The prayer you won't get to hear for another 200 years

We have entered the long Season After Pentecost (some churches call it the “Trinity Season”). The season is calculated based on where Easter falls each year, itself a calculation based on the first full moon after the equinox (Cartoonist Dave Walker at right can explain this).

What all this means is that there are Sundays and weekdays with assigned biblical readings and prayers from the prayer book that we almost never get to hear.

In fact, the first of these prayers won’t be heard again in church on a Sunday for another 215 years. The next time Easter will be early enough will be March 23, 2228.

This year we begin the Season after Pentecost with the prayer and readings for “Proper 3,” which is church-speak for starting three weeks into the earliest possible date for Pentecost. Had Easter come three weeks earlier (like in 2228) we would have started on the Pentecost readings and prayers three weeks ago. Since we are not going to hear these prayers for a very long time on a Sunday, today I am offering you these prayers that you didn’t get to hear.

And since this coming Sunday is Trinity Sunday, you don’t get to hear the prayer for the Fourth Sunday after Pentecost either. So here are all four Sunday prayers – or “Collects of the Day” that you won’t get to hear:

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Proper 1    Week of the Sunday closest to May 11

Remember, O Lord, what you have wrought in us and not what we deserve; and, as you have called us to your service, make us worthy of our calling; through Jesus Christ our Lord, who lives and reigns with you and the Holy Spirit, one God, now and for ever. Amen.

Proper 2    Week of the Sunday closest to May 18

Almighty and merciful God, in your goodness keep us, we pray, from all things that may hurt us, that we, being ready both in mind and body, may accomplish with free hearts those things which belong to your purpose; through Jesus Christ our Lord, who lives and reigns with you and the Holy Spirit, one God, now and for ever. Amen.

Proper 3    The Sunday closest to May 25

Grant, O Lord, that the course of this world may be peaceably governed by your providence; and that your Church may joyfully serve you in confidence and serenity; through Jesus Christ our Lord, who lives and reigns with you and the Holy Spirit, one God, for ever and ever. Amen.

Proper 4    The Sunday closest to June 1

O God, your never-failing providence sets in order all things both in heaven and earth: Put away from us, we entreat you, all hurtful things, and give us those things which are profitable for us; through Jesus Christ our Lord, who lives and reigns with you and the Holy Spirit, one God, for ever and ever. Amen.

The Monday Funnies

It is true. I have been loafing, at least in so far as this blog is concerned. Spring fever and a few other diversions. So it is time to get back into gear. What better way to start than with the Monday Funnies?

Here is a new cartoon by Dave Walker entitled "Excuses for Absenteeism in church," and a yarn passed along by Mildred Robinson, who is a law professor. Enjoy your week.

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A bar called Drummond's, in a town in Texas, began construction on an expansion of their building, hoping to "grow" their business. 

In response, the local church started a campaign to block the bar from expanding: petitions, prayers, etc. About a week before the bar's grand re-opening, a bolt of lightning struck the bar and burned it to the ground. 

Afterward, the church folks were rather smug - bragging about "power of prayer." The angry bar owner eventually sued the church on grounds that the church ... "was ultimately responsible for the demise of his building, through direct actions or indirect means." 

Of course, the church vehemently denied all responsibility or any connection to the building's demise. 

The judge read carefully through the plaintiff's complaint and the defendant's reply. He then opened the hearing by saying: "I don't know how I'm going to decide this, but it appears from the paperwork that what we have here is a bar owner who now believes in the power of prayer, and an entire church congregation that does not." 

Canterbury meets Katie Couric at UVA graduation

This just in -- our own Sarah Hunter Simanson standing with Katie Couric this morning at the University of Virginia commencement. Sarah is to Katie's right. Our Canterbury students do have connections!

Congratulations to all the graduates!

Graduation blessings

Today is graduation at the University of Virginia with the traditional "final exercises" on the lawn across the street from our church. Congratulations to all the graduating Fourth Years and your friends and families! We've gotten to know many of you through our Canterbury ministry -- you will be missed!

This morning we will have an 8 am worship service, and then we are vacating the Corner. There will be no 10 am service. But we will reconvene for Holy Eucharist and a picnic at McIntire Park. Please come if you can!

The Monday Funnies

It is rainy today in these parts, so a few laughs are in order at the expense of organized, and disorganized, religion. Enjoy your week...

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Q: What did Noah say as he was loading the Ark?

A: Now I herd everything.

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A local pastor was invited to play golf with two friends. Although he said his game was terrible, he went along anyway.

At the first tee, another golfer joined them to make a foursome. So as not to make the stranger nervous, the pastor insisted they introduce him as "Ron." On the fourth hole, the other golfer turned to Ron and asked him what he did for a living.

Confronted, Ron admitted that he was a Baptist pastor.

"I knew it!" the stranger exclaimed. "The way you play golf and don't swear, you had to be a preacher!"

The Practice of Noticing

My sermon today is based in these lessons: Acts 10:44-48, Psalm 98, 1 John 5:1-6 and John 15:9-17

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“You did not choose me but I chose you. And I appointed you to go and bear fruit, fruit that will last.”

This time of year, I can almost feel the walls of this church breathe a sigh of relief. The end of the school year for our kids draws near; our University students are finishing their semester, and the fourth years are heading for graduation in another week on the lawn across the street.

Here at St. Paul’s we’ve had some huge Sundays and Big Events, one after the other since Christmas Eve.

We’ve had the Yule Log Hunt, Lenten luncheons, guest preachers and speakers, visits from bishops, Holy Week and Easter, Baccalaureate Sunday, the Parish Tea, weddings, funerals, and more meals than I can count.

And today is one more Big Event – Youth Sunday, with our youngest members leading our worship. Today we are celebrating their gifts and declaring once again that Christ’s body needs everyone, of every age, and every gift.

We might feel something like the disciple, Peter, discovering again the Holy Spirit is at work in people long before institutional religion catches up and notices.

And note that Peter stayed “for several days” to enjoy the party. Peter enjoyed big events. If you are feeling a little fatigue from big events, so am I.

But before you think you have graduated from church for the summer, just hold on. Today we get this reminder in the Gospel of John about why we are here, and what we have left to do: “This is my commandment,” Jesus says, “that you love one another as I have loved you. No one has greater love than this, to lay down one's life for one's friends.”

The gospel lesson comes fast on the heels of last week’s teaching from Jesus about how he is the vine and we are the branches.

To put this in context, the Gospel of John was written many decades after the time of Jesus, and it is important to hear these lessons with the ears of those who wrote this down.

They faced persecution and possible death at the hands of the Roman Empire. To hear Jesus say there is no greater love than to “lay down one’s life for one’s friends” had a particular poignancy in those evil times.

But there is more lacing through this lesson than martyrdom. There is also Jesus explaining what he means by loving our neighbors and “abiding in love” with him by being a true friend to each other.

Many through the ages have heard a mystical tone in the Gospel of John because Jesus is teaching about how we are connected to God and to each other as spiritual beings.

Yet the lesson can sound daunting for those of us who are not particularly mystical or monastically inclined. Even if we wanted to devote eight hours a day to silent prayer and meditation, that is not the reality of most of our lives.

So I want to make a few simple and practical suggestions about how we can live into this concept of abiding in love with God and each other.

I take my cue from a wonderful short book that I heartily recommend you add to your summer reading list: “An Altar in the World” by Barbara Brown Taylor.
In her book, Taylor writes about the “practice of paying attention.”

Wake up each morning and give thanks for the day, for new possibilities, new opportunities. If the only prayer you make is to give thanks for the day, that will be prayer enough.

Take a few moments out of your day to notice the small details around you – the trees, the pebbles, the food on your table, the roof over your head. Approach everything with a touch of awe and wonder – and with that old-fashioned word: reverence.

Go for a walk and notice where you are walking. Brown calls it “the practice of walking.” Don’t get so caught up in the destination. Notice where your feet are stepping, and notice what is around you.

Notice other people. Brown calls it “the practice of encountering others.” Notice your loved-ones, and notice your friends. Give thanks for them especially when that might feel like a challenge.

Then take a moment to notice the people you encounter every day who you might otherwise ignore as part of the landscape:

The checkout clerk at the grocery store, the stranger who passes you on the hallway at school, or the person who sits behind you in church.

You don’t have to say anything to them, but just notice each of these people, and give thanks that they share the world with you and are as beloved of God as you are.
I have one more idea for the practice of paying attention: Let’s call it the “practice of compassion.”
When Jesus says “No one has greater love than this, to lay down one's life for one's friends,” he is talking about compassion.

We don’t have to be martyrs to be compassionate, but we do have to open our hearts and feel some of the pain and brokenness around us.

From our open hearts will come compassion, an from compassion comes the practice of giving – and giving in every sense of the word.

God gives each of us more abundance than we often realize. Each of us has time, talent, and treasure.

God gives us everything we need, beginning with the gift of today.

We can live thinking we never have enough. We can be like the rich man of the parable who cannot bear to part with anything, or we can be like the poor woman who gives everything of herself knowing God will give her even more.

And then let’s take our compassion to another level and change the practices of the world that cause suffering – ignorance, lack of education, lack of jobs, lack of health care, prejudice, crime, violence, hatred.

When we do this, be aware something more. Notice how each of these practices of noticing, walking, encountering others, and compassion are changing you to the core of your being.

I promise you will never be the same again, and the world will never be the same again because you are here in it.

“You did not choose me but I chose you,” Jesus says, “And I appointed you to go and bear fruit, fruit that will last.”

By James Richardson, Fiat Lux

Holy places, Holy mountains

Big Meadow, Shenandoah National Park
Photo by Lori Korleski Richardson

SHENANDOAH NATIONAL PARK – The day was sunny, cool and gorgeous here in Central Virginia.

What better way to spend it than exploring the national park that is at our doorstep?

Lori and I live only 30 minutes from the southern entrance of Shenandoah National Park, which also means we've only seen the southern end of the park.

So Friday, we drove up Highway 29, turned west on Highway 33 and drove a few miles up into the mountains and entered the park roughly in the middle. We then drove north along the spine of the Shenandoah.

Trailhead, Shenandoah National Park
Photo by Lori Korleski Richardson

A few miles in, we went off onto a dirt road to a trailhead, parked, and then hiked into the woods.

Our destination: An Episcopal church long ago abandoned when these mountains were incorporated into a national park.

It is a story not often heard of how those who lived in these mountains were forced to leave to make way for the park; there are still hard feelings among some of the folks who live nearby  and remember their grandparent's pain.

We found the old church about a mile from the trailhead, off on a trail spur. All that is left are the ruins of two stone walls and the wreckage of an old wooden shack that probably served as a vicarage.

The stones of the church were held together by mud. A rusty old sink lay in the dirt near the shack. The roof of the shack had been crushed by falling trees. Nothing looked touched in decades.

Ruins of old Episcopal Church,
Shenandoah National Park
Photo by Lori Korleski Richardson

I tried to imagine the prayers that were said in this place, the vestments the minister must have worn, the old prayerbooks and the wooden pews no longer there.

But that was hard to imagine in the tangle of vines and fallen trees. It was a small chapel, really. It was holy to someone long ago. The stones had absorbed the prayers and maybe still held them. The chapel gave a hint that people once lived in these mountains.

We left everything as we found it, and took no souvenirs. We hiked back up to our car and pushed northward on the two-lane highway.

As mountains go, the Shenandoah are not particularly spectacular. The range is old – very, very old – eroded over tens-of-millions of years.

The Shenandoah peaks are round, the texture of the mountains comes from the trees. The highest peak is a little over 4,000 feet – foothill size by the standards of the Sierra Nevada. The trees continue to dig into the rocky loam, grinding into the bedrock, pushing the mountains lower. The tops of many of the mountains are flat, dominated by gentle meadows.

Trillium flower, Shenandoah National Park
Photo by Lori Korleski Richardson

The splendor of these mountains in not their height, but in their fine details. It is still Spring up here, the dogwoods are blooming. Everywhere we walked were wildflowers – yellow, purple, pink. The delicate leaves of woodruff line the trails. Streams from tiny springs cross under the trails. Life is everywhere.

Mountains are holy places. The ancient Celts called them “thin places,” believing mountains are a little closer to God than the flat places.

I believe the Celts got it right. You don't need to build a church in the mountains to feel the holiness.

By James Richardson, Fiat Lux

Awakening to the day, love in the country

We live out in the country – not too far out, but far enough. The nearest big city, Richmond, is an hour to the east, or if you go north, Washington D.C. is two-plus hours away.

We live on the outskirts of Charlottesville, on a hillside in the woods. Our water comes from a well. We need to go for a short hike down the hill to pick up the mail.

We've had a lot of rain lately. People around here say we need the rain. They have a way of shaking off the dreary weather. For me, I'd rather have steady sunshine, and that we have in abundance this morning, thanks be to God. The air is crisp, the trees around us are waking up.

Our friend Karen in Tennessee sent this short poem last night, and I think it captures things pretty well. Enjoy your Friday.

Love in the Country
by William Stafford
from Stories That Could Be True

We live like this: no one but
some of the owls awake, and of them
only near ones really awake.

In the rain yesterday, puddles
on the walk to the barn sounded their
quick little drinks.

The edge of the haymow, all
soaked in moonlight,
dreams out there like silver music.

Are there farms like this where
no one likes to live?
And the sky going everywhere?

While the earth breaks the soft horizon
eastward, we study how to deserve
what has already been given us.

By James Richardson, Fiat Lux

New Dean for our Cathedral in Jerusalem

It was our honor and privilege last summer to spend time with Hosam Naoum at St. George's College in Jerusalem. Yesterday he was named Dean of St. George's Anglican Cathedral in Jerusalem. He is a native of Bethlehem and has quite a number of connections to Virginia. Please keep him and his family and the Holy Land in your prayers. Here is the story from Episcopal News Service:

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Hosam Naoum named dean of St. George’s Cathedral in Jerusalem

By Matthew Davies | May 8, 2012 2 Comments |

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The Rev. Canon Hosam Elias Naoum

[Episcopal News Service] The Rev. Canon Hosam Elias Naoum has been named dean of St. George’s Anglican Cathedral in Jerusalem. He will become the first non-English incumbent to serve in the position.

Naoum, 38, has served as canon pastor at the cathedral since 2005, and was the acting dean from 2007-2009. As dean, Naoum will continue to serve as pastor to the cathedral’s Arabic- and English-speaking congregations.

“I call upon all our partners and friends around the Anglican Communion to hold Hosam and his family in their prayers,” said Anglican Bishop in Jerusalem Suheil Dawani in a May 3 letter announcing the appointment. “May his term as the dean of the cathedral be a blessing to many and to the glory of God.”

Following the announcement, Naoum told ENS: “I am so happy that I am in this position to serve not only the local diocese but the whole Anglican Communion. … This cathedral will always be a welcoming and hospitable place for many pilgrims and visitors.”

Naoum said he appreciates the “trust and confidence” shown in him by Dawani and Archbishop of Canterbury Rowan Williams, both of whom gave their blessing to the appointment.

He also acknowledged his gratitude to Episcopal Church Presiding Bishop Katharine Jefferts Schori who, he said, has been “very supportive to the diocese and to me personally.”

Dawani said the appointment comes “after a long time of discernment and prayer and a lawful and constitutional procedure. Canon Hosam will continue to serve, especially in his new capacity as the dean of St. George’s Cathedral, both the Diocese of Jerusalem and the worldwide Anglican Communion.”

Naoum completed his initial theological training at the College of the Transfiguration and Rhodes University in Grahamstown, South Africa, and in 2011 earned a Master of Theology degree in Canon Law from Virginia Theological Seminary in Alexandria. Dawani also is a graduate of VTS, most recently earning a Doctor of Divinity degree in 2006.

The Very Rev. Ian S. Markham, dean and president of VTS, said in a statement that the seminary “considered it a privilege to train Canon Naoum for this important ministry. We celebrate with him and his family as he becomes the dean of the cathedral. We commit to remembering him in our prayers as he takes the important position both for Jerusalem and for the Anglican Communion.”

The cathedral was consecrated in 1898. Today, it is home to two congregations: the indigenous Palestinian Anglicans, often called the “Living Stones,” and a community of expatriate English-speaking members.

The Diocese of Jerusalem includes parishes and institutions throughout Israel, Jordan, Lebanon, Palestine and Syria.

Prior to moving to St. George’s, Naoum spent nine years as priest of St. Philip’s Episcopal Church in Nablus, a town in the West Bank.

Naoum will be installed as dean in St. George’s Cathedral on Ascension Day, May 17, at 11 a.m. Archbishop Fred Hiltz of the Anglican Church of Canada will preach.

Hosam is married to Rafa. They have a son, Wadi, and two daughters, Laurice and Krista.

– Matthew Davies is an editor/reporter for the Episcopal News Service.

Taking our faith beyond the four walls of our sanctuaries

Oscar Romero memorial

Yesterday the Lord’s Prayer. Today the social gospel. The one flows to the other like “on earth as it is in heaven.”

The readings in the Daily Office lectionary this morning underpin the Jewish and Christian imperatives toward mercy and justice to the poor.

If we take these biblical readings seriously, they compel us to think of our religion as going beyond the four walls of our synagogues and church sanctuaries.

They compel us to get our hands dirty in the world.

In Psalm 72 comes this command to rulers:

“Give the king your justice, O God, and your righteousness to a king’s son. May he judge your people with righteousness, and your poor with justice.”

And in Leviticus 19:1-18 comes the law given to Moses including uncomfortable items like this:

“You shall not strip your vineyard bare, or gather the fallen grapes of your vineyard: you shall leave them for the poor and the aliens.”

And Moses goes on: “You shall love your neighbor as yourself.”

There are no loopholes there.

We move onto the Apostle Paul in  1 Thessalonians 5:12-28. Paul loads the letter with advice about how to “love your neighbor as yourself.”

Then we come to Jesus who puts it quite plainly in Matthew 6:19-24: “You cannot serve God and wealth.”

Greed, selfishness, exploitation, hatred of the alien, oppression of the poor and the outcasts – none of those things are of God.

Yet how do we, in the world as we find it, live out these commandments? It is not always so easy to see.

At St. Paul’s we have a steady stream of people who live hand-to-mouth coming through our doors. We do our best to assist them, or at least we think we do. But it never feels enough.

We support organizations like The Haven, a homeless shelter, and local food closets, but it never seems enough.

We are part of IMPACT, a coalition of 31 congregations working on structural change in the community, and yet, it never seems enough.

Our regional diocesan organization has built several houses with Habitat for Humanity, yet it never seems enough.

We support development work overseas through the African Development Project and Episcopal Relief and Development, yet it never seems enough.

We don’t always get it right. We don’t always succeed. We make mistakes. But we don’t give up. The gospel won’t let us.

I take solace in the words of Archbishop Oscar Romero of El Salvador, who was murdered by a death squad in 1980. He never gave up. He put it this way, and this is enough:

“This is what we are about: We plant the seeds that one day will grow. We water seeds already planted, knowing that they hold future promise. We lay foundations that will need further development. We provide yeast that produces far beyond our capabilities. We cannot do everything, and there is a sense of liberation in realizing that. This enables us to do something, and to do it very well. It may be incomplete, but it is a beginning, a step along the way, an opportunity for the Lord's grace to enter and do the rest. We may never see the end results, but that is the difference between the master builder and the worker. We are workers, not master builders; ministers, not messiahs. We are prophets of a future not our own.”

By James Richardson, Fiat Lux

The Lord’s Prayer: Bringing Heaven to Earth now

In the Daily Office readings, we come once again to those words that have become known as “The Lord’s Prayer.” The words have become very familiar to Christians through the ages, perhaps too familiar. In the 4th century, the Lord's Prayer was kept as a secret, given only to new Christians after their baptism. New initiates were ushered out of the worship service before the reciting of the prayer.

The prayer was not such a secret to Jews in the time of Jesus. The words are, in fact, quite Jewish and come from what was known as the “18 Benedictions” that were supposed to be recited three times a day. When Jesus is asked “How shall we pray,” he replies, in effect, “you already know how to pray; you already know these words.”

And yet there is something in how Jesus presents the familiar prayer that feels new because the words cut to the core of our relationship with God, with each other, and with the trials we confront in this life. Notice the prayer doesn't say anything about the next life. It doesn't say “get me to heaven someday,” rather it says “bring heaven here now.” There is an immediacy to the prayer, and its final words are in the command voice. The prayer is entirely about here and now.

The prayer appears twice in the New Testament; first in the Gospel of Matthew 6:9-13, which is the version more familiar in our worship, and then again in the Gospel of Luke 11:2-4 with the more simplified version that we heard a few moments ago.

Before we go into the heart of the prayer, a note about the familiar ending, the part about “the kingdom, the power and the glory.” That does not come from Jesus. It comes from 1 Chronicles 29:11 in the Old Testament, and is known as King David’s benediction.

Although Jesus taught this direct prayer with no adornment, the Church felt the need to dress it up a little at the end.

Today it is my hope that we can enter into the prayer as those who might have first heard it. We begin:

“Our Father in heaven, hallowed be your name...”

The words we translate “Our Father” come from the Aramaic “Abba” which is better translated “Papa.” God, you are as close to us as a loving parent.

Yet, in the same breath comes another way of knowing God: “Hallowed be your name.” Your name is so holy we don’t know your name; You, our creator, are beyond our comprehension just as eternity and infinity are beyond our comprehension.

We live in the tension, the restless sea, of knowing you both ways.

“…your kingdom come, your will be done, in earth as in heaven.”

We pray that God will bring heaven to earth, not in some distant time after we die, but right now. Let the promise of the future come here today. Guide us to see where your kingdom is being born, where heaven is springing forth among us.

“Give us today our daily bread.”

These words are possibly are the most mysterious and misunderstood words in the entire prayer. This is not a prayer for a subsistence meal.

This prayer asks for the food only God can bring, the manna of Moses, the bread of the Last Supper, the meal that will sustain us when we are on the restless sea.

The phrase “daily bread” comes from a single word – epie-ou-sion – and it appears in the Bible only in the Lord’s Prayer. The better meaning is “give us the bread – the food for our restless soul – that lasts for all eternity.”

We pray for the bread that will put us face-to-face with God, allowing us to touch God with all of our senses.

And that brings us face-to-face with each other as human beings. How are we living together? How are we sharing this planet together?

“Forgive us our sins as we forgive those who sin against us.”

We have turned away from God and we’ve turned away from each other. That is the classic definition of sin.

Forgive us.

We hurt other people and we hurt ourselves. We lie when we should be honest; snide when we should be kind; talking when we should be listening.

Forgive me. Forgive you. Forgive us.

This is not asking for a plea bargain, rather we ask for the strength to forgive each other just as God forgives us before we ask.

“Save us from the time of trial and deliver us from evil.”

We have arrived at the very center of the prayer. The familiar “lead us not into temptation” is not quite what it says.

The more accurate translation is “save us from the trial too big for us, and save us from evil.”
Keep us safe, keep us out of harm’s way, and protect us from all that threatens us in the world or inside ourselves.

When we pray, nothing is held back, and so we are bold to say: Give us courage when we need it most; rescue us when we need rescuing; deliver us from evil.

In a little while, we will say the Lord’s Prayer in our Holy Eucharist just before we break the bread and then share in the cup of our Communion.

Today, just this once, I am asking you to pray the Lord’s Prayer in the translation from our Prayer Book that is a closer to the words Jesus taught. You will find it in the program when the time comes.

Even if you’re familiar with every version of the Lord’s Prayer there is, it is my hope that today you will pray this as if it were brand new to you. Let the prayer pull you in like it never has before.

Maybe this will feel a little uncomfortable. Maybe you will hear something in it you’ve never heard before. Maybe the point is to get out onto the restless sea.

At its core, the prayer affirms what Jesus tells us over and over: that people everywhere are blessed, and that God loves all people – all creation – and wishes for us the bread that lasts for eternity.

“Ask and it will be given you, search and you will find, knock and the door will be opened to you.”AMEN

Postscript: Here is a paraphrase of the Lord's Prayer that I wrote in 2003, based on my own meditations about the prayer:

Creator God, Parent of us all,

the one who exists inside and outside all of your existence;

Your very name is so Sacred it is beyond our knowing;

Let come your loving, gentle embrace;

And the justice that is yours alone;

Let come all that you wish for us and for all of your creation;
Make perfect this earth just as your dwelling place is perfect;
Feed us today with the bread of life that you have promised us forever;

Cancel the debts we have created with our wrongs because we cannot cancel the debts by ourselves,

even as we ask you for the strength to cancel the wrongs

that have been done to us;

Protect us from trials so difficult that they will break us;

And Rescue us from the numbing coldness of the power of Evil that always seeks to block our path and keep us from being with you!

Truly (Amen)

By James Richardson, Fiat Lux

The Monday Funnies

It's been a week or two since we've had the Monday Funnies, and so we are overdo for a few laughs in this space, and the expense of organized religion of course. And a cartoon by Dave Walker.


Here are some oldies-but-goodies from the joke locker. Enjoy your week!

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After the church service a little boy told the pastor, "When I grow up, I'm going to give you some money." 

"Well, thank you," the pastor replied, "but why?" 

"Because my daddy says you're one of the poorest preachers we've ever had."

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One Sunday morning, the pastor noticed little Alex standing in the foyer of the church starring up at a large plaque. It was covered with names and small American flags mounted on either side of it. The six-year old had been staring at the plaque for some time, so the pastor walked up, stood beside the little boy, and said quietly, "Good morning Alex."  

"Good morning Pastor," he replied, still focused on the plaque. "Pastor, what is this?"   

The pastor said, "Well son, it's a memorial to all the young men and women who died in the service." 

Soberly, they just stood together, staring at the large plaque. Finally, little Alex's voice, barely audible and trembling with fear asked, "Which service, the 8:45 or the 11:00?"

Philip and the eunuch on the road of faith

Here is my sermon for today, based on the lessons: Acts 8:26-40, Psalm 22:24-30, 1 John 4:7-21, and John 15:1-8.

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Alleluia! Christ is Risen! 

 “I need a guide.”

 “I need a ride.”

 And so begins this fascinating conversation between the disciple Philip and the unnamed Ethiopian eunuch – a conversation serving as a stage-setter for the lessons today and the history that follows in our Church.

 We begin, like many of these stories do, with an angel. When you see an angel, you know something important is happening. The angel tells Philip to go on the road south to Gaza, a road, then as a now, fraught with peril.

 Philip encounters a eunuch, a servant to the Ethiopian queen, Candace. The eunuch offers Philip a ride.

We don’t know much about the eunuch except that he is drawn to the monotheism of Judaism. He carries with him a scroll with the writings of the Prophet Isaiah. That the eunuch has this scroll is a mark of great wealth and his status as a royal servant. Peasants do not own scrolls.

 The eunuch tells Philip he can’t figure out what the scroll means, but he knows this much: he is not included in the religion that the scroll proclaims. The reason: He is a eunuch. In the ancient world, young boys were taken from their mothers to become servants – slaves – in the courts of the royalty.

But before reaching puberty, these boys were castrated so that when they grew up, they could serve the royal women with no chance of impregnating them – a matter of great import to the royal men.

 You know, biblical stories are not for the faint hearted.

 This particular eunuch is drawn to Jewish religion, and yet, he can never become fully Jewish himself because he has been castrated. He is considered sexually impure, damaged. He will never be allowed inside the Temple, the holy of holies in Jerusalem. He is automatically excluded.

Yet he has read this scroll from Isaiah about a suffering servant, and he wants to know if God will favor him in spite of his physical condition.

 “I need a guide,” the eunuch asks.

 “I need a ride,” Philip replies.

 And so begins this great conversation, this catechism on road to Gaza. I am sure Philip told the eunuch many things.

 Philip interprets the scroll by telling the eunuch the “good news” that Jesus is the fulfillment of the prophecy of Isaiah – that Jesus is the Christ, the divine one who came to earth to suffer as a lowly servant and to bring salvation to all people everywhere.

There are no bodily markers of this faith – only the waters of baptism.

 The eunuch stops the chariot. He is stunned at what he hears. He has never heard anything like this. He has a question for Philip, and this is the acid test:

 Ok, I get it so far, he says. Is there any reason I cannot join you in this religion? Is there anything stopping you from baptizing me right now?

 The answer is not so obvious.

 Philip could have said, well, you are eunuch; your body is damaged, you are sexually impure and thanks for the ride, but we can’t have you in our religion. Sorry.

 Or Philip could have said, you are an Ethiopian, you are the wrong nationality. You aren’t one of us, you don’t look like us, you have dark skin. Sorry.

 But Philip casts all those excuses to the ground – and that is the point of the story.

There is nothing in your way, Philip says. And so he baptizes the eunuch, and each then goes their separate way.

 The story of Philip and the eunuch is the first declaration by the Church that all are included, none excluded. But there’s more that the eunuch finds startling.

This is a new creed.

As I thought about it this week, it occurred to me that these lessons today are creeds. Creeds are statements of the nature and essence of God.

 We are accustomed to reciting the Nicene Creed, that complex statement written in the Fourth Century about the meaning of the Trinity. But that is not the only creed. There are other creeds imbedded right here in the scriptures, like in this first letter of John.

 Listen to these words as a creed: “God is love, and those who abide in love abide in God, and God abides in them.”

 That is a creed.

 And hear this creed from Psalm 22:

 “The poor shall eat and be satisfied” because the Lord will feed them. That is a declaration about the nature and essence of God. That is a creed.

And then hear this creed, from Jesus himself: “I am the vine, you are the branches. Those who abide in me and I in them bear much fruit, because apart from me you can do nothing.”

This creed declares that we are connected to God and each other in the same way that vines grow intertwined with each other. God’s very nature and essence is relational, and we are made to grow with each other, and with God, in every sense of the word, to bear fruit with one another.

Yet, we must pause in this creed, because it gets difficult and hard from here: Jesus talks of pruning the vines, gathering branches to be “thrown in the fire.”

One of way you might hear these words is that there are good people and bad people, and the good people – people like us – will be saved, and the bad people – people not like us – will be burned up.

But hear this is as a creed; Jesus is still talking about the nature and essence of God. God is perfection, God is love, but we are human and imperfect, and none of us are fully good or fully bad.

Jesus declares in this new creed that God will prune away all that is bad within us. Everything that wounds and hurts us will be pruned away. That is the nature of the God of love. We are the branches, and God will make us whole, and we will bear good fruit no matter the condition of our bodies, or our station in life, or any other human boundary.

When the eunuch hears this new creed, he stops the chariot. He is stunned. He hears this new creed not just as words of comfort, but as words of challenge.

And so should we.

Following this new creed cannot be based human boundaries based on divisions of religion, class, social status, race or sexual differences. Those boundaries, those creeds, are based on fear. But not this new creed.

The First Letter of John puts this new creed perfectly: “There is no fear in love, but perfect love casts out fear.”

Saint Philip, Brooklyn Museum

If we are truly entwined with God like a vine, then we are entwined with each other. Hatred, vengeance and fear can have no place with us, and it has no place in our creed or our way of life.

As John goes on with this new creed: “For those who do not love a brother or sister whom they have seen, cannot love God whom they have not seen. The commandment we have from him is this: those who love God must love their brothers and sisters also.”

We are commanded to live out this new creed by loving our brothers and sisters, especially when it is most difficult. This new creed calls us to acts of mercy to our brothers and sisters, especially those in the most need, and we are called to look at the structures humans create that cause suffering.

Our creed calls us to be the hands and feet of Christ to change the world.

Like the eunuch, and like Philip, we are marked as Christ’s own forever by our baptism, and we have miles to go on this road together as we live out our creed. In the words of psalmist: “The poor shall eat and be satisfied, and those who seek the LORD shall praise him: ‘May your heart live for ever!’ ”

Alleluia! Christ is Risen!


James Richardson, Fiat Lux

Planning

One of the things I like about Charlottesville are the quirky taxis. I was stuck in traffic the other day and found myself behind this cab.

Speaking of planning, our University students are in their last week of classes, with finals looming, and graduation for some. Just a quick reminder that graduation Sunday is May 20, and we will have our regular 8 am service, but no 10 am service. Instead, we will continue the tradition begun a few years ago, of having Holy Eucharist and picnic at 11 am at McIntire Park. The regular 5:30 pm service will happen that day.

James Richardson, Fiat Lux

Life at St. Paul's is very rich: Catching up on the last few weeks

We have some catching up to do from the last few weeks. Although I've taken a writing break here in this space, life at St. Paul's has been wonderfully rich of late. We've had four baptisms and our annual official visitation with Bishop Shannon Johnston, with a dozen confirmations.

Pastor Janet Legro has returned on Wednesday evenings to lead a class entitled "Three Bits of Wisdom to Guide Our Relationships," and more than 80 people came out to hear her last week. Her class continues tonight, so come if you can.

Two Sundays ago, we had a guest preacher, Robert Ratdke, the president of Episcopal Relief and Development who told us about the amazing work across the globe from our church to mitigate poverty and save millions of lives.

And Lori and I hosted the annual "Parish Tea" at our home. Although the rain kept it from being a garden party, more than 50 people graced us with their presence, and many hands helped make it a wonderful gathering.

I have to say the high point of the Easter season for me was the blessings of the covenanted relationship of Margaret Mohrmann and Deborah Healy on April 14. It was the first time a same-gender union has been blessed at St. Paul's, and we did so with the full sanction of Bishop Johnston. The day was the culmination of a great deal of work by Deborah and Margaret and a year-long process in the parish of forums, biblical study, and prayer. This was not the first such ceremony in the Diocese of Virginia -- there have been several in Northern Virginia. But this was the first in our region.

We invited the parish to attend, and the place was packed. The most amazing moment in the ceremony for me was when I invited other clergy to come forward to join in blessing the couple, and eight came forward, and from many denominations. The fullness and love of the Kingdom of God was on display.

I preached at the ceremony, and with the permission of Margaret and Deborah, I am sharing the sermon with you here. For those who are still struggling with this issue, I especially hope you will read it:

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Margaret Mohrmann and Deborah Healey

April 14, 2012 

First, Deborah and Margaret, stand up. Look around. Take a moment and look into the faces of everyone here.

         We love you, we bless you, we honor you.

         And we are blessed and honored by you. We thank you for bringing us here today, for your love and your friendship and the blessings you bestow on us.

         Now you can be seated.

         I have a few words I want to share today with all of you, and then a few words for Margaret and Deborah.

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         We are doing something today that is very old and very traditional, and really, if you think about it, wonderfully ordinary.

         At first glance, it may not seem so. None of us are, after all, very old, at least compared with the long sweep of Christian tradition. All of us are quite young, comparatively anyway. And no one here is ordinary. And at first glance, we are doing something breathtakingly new for the Church, an institution not exactly known for doing things in breathtaking fashion or breathtaking speed.

We are, in fact, doing something never done before within these four walls of St, Paul’s Memorial Church, and never before done in any Episcopal Church in Central Virginia: Blessing the covenant of two people, who are of the same sex, and we are doing so with the sanction and blessing of our bishop, Shannon Johnston.

Today is an historic milestone for this church, and it is meet and right that we so note. We especially need to pause with gratitude for all those courageous souls, for their witness and perseverance, who have made what we do today possible.

And we especially need to thank you, Deborah and Margaret, for inviting us here and for your willingness to be first.

Yet what we do today is very old and very traditional.

         What we do today stretches back to the time of Abraham, Jacob and Moses, to the time of Jesus and Saint Paul.

         What we do today is biblical in its tradition and biblical in scope:

         We are witnessing and blessing the solemn covenant between two people who are pledging their lives to each other.  They are doing what people have been doing for millennia and millennia, and that makes this wonderfully ordinary.

         We, too, are making a covenant with each other to support and encourage Deborah and Margaret “in times of joy and in times of sorrow.”

         We are in this with them.

         A covenant is not the same as a contract. A contract is an agreement for the exchange of goods and services.

And while a contract can sometimes lead to a relationship, a contract is not about the relationship; it is about the goods and services exchanged – and the parties might not ever even meet.

         A covenant is different. A covenant is an agreement that creates an intimate bond. It is primarily about the relationship, and the deepening involvement among those making the covenant.

         Today Margaret and Deborah are standing squarely within the blessed covenant of God and Abraham, and the relationship that covenant created.      

One way of looking at the long march of Christian history is to see it as the struggle to broaden, often painfully, our understanding of who is included in the covenant of God and Abraham.

Our forbearers began to call it the “new covenant” even as their understanding of its breadth and depth was incomplete.

Saint Paul and the early Christians proclaimed the death of Christ on the Cross as the supreme expression of the “new” covenant that all people everywhere are to be included in this old covenant.

And so, in a few minutes, we appropriately will remember again when Jesus, on the night before he died, broke bread and blessed all who shared at his table, and we will remember again how he proclaimed he is bound us, and to everyone else, by this “new covenant.”

         Margaret and Deborah chose with great care the readings we hear today, for each reading shines brightly with a different perspective on this covenant that is constantly made new.

From the prophet Isaiah:

 “I have taken you by the hand and kept you; I have given you as a covenant to the people, a light to the nations, to open eyes that are blind…”

From Paul’s letter to the Romans comes the most succinct instruction we may ever hear on how to morally live into this covenant:

“Let love be genuine; hate what is evil, hold fast to what is good; love one another…

“Bless those who persecute you… rejoice with those who rejoice, weep with those who weep…live peaceably with all.”

And from the Gospel of Luke, we hear Jesus proclaim that God’s Kingdom is here now, if only we will open our eyes to see it:

“The Spirit of the Lord is upon me, because he has anointed me to bring good news to the poor. He has sent me to proclaim release to the captives and recovery of sight to the blind, to let the oppressed go free.”

Our world finds many ways to be poor, many ways to hold people captive, many ways to be blind, to be oppressed by bigotry, prejudice, racism, homophobia, and just plain narrowness of mind and spirit.

The covenant Margaret and Deborah make today is very good news for the whole world because their covenant breaks through the captivity of blindness and oppression and narrowness. 

Our world is made new here, today.

The covenant between Deborah and Margaret shows us a way forward in all of human relationships.

No one today is allowed to be the same again because of their covenant with each other and our covenant with them.

By your example, Margaret and Deborah, you give us a model for a life of self-giving, founded in love and forgiveness, generosity and joy, with Christ at your center.

Yet, what Deborah and Margaret do today is uniquely theirs, a gracious gift to them alone from God.

They are made new today and life for them will never be the same again.

 By their covenant, Margaret and Deborah set forth today to explore life together in a new way, with the risks and vulnerabilities that come with that.

And by conferring the blessing of the Holy Church, we signify that they are set apart for a Holy purpose with each other and for God’s Kingdom. That makes what they embark upon today their Holy vocation.

         My final words are therefore for you, Deborah and Margaret. Please stand up.

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This may strike you as, well, very Anglican, because these next words come from the Royal wedding of Prince William and Kate Middleton.

Amid all of the pageantry and pomp, Richard Chartres, the Bishop of London, gave one of the most generous homilies I have ever heard about how two people can be bound together in a covenant of love with Christ at their center.

And so Margaret and Deborah, here are the words of Bishop Chartres, and these words are especially for you: 

 “You have both made your decision today – “I will” – and by making this new relationship, you have aligned yourselves with what we believe is the way in which life is spiritually evolving, and which will lead to a creative future for the human race.

“The spiritual life grows as love finds its centre beyond ourselves. Faithful and committed relationships offer a door into the mystery of spiritual life in which we discover this: the more we give of self, the richer we become in soul; the more we go beyond ourselves in love, the more we become our true selves and our spiritual beauty is more fully revealed.

“We are all incomplete: we all need the love which is secure, rather than oppressive. We need mutual forgiveness in order to thrive.

“As we move towards our partner in love, following the example of Jesus Christ, the Holy Spirit is quickened within us and can increasingly fill our lives with light.

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And, so my dear friends, Deborah and Margaret, we pray you will continue to grow in the light you give each other, to thrive, to be at each other’s side as companions on the way, in faith, hope and love, and for the Glory of God and the life of the world.

May you go from blessing to blessing, strength to strength, and your light shine forth brightly in this world. AMEN

James Richardson, Fiat Lux

A Prayer in Spring

Dear friends,

My spring break with Fiat Lux is done, and it is time to get back in the writing groove. I have much appreciated my time away from this space: time to think, and pray, and time to travel a bit. More of each will surely come, but with May bright upon us, it is time to write once again.

To ease back into this, I pass along a classic poem by Robert Frost, sent the other day by our friend, Karen from Tennessee. The photo was taken by Lori of Mountain Laurel, blooming behind our house on the hillside. Enjoy your week!

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A Prayer in Spring 

By Robert Frost 

Oh, give us pleasure in the flowers today;
And give us not to think so far away
As the uncertain harvest; keep us here
All simply in the springing of the year.

Oh, give us pleasure in the orchard white,
Like nothing else by day, like ghosts by night;
And make us happy in the happy bees,
The swarm dilating round the perfect trees.

And make us happy in the darting bird
That suddenly above the bees is heard,
The meteor that thrusts in with needle bill,
And off a blossom in mid air stands still.

For this is love and nothing else is love,
The which it is reserved for God above
To sanctify to what far ends He will,
But which it only needs that we fulfill.