat, and naps have definitely been a part of the agenda. I’ve also read a book by John Phillip Newell, a gift of a parishioner.

Newell is best known for his work in Celtic spirituality. This recent book, A New Harmony: The Spirit, The Earth and The Human Soul, is really an essay about his expansive journey through many spiritualities including into India in the 1990s and how he has found a harmony within all of them.

Newell notes, as many have noted, that western Christianity over the centuries had put God “out there” or “up there,” keeping God at a distance while we ourselves go about our daily business. Church architecture, though beautiful, underlines that concept, with spires pointing skyward.

Newell re-discovered the harmony and the balance in God’s presence in creation by traveling to India. God is up there, but God is down here, and God dwells within. To see God is to see God in both places, to see God with two eyes, and not just one. He traveled far to find the balance that was always looking him in the face.

For me, that is not a new concept, but I am one who left the church to seek God before returning to church. I also needed to travel far, though not as far as India, to see what was already in front of me. My moment of harmony, as Newell might put it, came years ago while walking on a road late at night in Mojave Desert. The stars and galaxies, the desert floor and sage brush, and my own body seemed that night to be as one.

I could sense that night how G-d, the One who has no human name, courses through all of existence and time. We are made not merely by G-d, but we are made of G-d because G-d dwells in all things, and all things are knit together with G-d. You might say I have spent the rest of my life, in one way or another, trying to understand that one night in the middle of the desert.

And while we over-educated western Euro-centric folks may find all of this new and foreign, it really isn’t. The ancient Hebrew writers of the Bible lived with that idea daily, and the balance of God’s transcendence and immanence exudes from their writing.

Psalm 85, appointed for today, is a beautiful example:

Mercy and truth have met together; righteousness and peace have kissed each other.
Truth shall spring up from the earth, and righteousness shall look down from heaven.

Even our church architecture can be made new if we see it new. We can look at the ceiling and the spires with one eye, and look at each other with another eye. When we do, we will be very close to seeing that which knits all together as one. We really don't have to travel far to see with two eyes.

Blessed be God in holy places!

2012-01-03T07:38:00.000-05:00

ROSLYN, Virginia -- For the next couple of days I am on a personal retreat at the Roslyn retreat center near Richmond, a gift of the diocese to the clergy.

There is no program, no seminars, no small groups, no easel boards and pens. The only plan is go to chapel when I feel like it, pray, sleep, go on walks, meet with a spiritual director, and enjoy the hearty Southern food they serve here. There aren't many of us here, and that is fine with me.

Today's morning prayer began with the complicated (and overly triumphant) Psalm 68. I like the last line because it fits where I am:

How wonderful is God in holy places! the God of Israel giving strength and power to his people! Blessed be God!

The Monday Funnies

2012-01-02T00:01:00.001-05:00

The Jokester Department at Fiat Lux Productions, headed by Patrick Hill, seems to have gone lazy on us for the holidays. All he sent me were some very dumb ski jokes that just won't cut the mustard here folks. Skiing is next to Godliness in this household. So we are going deep into the files for a joke he sent last summer, and a cartoon by Dave Walker. It is still Christmas. Enjoy your summer, er, Monday...

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It was a blistering hot day and Adam and his two sons, Cain and Abel, were trudging across an expanse of burning, arid desert with their meager supply of water slung in goatskins over their backs.

All at once, they came upon a lush, verdant oasis: a veritable Paradise filled with fruit trees and gorgeous flowers of every description. Wearily, they sat down to rest and to admire the lovely setting.

"Boys," sighed Adam to his two sons, "this is where your mother ate us out of house and home!"

A New Year, new possibilities: A few tips for your spiritual life

2012-01-01T10:38:00.003-05:00

I hope you have had a wonderful New Year’s celebration, or maybe like us you stayed home and shared a good meal and a movie.

I’ve seen a number of items lately on New Year’s Resolutions for the spiritual life and some are quite good. Truthfully, people have been writing advice for how to live a holy life for millennia. You can find advice ranging from the Torah of Hebrew Scriptures to the Rule of Saint Benedict, from Jeremy Taylor’s Holy Living to the terrific contemporary books of Henri Nouwen and Joan Chittister. You can take a lifetime to drink deeply of all it.

So consider my advice below as a primer, or merely a reminder of what you already know. Feel free to add a few more tips in the comment section of this post.

Here are a few ideas for renewing your life with the Divine this new year.

Gratitude – Begin each day with gratitude. The simplest and most profound prayer begins with gratitude for a new day, new possibilities. No day will ever be like this one again, with its challenges and opportunities. Today is a gift to you. Open your eyes, look at the sky, and be grateful. Begin each day by saying thanks. Say Grace, silently or aloud, at every meal and give thanks before retiring for the night.

Pray – Set aside a time for regular prayer each day. Get up a little earlier, and find a place where you can sit in the silence for a time. Hear your breath and be grateful. Use a prayer book, or find prayers that work for you. Listen to the spontaneous prayer from your heart, but don’t neglect to listen to the old prayers written by the masters for they contain new meanings and ancient wisdom whenever you read them.

Worship – Go to your faith community, and go regularly, and not just when it is convenient. Give thanks to your creator in community. Sing, pray, and eat of the bread and drink of the cup. Why would you want to do any of this alone? Life is too hard and complicated to do it alone. Listen to the wisdom of others around you, and know that when your prayers run dry others are praying for you. And others need you there.

Give, give, give – Everyone can give something because God has given each one of us something to give. What abundance do you have that you can share with others? Your treasure, your time, your talents are yours to give. Give with abandon, give with compassion, give with gratitude. Giving will set you free. Your giving will change the world like nothing else can.

Expand your horizons – Try something new every day. Look, learn, listen, expand your soul. God’s creation is infinite and all of it is here for you to explore. Read a book, study your Bible, take a hike, see a movie, learn to cook, take a trip to a far away place or just around the block. Open your eyes and ears to God’s presence wherever you go.

Laugh – Life has its challenges, but also joys large and small. Enjoy as much as you can whenever you can. Show your love for all you meet, be kind, soften your rough edges, ask forgiveness when you fall short, and don’t forget to laugh.

Blessings for the New Year: Clothe yourselves with compassion, kindness, humility, meekness and patience

2011-12-31T10:10:00.000-05:00

May this new year bring you many blessings, strength to meet the challenges before you, courage to see the opportunities, and adventures in fascinating places (and a warm beach or two). And may the wisdom of those who have gone ahead surround us with their wisdom and light our path:

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Saint Paul's Letter to the Colossians 3:12-17

As God’s chosen ones, holy and beloved, clothe yourselves with compassion, kindness, humility, meekness, and patience. Bear with one another and, if anyone has a complaint against another, forgive each other; just as the Lord has forgiven you, so you also must forgive.

Above all, clothe yourselves with love, which binds everything together in perfect harmony. And let the peace of Christ rule in your hearts, to which indeed you were called in the one body. And be thankful. Let the word of Christ dwell in you richly; teach and admonish one another in all wisdom; and with gratitude in your hearts sing psalms, hymns, and spiritual songs to God. And whatever you do, in word or deed, do everything in the name of the Lord Jesus, giving thanks to God the Father through him.

How do we know there is such a thing as time?

2011-12-29T00:01:00.003-05:00

Lately I've been thinking a lot about Christmases past, friends near and friends far away, and dear friends departed this life. Sometimes it seems as though only yesterday I was going on my first date, taking my first college exam, looking for my first job, filing my first newspaper story, quitting my first job, getting married, moving from this place to that place.

We've been in Virginia almost four years, but it seems like yesterday we arrived (and, yes, there are still a lot of boxes yet to be unpacked). Another New Years Eve arrives in a few days, another year marked gone on the calendar. I behold each day with thanks, for each day is truly an irreplaceable gift. May you have many blessings, abundant health, and beautiful memories in the coming year.

Barbara Crafton penned this the other day about time and Christmas, and I leave it with you today:

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HE'S GOT THE WHOLE WORLD IN HIS HANDS
By Barbara Crafton

How do we know there is no such thing as time, you ask?

Ah -- I can document it for you: cast your mind back to the Christmases of your childhood. Remember the afternoon of the great day -- the wreckage of toys and wrapping paper, the ruin of the Christmas feast still littering the table, the exhausted adults surveying it all listlessly. Remember your lust for the toys you received, remember the carefully-selected gifts you brushed aside, so entranced were you with whatever gift it was that seemed to you to be the star. And remember, then, the despair that clung to the edges of your orgy: it would be a whole year until next Christmas. A YEAR! A YEAR, do you tell me? How on earth would you make it through? A year was as good as a century in those days. A year was an eternity.

Now think of last Christmas. How long ago does it seem? About a month? Me, too.

Time is not constant. It is relative. It speeds up -- and not just the human experience of it, either. Time itself is intimately paired with location. It's why there are time zones -- it's already tomorrow in India. And yet I can pick up the phone and speak with someone there: he will answer right away: real time intersects with elapsed time when I do that. If that's the case in India, on the other side of the modestly-sized earth from where I sit and write this, imagine what time it is on Alpha Centauri.

Did I mention that this train of thought can be confusing?

"In the beginning was the Word, and the Word was with God, and the Word was God."
Just when we think we might have overdosed on Nativity scenes, the gospel reading in church this Sunday will feature this austere reminder: that which is, always has been. It IS. Jesus of Nazareth was born in a time and a place, but Jesus the Christ is not contained in a moment. The moments of Christ are all now.

Don't worry if this isn't coming together for you yet. Sit with it for a few decades and it will. When it does, its implications will, too: if there is no such thing as time, nothing is lost. What was still IS. The sad parade of loss we know as history is only a parade on this narrow stage of earthly life. It stretches out only here. The God's-eye view of our life is not linear. It is all now.

He's got the whole world in His hands. Bet you never thought of it as a Christmas song.

The Holy Innocents: Million of children die in warfare and we can do something about it

2011-12-28T00:01:00.006-05:00

Memorials to the dead in Libya including children
Photo by CIVIC

“Blessed are all
who take refuge in him.”

Psalm 2:11b

The Christian calendar today holds grimmest of markers for the year: The Feast of the Holy Innocents.

It is the day we remember that King Herod murdered all of the first born boys in Bethlehem in an attempt to kill Jesus, the one who the Magi had told him would grow up to be a king. Jesus and his family escaped, but the carnage and anguish in Bethlehem was great.

It does not sound like much of an occasion for feasting.

There is perhaps some consolation in the fact that it didn’t happen, at least not this way. The Gospel writer of Matthew came up with this story as a literary device to render Jesus into the “new Moses” by having the Holy Family flee to Egypt so that Jesus could emerge like Moses in a “new Passover.”

No other gospel writer – no other historian – says that Herod slaughtered all of the babies in Bethlehem to kill Jesus. Indeed, the gospel writer of Luke – the only other account of Jesus’ birth – has the Holy family returning in short order from Bethlehem to Nazareth, where Jesus grows up in relative safety and calm. In Luke, there are no innocent babies killed and no terrifying trips back and forth from Egypt.

What then to make of the Holy Innocents? Should we ignore it?

No.

What comes to mind is that the world is full of Holy Innocents – children who are killed or maimed in the wars in Iraq, Afghanistan, Sudan, Libya, Somalia – and children are still murdered in the Holy Land. The children die as pawns of the powerful. Children die in Gaza and the West Bank and Bethlehem all too frequently because the adults are at war. We don’t need a King Herod to feel shame for the deaths of millions of innocent children in our world.

But we can do something.

For several years I have been supporting the work of CIVIC – The Campaign for Innocent Victims in Conflict, an organization that documents the plight and advocates for refugees and victims caught in the cross-fire of the world’s conflicts. Its purpose:

“Campaign for Innocent Victims in Conflict works on behalf of war victims by advocating that warring parties recognize and help the civilians they harm. CIVIC supports the principle that it is never acceptable for a warring party to ignore civilian suffering.”

Marla, right, with a family in Iraq
shortly before she was killed

CIVIC was founded by a very brave young woman, Marla Ruzicka, from Lakeport, California, who in the months after 9/11 went to the frontlines herself to document what she saw, and then bring that information to the doorstep of decision-makers in Washington.

Marla was killed by a roadside bomb in Iraq in 2005. She was only 24.

It was my privilege to say prayers for her in the California Senate after she died, and I can tell you some very hardened politicians shed tears that day.

CIVIC has not only continued her work, but expanded it, going to Libya, Somalia, Iraq and Afghanistan, Lebanon and Israel. CIVIC works on a shoestring budget but it has had a huge impact by getting Congress to allocate funds to compensate war victims in Iraq and Afghanistan, and bringing the stories of real people caught in warfare to the media.

CIVIC has gone everywhere it can go, working with officials from the United Nations, and with governments in Israel and Lebanon, Russia and Georgia, and everywhere there is warfare. To read a summary of CIVIC’s accomplishments, click HERE.

I know that all of us are inundated this time of year with appeals for funds. But what better way to remember the Holy Innocents than by giving to CIVIC? I will be giving today as my devotion to this Holy day. Please join me. You can make a donation to CIVIC by clicking HERE.

The Twelve Days of Christmas wastes no time

2011-12-27T08:14:00.000-05:00

Merry Christmas. Now, back to work.

The Christian calendar wastes no time in reminding us that the “Way” of Christ came with a cost to his earliest followers and to innocent bystanders.

On Monday we celebrated the feast of St. Stephen, the first deacon and an early martyr who forgives his tormenters even as they stone him.

Today we have the feast of St. John – “the one whom Jesus loved” – and who would grieve deeply at the death of Jesus.

Tomorrow, comes perhaps the hardest of all: the remembrance of the “Holy Innocents,” the children murdered by Herod the King.

The Twelve Days of Christmas toss out the wrappings right quick. The baby in the manger does not stay a baby long in the Christmas season.

If you aren’t quite there yet, neither am I.

As for me, I am still in recovery mode. We had a tremendous Christmas, with more than 600 people coming through our doors Christmas Eve. We marched around the church with dozens of children at 5 pm singing “The Friendly Beasts” as we accompanied Mary and Joseph to Bethlehem.

At 8 pm we sang carols and listened to the beautiful harp playing of Margaret Lee. Then at 11 pm we pulled out the stops, lit the incense and sang until we were hoarse.

Christmas morning was clear and lovely. We kept to our regular Sunday service schedule – Christmas came on a Sunday, after all. Attendance was solid, and I was charmed most of all by the five sweet people who came to our 5:30 pm service. With Pastor Heather Warren and myself, that made seven. We sang a few more carols and gathered around the Holy Table for our Christmas Eucharist as the sun faded outside.

And now this week, we get walloped with martyrs, apostles and innocents. What to make of all that?

It is a reminder, if we need it, that Christmas is the opening act of Easter. The crescendo is still to come. The baby in the manger grows up, finds his calling, teaches and heals, and ends up on the Cross. It is a reminder that the Christmas story continues to be written after his birth and death by the people who continue to meet him along their path. Those we saints remember this week remind us that we are still a part of this vast and great Christmas story that began before time and has no end.

The readings for today drive home the point. From Proverbs 8:22-30: “The LORD created me at the beginning of his work, the first of his acts long ago… I was his daily delight, rejoicing before him always.”

And from the Gospel of John 13:20-35 we are told of the Last Supper on the night before Jesus died. As Judas goes out to betray him, Jesus tells his followers how to continue writing this great story every day of their life:

“I am giving you a new commandment, that you love one another. Just as I have loved you, you also should love one another. By this everyone will know that you are my disciples, if you have love for one another.”

The Monday Funnies: Christmas Edition

2011-12-26T00:01:00.001-05:00

We made it through Christmas -- six services in two days at St. Paul's, and a good time was had by all, we pray. My voice is hoarse, but nothing a little eggnog won't soothe.

I hope you have had a festive and blessed Christmas. Here is a cartoon for the season by Dave Walker. Just remember, we have eleven -- count 'em -- eleven days to go in Christmas.

"The People who walked in darkness have seen a great light"

2011-12-25T01:00:00.001-05:00

May you all have a blessed Christmas. My sermon from the 10:30 pm Christmas Eve service is below. The lessons are Isaiah 9:2-7 , Titus 2:11-14 and Luke 2:1-14(15-20).

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The prophet foretold, “The people who walked in darkness have seen a great light; those who lived in a land of deep darkness – on them light has shined.”
Something happened long ago, in the shadows of an obscure desert town in a far corner of the Roman Empire. It seemed ordinary at first:

The birth of a baby.

At first, only his parents knew how extraordinary this was. All parents think their babies are extraordinary, of course.

At first, no wise men came, no shepherds, no disciples, no adoring masses. No one was there but his parents.

The gospel writer Luke tells us this baby was born in a stable; born not into wealth, not into power, not into social status or aristocratic inheritance.

This baby, like so many tens of millions of babies then and now, entered life in relative poverty and without much of a chance.

The survival of this baby, like tens of millions of other babies then and now, was not so certain at first.

This baby was born out of wedlock, to Jewish parents from the hill country of Galilee, a land occupied by a foreign power, the Roman Empire.

The mother was barely a teenager; her name was Miriam, or Mary. She was to have an arranged marriage with a man named Joseph, but she became pregnant – and not by him – before the wedding.

That fact put her in grave danger because her pregnancy was a violation of the law.
Joseph was a carpenter, and in those days carpenters made simple implements like wooden bowls and mallets.

Carpenters like Joseph led a meager hand-to-mouth existence.

Joseph stuck by Mary when he didn’t have to. He could have had her stoned to death for dishonoring him, but instead the two fled their hometown of Nazareth.

The gospel writer gives this a polite patina by saying they were going to Bethlehem to register for a census. Except that historians tell us there was no census. Mary and Joseph were probably fleeing the judgmental eyes of their relatives.

Getting to Bethlehem was not easy and they were lucky to survive the journey. The road goes over hills and robbers hide along the way.

They had nowhere to go in Bethlehem; either there were no relatives in Bethlehem or none would take them in.

And so they had their baby in a stable – a barn. Other legends say they birthed this baby in a dark cave, and Bethlehem is riddled with caves.

Caves also are where people are buried. To be born in a cave was not a sign of regal distinction. To be born in a cave was a sign of someone living in constant fear.

There was absolutely nothing outwardly extraordinary about this birth.
Not at first.

Then, the gospel writer tells us, the angels started showing up.

The angels came to shepherds in a field, at night. The angels didn’t come to kings, aristocrats and high priests. The angels came to the shepherds.

Shepherds were an even lower class than carpenters. They lived outdoors, slept in caves, and lived with sheep, and they smelled.

And these particular shepherds had the night watch. These shepherds to whom the angels came this night were the lowest of the low.

The angels told them something extraordinary was happening:

The birth of a baby in a stable, and this baby would be the messiah, the One who would bring them salvation and freedom, the anointed One of God they had longed for.

How could that be?, these shepherds wondered. This baby? Here?

The shepherds were terrified. We are but lowly shepherds, they said, and this baby is in a barn.

This is not what we expect. This is very different than anything we have been told by every teacher we’ve ever heard.

The shepherds went to see for themselves. They found the baby lying in a hay trough.
And then the lowliest of the low understood what this was about.

It was about them.

They expected a king on a throne tossing off judgments like thunderbolts, but found a healer who would lead a life of simplicity, prayer and truth.

They expected a God of war. They got the Prince of Peace.

Later people would try to explain this with complicated theologies, flavored by ancient Greek philosophy, medieval mysticism, modern scientific inquiry, post-modern skepticism.

People would cover this baby in many layers of words down through the ages. He would wear a lot of swaddling clothes.

But tonight we have a baby in a manger, only this baby. We are at the beginning of the story of a very frightened poor family long ago, and a naked baby in a stable.

This messiah whose birth we mark tonight is different than anyone, or anything the world expects.

He comes to set people free in their lowest places, in their lowest moments, and to bring unconditional love and unlimited healing that lasts beyond this world. He comes with no conditions, no strings attached.

What better way for God to tell us this than with a helpless baby, born in the lowest caste, in the most obscure place on earth?

The world of power and politics is turned upside down by this one birth. Human expectations, human economies, human politics is upended.

The story of Jesus – his birth, his life, and his death on the Cross, begins this night.

The story of Easter begins on this night, too – the story of how Jesus rose from the grave to appear to his followers and give them strength and courage against all human odds.

Christmas is this great bookend with Easter, and truly the two must be seen together for they are inseparable.

Those who first saw the Risen Christ of Easter continued to write this story in the way they lived afterwards. The first Christians called this new religion simply “The Way.”

Their story is also our story. We continue to write this story of Christmas and Easter each day of our life.

This way of life, this way of faith, is not just about the afterlife. It is about this life. It is about how we live right now, here, today and tomorrow.

This Christmas night, I would invite you to find ways to deepen your faith, to set aside a regular time each day for prayer.

I would invite you to renew your faith by being in this faith community once again.
If you don’t have a regular community of faith, and you live here in Charlottesville, think about joining us here at St. Paul’s.

If you have been away from this church for a while, make this your first day back.
And ask yourself this:

How is God tugging at your heart tonight? What acts of kindness and generosity are calling you in the new year?

What do you want to strengthen in your life, and what is dragging on you that you need to shed?

Bring it to prayer. Have courage. Act.

And then let’s get to work together in the new year: We have people feed, the sick to comfort, children to raise, and a hurting world needing every single one of us.

This way of life will change everything in this world if we let it.

This way of life begins once again tonight with the birth of a baby long ago.

And the prophet foretold, “The people who walked in darkness have seen a great light; those who lived in a land of deep darkness – on them light has shined.”

May you have many blessings this Christmas Night and always. AMEN.

The greatest Christmas story ever told: "Get the kid his peaches"

2011-12-24T00:01:00.001-05:00

Here again, my friends, is the greatest Christmas story ever told by a great story teller, Al Martinez, formerly of the Oakland Tribune and Los Angeles Times.

I run this story every year in Fiat Lux, and it brings a tear to my eye every time.

As you may know, I spent 20+ years as a newspaper reporter in California, and spent many tedious hours on the night desk on holidays. So, continuing the Christmas tradition of Fiat Lux, here again is Al's great Christmas story. Merry Christmas . . .

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A Christmas Story
By Al Martinez

IT happened one Christmas Eve a long time ago in a place called Oakland on a newspaper called the Tribune with a city editor named Alfred P. Reck.

I was working swing shift on general assignment, writing the story of a boy who was dying of leukemia and whose greatest wish was for fresh peaches.

It was a story which, in the tradition of 1950s journalism, would be milked for every sob we could squeeze from it, because everyone loved a good cry on Christmas.

We knew how to play a tear-jerker in those days, and I was full of the kinds of passions that could make a sailor weep.

I remember it was about 11 o'clock at night and pouring rain outside when I began putting the piece together for the next day's editions.

Deadline was an hour away, but an hour is a lifetime when you're young and fast and never get tired.

Then the telephone rang.

It was Al Reck calling, as he always did at night, and he'd had a few under his belt.

Reck was a drinking man. With diabetes and epilepsy, hard liquor was about the last thing he ought to be messing with, but you didn't tell Al what he ought to or ought not to do.

He was essentially a gentle man who rarely raised his voice, but you knew he was the city editor, and in those days the city editor was the law and the word in the newsroom.

But there was more than fear and tradition at work for Al.

We respected him immensely, not only for his abilities as a newsman, but for his humanity. Al was sensitive both to our needs and the needs of those whose names and faces appeared in the pages of the Oakland Tribune.

"What's up?" he asked me that Christmas Eve in a voice as soft and slurred as a summer breeze.

He already knew what was up because, during 25 years on the city desk, Reck somehow always knew what was up, but he wanted to hear it from the man handling the story.

I told him about the kid dying of leukemia and about the peaches and about how there simply were no fresh peaches, but it still made a good piece. We had art and a hole waiting on page one.

Al listened for a moment and then said, "How long's he got?"

"Not long," I said. "His doctor says maybe a day or two."

There was a long silence and then Al said, "Get the kid his peaches."

"I've called all over," I said. "None of the produce places in the Bay Area have fresh peaches. They're just plain out of season. It's winter."

"Not everywhere. Call Australia."

"Al," I began to argue, "it's after 11 and I have no idea . . .”

"Call Australia," he said, and then hung up.

If Al said call Australia, I would call Australia.

I don't quite remember whom I telephoned, newspapers maybe and agricultural associations, but I ended up finding fresh peaches and an airline that would fly them to the Bay Area before the end of Christmas Day.

There was only one problem. Customs wouldn't clear them. They were an agricultural product and would be hung up at San Francisco International at least for a day, and possibly forever.

Reck called again. He listened to the problem and told me to telephone the secretary of agriculture and have him clear the peaches when they arrived.

"It's close to midnight," I argued. "His office is closed."

"Take this number down," Reck said. "It's his home. Tell him I told you to call."

It was axiomatic among the admirers of Al Reck that he knew everyone and everyone knew him, from cops on the street to government leaders in their Georgetown estates. No one knew how Al knew them or why, but he did.

I made the call. The secretary said he'd have the peaches cleared when they arrived and give Al Reck his best.

"All right," Reck said on his third and final call to me, "now arrange for one of our photographers to meet the plane and take the peaches over to the boy's house."

He had been drinking steadily throughout the evening and the slurring had become almost impossible to understand.

By then it was a few minutes past midnight, and just a heartbeat and a half to the final deadline.

"Al," I said, "if I don't start writing this now I'll never get the story in the paper."

I won't forget this moment.

"I didn't say get the story," Reck replied gently. "I said get the kid his peaches."

If there is a flash point in our lives to which we can refer later, moments that shape our attitudes and affect our futures, that was mine.

Alfred Pierce Reck had defined for me the importance of what we do, lifting it beyond newsprint and deadline to a level of humanity that transcends job. He understood not only what we did but what we were supposed to do.

I didn't say get the story. I said get the kid his peaches.

The boy got his peaches and the story made the home edition, and I received a lesson in journalism more important than any I've learned since.

I wanted you to know that this Christmas season.

Al Martinez is a former reporter and columnist for The Oakland Tribune, from 1955 to 1971, The Richmond (Calif.) Independent and Los Angeles Times to now. Born in Oakland, he also has written several novels, for television and the movies. This article first appeared in the Los Angeles Times on Dec. 25, 1986.

Christmas message from the Presiding Bishop

2011-12-23T00:01:00.000-05:00

A Christmas Message from Presiding Bishop Katharine Jefferts Schori

“See, your salvation comes” (Isaiah 62:11).

The great prophets before Jesus proclaimed a vision of a nation and a people redeemed. We continue to share that yearning – as the Christmas hymn puts it, “the hopes and fears of all the years are met in thee tonight.” We’ve seen abundant hopes spring up in the past year across the Arab world and Eastern Europe, and in the global Occupy movement. Those voices seek a world of greater justice, communities in which decisions and the gifts of creation are more available to all. Our understanding of salvation is most profoundly about justice in community, and as Christians we believe that help and healing for all are grounded in the incarnate presence of God – among us and within us.

We look for salvation to the one who came among us in the most humble way, a helpless child born in a scandalous way to a poor peasant couple. The Incarnation, God with us, changed the world in ways that we insist are leading to the ultimate healing of all creation. “See, your salvation comes,” says the prophet in every age, yet it is not yet fully come upon us. We live in hope for its fullness. May hope be nourished within us, in each and every human being and community, for the journey toward God’s healed and holy future.

That proclamation of coming salvation is a part of Isaiah (Isa 62:6-12) that will be read in some congregations at Christmas, but if you don’t hear it, go and read the whole of it. Its centerpiece speaks of what that salvation looks like:

The Lord has sworn ... I will not again give your grain to be food for your enemies,
and foreigners shall not drink the wine for which you have labored;
but those who garner it shall eat it and praise the Lord, and those who gather it shall drink it in my holy courts.
(Isaiah 62:8-9)

That is not a vision of pristine isolation, but a vision of comfort and healing to a people frequently at war, occupied, or exploited by superior forces. The fear of powerful others taking and using for themselves the produce of the poor is healed and transformed into a society in which the gifts God provides will be shared by all. For when salvation comes, that society will be called,

‘the Holy People, The Redeemed of the Lord’; and you shall be called, ‘Sought Out, A City Not Forsaken’

(Isaiah 62:12)

Jesus comes among us to remind us of a world living together in peace, to reclaim and make real that vision of creation for all humanity and all God’s creatures. That world is put right as relationships between God and humanity are set right. The relationship between God and human being cannot be set right without equal healing of relationships between us mortals. See, your salvation comes! Will we welcome that healing?

The Most Rev. Katharine Jefferts Schori
Presiding Bishop and Primate The Episcopal Church

Above relief: “Romano d’Ezzelino” by Roberto Frison

The Longest Night

2011-12-22T06:47:00.000-05:00

Tonight at 7 pm at St. Paul's Memorial Church in Charlottesville, we are holding a worship service in a way that we have not done before. We are calling it "The Liturgy of the Longest Night," mindful that today is the Winter Solstice, and mindful that this is a time of year that is difficult for many (including yours truly).

Not everyone finds the Christmas jollies so jolly.

But we are also mindful that the nights now turn shorter and the days turn longer. Some churches call this service "A Blue Christmas," but as we talked about it at St. Paul's, that just seemed, well, too blue. Tonight is still Advent, still the time of waiting before the dawn. The light comes even in the darkest night, and even a glimmer of hope can shine into our hearts.

For many, this is a hard season because of a loss of a loved one, or the loss of a job, or a health issue that is gnawing on body and mind. This is also a time of anxious waiting for many -- a son or daughter away at school or in a job in a far off city, or in uniform on a battlefield, or aboard a ship-of-war at sea. Or maybe you are like me, living here in Charlottesville with family far away.

Santa down the chimney doesn't seem to ring quite right for some.

So whatever it is that you wait, come join us tonight. We will pray, listen, sit in silence, light candles, hear music, and provide healing prayers for those who seek them. Come join us at St. Paul's tonight, the longest night, but marking the night when the darkness begins to recede and the days begin to brighten.

"Therefore all seasons shall be sweet to thee"

2011-12-21T09:05:00.000-05:00

Winter will soon officially be here. We've had several mornings up on our Virginia hill with frost on the chicken coop. Today it is warmer and drizzly. We are on the cusp of the seasons.

Here is a photo Lori took a few days ago of the sky and tree line as seen from our hill, and a poem to mark the change of seasons, sent as a gift by our friend Karen in Tennessee. May you have blessings aplenty in this Advent of expectation.

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From “Frost at Midnight”
by Samuel Taylor Coleridge

Therefore all seasons shall be sweet to thee,
Whether the summer clothe the general earth
With greenness, or the redbreast sit and sing
Betwixt the tufts of snow on the bare branch
Of mossy apple-tree, while the nigh thatch
Smokes in the sunthaw; whether the eve-drops fall
Heard only in the trances of the blast,
Or if the secret ministry of frost
Shall hang them up in silent icicles,
Quietly shining to the quiet Moon.

The season of Mary, with prayers for peace and goodwill to all

2011-12-20T08:25:00.002-05:00

This is the season of the one we call Mary: the Jewish maiden Miriam, mother of Yeshua, or Joshua, the one who we call Jesus.

On Sunday, and again today in the Daily Office readings, we hear Luke's account (Luke 1: 26-38) of how the angel told Mary she would be with child, and this child would be "called the Son of the Most High."

Mary declares she is a virgin, and the angel says she will be pregnant from "The Holy Spirit."

And so the Christmas story begins.

Through the ages, Mary has become larger than life, the "Theotokos," the "mother of God." For some she has remained a perpetual virgin, although the biblical accounts clearly state she had other children besides Jesus (and why wouldn't she?).

We almost lose sight of this perplexed, probably frightened, teenage peasant girl in a land long ago. Much would happen to her -- she would outlive her son, Jesus, and would be carried into her old age by the early Christian community.

We are still carrying her. We are still connected to her through this same Holy Spirit who came to her and comes to all of us, and gives us strength and hope and healing, often when we least expect it. Many encounter "Holy Spirit" as female, and why not?

Sometimes in my daily prayers I imagine myself sitting beside a river, and all of human experience is in that river. Mary herself is somewhere downstream, but I am still connected to her in that river, the same river where John the Baptist stands, the same river that brings water and life to people everywhere. We are all connected in this river just as the Holy Spirit connects us through her breath.

When you pray, your prayers will touch me, as mine will touch yours. We are connected to the poor, and the rich, to the Tea Party and the Occupy protesters. We are connected even to those who cause us the most pain. We are connected even to our enemies.

Lately, Steven Charleston, the retired bishop of Alaska, has been writing brief prayers from the heart and posting them daily on his Facebook page. Here is his prayer for today:

"Peace on Earth. Goodwill to women who work two jobs, to men who come home weary. Goodwill to those who carry our conscience into the streets, goodwill to the soldier missing home, to the student climbing the wall of tuition. Goodwill to the poor standing in line, to the elder sitting alone. Goodwill to the foreclosed family, to the pink slipped worker, to the new parents of an uncertain future. Goodwill to those in chronic pain, to those in chronic hope. Goodwill to the hungry of body, mind or heart. Goodwill to those who have given up and to those who have just begun. Peace, I pray, peace, and goodwill to us all."

Amen.

The Monday Funnies

2011-12-19T00:01:00.004-05:00

Warning: Today's Monday Funnies is in very poor taste, and parental discretion is advised. The overpaid bloated staff in the Jokester Department here at Fiat Lux Productions has scoured the land far and wide for the worst, most hideous, tasteless Nativity sets ever created. We had more than two-dozen entries, but here are the worst of the worst. . .

Yes, made out of bacon and pork products

Made with pats of butter

Precious!

Christmas has gone to the dogs

Dungeons and Dragons Nativity set

Quackers

Marshmellow Nativity set - Yumm!

Rubber Ducky, Your the One!

Ticking Nativity

Happy Feet Christmas

Miss Piggy does Christmas

Schmores Nativity - More Yummm!

This one freaks me out:
Jesus in a snowglobe

Vegetales has gotten only stranger.

And how we cry at all these Nativities

"How is it they live for eons in such harmony?" (but we don't)

2011-12-18T06:33:00.002-05:00

I am not preaching today -- but if you are in the area, please come hear Pastor Nik in the pulpit. Today is sometimes known as "Mary Sunday," as the lessons will make clear: 2 Samuel 7:1-11, 16, Canticle 15, Romans 16: 25-27 and Luke 1: 26-38.

Our friend Karen in Tennessee sent this other day. Enjoy your Sunday . . .

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“We are fields before each other.”

~ St. Thomas Aquinas ~

How is it they live for eons in such harmony -

the billions of stars -

when most men can barely go a minute

without declaring war in their mind against someone they know.

There are wars where no one marches with a flag,

though that does not keep casualties

from mounting.

Our hearts irrigate this earth.

We are fields before

each other.

How can we live in harmony?

First we need to

know

we are all madly in love

with the same

God.

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And one more item today: Steven Charleston, the retired Bishop of Alaska, and who I admire greatly (and who I would love to have come preach at St. Paul's), wrote this on his Facebook this morning, and I pass it along to you:

"The incarnate story begins in humility. That is the first step in our own spiritual narrative. But how to take it? Not once, but over and over, as our life shifts through age and place. It is not feigned innocence or submission. It is what my ancestors believed was the gyroscope of the holy, the sense of inner balance that held a tension between pride and resignation, between limitation and possibility. What gave life to the sacred was a vulnerable power. That same divine energy resides incarnate in each of us, a hope that knows it can change the world, if only it is willing to seek shelter in the poorest home it finds."

Art by Flor Larios

Extraordinary photos from the National Cathedral

2011-12-17T12:01:00.000-05:00

Facade of the National Cathedral

Last Monday we accompanied a group from St. Paul's on a day-long pilgrimage to the Washington National Cathedral, and I wrote about that a few days ago in this space.

Since then, Dudley Rochester has sent these remarkable photographs that he took on our trip. Dudley is an extraordinary photographer!

Let me share three of them with you...

Inside the nave

Space window; notice the moon rock
embedded in the upper center;
the rock was brought back by
Apollo 11

International prayer service simulcast Saturday from Bethlehem and the Washington National Cathedral

2011-12-16T00:01:00.001-05:00

Door at the Church of the Nativity,
Bethlehem;
photo by Lori K. Richardson

Please consider yourself invited tomorrow to this worldwide gathering of prayer in Bethlehem to be broadcast simultaneously with a prayer service at the Washington National Cathedral, via the Internet. Here are the details:

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Bethlehem - D.C. prayer service set for Dec. 17
Simulcast to link Christmas Lutheran Church, National Cathedral

[Anglican Commons] The fifth annual simulcast prayer service linking the congregations gathered in Bethlehem's Evangelical Lutheran Christmas Church and the nave of Washington National Cathedral - with online viewing access worldwide - is set for Saturday, Dec. 17, at 10 a.m. Eastern Time (7 p.m. local time in Bethlehem, and 7 a.m. Pacific).

Online viewers may log in here for the liturgy featuring prayers, readings in Arabic and English, and hymns alternating between Bethlehem and Washington, D.C.

Lead partners are the Lutheran and Anglican churches in Bethlehem and Jerusalem, and Palestine/Israel Advocacy Group at Washington Cathedral. The service also raises funds for the Bright Stars of Bethlehem Center for its work in education, health, the arts, and social services.

Clergy scheduled to participate include Christmas Church pastor Dr. Mitri Raheb in Bethlehem; Bishop Suheil Dawani and other leaders of theEpiscopal Diocese of Jerusalem; and the Rt. Rev. Munib Younan, bishop of the Evangelical Lutheran Church in Jordan and the Holy Land; bishops Mariann Edgar Budde of the Episcopal Diocese of Washington and Richard H. Graham of the Metropolitan Washington D.C. Synod of the Evangelical Lutheran Church in America, the Rev. Canon Jan Naylor Cope, cathedral vicar; and the Rev. Canon John L. Peterson.

Viewship also is promoted within the Diocese of Jerusalem and its companion dioceses of Washington and Los Angeles, and the Anglican Church of Canada, its partner province.

Anglican Commons is a new volunteer effort featuring mission companions and the shared newsfeed of the Digital Faith community. Christmastide features will focus on the church's mission of "acompanamiento," or accompaniment, in El Salvador.

Pray for peace in the Holy Land

2011-12-15T00:01:00.000-05:00

Palestinian students from United Nations schools in the Jericho area create an aerial image in the shape of Pablo Picasso’s Peace Dove, at the foot of the Mount of Temptation just outside the West Bank city of Jericho on November 25, 2011. The UN initiative was done in conjunction with the world-renowned aerial artist, John Quigley, to send out a peace message to the world.
Photo credit: Ahmad Gharabli/AFP/Getty

My Holy Saturday reflections published in an eBook to benefit River City Food Bank

2011-12-14T00:01:00.009-05:00

I don't allow commercial plugs on this blog, but today I am making a partial exception to benefit a very worthy cause.

This topic may not sound very Advent-y, but go with me here.

Several years ago I wrote a short book of reflections about Holy Saturday, the second day of the three days of Easter, the day when Jesus goes to Hell to let everyone out.

My reflections emerged from a group that I led in 2007 that we called "The Holy Saturday Project." As part of the project we worked at the River City Food Bank which serves some of the poorest and neediest people in Sacramento, a city that has been hit very hard in the economic downturn. We also washed the feet, and trimmed the toenails, of homeless people on Maundy Thursday of Holy Week that year -- and it was not a ritual washing but the real thing with dirty and chapped feet.

The only problem with this book is I never got around to getting it published. The manuscript has sat in my computer, not exactly lost, and not quite forgotten, but a labor-of-love writing project that has not emerged from it virtual tomb.

So I have done something about that. I've published my Holy Saturday book as an Amazon.com Kindle edition with its original title from 2007: "Descending Into Hell" Resurrecting Holy Saturday, Easter's Missing Link. It costs $4.99, and you can download it to your computer, Kindle or iPad. You can find the book HERE.

And here is the good news: I will contribute all the royalties -- 100 percent -- to the River City Food Bank which is so much a apart of this book. The Amazon Kindle royalty is 70 percent, so for every eBook sold, River City will get $3.49.

It may seem odd to you that I am writing about Holy Week in December, but Holy Saturday is akin to Advent: it is time of waiting and hoping, the time of "not yet" but "almost here." And River City could use the funds now.

Holy Saturday has been nearly lost in modern contemporary Christianity, but in ancient times it was immensely important, and was marked as day of fasting, prayer, looking outward with expectancy, and service to the poor. So is Advent.

River City has lived through its own Holy Saturday hell. An arsonist burned down the building a year ago.

Thanks to tremendous community support, River City Food Bank has rebuilt in a new mid-town location.

The organization still needs $36,000 to get fully back up to speed.

The arson and aftermath happened after I wrote these reflections, but that is not included in the reflections. The book, for whatever it is worth, reflects my thoughts and experiences from 2007, and therefore stands on its own as written. I have refrained from giving it a rewrite or another edit. What is most important to me is you read it, reflect upon it and lend me your thoughts -- and be generous with the River City Food Bank.

The National Cathedral: broken stones, metal netting, but still inspiring national house of prayer

2011-12-13T00:01:00.002-05:00

Rose Window through the
netting; photo by Lori K. Richardson

WASHINGTON DC -- We haven't been to the National Cathedral since the earthquake in August shook the tops off the bell towers and rained stones inside. But we got there on Monday, not quite prepared for what we saw.

Scaffolds encircle the bell towers where the pinnacles fell to the ground, and two of the pinnacles are on the ground near the main doors. Inside, metal nets are stretched under the ceilings to catch falling masonry. The nets give the Cathedral a grim appearance and block sunlight from coming through the upper windows and making it to the nave below.

The usually stunning Creation Rose Window high above the nave is partially shaded by the netting beneath it, giving the window a dark, almost eerie look.

The damage will cost at least $15 million to repair, and the repairs will take years.

Still, the great Cathedral is great and it is inspiring even in its brokenness. We accompanied a bus full of St. Paul's parishioners to the Cathedral, and we were treated to a Holy Eucharist in the quire and then a 15 minute recital on the Skinner organ.

Cathedral organ keyboard;
photo by Ann Willms

St. Paul's also has a Skinner organ, but not quite this big. The organ at the National Cathedral has 10,647 pipes, making it the 6th largest such instrument in the world.

Next we were given a tour of the chapels, windows and the many architectural features. We stopped at the crypt of our own beloved Charles Perry, who as Provost, finished the construction of the Cathedral in 1990.

We also paused to admire the needlework on cushions in the chapels, many of which were done by Joy Perry, Charles' wife. The Perrys eventually retired in Charlottesville, and Charles died a year ago.

We remembered Charles in our prayers of the people at our Holy Eucharist.

Fallen pinnacles from the August quake;
photo by Lori K. Richardson

St. Paul's tour group;
photo by Ann Willms

Although our St. Paul's group spent the entire day at the National Cathedral, we left feeling we had barely seen it. There is much to see and experience in this national house of prayer, and it is worth many visits to come.

Nuestra Señora de Guadalupe: Today is her feast day

2011-12-12T00:01:00.002-05:00

Next week we will return to the Monday Funnies, but today is special.

Today is a feast day that is enormously meaningful for millions of Christians in our hemisphere, and about which we ought to take note. Let me tell you about it:

Nearly 500 years ago, the story goes, an Aztec with a Spanish name – Juan Diego – saw an apparition of the Virgin Mary. The local Spanish bishop, Juan de Zumárraga, did not believe him and told him to bring back proof of this vision. Juan Diego came back with his tunic full of flowers – Castilian roses – and the roses were blooming in winter. When Juan Diego poured the roses from his tunic, an image of Mary was imprinted on his tunic.

That image has become probably the most copied and venerated image of Mary in the world.
Today is her feast day - Nuestra Señora de Guadalupe, la Virgen de Guadalupe – the Virgin of Guadalupe. This day in 1531 marks when an Aztec brought roses to the bishop, and the bishop had to believe him.

Whether you believe in the story, or believe it happened exactly that way, is less important than what she represents primarily to the people of Mexico and elsewhere in Latin America. Her shrine near Mexico City is the most visited Marian shrine in the world.

The Virgin of Guadalupe is sometimes known as the brown virgin – her skin color is that of the indigenous peoples of America. She is the Mary of the poor and the outcasts and those left behind or wiped out as Europeans colonized, industrialized and regimented the Americas. She is the Mary of the lowliest among us who stand up and say "you have it wrong, please listen."

Even the word “Guadalupe” has roots in native Aztec language, and many believe the image is
filled with Aztec symbols. She is the Mary of hope to the poor of the Americas.

There is another level to this that I would commend to you: The Holy comes to us not just in male imagery (God the Father) but in female imagery.

The Holy Spirit is like a wind that will blow where she will, and will show her face in ways that speak to people in the depths of their soul, and give them strength and courage when they most need it. The Virgin of Guadalupe does precisely that for so many, and I have met them (and they weren't all Latino).

And here is something else you should know: Her feast day is a very big deal here in Charlottesville, Virginia. The Catholic Church if the Incarnation is hosting hundreds of people at pre-dawn Eucharists today -- early so people can get to work. The first Eucharist is at 2 am.

Although Our Lady of Guadalupe is not on the official Episcopal calendar of saints, she will be celebrated in many Episcopal churches across the country, particularly in the Southwest.

We've celebrated Nuestra Señora de Guadalupe at St. Paul's in year's past, but this year a number of us are taking a bus trip today to tour the National Cathedral. We will be talking about her a bit today on the bus, and then joining a Holy Eucharist at noon at the Cathedral.

As many of you know, I have a small collection of amazing Guadalupe folk art that I keep on my dresser at home. I have Guadalupe candlesticks, tin and ceramic figurines, santos wood carvings, and a lighted Guadalupe concha (shadow box) on the wall. Nearly all of these items are gifts from friends far and wide, and I cherish each item with thanks for the hands that made them.

I've been asked to talk about the Virgin of Guadalupe feast day on a program aired by the University of Virginia radio station WTJU 91.5 on Wednesday at noon. I hope you might tune in!

Down by the riverside the people come from far and wide

2011-12-11T00:01:00.002-05:00

Today at the 10 am worship service we have our wonderful children's Advent-Christmas Pageant (and no sermon!).

Albrecht von Gaudecker and a great group of kids have worked long and hard to bring this season's pageant, so I hope you will come if you are in the area.

I am preaching at the 8 am worship. The lessons for today are Isaiah 61:1-4, 8-11, Psalm 126 , 1 Thessalonians 5:16-24 and John 1:6-8, 19-28. Here in my sermon:

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Today we make the acquaintance once again of John the Baptist, that pleasant fellow who is definitely not jolly old Saint Nick. John the Baptist, as you know, wears clothing made of camel’s hair and he has a leather belt and he eats insects.

Although his name is “John the Baptist,” he is not a Southern Baptist or an American Baptist or any other kind of modern Baptist.

He might better be called “John the Baptizer” because that is what he does. He stands in the river baptizing people.

But before we completely dismiss John the Baptizer as someone who has trouble translating into the 21st century, I’d like to point out something remarkable about John Baptizer:
John the Baptizer draws people to him – many, many people from far and wide.

In Mark’s gospel mentioned last week, that all the people of Jerusalem and all the people of the Judean countryside come to John the Baptizer.

This week we get the version in John’s gospel. Not only do the common people come to him, the Temple authorities are so thoroughly perplexed they sent emissaries to question him, and they wonder if he is the messiah, or maybe the prophet Elijah.

John the Baptizer has captivated all Israel, from the bottom up.

That is an amazing fact. The gospels are saying, not so subtly, that the people of Israel are having trouble seeing the holy in the holy city.

People are having trouble finding the holy in their homes and work, and they wonder if the holy can be found outside their regular modes of organized religion.

Maybe that has a ring of familiarity for us?

And then these ancient people are willing to walk a very long distance to find this holy man standing waist-deep in a muddy river in the desert.

Something very, very powerful is happening with John the Baptizer, and all the people of Judea have come from far and wide to experience it.

These people long ago may dress and speak differently than we do. But I would also guess they have much in common with us.

They have experienced the ups and downs of life, and they are searching for the same things we are, and they probably walked for days to reach the river Jordan and find this John the Baptizer.

When they get there, John tells them something extraordinary: What you seek is with you already. Look up, open your eyes, God is everywhere and was with you all along.
The word repent means to “turn around,” and that is the great and wonderful irony of this story.

People walk miles into the desert to find what they had all along. Turn around, see what has always been with you.

John the baptizer tells the people, who have come so very far, that all they really needed to do is turn around to see God.

The Holy was with them all along and never had left them, even when life looked bleakest. John declares the same good news that comes from the prophet Isaiah:
“The spirit of the Lord GOD is upon me, because the LORD has anointed me; he has sent me to bring good news to the oppressed, to bind up the brokenhearted.”

Then John the Baptizer washes the people – baptizes them – in the river as a symbol that their life has begun new again, that it is never too late to see and experience God.

And John tells them something more remarkable, that God will soon walk among them as a human being, as the One who will wash them in Holy Spirit.

“I baptize with water. Among you stands one whom you do not know, the one who is coming after me; I am not worthy to untie the thong of his sandal.”

How will we know this?

By being awake in this time of Advent before the dawn.

John the Baptizer is still standing in the river, telling us to sharpen our eyes and ears. Look and listen for God all around you. What you seek is already with you. The One who comes is already here, and is washing you in holy spirit,

Be awake. You really don’t have to travel far to find what you seek. Look for the dawn of Christ’s light in life, and in everyone you meet, today, and in the days to come.
Amen.

Photograph above of the Jordan River Valley, courtesy of GLOWA, an international research project working on maintaining sustainable water resources in Jordan River region.

Hallelujah Chorus: Alaska style

2011-12-10T00:01:00.000-05:00

This is a take off on the Hallelujah chorus schtick with the monks that has made the rounds on the Internet for years. Only this is so-o-o-o much better, from the Yupik fishing village of Quinhagak, Alaska, population, at last count, 555. This is worth your time:

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Interested in going to the Holy Land?

2011-12-09T00:01:00.001-05:00

Petra, Jordan

If you have never been to the Holy Land, or maybe if you have and you'd like to experience it again, let me recommend a trip in May 2012 led by the Rev. Canon Mark Stanger, who led our trip to Jerusalem last August.

Mark will be starting this trip in Jordan, at the ruins of Petra (which we did not see), before crossing into Israel and going to Jerusalem, Bethlehem and Galilee. Mark is a skilled guide and knows the territory well. This will be the 15th tour Mark has led. We much enjoyed his company and guidance in our trip and I highly recommend him. Here is the information:

Join the Rev. Canon Mark Stanger for Come to Bethlehem and see: Holy Land Pilgrimage. For 12 days — May 13 through 25, 2012 — experience the biblical and cultural sites relating to the birth of Jesus in Bethlehem, his ministry in Galilee, and his death and resurrection in Jerusalem. Led by the Rev. Canon Mark Stanger and a local Palestinian Christian licensed tour guide, Canon Iyad Qumri, this pilgrimage begins with a visit to the spectacular ancient Nabatean city of Petra in Jordan. Includes two nights in Jordan, three nights in Nazareth, and five nights in Jerusalem. Contact: the Rev. Canon Mark Stanger, marks@gracecathedral.org, 415.749.6318

The sacred and the profane: Holy places, Holy people

2011-12-08T09:18:00.000-05:00

Southern steps of the
Jerusalem Temple
where Jesus likely walked and taught

I’ve been fighting a cold all week, and I feel as though some of those swordsmen in the reading today from Amos 9:1-10 are at work in my sinuses. I am up late, hence this is getting posted late.

The readings today are as rough as my throat. The prophet Amos is busy dispatching all sorts of evil doers; the Revelation of John 2:8-17 is following in the same violent theme (didn’t we just get done with Revelation? Why are we back there again?); and in Matthew 23:13-26, Jesus is in full attack upon hypocrites, scribes, Pharisees – all the religious authorities in the Jerusalem Temple.

You can be forgiven if you’d rather go back to bed.

One line struck me, though, and it is a familiar line, from Matthew 23:26:

“You blind Pharisee! First clean the inside of the cup, so that the outside also may be clean.”

Jesus is talking about something so basic I hope you don’t miss it. He is talking about sacred space and what makes it sacred: People and their sacredness from the grace of God.

The Temple, the most holy place in all of Israel, is sacred because sacred people come there. People don’t become sacred by going there, but rather it is the other way around.

I can imagine how the hypocrites, scribes, Pharisee and crowds might have reacted.

“Wait a minute,” they might have said. “We bring our most valuable things here, our gold, our perfect things, and the Temple makes them sacred.”

“No,” replies Jesus. “It is by what you do and how you act that you make this Temple sacred or you make it profane. You are sacred, or you are profane, and we can only know that by seeing what you do.”

Doesn’t the sacred space make us sacred? No, it is what is inside us that is sacred, and if we are attentive to the sacredness within us, what is around us will become sacred.

I think of the many sacred places I have experienced, from great cathedrals, to small retreat centers and the Temple Mount in Jerusalem itself. I’ve sat on the very steps where Jesus likely spoke these words above. And I think of the sacred space that I inhabit every Sunday, my church in Charlottesville, and all those who come there week after week.

Many hands and many prayers have made these places sacred, and those prayers don’t disappear. It is the people themselves, standing on the borders of the Holy, who by their sacredness make these places sacred.

Nor is it a secret how these people, and the spaces where they dwell, become sacred.

Like the prophet Amos, Jesus tells the crowds how they can keep the “inside of the cup” sacred – it is by how they act to the most neglected and overlooked among us (Matthew 23:23):

“Woe to you, scribes and Pharisees, hypocrites! For you tithe mint, dill, and cummin, and have neglected the weightier matters of the law: justice and mercy and faith. It is these you ought to have practiced without neglecting the others.”

Our reverence, if it is true, must extend beyond the walls of our sacred spaces, and extend beyond ourselves to the places we go, the people we meet, and the tasks before us, especially with caring for the poor, the sick and the lonely. We will know our sacredness by how we act, guided by the Holy Spirit living among us. And the places we go will be as a Holy as the Temple in Jerusalem. Opportunities abound!

The Eternal Now and the two baskets

2011-12-07T08:26:00.001-05:00

Our friend Barbara Crafton, who was with us this past weekend for an Advent retreat at St. Paul's, sent this missive this morning. Barbara puts in writing much of what she reflected upon in her time with us: the "doctrine of the two baskets."

I summarized her ideas in an earlier post, but this is much better coming from her:

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THE TWO BASKETS
By Barbara Crafton

If it is so -- as it surely must be -- that God has no past, present or future, but encompasses all of these in an eternal NOW, that the One who "has the whole world in His hands" holds everything material but is neither held nor limited bit anything, then it must also be the case that we are also in it. Already. It is not an afterlife, at the end of a linear progression of minutes, years and centuries; it is an also life, existing all around the life we know, and containing it.

It is as if there were two baskets, a large one and a small one. The smaller basket sits in the larger one, which easily holds it. We live in the smaller basket: we and everything we love and hate, we as we are now, and we as we were. We as we shall be. The world as it was before we arrived, and as it will be when we have departed it. The universe from its first inorganic breath to the final sigh of its extinguishing. What was, is now and what shall be -- it is all in the smaller basket, our beautiful home.

We love it here. Almost all of us never want to leave. We count our departure from it as tragedy, the departure of those we hold dear as unbearable loss. Many of us refuse even to discuss that ending: won't make out a will, won't see the life insurance agent, won't choose a healthcare proxy. Won't even say the word "died.". And the ending of the universe that contains us? We find it inconceivable.

It is in the nature of baskets to have holes, is it not -- openings between the strips of wood or straw or grass that have been woven together to form them? If you were in the smaller basket, you might, from time to time, peer out one of the openings to see what's out there. Sometimes you see it in a state you call dreaming. There's something out there, that's for sure, and sometimes you get a glimpse. But the opening through which you peer is small, and you can't really get a good look. And who cares what's out there, anyway? You like it here. Everything you love is here, in the smaller basket.

One day, though, the smaller basket begins to crumble. Soon you stand amid the shards of it. You look around and see that you are in another basket. You see, in fact, that this is the very place you saw, those times when you peered out of the tiny openings in the smaller basket. Oh, you say to yourself, I know this place! I have always been here. Everything I loved has always been here. Everything is here.

All our times are there. All our loves. All our possibilities, including the ones that never bore fruit here in the smaller basket. Everything has always been there. As you have aged, loss has stabbed you many times, and you have bled freely from the wounds. But take heart. The fragile loves we clutch in a vain attempt to hold them here? They all wait there, just outside the basket's thin walls. The smaller basket is pregnant with us.

Our first birth into this world is frightening, I think -- a perilous journey through an impossibly narrow opening. It must be terrifying for the little traveler -- even a year or two later, you try to put a turtleneck on a toddler and it evokes an unpleasant memory. But the journey inaugurates the life we love. It's worth it.

We live in fear of our second birth, the one we call death. But it is probably the same: a transition from one state to another, from the rules of one world to a world in which they do not apply.

So be of good cheer. And stay tuned. What we see is not all there is.

Photo of Barbara Crafton at St. Paul's Memorial Church, Dec. 4, 2011, by Gwynn Crichton.

The Golden Age of the Rooming House Matrons: Our Booker House

2011-12-06T08:41:00.000-05:00

Here is something to brighten your day: an article from the University of Virginia Magazine published this week. The story is about Booker House, which is next door to St. Paul's Memorial Church.

Once upon a time it was a boarding house that we managed for students. We still own the house, but it is on long-term lease to the University which has fixed up the building. Here is top of the story, and click at the bottom to read the rest:

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WINTER 2011FEATURES

The Golden Age of the Rooming House Matrons

Shaping student life, one boarder at a time

by EMMA RATHBONE

TOPICS: History, Students, U.Va. Tradition

COMMENTS (1)

If you were to walk into the Booker House on University Avenue across the street from the Rotunda, you would find yourself in an office. It’s a nice office with columns and intricate moldings, but an office nonetheless. It would be hard, while looking at the cubicles and the inboxes, to imagine a grand piano toward the back, a crackling fire in the fireplace and, harder still, the soaring voice of a world-famous opera singer. The opera singer was Miss Betty Burwell Booker. Before the Booker House was an office building, she ran it as a rooming house, offering students room and sometimes board because the University opted not to do so. Its policy read: “it is inexpedient for the University to undertake the building of additional dormitories, or boarding houses for the accommodation of students, unless & until it shall appear that suitable & sufficient accommodations will not be afforded by private enterprise on reasonable terms.”

To read the rest of the story, click HERE.

The farthest star and the mud at our feet are family

2011-12-06T00:01:00.007-05:00

I am a bit under the weather, home with a chest cold. Although I intended to write a reflection for today (on what I am not sure), instead I am reading and gazing out the window at the unremittingly gray sky. Autumn is nearly gone, the trees are now almost barren on our mountainside. The world is feeling a little smaller, a little more closed in on itself. Winter is not yet here, but almost.

Our friend Karen in Tennessee sent this other day, from a book by Mary Oliver, Winter Hours:

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"I would say that there exist a thousand unbreakable links between each of us and everything else, and that our dignity and our chances are one. The farthest star and the mud at our feet are a family; and there is no decency or sense in honoring one thing, or a few things, and then closing the list. The pine tree, the leopard, the Platte River, and ourselves- we are at risk together, or we are on our way to a sustainable world together. We are each other’s destiny."

The Monday Funnies

2011-12-05T00:01:00.001-05:00

We've heard many predictions of our demise here in the Episcopal Church. We are too stuffy, too traditional, too irrelevant for today's culture. Or we are too liberal, too inclusive, too willing to submit to the trends. So what is the answer? Have a look below. Enjoy your week, welcome to the Monday Funnies...

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A wonderful Sunday with Barbara Crafton

2011-12-04T21:17:00.000-05:00

We had a wonderful Sunday with author and priest Barbara Crafton and her husband Richard, aka "Q." You can listen to her sermon by clicking HERE.

Below is a photo taken by Gwynn Crichton this morning just before the 10 am worship. From left to right, David Poist, rector emeritus; me; Barbara Crafton; Heather Warren; Ann Willms.

Prayer in the hard times: Our day with Barbara Crafton at St. Paul's

2011-12-03T17:41:00.001-05:00

We had a very rich Saturday with author Barbara Crafton, and she will be with us in the pulpit Sunday at the 8 am and 10 am worship services at St. Paul's.

Barbara, who is an Episcopal priest, sat on a chair in front of the Holy Table and talked to us about a very difficult subject -- praying "in the hard times."

She imparted much practical advice for how to pray when it is hardest of all to pray, when God seems very distant, when the world seems to be crashing in around us,

She also talked about how to pray to forgive and to be forgiven.

Barbara began by telling us what prayer is not: it cannot be outcome based. We should not be thinking of God "as a powerful genie who will do what we say if we pray properly. We don't order up the results of our prayer like a pizza."

She asked us to think of prayer as a way we enter into and become aware of the kingdom of God, or the dominion of God, or the energy of God that connects all things in the universe, all that there is and ever shall be. She urged us to pray specifically and honestly, but also know that God knows before we ask.

"In prayer, we are not cajoling God or making God change his mind. We are not placating an angry king who has it in for us. We don't think God sends evil into our lives," she said.

"The creative love of God that causes everything continues to reverberate, continues to create," she said. "There is a river that flows from the love of God."

In our prayer, we we enter the river, or more precisely, we become aware of the flowing river we are already in.

When we pray for others we connect to them in profoundly holy way by sharing in God's compassion. "When we pray, we take people's hand and go in the river with them."

Barbara gave us the benefit of much wisdom Saturday in her gentle and eloquent way. She is also a spell-binding story teller. I won't presume to give all that we heard to you here -- I am not capable of that, but do come here her preach Sunday if you can (and I would suggest you sign up for her email reflections at The Geranium Farm website by clicking HERE).

She took us deeply into some difficult topics including how to live with our own death. She imparted to us a metaphor that I will summarize for you:

Imagine two baskets, she suggested. One basket sits inside the other. "We live in the smaller basket," and that basket is the universe, all that we know and see.

The smaller basket is our home, and we don't want to leave that basket, but we can see through the weaves to the other basket -- and those are glimpses of what is beyond.

"One day the smaller basket crumbles and we are in the bigger basket. The big basket is also my home."

The bigger basket is the Kingdom of God, and we've always lived in it. "Our first sensation after death is I've always been here. Recognition."

To live now is to live beyond our fear of what comes next and bring it to prayer. "Heaven may be what God intended for us all along here."

Living in the woods with birds that ask: Can you believe this?

2011-12-03T00:01:00.004-05:00

If you are in the Charlottesville area, I hope you will join us at St. Paul's Memorial Church for a very special time today with Barbara Crafton, a noted author who will be leading us in a workshop entitled "Prayer in the Hard Times." We start at 9 am, and we should be done at 3 pm. The cost of the workshop? Free, our gift to you. Please come if you can. I will write something later in this space for Sunday about our time with her.

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Around our place the leaves have dropped from the trees and we can see the mountains beyond once again. We lost one of our chickens the other day to a predator. We live in the woods on the side of hill, and it is beautiful here, but this is a wild place, and life can be a struggle for the animals that live around us.

Each morning we hear the chirps of small gray birds -- the tufted titmouse -- at the feeder on the back porch. Their chirps never vary and I sometimes think it is a recording.

The tiny birds swoop in one at a time, take a few seeds and skitter off into the woods to break them open. Apparently they don't fly south for the winter, or no one told them to go. We will keep putting on the seeds as long as they come around. They are a tough little bird.

Our friend Karen from Tennessee sent this other day, a poem by Richard Levine. May you have a restful and fruitful Saturday:

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Tufted titmouse
Believe This
By Richard Levine

All morning, doing the hard, root-wrestling
work of turning a yard from the wild
to a gardener’s will, I heard a bird singing
from a hidden, though not distant, perch;
a song of swift, syncopated syllables sounding
like, Can you believe this, believe this, believe?
Can you believe this, believe this, believe?
And all morning, I did believe. All morning,
between break-even bouts with the unwanted,
I wanted to see that bird, and looked up so
I might later recognize it in a guide, and know
and call its name, but even more, I wanted
to join its church. For all morning, and many
a time in my life, I have wondered who, beyond
this plot I work, has called the order of being,
that givers of food are deemed lesser
than are the receivers. All morning,
muscling my will against that of the wild,
to claim a place in the bounty of earth,
seed, root, sun and rain, I offered my labor
as a kind of grace, and gave thanks even
for the aching in my body, which reached
beyond this work and this gift of struggle.

The One who made the Pleiades and Orion, and turns deep darkness into the morning: Into our Advent blues

2011-12-02T00:01:00.002-05:00

Confession time: I am struggling with Advent this year. Maybe it is because it has “come like a thief in the night.”

Wasn’t it just a couple of weeks ago that it was hot and sticky and we were on our way back from Jerusalem?

Advent has come on very suddenly this year, or so it seems to me. The days get shorter, the sky seems gloomy and blue most of the day, and the sun sets much too early.

And it is more than that: I am once again searching for the meaning of Advent. Yes, I know, it is the season before Christmas, the time of expectant waiting for the Light of Christ to come into the world, the time before the dawn. I know all that.

But can’t we just we skip past all that, light the tree, have few angels and wise men, and open a few presents?

And what to make of the very starchy readings we get in the Daily Office lectionary?

Take, for example, the prophet Amos who this week is calling down wrath upon Israel for worshipping false idols and ignoring the poor (Amos 5:8-9):

“The one who made the Pleiades and Orion, and turns deep darkness into the morning, and darkens the day into night, who calls for the waters of the sea, and pours them out on the surface of the earth, the Lord is his name, who makes destruction flash out against the strong, so that destruction comes upon the fortress.”

Then we have Jesus, who is in full-throated scold mode today, telling the parable of the king who throws a wedding party and the guests don’t show up (Matthew 22:1-14). So the king invites people off the streets, and then gets angry all over again when one of the street-people is dressed wrong. The king orders the badly dressed guest to be bound hand and foot and “throw him into the outer darkness, where there will be weeping and gnashing of teeth.”

What does any of this have to do with Advent and the bright lights of Christmas on the horizon?

It occurs to me that Advent is a Holy Saturday season, but stick with me a bit so I can explain this.

Holy Saturday is the day after the crucifixion (Good Friday), and the day before the Resurrection (Easter). Holy Saturday is the in-between-time of expectation of dwelling in the emptiness of the desert. Holy Saturday is that moment when Jesus goes to find people living in the darkness, even dwelling in Hell itself, so he can bring them with him into the light of Resurrection and Easter.

That is exactly what Advent is about. It also makes Advent very different than Lent.

To get to Christmas, we have to go to the emptiness of the desert and the emptiness of our souls.

This Sunday we will travel to the desert in the remarkable opening stanzas of the Gospel of Mark 1:1-8, where John the Baptist stands in the desert and “the whole Judean countryside and all the people of Jerusalem were going out to him.” (Mark 1:5)

The throngs come hoping to have an experience of God in the middle nowhere, in the place of desolation. They go to the desert to find the “the one who made the Pleiades and Orion, and turns deep darkness into the morning, and darkens the day into night.”

If we can get past the wrath and scolding of the readings this week, we might hear these ancient people reminding us to look for the blessings in the empty places – in the deserts where we might dwell. That is hard stuff, especially if you are lonely or dwelling in a personal darkness.

Yet even in the darkness of Advent, there God dwells, and that is what John the Baptist tells people when they find him: Look around (“repent”), God has been with you all along, wake up and see.

That is a message of hope.

Advent is an in-between time in the desert, and also a time to wake up and see the blessings right in front of us. It is a time to look for the blessings especially in times when it is hardest to see. Maybe start with the simple things. This morning I looked out at the Ragged Mountain range to see the bright light of dawn dancing on the tree tops. That was an amazing blessing, a gift for the eyes that will never look quite like that again.

I am convinced that the parable Jesus tells today in Matthew 22:1-14 fits in Advent because it is a Holy Saturday story. Again, stick with me for a few moments on this. Some interpretations render the King of the story into a metaphor for God, and the point of the story becomes about metaphorically wearing the right clothes when encountering God. Be ready, and that is certainly a good message for the season.

But what if the King in the parable is not a metaphor at all? What if the king is a selfish worldly king? And what if you don’t have the right clothes?

And go another step. Who is the badly dressed guest thrown out of the party and into the darkness?

What if the badly dressed wedding guest is Jesus himself, cast into the darkness before the dawn where he might find those who are lonely, hurting, and not fitting into the edicts of the worldly kings or wearing the right clothes? What if this is another story of Holy Saturday, when Jesus goes to find people living in the darkness, even dwelling in Hell itself, so he can bring them with him into the light of Resurrection and Easter?

Wake up, look around. The blessing is right in front of you.

Maybe the prophet Amos has it exactly right:

“The one who made the Pleiades and Orion, and turns deep darkness into the morning, and darkens the day into night, who calls for the waters of the sea, and pours them out on the surface of the earth, the Lord is his name.”

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Photographs: The Pleiades star cluster, photograph by NASA; Mono Lake in the Mojave Desert of California, photograph copyright by Gary Hart.

Please join us for a day with Barbara Crafton on Saturday

2011-12-01T00:01:00.004-05:00

On Saturday at 9 am, we will be treated at St. Paul's to a day with Barbara Crafton, a noted author and retreat leader who also is an Episcopal priest. I hope you can come -- the day is free (lunch on your own). Not long ago, Barbara described what she does when leading a "quiet day," and how all of us can be our own retreat leader. Enjoy:

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QUIET DAY
By Barbara Crafton

The format is usually the same from place to place: I give several talks, with a little back-and-forth talk together after each one, and a period of quiet time in which retreatants can think their own thoughts about what has been said. Most of them are in silence while they do this, but they can talk quietly if they want to -- we're all adults, and there is no Quiet Day Silence Police. I only ask them please, to talk about things that matter and please, not to talk about church business -- that will all still be there when we're finished, and some of it will be even worse than it was when you came.

Usually I ask for a room in which I can speak to people in private, should anyone desire to do that. A sacristy or somebody's office is fine -- all I need is a door and two chairs. If the door's open, come on in. If it's closed, just lurk near it and it will be open soon.

At lunch, we talk -- normally, I ,mean, as in conversation. About halfway through lunch, I usually read from one or two of my books. Then another cycle of talk and silence. Sometimes there's a Eucharist at the end. Usually there is not -- just a blessing and good-bye.

It is remarkable how restorative just one day spent in this manner can be. No phones, no media, no power point, no small groups tediously reporting back -- these things are fine for a conference or a workshop but not for a retreat. They are work, and a retreat is the opposite of work. A retreat isn't making something, though we do often talk about "making a retreat." Rather, a retreat is taking -- taking a gift God continually offers but which we are usually too busy even to see, let alone accept. We make room for ourselves and God in a retreat. Room for joy and room for sorrow, room for truths we may not have understood before. Or, maybe, truths we have understood all too well and sought to avoid. Central among these truths is the fact that we are beloved of a God who understands us better than we understand ourselves.

In a sense, all retreats are self-directed, even retreats led by a retreat conductor. You alone determine how far you wish to go -- or if you wish to go any distance at all. Some people just sit, soaking up silent refreshment against the busy world to which they will soon return. Some talk. Some probably doze off. And some are transformed forever.

Many people make it their business to go on retreat at least once a year. Put it in your calendar, as if it were a meeting, or a continuing education experience, as if it were something you had to do. Find a convent or monastery near you. Don't be afraid to cross denominational lines -- they are far less important to God than they are to us. Ask a clergyperson to help you find the right place for you. Even a day is good -- a weekend is better, of course, and a week is pure heaven.

Do it. Plan your retreat today, and then go. Even if it's just a day. Your spirit needs and deserves it.

My invitation to you: Exploring the Gospel of Mark in the year ahead

2011-11-29T00:01:00.002-05:00

“The beginning of the good news of Jesus Christ, the son of God.”

And so the great drama begins: John the Baptizer in the desert wilderness, drenching the throngs in the River Jordan. Jesus, grown fully as an adult, comes to the river, he is baptized, and a voice from heaven declares:

“You are my Son, the Beloved; with you I am well pleased.”

This is the Gospel of Mark, the first of the four canonical gospels to be written, the shortest of the gospels, and in many ways, the most dramatic.

This coming year we will be exploring the Gospel of Mark in our Sunday Lectionary Cycle Year B. We will hear of the dramatic events in the River this coming Sunday with these opening stanzas of Mark 1:1-8 above, and from here we will go deeper into the Gospel of Mark in successive Sundays.

At the end of this post, I will give you some suggestions for further opportunities to explore Mark that I hope will enrich your experience in reading and hearing this gospel.

I am sometimes asked how to read the Bible, and by that, people often mean they are struggling to get started and they’ve gotten lost before getting very far into Genesis, the first book of the Bible.

Here is my advice: Start with the Gospel of Mark. You will find in nestled between Matthew and Luke, symbolically appropriate because the two later gospels draw heavily from Mark.

The Gospel of Mark will take you other places into the Bible, drawing on the images of the Garden of Eden, the wilderness of Sinai and Moses, the prophets of the Jewish tradition and their predictions of the hope to come. If you immerse yourself in the Gospel of Mark you will also be immersed in the Hebrew Scriptures, or as Christians call it, the Old Testament.

Try reading Mark in one sitting – it has plot and pacing, and it is not that long. Read it as a stage play. Mark is meant to be heard as story and drama.

We will hear the key passages from Mark this coming year in church, and if you study these passages ahead of time, you will get more out of the sermons each Sunday. You might even find yourself with a different take on the interpretation than the preacher and that is always fun!

Let me give you a little background about the Gospel of Mark:

Mark is the first gospel written, probably authored by an urban Christian in about 60 to 70 A.D., written during the persecutions of Nero. Mark is the gospel upon which two other gospels – Matthew and Luke – draw most heavily.

If you can mine Mark you will be well on the path to understanding Matthew and Luke, which borrow wholesale about two-thirds of Mark. Scholars call these three gospels the “Synoptic Gospels,” a Greek word meaning “together,” because the three books should be considered together. The Gospel of John is so different from the other three in style and structure (the events of the life of Jesus are in a different order) that it needs to be considered separately.

There is a tendency in our age of movies and television to blend the gospels together into a single harmonious biographical life of Jesus. But let me urge you to not do that when reading the gospels. Each stands on its own, each author has a unique theological perspective, and each is underlining particular viewpoints they have about the meaning of Jesus. The adventure in reading the gospels is finding the viewpoints of each author and drinking deeply of them.

The first thing to notice about Mark is that there is no birth story. Jesus arrives on the scene a fully-grown adult, ready to begin his ministry. There is no manger, no Virgin Mary, no wise men or shepherds in the field, no swaddling clothes or Star of Bethlehem, no Christmas story. Instead it begins at the baptism of Jesus, and this declaration from God (Mark 1:9-11):

“You are my Son, the Beloved; with you I am well pleased.”

If anything, Jesus is portrayed in Mark as having a tense relationship with his mother and siblings who think he has gone off the deep end (and, yes, Jesus has siblings). If we only had Mark to go on, we would not even be sure of his mother’s name (Mark 3:31-35):

Then his mother and his brothers came; and standing outside, they sent to him and called him. A crowd was sitting around him; and they said to him, “Your mother and your brothers and sisters are outside, asking for you.” And he replied, “Who are my mother and my brothers?” And looking at those who sat around him, he said, “Here are my mother and my brothers! Whoever does the will of God is my brother and sister and mother.”

For centuries, the Church was not quite sure what to make of Mark. The book felt too barebones, and it seemed to support a heretical Christology known as Adoptionism, the idea that Jesus was not born as the Son of God but was “adopted” at his baptism as the Son of God. The Christmas stories of Matthew and Luke may have been written to correct this perceived deficiency in Mark.

Some thought Mark was a crude summary of Matthew and Luke. Mark is written in a common Greek, kind of a “street Greek.” The Church was prone to dismissing Mark because it did not seem to have the theological content of John, or the erudite literary quality of Luke, or the loud prophetic Jewish declarations of Matthew.

Scholars now agree that Mark was anything but Cliff Notes. The Gospel of Mark likely reflects the earliest (and perhaps most accurate) recorded memories of Rabbi Jesus of Nazareth. One theory holds that Mark is based on the preaching of the disciple Peter, or more likely, the recollection of someone who heard Peter preach and wrote it down. The gospel is named in honor of Mark, an early follower of Paul, and many legends abound about its authorship. Truthfully, we know almost nothing about the author of the gospel.

There is a curious line in the gospel that might be a clue about the author of Mark; it comes toward the end of the gospel after Jesus is arrested and led away by soldiers (Mark 14:51-52):

“A certain young man was following him, wearing nothing but a linen cloth. They caught hold of him but he left the linen cloth and ran off naked.”

Was the “certain young man” the author of Mark? Possibly. Pre-eminent biblical scholar Raymond E. Brown dismisses the theory as conjecture, but I rather like it.

Mark has many other intriguing puzzles for the listener: Whenever someone says Jesus is "the Messiah, Son of God," Jesus tells them to be quiet, to tell no one, to hush up. Of course, they tell everyone. This has become known as “the messianic secret” and many have speculated why Mark emphasized this so strongly. I have my theory, but I leave it to you to figure it out for yourself and bring it to conversation.

Notice the ending in Mark. There are actually three endings, and not all of them appear in every Bible translation. The last is known as the “longer ending” (Mark 16:9-19) with Resurrection appearances and a strange line about how the followers of Jesus “will speak in new tongues; they will pick up snakes in their hands…” (Mark 16:17-18).

There is another ending, called the “shorter ending” which has the Risen Christ going forth “from east to west, the sacred and the imperishable proclamation of eternal salvation…” (Mark 16, verse following 9, before 10).

Bewildered?

Most biblical scholars will tell you that the Early Church tacked on the longer and shorter endings because the bishops were not satisfied with the original ending of Mark. It was too open-ended (more on that in a moment). The style of Greek in the short and long endings is much different than in the rest of the text, and the parts about snakes are quintessentially weird early church stuff. The language about “imperishable proclamation” is also pure Early Church.

So where does Mark really end?

The original ending (Mark 16:1-8), found in the earliest of manuscripts, has the women coming to the empty tomb and finding a white robed man who tells them Jesus “has been raised” and to “not be alarmed.”

But the women are very afraid, and they flee “and they said nothing to anyone.”

Mark ends abruptly right there. Nothing more is said. The end.

It is dramatic, wide open, and leaves us to write our own ending. We get to fill-in what comes next, and that is the beauty of Mark. Get that, and you get Mark.

Welcome to an amazing year ahead exploring this extraordinary gospel.

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Opportunities to explore Mark

The best way to discover the wonders of Mark, besides reading it for yourself, is to read and discuss it with a group. We have several opportunities for that at St. Paul’s. Our ministry intern, Joe Lenow, is leading a lectionary discussion group on Sundays at 11:30 am in the Library. Joe is a graduate student in theological philosophy at the University of Virginia.

The Men’s Group is also reading Mark on Wednesdays at 7:30 am, led by Tim Rambo and Andy Guffey, who is finishing his PhD in Religious Studies at the University of Virginia.

At Community Night on Dec. 14 at 7 pm, we will show the film Mark’s Gospel, with actor Max McLean, who performs the Gospel of Mark as a one-actor play. He uses minimal stage props, and has memorized the gospel in its entirety. This is how Mark should be heard, and it takes about two hours to view the entire film of his stage performance.

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Resources to go further

First, let me suggest you begin by reading Mark all the way through, and try to do it in one sitting.

Then, read the passage of Mark for Sunday ahead of time. You can find the readings for each Sunday on the calendar for Lectionary Year B by clicking HERE.

Sit with the passage awhile. What is puzzling to you? What is new and different that you’ve never noticed before? What are the hard parts? Read it several times. What does it mean to you? If you were going to preach a sermon on the passage, what would you say?

I strongly suggest that you read the Gospel of Mark in the translation that we use on Sundays, which is the New Revised Standard Version (NRSV). There are many NRSVs on the market by many publishers (just look for “NRSV” somewhere on the title page). An excellent NRSV study Bible, with good footnotes, is the HarperCollins Study Bible, and you can get a copy on-line for $26.

To go deeper, I suggest reading a short book by Bonnie Thurston, who has spoken at St. Paul’s many times. Her recent reflection on Mark is excellent: The Spiritual Landscape of Mark, published in 2008.

Another very good book is Mark As Story, by David M. Rhodes. The book has its own translation, and Rhodes approaches Mark as dramatic story.

There are many Bible commentary series on the market, and some are better than others. Among the best is the Sacra Pagina series, and the updated volume on Mark is excellent, written by John R. Donahue, who was one of my professors at the General Theological Union in Berkeley (he is a Jesuit).

Finally, I heartily recommend you get a copy of Raymond E. Brown’s An Introduction to the New Testament. He gives a synopsis of each of the books of the New Testament and summarizes the interpretations and scholarship for each. It is a good book to have handy as you are reading any of the books of the New Testament.

Enjoy Mark this year, and bring your eyes to see and ears to hear its wonders and mysteries.

The Monday Funnies

2011-11-28T00:01:00.002-05:00

Once again we enter a new work week and a new liturgical year. A few laughs are in order. Pat Hill and the overpaid bloated gang in the Jokester Department here at Fiat Lux Productions have been loafing all through Thanksgiving Week, and these jokes are the best they could come up with. And we have the return of Dave Walker this season with new cartoons.

And see below for a special Monday Funnies Extra Edition, a video proving a number of things including why Handel's Messiah should not be performed in the Advent-Christmas season. Enjoy your Monday . . .

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A big, burly man visited the pastor's home and asked to see the minister's wife, a woman well known for her charitable impulses.

"Madam," he said in a broken voice, "I wish to draw your attention to the terrible plight of a poor family in this district. The father is dead, the mother is too ill to work, and the nine children are starving. They are about to be turned into the cold, empty streets unless someone pays their rent, which amounts to $400."

"How terrible!" exclaimed the preacher's wife. "May I ask who you are?"

The sympathetic visitor applied his handkerchief to his eyes. "I'm the landlord," he sobbed.

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A pastor said to a precocious six-year-old boy, "So your mother says your prayers for you each night? Very commendable. What does she say?"

The little boy replied, "Thank God he's in bed!"

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The rains began after a long dry spell and the farmer asked his pastor, "Looks, like God is answering your prayer. You must have an "in" with the Big Guy.

The pastor replied, "If that's so, he's got a long waiting list. This is October and my prayer was in June."

And for your added Monday Funnies enjoyment (Parental Discretion Advised):

Advent: The time before the dawn

2011-11-27T00:01:00.001-05:00

Today is the First Sunday of Advent, the season of expectation, the time before the dawn of Christmas and the birth of Christ. Advent is sometimes mixed up with Lent, but that is a mistake.

Advent is a time of prayerful introspection and preparation, but it is more than that. Advent is the time of waiting and looking outward for the light on the horizon. It is a time to especially think not of ourselves but what we can do for others, especially the poor, the sick and lonely.

In the Anglican tradition, the color blue is used to mark the liturgical season: the deep Indigo blue before dawn and the traditional color of Mary.

Today is also the beginning of a new church year -- and so let me wish you a blessed and happy New Year! We are now in Lectionary Year B, the year that explores the Gospel of Mark, the first of the gospels to be written. I will have much more to say about this extraordinary and often overlooked gospel as the year progresses.

I am not preaching today. I hope you will join us to hear the Rev. Dr. Ann Willms, our associate rector, who is preaching. The lessons for today are: Isaiah 64:1-9, Psalm 80:1-7, 16-18, 1 Corinthians 1:3-9, and Mark 13:24-37.

For your pleasure, I leave you with a reflection written by Joan Chittister:

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What is Advent About?
By Joan Chittister

A friend recently gave me a textile wall-hanging from Peru that makes clear that the process of finding God in the small things of life is as profound as it is simple. A pastoral scene of palm trees and rural lean-tos has been hand-stitched by peasant women, quilt-style, across the top of a felt banner. Under it is a calendar of thirty small pockets, each of them filled with something we can’t see. Every day until Christmas, we are invited to find the part of the scene that has been pocketed for that day and attach it to the scene above, one piece of hand woven cloth adhering to the other as we go.

Some of the pieces are of benign and beautiful things; some are not. There are bumblebees and angels, wild animals and dry straw, a branch-laden peasant man and a weary-looking woman. But there at the end of the days, as common as all the rest of the items in the scene, is the manger, the sign of the One who knows what life is like for us, who has mixed His own with ours. Now, we can see, all our expectations have been worth it.

Advent is about learning to wait. It is about not having to know exactly what is coming tomorrow, only that whatever it is, it is of the essence of sanctification for us. Every piece of it, some hard, some uplifting, is sign of the work of God alive in us. We are becoming as we go. We learn in Advent to stay in the present, knowing that only the present well-lived can possibly lead us to the fullness of life.

Advent relieves us of our commitment to the frenetic in a fast-paced world. It slows us down. It makes us think. It makes us look beyond today to the “great tomorrow” of life. Without Advent, moved only by the race to nowhere that exhausts the world around us, we could be so frantic with trying to consume and control this life that we fail to develop within ourselves a taste for the spirit that does not die and will not slip through our fingers like melted snow.

It is while waiting for the coming of the reign of God, Advent after Advent, that we come to realize that its coming depends on us. What we do will either hasten or slow, sharpen or dim our own commitment to do our part to bring it.

Waiting — that cold, dry period of life when nothing seems to be enough and something else beckons within us — is the grace that Advent comes to bring. It stands before us, within us, pointing to the star for which the wise ones from the East are only icons of ourselves.

We all want something more. Advent asks the question, what is it for which you are spending your life? What is the star you are following now? And where is that star in its present radiance in your life leading you? Is it a place that is really comprehensive enough to equal the breadth of the human soul?

–from The Liturgical Year by Joan Chittister

Barbara Crafton and her Almost-Daily eMos

2011-11-26T00:01:00.002-05:00

Next Saturday we will be graced with the words and presence of Barbara Crafton, who is an author of several books, workshop leader and much more. She will lead us in an Advent retreat day at St. Paul's. For those who follow her, you know she sends an email every day or two with a reflection or two. She gets to the heart of things in a gentle way. She puts all of her writing on a website called The Geranium Farm.

Her email missives are called the "Almost-Daily eMo." She sent this the other day explaining how it got its name; those of you who write with regularity may also recognize yourself in this. Please join us with Barbara at St. Paul's on Dec. 3 from 9 am to 3 pm (lunch on your own) and she will be preaching the following day.

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WRITING THE EMOS
By Barbara Crafton

In the new living room of a new house on a new street, some things are still the same. The dark of early morning outside the window. The crackle of burning logs. The ancient words of Morning Prayer. The steaming cup of tea. And the expectant page, waiting for words.

All day, every day, ideas appear. Ideas, or fragments of ideas. Some matriculate and some do not: I forget all about them and they never become essays. Many matriculate but never graduate -- my files are full of lonely paragraphs who have yet to become essays. But some of my ideas actually do graduate and find meaningful work -- there they are on the page, the fortunate few who realize their birthright promise.

I can write on assignment -- tell me what you need and I can probably pound out something that will suit. Writing the eMos is different: there is no assignment. I have read that yeast floats through the air, and that if you set out a paste of flour and water you can catch enough of it to leaven a loaf of bread. The eMos are like that: images and ideas float through the air, and some of them germinate.

The extent to which the germination of an essay depends on receiving is a little frightening. You can't sweat your germ of an idea into existence: you can only wait for it to appear. But you can become more skilled at recognizing the spores that will form it -- there are millions of them, and you learn to see them as they swirl toward you. Over time, it takes less and less to prime the pump. A single image, a lone word can be enough. You have grown fertile in your receptivity, easily impregnated with words that become sentences that become paragraphs that become pages. You do parent your writing, even if you do not sire it: this or that decision about this or that adjective, this or that fragment, the stretch for the very word you want -- these things you learn by doing, over and over. And by reading. And by listening to the way real people really talk.

In the early morning dark, by the fire -- this is still where it happens best for me. Music used to be part of my writing process, but I now seem unable to read or write to it. And I notice that my writing is slower-- my brain is showing its age. But that's all right. It'll have to be. We work with the instrument we have, not the one we wish we had.

Every once in a while, somebody writes and asks how the Almost-Daily eMo got its name. "Almost-Daily" speaks for itself, I guess: a hedge against the spottiness of my output. And "eMo"? Parishioners over the years have called me "Mother Crafton". I grew accustomed to it long ago. The abbreviation for "Mother" is "Mo." Kids in my parishes, and many who were not kids, took to calling me "Mo." I liked this, and still do. Anything good enough for the Three Stooges is good enough for me.

So an eMo is an electronic visit with Mo. Crafton. That's all.

Advent: Shopping binge or making a real difference?

2011-11-25T00:01:00.001-05:00

Six years ago a group of young people got together to see if they could make Advent and Christmas become something more than a shopping binge. They wanted to see if they could make a difference, a real difference, to the millions of people around the globe who contract fatal diseases because they don't have access to clean water.

They came up with Advent Conspiracy.

I think this is amazing. From a simple idea has come an enormous global movement, and we can be apart. Some Episcopal churches have taken this and begun a fund-raising effort called Wine into Water, raising money for clean water efforts by Episcopal Relief and Development. In the new year, we will hear more about that. For now, please watch this video, and then click HERE to learn more about Advent Conspiracy:

[AC] Promo 2011 from Advent Conspiracy on Vimeo.

Thanksgiving prayers for your table

2011-11-24T00:01:00.001-05:00

May you have a joyful Thanksgiving, and may all of each of us be filled with gratitude for the many blessings we enjoy. Here are a few prayers for your table today:

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Bless this food
we are about to receive.
Give bread to those who hunger,
and hunger for justice to us
who have bread. Amen

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May God bless
our meal and grant us a
compassionate and
understanding heart
toward one another. Amen.

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Beloved Lord,
we do greatly thank You
for the abundance
that is ours. Amen.

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Be present at our table, Lord.
Be here and everywhere adored.
Thy creatures bless and grant that we
may feast in Paradise with thee. Amen
John Cennick (1718-1755)

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"O God, when I have food, help me to remember the hungry; When I have work, help me to remember the jobless; When I have a home, help me to remember those who have no home at all; When I am without pain, help me to remember those who suffer, And remembering, help me to destroy my complacency; bestir my compassion, that I be concerned enough to help By word and deed, those who cry out for what we take for granted. Amen."
-- Samuel Pugh

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Blessed are you, O Lord our God, creator of the fruit of the vine: Grant that we who share this wine, which gladdens our hearts, may share for ever the new life of the true Vine, your Son Jesus Christ our Lord.

Blessed are you, O Lord our God; you bring forth bread from the earth and make the risen Lord to be for us the Bread of life: Grant that we who daily seek the bread which sustains our bodies may also hunger for the food of everlasting life, Jesus Christ our Lord. Amen.

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Giving Thanks
Based on a prayer by Julian of Norwich (1342-1416)

Holy and gracious God, we give thanks for the gift of this gathering; for the food before us; the loving hands that have prepared it; and the blessings we share together. Kindle our hearts and awaken hope, that we may know you always as our companion along the way. Forgive us where we have fallen short with each other and with ourselves; heal our wounds, restore our health, strengthen our souls, and help us to be ever mindful the needs of those near us who have so little. Teach us to believe that by your grace all shall be well, and all shall be well, and all manner of things shall be well. Amen.

Living stones: Building the Kingdom of God

2011-11-23T07:24:00.002-05:00

Come to him, a living stone, though rejected by mortals yet chosen and precious in God’s sight, and like living stones, let yourselves be built into a spiritual house, to be a holy priesthood, to offer spiritual sacrifices acceptable to God through Jesus Christ.

1 Peter 2:4-5

I have long been intrigued by the letters of Peter in the New Testament. We don't often hear them in church, and truthfully, they've been eclipsed by the lengthy writings of Paul, who was at times Peter's rival.

The Peter letters feel a bit disjointed; they don't have quite the logical pacing of Paul's discourses. The Peter letters have a certain patched-together feel with sayings strung together. The Peter letters sound more like sermon notes, which is probably what they are.

The Peter letters aren't long, and scholars debate whether Peter really wrote them. But someone wrote them, and they certainly reflect the thoughts and beliefs of an early follower of Jesus. The letters may well reflect the memories of Peter himself.

I've also wondered if the Peter letters are a reflection of Peter's memory of the sayings of Jesus. Did Peter write what he heard Jesus say, or in his old age, dictate these memories to someone else? Or someone heard Peter telling all this, and wrote it down, giving credit where it was due -- to Peter. The Peter letters sound more like "wisdom sayings" than a theological tract, and they have the ring of the Jesus sayings in the gospels.

Take the passage we get in today Daily Office from 1 Peter 2:1-10. Could this be Peter's memory of what he heard Jesus saying while sitting by the Sea of Galilee? The lakeshore is covered in small pebbles, and I brought home a handful from our time there last summer.

I looked at these stones this morning in my morning reflections. Each of these stones is a different shape and texture. Some are light colored, others dark. Some are pocked lava, others sharp edged, and others rounded. I could picture Jesus picking up a small stone, holding it in his hand, and saying to Peter that he is a "living stone," unique in the eyes of God, unique in the gifts he brings to the world. His stone and all the others add up in the Kingdom of God.

Maybe Peter remembered hearing Jesus tell him that, and he repeated it over and over, and this Jesus saying ended up in this letter we read today.

As I looked at the pebbles from Galilee, I could see Jesus picking up another stone and showing it to me. And then picking up another stone and showing it to you, and telling us we are living stones, we are unique, and that our stone counts in building "a spiritual house" in the Kingdom of God. We are the living stones in this world.

The Violence of Not Seeing: Guest Commentary

2011-11-22T00:01:00.002-05:00

I am bringing you a guest commentary today from Rabbi Michael Lerner, who is the editor of Tikkun, an interfaith Jewish magazine. This was passed along to me by a member of our congregation. Rabbi Lerner is based in Berkeley and I ran into him a few times when I was there. He is always thought-provoking.

This commentary is quite timely given the economic crisis in our world, the "Occupy" movement that seems to be gaining steam, and the failure of Congress to reach a deal on debt and taxes. You are free to disagree with Rabbi Lerner, and you free to leave your remarks in the comments section below. But please consider.

The Violence of Not Seeing
By Rabbi Michael Lerner

We need to ask ourselves, "What is it in the way that we are living, organizing our societies, and treating each other that makes violence seem plausible to so many people?" It's true, but not enough, to say that the current violence is a reflection of our estrangement from God. More precisely, it is the way we fail to respond to each other as embodiments of the sacred.

We may tell ourselves that the current violence has "nothing to do" with the way that we've learned to close our ears when told that one out of every three people on this planet does not have enough food, and that one billion are literally starving. We may reassure ourselves that the hoarding of the world's resources by the richest society in world history, and our frantic attempts to accelerate globalization with its attendant inequalities of wealth, has nothing to do with the resentment that others feel toward us.

We may tell ourselves that the suffering of refugees and the oppressed has nothing to do with us -- that it's a different story that is going on somewhere else. But we live in one world, increasingly interconnected with everyone, and the forces that lead people to feel outrage, anger and desperation eventually impact on our own daily lives....

Most people don't act out in violent ways--they tend to act out more against themselves, drowning themselves in alcohol or drugs or personal despair. Others turn toward fundamentalist religions or ultra-nationalist extremism. Still others find themselves acting out against people that they love, acting angry or hurtful toward children or relationship partners.

It seems baffling to imagine that somehow we are part of a world system which is slowly destroying the life support system of the planet, and quickly transferring the wealth of the world into our own pockets. We don't feel personally responsible when an American corporation runs a sweat shop in the Philippines or crushes efforts of workers to organize in Singapore. We don't see ourselves implicated when the U.S. refuses to consider the plight of Palestinian refugees or uses the excuse of fighting drugs to support repression in Colombia or other parts of Central America....

I categorically reject any notion that violence is ever justified. It is always an act of de-sanctification, of not being able to see the divine in the other.... We need a return to the most basic Biblical ideal: that every human life is sacred, that the 'bottom line' should be the creation of a world of love and caring, and that the best way to prevent violent acts...is to turn ourselves into a society in which social justice, love and compassion are so prevalent that violence becomes unnecessary.

The Monday Funnies: Thanksgiving Edition

2011-11-21T00:01:00.001-05:00

It is Thanksgiving week, and Pat Hill and the Fiat Lux Jokester Department has been working overtime to bring you these turkeys.

Enjoy your gobbler week and welcome to the Monday Funnies . . .

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One fellow was violently tearing through his Bible in a desperate search. A friend came up and asked, "Is something wrong?"

"Yes," he said, "I can't remember if the Thanksgiving story is in the Old Testament or New Testament."

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November is nature's way of giving you time to eat up the leftover Halloween candy before you have to start eating up the leftover turkey.

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As someone has said, "If God had meant for us to fast on Thanksgiving, he would never have created 30-pound turkeys."

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The preacher's wife admonished him before his Thanksgiving Service:

"Remember when you go on and on about all our Pilgrim Fathers had to endure that our Pilgrim Mothers had to endure all that and the Pilgrim Fathers as well.

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Our slogan this Thanksgiving: "Eat until you're thankful; not until you are sorry."

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O, COME ALL YE TURKEYS

(Tune O Come All Ye Faithful)

O come all ye turkeys,
Fully dressed or boneless;
Come all ye Armor Stars,
This Thanksgiving day.
Come and be basted,
You will not be wasted;
Oh be our guest for dinner,
Oh be our guest for dinner,
Oh be our guest for dinner,
Thanksgiving Day.

Consider the lilies of the field: Okay, what about them?

2011-11-19T09:48:00.000-05:00

I am not in the pulpit Sunday. We have a guest preacher, none other than David Poist, our Rector Emeritus.

This is the first time he's preached since my "institution" in 2008. I hope you will come. He will be preaching at 8 am and 10 am.

Our friend Karen from Tennessee sent this along, a beautiful poem that riffs off the familiar saying of Jesus "Consider the lilies of the field" in Matthew 6:25-33. Well, OK, what if we consider the lilies of the field?

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Camas Lilies
By Lynn Ungar

Consider the lilies of the field,
the blue banks of camas
opening into acres of sky along the road.
Would the longing to lie down
and be washed by that beauty
abate if you knew their usefulness,
how the natives ground their bulbs
for flour, how the settlers’ hogs
uprooted them, grunting in gleeful
oblivion as the flowers fell?

And you — what of your rushed
and useful life? Imagine setting it all down —
papers, plans, appointments, everything —
leaving only a note: "Gone
to the fields to be lovely. Be back
when I’m through with blooming."

Even now, unneeded and uneaten,
the camas lilies gaze out above the grass
from their tender blue eyes.
Even in sleep your life will shine.
Make no mistake. Of course
your work will always matter.

Yet Solomon in all his glory
was not arrayed like one of these.

Photo: Camas Lilies in a field, by Bill Stevenson.