Our Centennial Sunday and the Cornerstone of Faith: Recommitting ourselves to prayer, listening and compassion

Today is our Centennial Sunday, celebrating the first Holy Communion service on our corner. The building is not the same as 100 years ago, and much else has changed. But the cornerstone of our faith is still the same and sustains us still.

We are going off the lectionary today, and instead using the biblical readings used at the dedication of the building in 1927. We aren't sure what was read in 1910, but they might well have been repeated at the 1927 service. Those readings are: Joel 2:23-28, Psalm 122, Ephesians 2:13-22, and John 17:20-26.

Here is my sermon from today marking our Centennial:

* * *

Centennial Sunday: Sept. 19, 2010

By The Rev. James Richardson

Today, we tell a story.

The story begins at the time of Creation, and continues through the time of Moses, and the time of Jesus and Saint Paul. The story continues into the ages beyond. Today we pause at the year 1910 for a few moments.

The year 1910:

The Campfire Girls and Yellow Cab are founded.

John D. Rockefeller is the richest man in the world.

President William Howard Taft is the first president to throw out a baseball on opening day.

Comet Halley is visible on clear nights.

Henry Ford has been mass-producing automobiles for two years, but most people still travel by horse and buggy.

If you want to get more than a few miles from here, you take the train. Airplanes have been invented but the first will not fly over Charlottesville for another two years.

The nation is at peace, but not for much longer.

The Civil War is a live memory and still an open wound. Racial segregation is the law of the land in much of our nation, but not in Charlottesville, not yet. Still a social custom, legal racial segregation will be adopted two years later.

In 1910, the University of Virginia is 91 years old. Repairs to the Rotunda, damaged in a fire, have been finished for several years now.

The only students are white men. The first black man will be admitted in 1951. Not until 1970 will there be undergraduate women of any color.

In 1910, the university announces that regular Sunday services in the chapel for students will cease, setting off in earnest the effort to build an Episcopal church across the street: this parish church.

And so, on this weekend in 1910, St. Paul’s Memorial Church holds its first worship service on this holy ground, presided over by The Rev. Hugh McIlhany, the founding rector, and The Rev. Harry Lee, the rector of Christ Church, from the other side of town.

The men and women who founded this church were bold.

Today we honor them for their vision and their sacrifice, and we honor all those who came after them. We honor all of you who still come through these doors because the story of St. Paul’s Memorial Church is still being written, and you are the ones writing it.

We don’t know what biblical lessons they read on this Sunday a century ago. We do know what they read in 1927 at the dedication of this building, and so we are reading those lessons today.

From the Hebrew Scriptures, they hear, and we hear, the Prophet Joel proclaim the dreams of his ancestors:

“I will pour out my spirit on all flesh; your sons and daughters shall prophesy, your old men (and women) shall dream dreams, and your young men (and women) see visions.”

And from Saint Paul’s letter to the Ephesians, they hear, and we hear, about the living cornerstone of the church:

“You are no longer strangers and aliens, but you are citizens with the saints and also members of the household of God, built upon the foundation of the apostles and prophets, with Christ Jesus himself as the cornerstone.”

And from the Gospel of John, they hear, and we hear, this powerful theme of unity:

“The glory that you have given me I have given them, so that may be one, as we are one, I in them an you in me.”

The dreams that built this place remain our project as much as those who came before us. Bishop Robert Gibson, upon his election as bishop of Virginia in 1897, said one of his most important goals was the founding of a parish at the University of Virginia.

But that dream was very hard born.

From the beginning, this parish was a project of the Diocese of Virginia. But the participation of the diocese, with its own trials and tribulations, waxed and waned, as did its financial support to the project.

St. Paul’s was held together by the vision of a handful of people and especially a group of generous Charlottesville women who shared the vision to build a parish that would serve not themselves but the larger community of the University of Virginia and all who came here from everywhere.

The first Holy Communion was held in a temporary wooden building on this corner on September 18, 1910. The building wasn’t finished on that first Sunday – the windows still had no glass, and the doorframes had no doors.

The founding rector, Mr. McIlhany, used his two hands to help build that first wooden building.

The church had no proper cross at the altar, so the day before the first worship service he built the small wooden cross that we display today in front of the Holy Table.

Tragedy loomed. A few days after the first service, Mr. McIlhany died from blood poisoning. He was 36 years old and left a wife and five children.

It is said that he may have stepped on a nail while working on the building, or snagged himself building the cross.

The temporary wooden building would remain on this site for 17 years. The building where you now sit was dedicated on this weekend in 1927, so this Sunday is a double anniversary.

It was built after a nationwide fund-raising campaign drawing attention to the need to build a church dedicated to UVA students – the “boys” as the bishop at the time put it. It took many years, and many blueprints, before this church where you now sit was built.

The parish’s third rector, The Rev. Noble Powell, and a committee of six leaders, traveled the country raising funds and raising the profile of this parish. They garnered newspaper articles in many cities and that generated contributions from all over the country. This parish became a project of the entire Episcopal Church.

In a very real sense, this parish belongs to the entire Episcopal Church – we have no right to call this ours alone. It is profoundly appropriate that we began our centennial year with a three-day visit from the Presiding Bishop of The Episcopal Church, The Most Rev. Katharine Jefferts Schori, who challenged us once again to "be bold."

From the start, Bishop Gibson's vision of this parish was outward, because the vision of the great university across the street was outward.

Thomas Jefferson envisioned the University of Virginia as serving not just this town, and not just a single state, but the entire United States of America. He hoped it would be a national university.

The vision of St. Paul’s Memorial Church is inextricably linked to Jefferson’s larger vision. It is therefore very appropriate that a few weeks ago, Dr. Teresa Sullivan, the new president of the university, addressed us in this pulpit and called us to create a more caring community not just for ourselves, but for all who live, study and work here.

The University of Virginia is a public university, supported by the taxpayers, and it serves all people of every background, every race, every religion and no religion at all. And so, too, must this parish be a House of Prayer for all people. We must take a stand against all forms of intolerance, especially intolerance of religions not our own.

This Wednesday night we will host an interfaith prayer service to remember the victims of domestic violence, especially young women students, and we will have leaders from the Jewish, Muslim, Buddhist, Hindu and Christian communities in attendance. I hope you will come.

That is who we are and how we got here. But where do we go in the next 100 years, or even just in the next year?

That is the daunting question I’ve been thinking about as this centennial year has unfolded.

I must admit I am tempted to lay out a new ambitious ministry program, or a big community outreach project, or begin a major capital fundraising campaign.

I am sorely tempted to talk about the themes of transforming the church that Sam Lloyd, the dean of the National Cathedral, talked so eloquently about last Sunday.

All of those topics must be in the forefront our conversation as a parish. But today, I want to touch on something much more basic, the foundation – the cornerstone – upon which this parish is built: A relationship with the Risen Christ of Easter, as individuals, and as a community of faith.

And so, dear people of God, today on this Centennial Sunday of our parish, I am calling upon us to be in a deeper place of prayer, a deeper place of listening, and a deeper place of compassion.

We must begin anew by recommitting ourselves to prayer as a way of life, not just an activity on Sunday when the weather and academic schedule cooperate. It is about being participants in our faith, not just consumers of religious products.

Our prayer starts in the story of our Jewish roots, the story we remember again at the Holy Table – the Altar – of our Holy Eucharist.

The Jewish way of prayer is to bring our every waking moment, our every action, our every word into our prayer, for God is always with us, God is our strength, God is our refuge, and as the psalmist says, the quietness within our walls.

Pray for peace, pray for justice, pray for healing, pray for this earth, our fragile island home.

Let each of us become more intentional in our personal prayers, bringing prayer into our whole body, mind and soul – into our whole being.

Let us as a faith community recommit ourselves to the prayers and the breaking of the bread that we share together through our baptismal covenant that we will renew again together in a few minutes.

And let us recommit ourselves to gathering here in this sacred place each and every Sunday.

We come with open questions in our prayers. We don’t pretend to know all the answers. All of us are seekers.

I recently saw a church sign that said “He lives! He reigns! End of discussion!” Well, for us, that is the beginning of our discussion. Let us recommit ourselves to open conversation beginning with the openness of our prayer.

With prayer and conversation must come listening. Deep, long, listening for the whisper of God in our lives. I am convinced God makes known many things if we have ears to hear and eyes to see.

Not all prayer is with words, and God will come to us beyond words, in many ways, in many places.

Sometimes we will experience God in the most surprising moments, the most unlikely corners of life, and in the most unexpected people.

We will experience God in each other, and that must bring us to compassion. We are called to be compassionate people beyond our walls and within our walls. That is an extraordinarily difficult challenge.

We are called not just to welcome those who come through our door, but to inviting acts of compassion.

We are called to radical inclusive hospitality beginning with our family and friends, and reaching out into the community to children and teenagers, university students, working people, young adults, boomers, and Generation Wise.

Our compassion must reach singles, marrieds, straight people and gay people, immigrants, homeless people, rich people, Virginians, New Yorkers, and even a stray Californian or two.

And we are called to be compassionate with each other here in this place, and not just in a crisis, not just when someone goes to the hospital or is out of work.

We are called to be compassionate with each other in our every day life, in the way we talk to each other, in our attitude and in our email. Snideness, gossip, cutting remarks about others, have no place in a compassionate life.

Compassion means we give each other a little slack and the benefit of the doubt. We are called to be a little less critical and a little more patient and forgiving, not just of the big stuff, but the little stuff.

This kind of compassion requires giving of our whole being; giving as a way of life. We are called to get our hands dirty, not just come up with ideas for other people to do.

We are called to give, and not just our spare change, but the first fruits of our labor, our experience, our money. I hope and pray this faith community is more than just a charity to you, but is central to your life, and therefore is central to your financial giving.

It is not a question of “giving back to God” because it all belongs to God anyway. Rather, it is a question of turning our prayers, our listening and our compassion into reality, and we do that with our giving.

None of this is possible without the cornerstone of our faith:

Christ Jesus who walked among us as a human being, fully divine, fully human -- a mystery -- and who died on the Cross to show us a way beyond the Cross, and who dwells here with us at our table, and in our life together.

We are his hands and feet here on this corner of the world. You and I are the builders of the Kingdom of God.

Today is a day to give thanks for God’s loving providence in this parish, and to give thanks for the sacrifices of so many people who created and sustained this parish through days of plenty and days of want.

And so, on this our Centennial Sunday, we proclaim, as our patron, Saint Paul, proclaims:

“You are no longer strangers and aliens, but you are citizens with the saints and also members of the household of God, built upon the foundation of the apostles and prophets, with Christ Jesus himself as the cornerstone.”

AMEN

With the thanks to the people of St. Paul's, and to Paula Kettlewell for her history of St. Paul's Memorial Church.

You are invited to our Centennial celebration Sunday

St. Paul's Memorial Church
.....

This Sunday
September 19, at 10:00 a.m.

A Service of
Rededication and Celebration
of 100 Years of Ministry




You are Invited to Join in a Very Special Day
Celebrating 100 Years of Ministry
of
St. Paul’s Memorial Church
At the University of Virginia


Followed by

A Festive Parish Lunch

Food and Fun for all ages

Yom Kippur and our own atonement as Christians

Tonight at sundown begins Yom Kippur, the holiest of days on the Jewish calendar. Yom Kippur is the day of atonement, the day to ask God's forgiveness and to forgive all those who have wronged us.

Christian concepts of Lent and atonement come directly from these ancient Jewish theological concepts, and some might argue (as I would) that we ought to understand these Hebrew concepts to better understand our own.

To do that, I would also argue, requires our own atonement for the terrible atrocities committed by Christianity and Christians against Judaism and Jews for two millennia. The Nazis were not Christians, but there is a direct line from the anti-semitism of popes and Martin Luther to the genocide of the Holocaust. Christian bigotry made it possible.

Below is a commentary posted today by Stanley Abramovitch on CNN's website. Mr. Abramovitch was born in Poland, and he lost his mother and two brothers in the Holocaust. He worked for the American Jewish Joint Distribution Committee for 63 years before retiring in 2008 and he continues to consult for the organization. Mr. Abramovitch is seated second from the right in the photo above. This is a tough read, but I commend it to you today:

My Faith: Yom Kippur 1945, in a camp for Holocaust survivors

By Stanley Abramovitch, Special to CNN

In October 1945, I spent Yom Kippur in the displaced persons camp in Landsberg in Bavaria, Germany, as the representative of the American Jewish Joint Distribution Committee (JDC), working with displaced persons.

The liberated Jews who had been imprisoned in the nearby Dachau concentration camp, as well as those who had been forced to work in ammunition and other factories in Bavaria, were gathered into Landsberg and nearby Feldafing camps. Many Jews from other concentration camps had been forced-marched to this part of Germany, where the U.S. Army liberated them.

In Landsberg there was a spacious German Army barracks confiscated by the U.S. Army, in which some of the liberated Jews were housed. Basic food and medical care were provided by the Army, supplemented by assistance from JDC.

The Jews elected a committee which assumed responsibility for the internal administration of the camp. Synagogues were organized for the high holidays by different groups, often on the basis of the origin of the participants. There was a synagogue for Jews from Poland, another for Hungarian and Lithuanian Jews.

Smaller groups - Hasidic Jews or those from Marmarosh, an area on the border of Rumania spilling into Hungary and Slovakia - had their own places of prayer.

I attended morning services in the synagogue for Polish Jews. The prayers were charged with emotion, very moving, very painful. The tears shed came from the depths of their hearts, mourning those who were lost, murdered in the camps. It was rare to find among those present individuals whose siblings or more distant family members had survived.

The older generation was almost not there. They were the first victims, since they lacked the physical strength to withstand the horrors of the camps. Few children survived. They, too, succumbed quickly. The survivors prayed, remembered, wept and found a little comfort in those tears.

After morning prayers, I decided to visit other synagogues and spend some time with other groups. I left the synagogue and walked across the half empty streets. There were many people who remained in the street and refused to attend services. They were angry at G-d.

Among them were formerly religious Jews who could not accept the apparent indifference of G-d to the suffering; the torture, and the tragedy they had both witnessed and experienced in their homes and in the camps.

They could not reconcile their former beliefs and convictions of an All-Merciful, Almighty Divine Being, with the catastrophe that had struck their communities. They would not pray. When they heard the recitation of the Kaddish, the special prayer of mourners expressing praise of the Lord, they reacted angrily that G-d did not deserve the Kaddish.

They were broken in spirit. They could not reconcile recent events to which they were witnesses with the contents of the Hebrew prayers.

These Jews roamed the streets. They wanted to express their anger, to show G-d that they defied Him, as he seemed to have abandoned them. Some ate their food on the fast day publicly in the streets, as a gesture of defiance – of revolt.

In one of the streets, I saw a large group of people standing in a circle. I approached nearer to find out what was going on.

In the middle of the circle stood a seven-year-old girl, embarrassed, perplexed. She could not understand why all these people stood around her.

She, of course, could not know that they were surprised to find a Jewish child. So they stood, silently, and just looked at this miracle of a Jewish child in their midst. They could not tear themselves away from this one child who said nothing and to whom nothing was said. They just stood and gaped.

A special prayer is normally recited on Yom Kippur for the departed members of one's family. It's called Yizkor, the memorial prayer.

As those people looked at the little girl, they remembered their own children, or their younger brothers and sisters, the nephews and nieces who at one time were their pride and joy, and who were no more. Each one of them looked and remembered, recalled the beloved children who were cruelly exterminated.

As they remembered, they recited without any words the Yizkor for all those who once were part of their lives and now were gone forever. This was a silent, most moving Yizkor, without words, without prayer books, recited in that street in Landsberg, by a group of Jewish survivors, watching a bewildered little Jewish girl.

It was the most moving, most eloquent, most heartfelt, most silent Yizkor I have ever heard.

Grape harvest, difficult terrain, being in a luminous world

Where I come from, Northern California, the grape harvest will soon be underway. The vintage in Napa Valley this year is said to be "tricky" because of cool weather and a lack of rain.

There are quite a few wineries in this part of Virginia, and anyone who can grow decent grapes in this climate gets my deepest respect. I had a glass of a Cabernet Franc the other night with grapes grown at Monticello, and it was fruity and pleasant.

The grape harvest represents the livelihoods of thousands of people, from immigrant grape pickers to wine moguls, and many people in between. Image aside, not everyone gets rich off wine.

Wine, of course, is rich with symbols. Drops of wine are used at Passover to symbolize the passage from captivity to freedom. Jesus at the Last Supper asks us to remember him in the cup wine he shares with his disciples. When we drink of the cup, the memory of that supper long ago becomes our memory. We drink deeply of God's saving grace. We drink deeply of life.

Our friend Karen from Tennessee sent this poem the other day. I like it a lot.

The Cornucopia

By Arthur Sze

Grapes grow up a difficult and
sloped terrain. A soft line of poplars
shimmer in the disappearing light.
At midnight, the poor move
into the train stations of Italy ,
spread out blankets for the children,
and pretend to the police they have tickets
and are waiting for a train.

The statue of Bacchus is a contrast
with his right hand holding a shallow but
wine-brimming cup. His left hand
reaches easily into the cornucopia
where grapes ripen and burst open.
It is a vivid dream: to wake
from the statue's grace and life force
to the suffering in the streets.

But the truth is the cornucopia
is open to all who are alive,
who look and feel the world in
its pristine beauty -- as a dragonfly
hovering in the sunlight over clear
water; and who feel the world
as a luminous world -- as green plankton
drifting at night in the sea.

My photos, Napa Valley, June 2010

Church: Refuge from change?

Here is an old joke:

Question: How many Episcopalians does it take to change a light bulb?

Answer: Change?

Yesterday I mentioned the work of Diana Butler Bass and her observations about how churches must change to meet the challenges of the 21st century. I'd like to continue that conversation with an excerpt from her book, Christianity for the Rest of Us (p. 24). I hope you find this thought-provoking, even provocative:

"I have often heard people remark that churches do not like change, that they provide refuge from change, or that they resist change. Some Christians today fear cultural change, opting instead to make pronouncements about a God who is 'the same yesterday, today, forever' and insisting that they alone know the way to and the mind of God. Christianity, they say, is not about change. Christianity is old-time religion. They build churches to protect people from change, often in anonymous, suburban, gated spiritual communities, where they recreate a vision of some cherished Christian past. They venture out into the world to try and force the rest of us back to the perfect world of their fathers.

I cannot figure this out. In the New Testament, Jesus asks everyone to change. With the exception of children, Jesus insists that every person he meets do something and change. The whole message of the Christian scripture is based on the idea of metanoia, the change of heart that happens when we meet God face-to-face. Even a cursory knowledge of history reveals that Christianity is a religion about change."

This weekend we will mark our 100th birthday as a parish. In the days and weeks ahead, I want to invite you into a conversation about the challenges of the next 100 years, and how we must consider change in our parish and in the Episcopal Church. This conversation, of course, is already under way, and has been for some time.

The "listening" meetings that Bishop Shannon Johnston is sponsoring (see below) is part of a wider conversation about change; it is a conversation about much more than a single issue (same-gender blessings) but about how God is calling us to shape the church for the next generation and the generations after that.

We must also be in this conversation about change at St. Paul's. The conversation will comein many forums, formal and informal. I have a few ideas about how we can have this conversation, and I will say more about that in coming days and weeks. And I invite your comments on this blog.

Letter from Bishop Shannon Johnston to the Diocese of Virginia

Bishop Shannon Johnston sent a letter this morning to our diocese about his upcoming "listening" meetings on the topic of same-gender blessings. The letter speaks for itself. He also mentions the R-14 Task Force that is shaping recommended guidelines for such blessings; I am serving on that task force, and I invite your participation in these meetings and your respectful dialogue in this space.

Here is Bishop Johnston's letter:

Tuesday, September 14, 2010


Dear Diocesan Family,

Five listening sessions will be held across the diocese over the next several weeks entitled "Listen and Be Heard: Faithful Sexuality and the Blessing of Same-Gender Unions." Ever since these forums were first announced, I have heard a variety of responses. I have heard from people who feel that this is all about liberalism and who simply cannot believe that we would even have such discussions in the first place. At the same time, I have heard from others who feel that this is all about stalling and who simply cannot believe that we are having yet more talk. Very many of you are uncomfortable with extreme positions and describe yourselves as being "in the middle" with understanding and sympathies for both sides. Many others are largely confused in profoundly mixed feelings. It is also my experience that a large number of you feel that you have not had the opportunity to be heard and to listen on these issues in a safe environment.

Such a range of positions and experience is itself the reason why we need to go about this conversation in a different way. As the Church, the Body of Christ, we certainly must be able to come together in good faith and good will in order to engage and understand one another, if only to agree to disagree.

So I want to clarify for you what these listening sessions are and what they are not. First, I know that from 2003 we have some very painful history of such sessions in our diocese. At that time, we experienced a substantial amount of inappropriate anger. That history began to heal with the successful and much appreciated Town Hall meetings last year. Allow me to ask each one of you personally to help us continue that good work for the good of all. I believe that the listening process we are going to undertake should prevent a repeat of that difficult chapter.

The bulk of the time will be in small groups in which each person present will have the opportunity to speak and be heard in answer to specific questions about faithful sexuality and the blessings of same gender unions. I have asked that the information be gathered in a way that I can use it as a reference in leadership as your bishop. The opinions expressed in all groups will be posted for all to see and consider by the evening's end. I will study your comments very carefully, as will the Standing Committee. I need to hear from you, and you should be assured to know that you are, by this process, reaching your diocesan leadership in a truly meaningful way.

The focus of these sessions is to listen and to be heard; it is not on convincing, cajoling, or changing one another's minds. These forums will not be open-microphone crossfire debates, nor will they be voting sessions. I will speak at the end of each session about what I heard during the session and share a small piece of my journey with these issues.

Why are these listening sessions necessary, and why should you attend? These sessions are truly intended to be what the title suggests - a time to listen to one another. The people of the Diocese of Virginia have been grappling with issues of human sexuality for over 30 years. During much of that time, however, diocesan conversations took place in task groups or dialogue groups that were appointed for that purpose. The conversations have not always taken place more widely and have not always included the people in the pews of our congregations. It is my desire to broaden the conversation and to give every person in our diocese an opportunity to speak and to be heard on the important matters of faithful sexuality.

I also want to make clear that these sessions are separate and distinct from the work the R-14s Task Group is doing. You may remember that Council passed a resolution that requested that I empanel a group of clergy and lay people, including lawyers and experts on canon law, to recommend consistent standards should services of blessing same-gender unions be authorized at some point. I appointed the requested group in the spring of this year and they have been working faithfully to prepare their report for the Executive Board. The timing of this work parallels the listening sessions, but the work is not tied together. Please be assured that the listening sessions are not simply for show. I am committed to ensuring this process is authentic. (You can find the full text of the resolution at:http://www.thediocese.net/Governance/Annual_Council/215th_Annual_Council/Resolutions/).

The schedule of these sessions is:

Wednesday, September 29, Calvary Church, Front Royal, 7-9 p.m.

Wednesday, October 13, St. Paul's, Ivy, 7-9 p.m.

Wednesday, October 27, St. Alban's, Annandale, 7:30-9:30 p.m.

Wednesday, November 3, St. John's, Tappahannock, 4:00-6:00 p.m.

Wednesday, November 17, Christ Church, Glen Allen, 7-9 p.m.

In closing, I strongly believe these forums have the potential of forging a new way for the Diocese of Virginia to be together in contentious times. I look forward to undertaking this vitally important work with you, and I remain confident that God's grace will prevail upon us and upon our common life as a diocese.


Faithfully yours in Christ,

/s/

Shannon Sherwood Johnston
Bishop of Virginia

Ten Shifts for a 21st Century Church

This past Sunday we were treated to a terrific sermon by The Very Rev. Dr. Samuel Lloyd, the dean of the National Cathedral. His roots are here at St. Paul's Memorial Church where he was an associate rector many years ago, and in my opinion that gave him great credibility to talk about how the church-writ-large is changing and how we must also change.

You can listen to his sermon by clicking HERE, and we will post the text when we get a copy.

Sam drew on the work of Diana Butler Bass, who I also highly commend (let me recommend her book Christianity for the Rest of Us). In his sermon, Sam talked about her contention that the Church must make ten shifts to remain (or become) vibrant and vital in the lives of people in the 21st century. Sam talked about the five of the shifts in his sermon, and the other five at a forum after the service. He gave us much to talk about, and I invite your discussion on these points here and in person.

Here is an outline of the 10 shifts for a 21st century church:

1. From a club to a movement.

2. From tourist to pilgrim.

3. From welcoming to inviting.

4. From open doors to hospitality to the stranger.

5. From privacy to testimony.

6. From compassion to justice.

7. From pew rent to sacrificial giving.

8. From saying prayers to praying.

9. From education to formation.

10. From attending church to adoration.

The Monday Funnies

I ran across a few lame jokes the other day, all of them at the expense of church life. May your work week begin with a smile. Enjoy the Monday Funnies. . .

At the Wedding

Attending a wedding for the first time, a little girl whispered to her mother, "Why is the bride dressed in white?"

"Because white is the color of happiness, and today is the happiest day of her life."

The child thought about this for a moment, then said "So why is the groom wearing black?"


New in Church

After the service a young couple talked to a church member about joining the church. He hadn't met the husband before, and he asked what church he was transferring from.

After a short hesitation, he replied,"I am transferring from the Municipal Golf Course."

The Sermon

A little girl became restless as the preacher's sermon dragged on and on. Finally, she leaned over to her mother and whispered, "Mommy, if we give him the money now, will he let us go?"

The Boasting Boys

Three boys are in the schoolyard bragging about their fathers. The first boy says, "My Dad scribbles a few words on a piece of paper, he calls it a poem, they give him $50."

The second boy says, "That's nothing. My Dad scribbles a few words on a piece of paper, he calls it a song, they give him $100."

The third boy says, "I got you both beat. My Dad scribbles a few words on a piece of paper, he calls it a sermon. And it takes eight people to collect all the money!"

Dean of the National Cathedral to preach today at St. Paul's Memorial Church: Please join us

Guest Preacher The Very Rev. Samuel T. Lloyd, Dean of the National Cathedral

This Sunday, September 12 at 10:00 am

followed by a Q & A forum in the church

The Very Rev. Dr. Samuel T. Lloyd III was installed as the ninth dean of Washington National Cathedral on April 23, 2005, charged with leadership of what is widely referred to as “the national house of prayer.”

Dean Lloyd began his ministry as an assistant professor of religious studies at the University of Virginia in Charlottesville in the early 1980s while also serving as assistant to the rector and chaplain at St. Paul’s Memorial Church in Charlottesville.

Dean Lloyd holds a Masters of Divinity degree from Virginia Theological Seminary and a Ph.D. in English Literature from the University of Virginia. He also holds an M.A. degree in English Literature from Georgetown University and received his B.A. from the University of Mississippi. He has received honorary Doctor of Divinity degrees from the University of the South and Virginia Theological Seminary.

Remembering September 11, and giving thanks for St. Paul's Chapel in New York

Today we remember the ninth anniversary of the September 11 attacks on the World Trade Center in New York, the Pentagon in Washington DC, and Flight 93 over Pennsylvania. For many it is as raw as it was that day.

Since then, nothing has been built at "Ground Zero" in New York to replace the twin towers, and the site is has taken on the trappings of early church shrines to martyrs. It is sad but not surprising that the proposal to build an Islamic Center two blocks from the site has taken on major religious and political baggage for so many.

What many don't know is that there already is a house of prayer -- a church -- at Ground Zero, St. Paul's Episcopal Chapel. It is called a "chapel" because it is satellite of Trinity Episcopal Church, Wall Street, probably the wealthiest church in the country because it owns much of lower Manhattan.

St. Paul's Chapel, opened in 1766, is the oldest building in continuous use in New York. A prominent landmark, the chapel was dwarfed in the 1970s by the World Trade Center just across from the graveyard.

When the towers crashed, and other buildings collapsed, the graveyard was covered with debris and the pulverized remains of those who died in the towers -- but somehow St. Paul's Chapel remained standing. To read more about St. Paul's Chapel, click HERE.

In the days following 9/11, St. Paul's

Chapel became a staging center and resting place for rescue workers and those digging out the dead. The work went on for months.

Lori and I spent a day at St. Paul's in April 2002, a few months after the calamity. The work of digging out was still in full swing.

Outside and inside, people built shrines to the dead. The nave was stacked with palettes of bottled water, rescue workers napped in the pews, food was served in a corner. The daily Holy Eucharist went on at the altar amidst everything else.

I wrote this in my notebook on April 26, 2002, the day we were at St. Paul's Chapel:

"St. Paul's was overwhelming, with a shrine to the dead in one corner, and banners on every wall and cards hanging from every pew. Firemen and cops and construction workers were sitting or milling about or eating lunch or catching a nap on a cot. A priest was just beginning the noon Eucharist. The noise was layered and awesome...

The sounds of machinery outside came through the walls. And many inside seemed just very, very weary. Some slumped in pews, some praying, some looking at the ceiling. A group of firemen in full battle gear came in to get water and looked briefly at the prayers then departed...

The sights of hope were everywhere, bursting through and covering walls with banners and signs and cardboard colored paper signed and colored by children from all over the U.S. It was awesome and overwhelming and humbling."

St. Paul's was a holy place filled with holy people. It didn't matter if they were Christians, Jews, Muslims or nothing at all. Religious labels were irrelevant. St. Paul's was a place of prayer, a place of sanctuary and a place of rest for everyone who entered.

A number of my clergy friends took a turn spending a day or a week at the chapel.

Today, let us remember those who died nine years ago; let us remember those who worked tirelessly to relieve the pain of the victims. Let us give thanks for St. Paul's Chapel and all who came through those doors.

And may we have as much charity and equanimity in our hearts for people of all religions as we did then.

Photos from the St. Paul's Chapel website.

The cusp between seasons, sitting on a hillside to think about God

We are on the cusp between seasons. The air is warm, but not as moist as a week ago. The trees are starting to twinkle golden on the edges, but are still lush.

Summer is finishing, but not yet done, and autumn is in the air, but not quite here.

Here is a poem sent by Karen from Tennessee to mark the season that is still with us. Enjoy your day.

Song of the Builders
By Mary Oliver

On a summer morning
I sat down
on a hillside
to think about God -

a worthy pastime.
Near me, I saw
a single cricket;
it was moving the grains of the hillside

this way and that way.
How great was its energy,
how humble its effort.
Let us hope

it will always be like this,
each of us going on
in our inexplicable ways
building the universe.

Art: Tenaya Peak, by Chiura Obata, 1930

The Jewish High Holy Days: Shana tova!

The Jewish High Holy Days began at sundown yesterday, with the Jewish New Year, Rosh Hashanah. The year is now 5771 on the Hebrew calendar.

The High Holy Days extend for 10 days, until Yom Kippur, the Day of Atonement, the most solemn day of the year.

My friend Ilana DeBare, who is preparing for her Bat Mitzvah in middle-age, posted on her blog this reading from Gates of Repentance, the Reform Jewish prayer book. Some background written by Ilana follows. I think this is wonderful. Shana tova, Ilana!

Birth is a beginning
And death a destination.
And life is a journey:
From childhood to maturity
And youth to age;
From innocence to awareness
And ignorance to knowing;
From foolishness to discretion
And then, perhaps, to wisdom;
From weakness to strength
Or strength to weakness –
And, often, back again;
From health to sickness
And back, we pray, to health again;
From offense to forgiveness,
From loneliness to love,
From joy to gratitude,
From pain to compassion,
And grief to understanding –
From fear to faith;
From defeat to defeat to defeat –
Until, looking backward or ahead,
We see that victory lies
Not at some high place along the way,
But in having made the journey, stage by stage,
A sacred pilgrimage.
Birth is a beginning
And death a destination.
And life is a journey,
A sacred pilgrimage –
To life everlasting.

Background from Ilana:

It turns out it was written by the late Rabbi Alvin Fine, a rabbi at Temple Emanu-El in San Francisco who died in 1999 at the age of 82. Rabbi Fine’s obituary in the J. mentioned his mellifluous voice, his opposition to Joe McCarthy’s red-baiting, his Labor Zionism, his hosting of Martin Luther King Jr. and Maya Angelou at the synagogue.

It did not mention that poem – although ironically, Rabbi Fine may have touched more lives around the country through this one piece of writing than through sixteen years at the Emanu-El pulpit.

None of us know which of the many things we do -- big things, small things, even unnoticed things -- will ripple out to move others and change the world.

Whether you're Jewish or not, may you have a sweet and fulfilling 5771. And may you find time, either in the next two weeks or at a moment that is fitting for you, to reflect on your own journey in the spirit of Rabbi Fine.

Shana tova!

Darkness is not dark to you; the night is as bright as the day

The phone jangled me awake at 4 am a few mornings ago. I fumbled around, picked up the receiver. A parishioner was having a medical emergency. Could I go to the hospital? Of course, and so I headed off into the dark pre-dawn morning.

I stayed with our parishioner while nurses and doctors did their work. She was stable, out of danger. We prayed, and she looked in need of rest. I walked outside the hospital to get some air at 6 am.

The sky was a rich dark royal blue, and a crescent moon hovered a few degrees above the horizon. The dark part of the moon was as visible as the shining crescent. Venus hung nearby, just above the moon.

The words of Psalm 139:11 came rushing through my mind: "Darkness is not dark to you; the night is as bright as the day; darkness and light to you are both alike."

I did not have a camera, so I found the photo above on the internet that someone else took the other morning. It is a close approximation, but only an approximation. Here is the psalm. Blessings on your day. . .

Psalm 139 Domine, probasti

1 LORD, you have searched me out and known me; *
you know my sitting down and my rising up;
you discern my thoughts from afar.

2 You trace my journeys and my resting-places *
and are acquainted with all my ways.

3 Indeed, there is not a word on my lips, *
but you, O LORD, know it altogether.

4 You press upon me behind and before *
and lay your hand upon me.

5 Such knowledge is too wonderful for me; *
it is so high that I cannot attain to it.

6 Where can I go then from your Spirit? *
where can I flee from your presence?

7 If I climb up to heaven, you are there; *
if I make the grave my bed, you are there also.

8 If I take the wings of the morning *
and dwell in the uttermost parts of the sea,

9 Even there your hand will lead me *
and your right hand hold me fast.

10 If I say, "Surely the darkness will cover me, *
and the light around me turn to night,"

11 Darkness is not dark to you;
the night is as bright as the day; *
darkness and light to you are both alike.

12 For you yourself created my inmost parts; *
you knit me together in my mother's womb.

13 I will thank you because I am marvelously made; *
your works are wonderful, and I know it well.

14 My body was not hidden from you, *
while I was being made in secret
and woven in the depths of the earth.

15 Your eyes beheld my limbs, yet unfinished in the womb;
all of them were written in your book; *
they were fashioned day by day,
when as yet there was none of them.

16 How deep I find your thoughts, O God! *
how great is the sum of them!

17 If I were to count them, they would be more in number
than the sand; *
to count them all, my life span would need to
be like yours.

Dwelling in the Logos: A meditation on the Gospel of John

Each morning of late, The Episcopal Church Daily Office readings are from the Gospel of John, that most mystical, most enigmatic, most christological, most puzzling (to me) of the gospels. I've taken and taught classes on John, read a few books about the book, and still each time I read it something new jumps out at me.

The Gospel of John to me is a wrestling match, and I believe it was written to be exactly that way.

A very familiar phrase caught my attention the other day, from John 8:32: "If you continue in my word, you are truly my disciples; and you will know the truth, and the truth will make you free."

Working it backwards, the logic goes something like this: freedom comes from knowing the truth, and truth comes not by analysis, but by being a disciple of Jesus. How? By dwelling in his "word." The saying pulls the listeners back to the beginning of John, with the soaring language about "In the beginning was the Word" and the "Word made flesh" in Jesus. The term that is translated as "word" comes from the Greek, logos, and it is not about letters on a page, but about the mind of God, or the will of God.

So to paraphrase the passage: "Whoever knows me discerns my mind, and the discernment will make you a disciple and that will make you free."

The passage has been used as a commission to go forth and convert people. But do those words really do that?

Maybe it is not at all about our own doing, but about dwelling somehow in the mind of God and knowing that it is not about our own doing, but about the will and work of God. Knowing this can set us free from worry, anxiety, and the need to be in control of things.

But there are more layers to this in The Gospel of John.

A few days later in the Daily Office, we get this from John 10:16: "I have other sheep that do not belong to this fold. I must bring them also, and they will listen to my voice."

The agent of action is not us, but Jesus. It is Jesus who will speak to people, and he will bring them to his flock. There are many tribes, many peoples, and Jesus is capable talking to all of them, each in a way they can hear. The emphasis again is not on us.

Could it be that the our participation in this comes through our own listening -- our own discerning, our own dwelling in the logos -- and then translating our discipleship into how we live our life in acts of service to others? Maybe it is not at all about our going forth to convert anyone to our own way of thinking, but instead being open to hearing others as they hear the Word of God in whatever way it comes to them. Maybe to be a true disciple is to be a listener, not a talker.

Can we trust that people may recognize the logos of God in ways they can hear it?

And then today we get another layer from John 10:31-42. Jesus asks his listeners to "believe" he is the "Son of God," and he leaves us dangling (for a moment) about what the phrase means. He tells us that his actions (not ours) define who he is (John 10:38): "Even though you do not believe me, believe the works, so that you may know and understand that the Father is in me and I am in the Father."

The understanding -- the conversion -- Jesus speaks of will set us free from the need to make people think and believe as we do. Maybe that is the true meaning of freedom -- to be free from human-imposed religious labels so that we might wholly dwell in the logos of God.

The Gospel of John, at its core, is a book about conversion; it is a roadmap into the way with the Risen Christ. Yet, at its core, the way contains a paradox: conversion is not ours to control, and as we get closer to the logos, we become reborn as we were always meant to be: wholly one and with God.

Art by He Qi.

The Monday Funnies

I'm a little late starting today, but it is a holiday. Here's some jokes from our buddy Patrick Hill.

Enjoy your Monday off if you have it off . . .

* * *

The boy found a W.W.J.D. (What would Jesus do?) bracelet and wanted to buy it.

His mother asked him if he knew what it meant.

The boy responded, "Of course I do Mom! It's Jesus' web-site!"

* * *

I was thinking about how people seem to read the Bible a whole lot more as they get older then it dawned on me . . . they were cramming for their finals.

* * *

Our church organist was a grand old lady, but every Sunday she allowed her two dogs to accompany her to church. The congregations did not mind the dogs, but they were upset when the two dogs would howl through every high note from the organ.

Finally the congregation asked the minister to insist the organist leave her dogs at home.

"Give me one week," said the minister, "and then I'll tell you what I have decided to do."

On the following Sunday the minister announced his decision. Fearing that the organist would leave if her dogs couldn't come to church, and that would have a devastating effect on the worship services, he said, "Friends, I have decided that it is better the dogs come to church than the church go to the dogs!"

Jesus and the hard way of discipleship

My sermon today is based on Jeremiah 18:1-11, Psalm 139:1-5, 13-17, Philemon 1-21, and Luke 14:25-33.

Tribes

“Whoever comes to me and does not hate father and mother, wife and children cannot be my disciple.”

What?

Yes, you heard that right.

And if you feel like you just heard this not long ago, you are correct. We heard a very similar passage three weeks ago.

We could turn to the other lessons today, but they don’t seem much better, and let me remind you again that I don’t pick the lessons.

It is tempting to avoid them – this one from Luke is known as one of the “hard sayings” of Jesus, and with good reason.

But let’s see what we can do here. First, I want to underline an obvious truth: How we tell our stories says a great deal about how we view ourselves, and how we view our relationship with God.

Second, I want to underline another truth that is less obvious: How we listen to stories – how we hear each other – also says a great about us and how we view our relationship with God.

I make those two observations to further point out that how we hear these ancient biblical stories says a great deal about us and how we view our relationship with God.

We can hear these stories at least two ways.

Here is one way: From the Prophet Jeremiah, we are told that God will bring evil against you unless you “amend your ways.”

From Psalm 139: “Oh that you would slay the wicked, O God!”

You didn’t actually hear those words this morning because the drafters of the lectionary edited that part out. But, trust me, the slaying of the wicked is in the psalm.

Then to Paul’s Letter to Philemon: it doesn’t seem to fit much of anything, so we are going to leave aide for now and go straight to the Gospel of Luke:

“Whoever comes to me and does not hate father and mother…”

Then take up your cross and get ready to be crucified.

The image we get is of a wrathful, vengeful God who only allows a tiny number of worthy people to be admitted into his holy club. If you mess up, even a little, you are out.

That is the way much of our culture – and much of the religious world in general – hears these biblical passages, and then uses these passages to build religious social structures that divide people into the worthy and the unworthy, the elect and the non-elect.

But maybe there is another way of hearing these biblical passages that get closer to how Jesus intends us to hear them.

But be forewarned: this way of hearing the gospel might prove even more unsettling than the other way because it might push us out of our comfort zones.

From Jeremiah, we hear how we are like a piece of clay. God is the potter molding us into a beautiful jar. We are shaped, but we are not the shapers.

Then from Psalm 139 we hear about God who is with us from the time we are in our mother’s womb, who knows us in our sitting down and our rising up, in our journeys and in our resting places.

We hear about God who never gives up on us.

Then we get this extraordinary – and brief – letter from Paul to Philemon. The letter has no outward theological content, but don’t let outward appearances fool you. Paul is writing to a slave owner, Philemon, pleading with him to legally free his slave, Onesimus, who has escaped.

Paul sends Onesimus back to his owner, and Paul asks the owner see his slave as a “beloved brother” – to treat his slave as an equal – and then free him. Paul wants both slave and owner to be liberated from the brutal economy of humans owning other humans.

By the way, it is thought that this letter was kept and cherished by the early church because Onesimus was, in fact, freed from slavery, and went on to become a bishop.
And then we come to Jesus and his teaching to “hate mother and father.”

This really is not a recipe guide for creating a dysfunctional family. Rather, Jesus is attacking head-on the most violent social structure of his time – the allegiances of tribe and family that lead to blood feuds and endless cycles of retribution.

Think of the present-day tribal violence of Iraq and Afghanistan, and you get the idea. Jesus implores his people – his tribe – to abandon this way of thinking because it possesses them, strangling them.

You can’t be my disciple if you are going to keep living that way.

Such social structures are not so far removed from our own world, though sometimes they are more subtle.

Last Sunday, we heard University of Virginia President Teresa Sullivan, in this pulpit, talking about how “humans take differences among people and translate those differences into enduring inequalities.”

In our daily life, we deal with social distinctions created by race and class, educational degrees, family connections, religious affiliations, gender, sexual orientation, just to name a few. Some of these social distinctions help us to maneuver through a complicated world.

But some of these social distinctions are unhealthy. There one distinction I particularly want to talk about today: the anti-Muslim fervor loose in our land.
We’ve seen a number of flash points recently, for example, in the debate over a proposed Islamic Center a few blocks away from “Ground Zero” in New York.

Or in Florida, there is a supposedly Christian pastor promoting the anniversary of the Sept. 11 attacks as a day for mass burnings of the Quran.

And my email burns with proclamations that President Obama is really a Muslim, and was not really born in the United States, and wants to impose Islamic law on the United States.

Let me be clear: I am not going to suggest to you how to vote, nor am I going to suggest how to write an immigration law or a zoning law in New York, or an arson law for that matter.

But I want to tell you that these are not just political issues; they are spiritual issues because they place us onto the uncomfortable ground of social distinctions based on religion.

And when we get onto that uncomfortable ground, we again hear Jesus telling us to upend social structures that lead to hatred and violence. Let them go; don’t let them possess you.

As Christians, we need to understand that there are people in this world who understand God very differently than we do.

What makes us think God can’t reach all people everywhere, in every language, and every culture? Are we so arrogant as to think only we hear God’s voice?

To be a follower of Jesus Christ requires setting aside our own tribal prejudices, and embracing all people with compassion, especially the poor, the immigrants, the weak, and the people who are not like us.

You can’t be a follower of Jesus while embracing religious and racial bigotry.

To be truly a disciple is to take the hard path of the Cross, to sacrifice for others, to live in community with people you may not like, and to commit daring acts of kindness, service, and humility, and then to worship together every week.

There are questions that should come out of this for each of us today: Can we free ourselves from the captivity of our human distinctions so that we might truly see each other as beloved children of God?

And can we trust God enough to trust each other? Can we see in each other the face of Christ, no matter our differences, our arguments, our politics, our outward appearances, and truly become the One body of the Living God in Christ?

What kind of disciples will we be?

We get a lifetime to answer. AMEN.

An execution draws near in Virginia

I've been asked to post information about Teresa Lewis, a prisoner in Virginia who is scheduled to be executed later this month for the murder of her husband and his adult son.

Although mentally retarded, she was given the death sentence as the "mastermind" of these killings. The two men who carried out the killings were given life sentences.

Few issues are fraught with more politics than capital punishment. Yet this should not be about politics, but about justice. Honest people can disagree honestly on this.

A few weeks ago, I wrote a lengthy essay about my opposition to the death penalty, and how it has taken me a long time to get there. I would invite you to read that entry if you have not already (please click HERE).

Below is information provided by her defense team, who are asking that people of faith write letters to Governor Robert McDonnell asking that her sentence be commuted to life in prison. The Episcopal Church also opposes the death penalty. I would invite your consideration, your prayers, and your letters if you feel able. You can also learn more about the case by clicking HERE.

Here is the information from her defense team:

Teresa Lewis

Incomplete and inaccurate evidence led a judge to impose a death sentence on Teresa Lewis, whose IQ is in the 70-72 range, as the “mastermind” behind a plan to kill Lewis’s husband, Julian, and his adult son, C.J., for life insurance funds. The two men who actually committed the murders both were sentenced to life in prison.

Unbeknownst to Teresa’s sentencing judge, one of the killers had an IQ of 113 and boasted after the crimes that he was the mastermind of the crimes.

Teresa has lived alone in a segregation cell for seven years, separated from physical contact with other prisoners. Reverend Lynn Litchfield, a former prison chaplain to Teresa, has been inspired by Teresa who, despite severe restrictions, holds steadfastly to her faith and shares her love and support with women in the cells around her, ministering from behind a solid steel door with her kind words and beautiful singing voice. Prison officials say that when she sings hymns in her cell, the entire segregation wing calms. Teresa prays throughout her day for anyone she knows is in need.

Without your help, Teresa’s ministry will be cut short and she will be executed on September 23rd, 2010.

Teresa’s life and ministry should be allowed to continue and grace the lives of those around her. You can help save Teresa’s life by writing to Governor Robert F. McDonnell to ask that her sentence be commuted to life in prison without parole.
It is important to let the Governor know:

* that you are not seeking to excuse Teresa from punishment for her role in the killing of Julian and C.J. Lewis.

* that Teresa has only borderline intellectual functioning, with an IQ of 70-72.

* that the two actual murderers received life sentences and one of them, Matthew Shallenberger, confessed to a friend that he was the mastermind behind the murders.

* that you believe a decision to commute Teresa’s death sentence to life without parole is appropriate in this case and would support the Governor’s decision to do so.

Letters should be sent to:

The Honorable Robert F. McDonnell
Governor of Virginia
PO Box 1475
Richmond, VA 23218

The Governor can also be reached by email via his website at: http://www.governor.virginia.gov/AboutTheGovernor/contactGovernor.cfm

To learn more about Teresa please visit www.saveteresalewis.org or search “Friends of Teresa Lewis” on Facebook.

Pray for peace in the Middle East: A litany for peace from the Anglican Cathedral in Jerusalem

This week maybe we should hold our breath a little. Or better yet, pray.

The heads of state of Israel, the Palestinian Authority, Egypt, Jordan and the United States are meeting in Washington DC, the first serious peace talks in decades.

Whatever your politics, I hope we can join together in praying that these leaders will find common ground and begin to build a lasting peace. Many forces are arrayed against their success.

But we can bring our prayers.

Each day the Anglican Cathedral in Jerusalem, and its bishop, The Right Rev. Suheil S. Dawani, are praying this Litany for Peace. Let's join them:

The Cathedral of St. George the Martyr, Jerusalem

O Lamb of God, you take away the sins of the world,
Have mercy upon us.

O Lamb of God, you take away the sins of the world,
Have mercy upon us.

O Lamb of God, you take away the sins of the world,
Grant us your peace.

Lord, have mercy.

Christ, have mercy.

Lord, have mercy.

Heavenly Father, we thank you for the birth in Bethlehem of the Word made flesh, Jesus your Son; who dwelt among us full of grace and truth.

Lord in your mercy, hear our prayer.

We thank you for his life; his death here in Jerusalem as he carried our sins and suffering, and for his glorious Resurrection in which he gave us new life with him.

Lord in your mercy, hear our prayer.

We thank you for entrusting to us the ministry of forgiveness, reconciliation and peace-making for the healing of your creation.

Lord in your mercy, hear our prayer.

We pray for all victims of bloodshed, violence and persecution and those who are in danger here in this Land -- in Gaza, Israel, Palestine and throughout the world.

Lord in your mercy, hear our prayer.

We pray for all who grieve for loved ones who have died in the desperation of violent actions this past week.

Lord in your mercy, hear our prayer.

We pray for all who promote violence, that their hearts may be turned to the way of peace.

Lord in your mercy, hear our prayer.

We pray for children and young people that you may fill them with hope for the future.

Lord in your mercy, hear our prayer.

We pray for the guidance of your Holy Spirit upon us; upon all the leaders of the Land of the Holy One; upon President Obama and President Abbas, Prime Minister Netanyahu; upon all those in leadership positions among those who bear arms; upon all the leaders of the United Nations and upon all those in authority in the nations of the world to seek peace and pursue it.

Lord in your mercy, hear our prayer.

Heavenly Father, we praise and glorify you. You are our only refuge in a troubled world.

Lord in your mercy, hear our prayer.

The Lord be with you.
And also with you.
Let us pray. (in unison)

Lord God Almighty, you have made all the peoples of the earth for your glory, to serve you in freedom and in peace: Give to us and the people of all the nations a zeal for justice and the strength of forbearance, that all of your people may use their liberty in accordance with your gracious will; through Jesus Christ our Lord, who lives and reigns with you and the Holy Spirit, one God, for ever and ever. Amen.

Our Centennial continues: You are invited

You are Invited to Join in a Very Special Day

Celebrating 100 Years of Ministry

St. Paul’s Memorial Church

At the University of Virginia

Sunday, September 19

10:00 a.m.

A Service of

Rededication and Celebration

of 100 Years of Ministry

Followed by

A Festive Parish Lunch

Food and Fun for all ages

So that we may plan for lunch, please call the church office at 434.295.2156 OR go online here, OR complete the form below and either mail it to the church office or place it in the offering plate on Sunday.

PLEASE INCLUDE NAMES OF ALL WHO WILL BE ATTENDING.