The Saints of Summer: A postscript of grace

You may have read my post on Saturday about the feast day of Jonathan Daniels. There is an amazing postscript of grace to the story, sent by my friend Carol Anne. Here it is:

Ruby Sales (born July 8, 1948 in Jemison, Alabama) is an African-American social activist. Growing up in Alabama during the tumultuous days of the U.S. Civil Rights Movement, Sales participated in the Selma to Montgomery marches of 1965. She was arrested for her actions, and released after six days.

While purchasing refreshments at a store in Hayneville, Alabama, her life was threatened by a shotgun-wielding construction worker, Tom Coleman. Sales' fellow marcher, white Episcopal seminarian Jonathan Myrick Daniels, pushed her out of the way and took the bullet meant for her, dying instantly.

Sales was so traumatized by Daniels' shooting that she was unable to properly speak for the next seven months. Despite death threats made to her and her family, she resolved to testify at Tom Coleman's trial. He was acquitted by a jury of 12 white men, but the outcome of the trial led to reform of the segregated procedures that were used to pick juries in Alabama.

Sales went on to attend Episcopal Theological School in Massachusetts where Daniels attended (now Episcopal Divinity School), and has worked as a human rights advocate in Washington, D.C. as well as founding an inner-city mission dedicated to Daniels.

She joined others last Saturday in Selma to celebrate the life of Jonathan Daniels. She now heads the Spirit House Project, which you can read about by clicking HERE. To read more about Ruby Sales, click HERE.

The Saints of Summer: Jonathan Daniels

Not all martyrs lived long ago. We celebrate the feast day of one them today, Jonathan Myrick Daniels, who was killed in Selma, Alabama, in 1965 while working for equal rights in the Civil Rights Movement.

Daniels was a young Episcopal seminarian at the Episcopal Theological Seminary in Cambridge, Mass., when like many other young people of his time, he answered the call from the Rev. Dr. Martin Luther King, Jr., to go to the South to join a march in Selma.

Daniels stayed on after the march, working to integrate the local Episcopal Church, and developing resources for those needing assistance in the African American community.

In August 1965, was arrested in a picket line in front of local businesses. After his release from jail, he and the others were confronted by a man with a shot gun, who told them they would be shot if they didn't leave. The man pointed the shot gun at an African American child who was with Daniels. When Daniels pushed the girl out of the way he was shot and killed.

We do well to remember Jonathan Daniels and those who sacrificed so much to bring equal rights closer to reality. And we do well to remember the struggle is never ended.

Before going to Selma, Daniels wrote this:

"My soul doth magnify the Lord, and my spirit hath rejoiced in God my Saviour." I had come to Evening Prayer as usual that evening, and as usual I was singing the Magnificat with the special love and reverence I have always felt for Mary's glad song. "He hath showed strength with his arm." As the lovely hymn of the God-bearer continued, I found myself peculiarly alert, suddenly straining toward the decisive, luminous, Spirit-filled "moment" that would, in retrospect, remind me of others--particularly one at Easter three years ago. Then it came. "He hath put down the mighty from their seat, and hath exalted the humble and meek. He hath filled the hungry with good things." I knew then that I must go to Selma. The Virgin's song was to grow more and more dear in the weeks ahead."

The Saints of Autumn: Constance and her companions, the Martyrs of Memphis

This is not a pretty story, but it is a story of courage and faith, and is one of those times when the Church lived into the fullness of Christ's call to bring healing to those abandoned by the dominant society.

In 1878 Memphis was plagued by an outbreak of Yellow Fever. The city's leader's ordered an evacuation, and those who were able fled Memphis on every horse, cart and train they could find. Some 30,000 people ran for their lives.

Those left behind -- 20,000 people -- were mostly African American. They had no means to get out, and nowhere to go. They began succumbing to the Yellow Fever at a rate of 200 deaths a day. By the end of the epidemic, an estimated 5,000 people had died.

A group of Episcopal and Catholic nuns and priests stayed behind, rallied by Sister Constance at a cathedral girl's school. They tended to the sick and dying until they, too, succumbed to the plague.

Constance and her nuns are credited with saving thousands who survived. Constance and her companions have been ever-after known as "The Martyrs of Memphis." Today is their feast day in the Episcopal Church.

There is a monument and park dedicated to Constance and the Martyrs of Memphis along a bank of the Mississippi River in Memphis. It is located in an industrial part of town, on the edge of an historically African American neighborhood, and only a few blocks from the motel where Martin Luther King, Jr., was assassinated almost a century later. The park is located on the site of what was Fort Pickering in the Civil War.

Fort Pickering was soldiered by a black Union regiment, the 7th U.S. Colored Heavy Artillery. My great-great grandfather, The Rev. George W. Richardson, was the white chaplain to that regiment (all black regiments were required to have white officers), and he was posted with them at Fort Pickering in 1864-1865. He left at war's end, returning home to Minnesota, and then went to Texas where he founded a college for ex-slaves (Huston-Tillotson University in Austin).

Many of the black soldiers he served with mustered out of the Army and stayed in Memphis, rearing families and settling in the neighborhood that grew around the fort. These ex-soldiers and their families were doubtless among those who contracted Yellow Fever in the 1878 epidemic.

Finding Fort Pickering today is not easy. After the Civil War, the white citizens of Memphis dismantled Fort Pickering, stone by stone, in an effort to rid themselves of any memory that a black regiment had once been posted in their midst.

A few years ago, on a very windy day, I walked this hallowed ground where Fort Pickering had once stood. I tried to imagine the place as it must have been when my ancestor served there, but it was difficult to picture it as it once was. There was no marker showing it as the site of Fort Pickering; I needed a local historian-guide to show me the site.

Yet there was redemption in this: A monument to Constance and the Martyrs of Memphis is there at the place where Fort Pickering once stood. It seemed very right they are honored on this spot, and very right we remember them today.

The photos are from my pilgrimage to Memphis and Fort Pickering in April 2004, showing the monument and marker to the Martyrs of Memphis.

The Saints of Summer: Augustine of Hippo

Today is the feast day of one of the major figures of Christianity: Augustine of Hippo, about whom almost as many pages have been written as about Jesus of Nazareth and St. Paul. Augustine looms so large, and his shadow so long, that it is impossible to talk of him without bringing up debates that are as alive today as they were 1,600 years ago.

Augustine (354 to 430, bishop in North Africa), did as much as anyone to shape the theology and ethos of western Christianity. The arguments that rage today in the church are echoes of the fourth-century conflicts in which he was so central, and which were never fully resolved.

Truthfully, Augustine gives us a mixed bag. It was Augustine who interpreted the Adam-and-Eve story as an allegory for original sin, elevating that story for Christians in importance above the Abraham saga that is foundational to Judaism. A piece of our Jewish roots was lost, and not for the better. Augustine rendered sex into the original sin, and you can connect the dots from that to all of the arguments we have today over sexuality. He also explored the idea of predestination and came up with a double-predestination concept that puzzled his contemporaries at least as much as it might puzzle us.

Yet I would give you another picture of Augustine that is worth exploring. He was the first to write a spiritual autobiography, Confessions of a Sinner, and it is still readable today (there are several new translations). He left us hundreds of sermons and major books. Most spectacularly, Augustine explored the meaning of grace, and how grace comes to us free of charge whether we deserve it or not. Augustine was accused of preaching "cheap grace" by those who believed we needed to earn God's favor. Augustine stood firm that grace is a gift of God and not anything we can control. And he preached how we are called to bring heaven to earth -- the city on a hill. Central to Augustine was Christian hope for a better world.

Augustine battled the Donatists, a north African movement that preached that only the pure could be in the church. The Donatists never conceded the point, and they never went away. We see echoes of Donatism today among those who feel the church needs to purge itself of those people who are considered impure or unworthy. Augustine and his arguments remain as relevant today as they were 1,600 years ago.

If you want to know more, I highly recommend Garry Wills' short biography, Saint Augustine, in the Penguin Lives series. For a longer scholarly treatment, Peter Brown's biography, Augustine of Hippo, published by the University of California Press, is still a masterpiece.

The Saints of Summer: Thomas Gallaudet and Henry Winter Syle

Thomas Gallaudet (1822-1902) and Henry Winter Syle (1846-1890) were pioneers in the education and inclusion of the deaf in the life of The Episcopal Church. Galladet, born in Connecticut, followed in his father's footsteps as an educator of the deaf.

Thomas (in the color image) was not deaf, but his wife, Elizabeth was deaf. He was ordained in The Episcopal Church, and established St. Ann's Church in New York with worship services primarily in sign language.

One of Gallaudet's students, Henry Winter Syle (black and white photograph) became the first deaf person ordained an Episcopal priest. Syle, born in China, educated in Gallaudet's school, was encouraged by Gallaudet to seek ordination. Syle went on to establish his own congregation for the deaf.

The work and witness of Gallaudet and Syle are great reminders that our church has long sought to include all of God's children at the Holy Table. We follow giant footsteps as we continue their work.

The Saints of Summer: William Porcher DuBose

One of the things I love about the Episcopal calendar is running across names of saints who are, albeit, a bit obscure in our own time but who are much worthy of our consideration. Today is the feast day of William Porcher (pronounced "Por-shay") DuBose, born in 1836 in South Carolina, died in 1918.

He ought to be a household name in every Episcopal parish of Charlottesville.

As near as I can tell, DuBose is the only saint on our calendar who is a graduate of the University of Virginia, having matriculated in 1859. He went on to the Episcopal priesthood, and founded the School of Theology at Sewanee, Tennesee, where he served as Dean until 1908.

He taught moral theology, was a prolific writer and mined the best theological trends of his era from the Anglo-Catholic Oxford movement to the Evangelicals. "We need the truth of every variant opinion and the light from every opposite point of view," he once said, voicing an ethic out-of-favor in some quarters of our church.

We owe him much for his creativity, theological gravitas, and the work that continues at Sewanee (including Education for Ministry which came long after his time but is very much in keeping with the foundation he set at Sewanee).

The Saints of Summer: Mary, Mother of Jesus and how we think of her

Today is one of the official feast days for The Blessed Virgin Mary. She has more feasts than any saint on the calendar. There are three such days on the Anglican and Episcopal calendar; the Roman Catholic calendar has 15 days devoted to Mary.

This veneration of Mary was not always so. The Council of Ephesus in 431 sanctioned devotion to the Theotokos -- "the Mother of God" -- only after considerable controversy. The theology that developed was Jesus was unapproachable, the royal son of God, clad in armor with a sword. It was becoming disrespectful to directly pray to Jesus; but surely he would listen to his mother.

Among the innovations of the Protestant Reformation was to attempt seeing Jesus as the approachable Christ of prayer. Marion devotion was discouraged, even banned in places.

Yet Mary lingers in popularity, and not just among Catholics. She is central to devotion in Eastern Orthodox churches, and many Episcopalians have Mary and the Rosary central in their prayer life. We may scoff at her apparitions on slices of toast, but Mary remains central to the piety of millions. She appears to people in dreams and in moments of extreme crisis.

I must admit to being puzzled by this, until a few years ago on this feast day we celebrate today.

We were traveling with our choir in Canterbury, and we were definitely pilgrims. I got up early on this particular feast day, and I went alone to the Cathedral. But instead of Eucharist at one of the magnificent altars, we were invited that morning into the catacombs and to a chamber barely lit by candles. There we celebrated our Eucharist, and our preacher was a Palestinian woman who was an Anglican priest.

I don't remember all that she said, but she talked of opening herself to all that God asked of her, devoting her life to service that others might live, and doing so under circumstances that are difficult, even dangerous.

That is when I got it about Mary.

Here are the words to the Magnificat, the words Mary is said to have prayed when the angel came to her in a dream and told her of the child she would bear (Luke 1:46-55):

"My soul magnifies the Lord,
and my spirit rejoices in God my Savior,
for he has looked with favor on the lowliness of his servant.
Surely, from now on all generations will call me blessed;
for the Mighty One has done great things for me,
and holy is his name.
His mercy is for those who fear him
from generation to generation.
He has shown strength with his arm;
he has scattered the proud in the thoughts of their hearts.
He has brought down the powerful from their thrones,
and lifted up the lowly;
he has filled the hungry with good things,
and sent the rich away empty.
He has helped his servant Israel,
in remembrance of his mercy,
according to the promise he made to our ancestors,
to Abraham and to his descendants forever."

The photo is of a Palestinian woman and child at the Ain al-Hehweh refugee camp in southern Lebanon; photo credit to Ya Libnan.

The Saints of Summer: Jeremy Taylor

Today is the feast day of one of my personal favorites on the Anglican calendar of saints: Jeremy Taylor (1613-1667). Lori would say he is at the top of my list.

Taylor is chiefly known for his masterful work, The Rules and Exercise of Holy Living (1650) which has never gone out of print.

Taylor should be known for much more, including his Liberty of Prophesying (1647) a book calling for an end to government-backed coercion in support of religion, an idea that would not take root for another century in the Enlightenment.

In his day, Taylor was known as a great preacher and a masterful crafter of prose, including this gem from a sermon given in 1653:

"Prayer is the peace of our spirit, the stillness of our thoughts, the evenness of recollection, the seat of meditation, the rest of our cares and the calm of our tempest; prayer is the issue of a quiet mind, of untroubled thoughts, it is the daughter of charity, and the sister of meekness."

Taylor profoundly influenced his own generation and those who came after him, including Thomas Jefferson who said every educated person should have Taylor on the bookshelf. Many of Taylor's quotes can be found in 19th century "books of days," the forerunner to the contemporary "Forward Day by Day." Taylor's story is worth telling.

Taylor was born and educated in Cambridge, the fourth of six children; eventually coming to the attention of Archbishop William Laud who heard him preach at St. Paul’s Cathedral in London. Taylor became the protégé of Laud, who secured for him a teaching post at All Souls College, Oxford, in 1635. Taylor was also appointed chaplain to King Charles I. Taylor was on the ecclesiastical fast-track, and seemed destined to become a bishop, perhaps even Archbishop of Canterbury.

Life intervened.

In 1640, Charles I overplayed his hand with the Puritans in Parliament, and civil war erupted between the armies of Parliament and the Royalists. England was ravaged. In 1642, the king was captured along with his chaplain, Taylor. Charles I was beheaded and as he went to the gallows, he gave his ring to Taylor, who was allowed to go into exile in Wales in 1645.

In Wales, Taylor wrote prolifically, taking an attitude that both sides were profoundly wrong and sinful. He took Anglican theological theory and applied it to real life as he experienced it. In his classic, Holy Living, Taylor explained a way of living a “holy life” in ordinary walks of life. He lived at a time when prayer books were banned, churches burned, and people felt adrift and worse. How could they worship God – be present with God – if not in a church? Taylor explained how, and it made him one of the most popular and oft-printed religious authors well into the early 20th century.

For Taylor, God was everywhere. Contemporary authors have re-discovered that theme, but few have crafted language as soaring as Taylor's:

“So that we imagine God to be as the air and the sea; and we all enclosed in his circle, wrapped up in the lap of his infinite nature, or as infants in the wombs of their pregnant mothers: and we can no more be removed from the presence of God than from our being.”

When Taylor's wife died, he wrote a companion volume to Holy Living, called Holy Dying. It was truly an ode to his wife, and his own way of struggling through his grief.

Eventually, the monarchy was restored. Taylor was made a bishop, but in Northern Ireland (perhaps because the Royalists did not fully trust him). He began writing yet another long set of works, including a treatise on how bishops have a place in the church only as long as they are promoting ministry. Perhaps we would do well in our day to take a few pages from Taylor. He outlived most of his children, and died in 1667.

I have a postscript that is my story:

Ten years ago, Lori and I took a summer course in Anglican theology at Oxford. I wandered into Blackwell, the great bookstore in Oxford, and found a set of Taylor's works printed in the mid-19th century; the books were in pristine condition and the price was beyond my reach.

That evening I described these books at the pub to our summer classmate friends. The next thing I knew, Dick Toll, the rector of a church in Oregon, took out his checkbook and wrote a check to Blackwell for the price of the books.

The next morning I waited at the door of the store, impatient to be first inside lest someone else buy the books (never mind the books probably had languished on the shelves for decades). I bought the books and then scurried off to Morning Prayer.

I took my pew, opened the service leaflet, and that's when I noticed: It was August 13, Jeremy Taylor's Feast Day.

The Saints of Summer: William Wilberforce

Here is one of the major saints of summer: William Wilberforce, whose feast day we celebrate today.

Wilberforce (1759-1833) was a British aristocrat who underwent a Christian conversion experience leading him to become the leading legislative force for the abolition of slavery. 

For 26 years Wilberforce worked tirelessly to end the slave trade, succeeding finally in 1807. He continued to work for the complete abolition of slavery in Britain and its colonies, succeeding in 1833. He died three days later. To say that his faith had an impact on many lives is a major understatement. He is buried at Westminster Abbey, and you can read more about his life by clicking HERE.

A few years back, Hollywood produced a good movie about his life: Amazing Grace. It is well worth seeing.