Reflections on "Ashes-To-Go"

Jim Richardson, left; Peter Carey, right

I must admit I was a little nervous about the idea of vesting up in full Anglican regalia and standing on a street corner with a container of ashes. Yes, I even felt a little strange.

But yesterday, Peter Carey and I took part in a nationwide movement in the Episcopal Church of bringing the ashes of Ash Wednesday to the streets. Our crew put up a sandwich board on the sidewalk with a sign that said "Ashes-To-Go," and under it "Renew your faith this Ash Wednesday -- God loves everyone, no exceptions."

Our location: "The Corner," the sidewalk across from our church that is a major footpath to and fro the University of Virginia.

We stood out there in the morning smearing ashes on foreheads and blessing people. I was out there again in the afternoon, and by then people were lining up. The buzz about it traveled down the street and people came out of the restaurants to get their ashes. They stopped their cars. They told their friends, and more came. We even had a television crew that stopped and filmed a segment.

It was among the most remarkable Ash Wednesdays I've ever had, and among the most extraordinary and holiest days I have ever experienced as a priest.

Don't get me wrong. I adore the Ash Wednesday liturgy. It is among the most moving liturgies we have, and I find it deeply meaningful every year. I wish everyone would come.

But they don't.

So this Ash Wednesday, we brought Ash Wednesday to them. We took the ashes to the streets where the people are. We brought the blessing out of the church building and gave it away.

Isn't that what we are supposed to be about? Giving away blessings? Free of charge? Free of guilt? No strings attached?

Each time I gave the ashes to someone on the sidewalk, I said the traditional words: "Remember you are dust, and to dust you shall return." But something inside me had me add a little more:  "And remember God loves you, will heal of you of all that hurts you, and may you know God's love all the days of your life."

Many, many stopped. Students on their way to class, or going to Starbucks. A delivery truck screeched to a halt and the driver got out and asked for ashes. Three young women joggers stopped, and one said (line of the day): "This is so practical."

I lost count at 80 for the day.

I know that some folks are critical of this idea of giving away the ashes. It sounds gimmicky, a little like fast food. But don't be too quick to judge. Holiness sometimes comes in small packages and in unexpected ways and unexpected places. Shouldn't we be about providing windows -- many windows -- into the faith?

Something inside me also changed as stood on the side walk, my thumb gray with ashes. As people stood in front of me, I could see that many were having a "moment." I could see it in their eyes. Some shed a tear, and others smiled. The idea of "prayer unceasing" became true for me. The Holy Spirit moves this way, doesn't she?

James Richardson, Fiat Lux

Lenten reflections from St. Paul's

Once again, the people of St. Paul's have written reflections for the season of Lent, beginning with a reflection by Jane Rotch. The reflections are in a booklet available at St. Paul's, or on-line. We will be posting the reflections each day on a special blog which you can find HERE. May you have a blessed Lent. You can also find it by clicking on the icon at the left side of this page.

Ashes to ashes

Dear friends,
The Holy season of Lent begins in a few hours. For me, Lent begins when I burn the palms from last year's Palm Sunday. I did that on Sunday in between snow storms. Lori made this photo essay of the process. It takes a lot of palms to get a hand full of ashes. The smoke is greasy and smells like a brush fire (no surprise; palms are a type of grass).

I hope to see you at one of our Ash Wednesday services (7:30 am; 12:15 pm; 5:30 pm; and 7:30 pm). We will also be doing something we've never done before: Standing on the Corner with "Ashes to Go." We hope a few students and other passersby might find this as a way to renew their faith. We also will have some of our Stephen Minister there to talk with anyone who might feel the need to talk.

Here are the photos:

My proposal to add Charles Gillette to "Holy Women, Holy Men"

The Rev. Dr. Charles Gillette, missionary
1811-1869

I’ve been preaching a lot recently on the theme of how our stories shape us. We come together every Sunday to tell the story of Jesus Christ. Our telling of the story of our savior shapes us in big ways, and sometimes subtly.

There are other stories we also tell.

You may not know this, but the Episcopal Church has a calendar of saints, although we think of these individuals a little differently than some other churches. They don’t have to done anything miraculous, but they are people whose stories still inspire us.

Many of these “saints” were ordinary people who did extraordinary things. Some you have heard of – like Martin Luther King Jr. – and others you might not be as familiar with, like Absalom Jones (1746-1818), the first African American priest in the Episcopal Church.

We add people to our calendar by a vote of our General Convention, the highest elected body in the Episcopal Church, which meets every three years. Among its duties is to consider nominations for the calendar called “Holy Women, Holy Men.”

I mention this because I’ve been recently promoting an individual who I believe deserves to on the calendar. I came across this story during my sabbatical last year. Let me tell you about the Rev. Dr. Charles Gillette (1811-1869).

He was a graduate of the Virginia Theological Seminary in 1843, and became a missionary in Texas, where he founded several schools and churches.

During the Civil War, the Rev. Gillette stood courageously in favor of keeping the Episcopal Church unified and stood against slavery. He came into conflict with his bishop, Alexander Gregg, who was a fervent supporter of the Confederacy. When their conflict became public, Gillette’s congregation convinced him he was in mortal danger, and so he fled north to Ohio. After the war, he became the General agent of the Episcopal Church’s effort to build churches for the freed slaves, and was instrumental in establishing schools in Virginia and North Carolina. He died suddenly on March 6, 1869 (thus I have proposed March 6 as his feast day).

Recently, I sponsored a resolution at our Diocesan Council that would have petitioned General Convention to consider adding Gillette to the calendar on March 6. The Council voted to refer my proposal to the diocesan Committee on Race and Reconciliation. I will keep you posted on how this goes.

As we look back through the mist of time, the idea has settled upon us that the split between North and South was inevitable, and that the split in the Episcopal Church was inevitable, and maybe that was so.

But at the time, the war and divisions of that war, did not seem inevitable to everyone. It did not seem certain to everyone. One of those who believed the Church needed to stand in unity was Charles Gillette.

Splitting the church was a close call. When the Diocese of Texas met in convention in 1861, it was a tie vote whether to split from the Episcopal Church. The tie was broken by the vote of the bishop.

Charles Gillette stood for unity in the church, and he stood steadfastly throughout the war. He also believed that it was a sin for human beings to own other human beings – slavery – and he was chastised for not standing with those who were defending slavery. He stood against the prevailing wind, at threat to his life. After the war, he tried to do something, however small, to wipe clean that stain by helping build schools for the freed slaves here in Virginia.

My proposal to add Gillette to the calendar is not about looking for bad guys or finding scapegoats. We don’t get to rewrite history. But this should be about remembering those who stood with courage and faith despite the odds. Charles Gillette is one of those individuals whose story deserves to be told because he stood bravely against the winds of war.

Imagining the future of the Episcopal Church

I haven't written much here about the Episcopal Church's task force to recommend reforms to our structure and governance. The task force recently issued an interim report and it is worth reading. I am re-posting this from Episcopal Cafe. Here it is:

Task Force imagines the future for the Episcopal Church

TREC Letter to the Church: December 10, 2013

In the last several months, the members of the Taskforce for Reimagining The Episcopal Church have been on a listening tour – in person and virtually. We have spoken with youth groups and bishops, the Executive Council and councils of local leaders; at provinces, at dioceses, parishes, and religious communities. We have asked people what their hopes and dreams are for our Church; what aspects of the Church they hope we cherish and strengthen; and what they wish we could be brave enough to let go of in order to make our Church more vibrant and mission-focused.

Our listening to the Church is an ongoing process. What we have heard is a deep, abiding love for our Church and its unique way of creating Christ-centered community and mission. The Book of Common Prayer and the beauty and mystery of our liturgy bind us together across ages, geographies and politics. We deeply love the intellectual as well as the spiritual life that is cultivated in our members (“you don’t need to leave your mind at the door”).

On many other issues, we disagree. We heard calls for the Church to be “less reactive to social issues,” and also calls to make the Church’s voice on social issues even louder. We heard calls for more diversity in our liturgy and music, and equally urgent calls for less. We would have expected nothing different! Many of us cherish the diversity of our community as much as we cherish the common beliefs and traditions that bring us together.

But there were several loud and urgent themes that consistently ran through our discussions: the Church is calling for us to reduce the bureaucracy and resource-intensity of our Church wide processes. The Church wants the work of General Convention and other Church structures to be more relevant and more life-giving to our local parish communities. And, the Church wants us to face and grapple with the tough issues and the “elephants in the room” that suck up our resources, time and energy and that block our growth.

As a taskforce, we have been reflecting on what we have heard, and the vision of a reinvigorated Episcopal Church is emerging.

A New Vision

Imagine a world where all of our Episcopal parishes are spiritually vibrant and mission-focused. A recent survey suggests that less than 30% would pass this test today. [1] Imagine a world where our parishes consistently are good at inspiring their traditional members and also are energized and effective in reaching out to new generations and new populations.

Imagine a world where the shape of our Church frequently adapts, as new parish communities emerge in non-traditional places and non-traditional ways, and as existing parishes merge and reinvent as local conditions change. Imagine a world where Episcopal clergy and lay leaders are renowned for being highly effective leaders, skilled at Christian formation and community building, at new church planting, at church transformation, and at organizing communities for mission. Imagine that Episcopalians easily collaborate with each other across the Church: forming communities of interest, working together to share learnings from local initiatives, and collaborating to pool resources and ideas. Imagine that the Church wide structure of The Episcopal Church primarily serves to enable and magnify local mission through networked collaboration, as well as to lend its prophetic voice.

Imagine that each triennium we come together in a “General Mission Convocation” where participants from all over the Church immerse themselves in mission learning, sharing, decision making and celebration.

Realizing this vision

It will take far more than structural changes in order to realize this new world. It will take resolved and capable leadership at all levels of the Church, and it will take broad and deep cultural change within the Church. We will have to work through a grieving process as we individually and collectively lose structures that have been critical parts of our lives and even of our identities. At the same time, we will also have to find a way of adopting a new and more hopeful mindset: we will need to believe—truly believe—that The Episcopal Church can, should and must GROW!

In our work, we will call out some of the non-structural changes that we believe will be critical to living into a new vision of a vibrant, growing and adaptive Church. We will give some suggestions for how we might go beyond structural reform to achieve these changes in leadership behaviors, culture and organizational capability.

We will focus most of our time as a taskforce on developing a set of recommendations for structural or “technical” changes that we think will be a critical part of reinvigorating the Church. These changes will play three important roles in the revitalization of our Church:

1) They will “clear the way” for innovation and adaptation, freeing up our time and energy, and speeding up decision making. 

2) They will give the leadership of the Church a bold and holistic agenda of change which, if adopted, will role model the kind of similar bold changes that must occur at every other level of the Church. 

3) They will reinvent the role of Church wide organizations and structures: away from “doing” mission and towards enabling mission; away from setting agendas and assigning resources and towards connecting local communities and individuals for mutual learning, support and collaboration.

What to expect from us

We have identified a number of key issues that we believe must be tackled through structural reform. We are working to develop proposals that address each of these issues. Some of these proposals will feel incremental, and many have been debated before. Some will feel bold and risky. Some of them will go beyond the scope of a narrow interpretation of the resolution that created our Taskforce (C095). Some of them go even beyond the scope of the authority of General Convention, and thus will take the form of “recommendations” or “prophetic proclamations” rather than legislative proposals. Taken together, however, alongside the many exciting, vibrant, and hopeful things already emerging around the Church, we believe that our proposals will be part of the ongoing work of setting the Church on a new path towards health and vitality.

Some of the areas in which we are developing recommendations include:

1) The role and mechanics of General Convention: Narrowing the legislative agenda and reducing the size of its legislative bodies, while expanding the scope of our get-togethers so that they serve not only as places where key legislation is debated and adopted but also as vibrant, open and inclusive celebratory Mission Convocations—bringing together passionate and active practitioners of every kind of mission going on around the Church. 

2) Roles and accountability of the Presiding Officers and of the Executive Council--particularly as related to Church wide staff: Establishing simple and clear lines of accountability and responsibility, reducing redundancy, clarifying confusions which can inhibit clear decision-making processes, and resizing the Council to function more effectively as a governance board. 

3) Breadth of CCABs (Committees, Commissions, Agencies and Boards) and the creation of alternative, fresh and creative models for Church wide collaboration: Recasting most of our CCABs into a new model of distributive and accountable collaboration. Creating on-line collaboration models that connect local mission leaders across our Church so that our collective “agenda” can dynamically adapt to local needs, and so that we tap into the greatest asset of our Church—all of us, sitting in the pews, doing great work locally but mostly disconnected from each other and from The Episcopal Church. 

4) Number of dioceses: Considering a one-time, objective process for establishing norms for a healthy and viable diocesan size and structure in order to enable mission and reduce the complexity of our organization. 

5) Capacity and leadership development: Establishing effective leadership formation and development approaches for all orders of ministry, grounded in our vows of baptism and ordination, as well as in the particular needs of the 21st century. Calling out the implications for clergy career paths and deployment, as well as the implications and opportunities for seminaries and other current leadership development programs. Encouraging the creation of new “centers of excellence” or other mechanisms for fostering ongoing learning and large-scale capability building, encouraging networking around existing nodes of great work.

It is also clear that there is a deeply felt need to develop some common understandings of how individual dioceses can best make decisions about, and provide the best support for, parish vitality and viability. Given how vastly different the cultural and demographic landscape has become since most of our congregations were founded and buildings constructed, how do we make the most faithful and strategic use of our resources as we make decisions about the number of parishes, locations, consolidations, new plants, etc.? 

This work is largely in the hands of local dioceses rather than the General Convention, but we hope that our work will contain some reflections and recommendations that may be taken up by the whole church around these pressing and critical issues as well.

What we need from you

We have a huge and complex scope of work, and we need your help! Please keep talking with us and giving us feedback and ideas. If you have not convened a discussion with our Engagement Kit, or completed our on-line questionnaire, please do so! If you have reactions to our Episcopal Identity and Vision paper posted on our website, please send us your feedback and ideas. We are revising it with the feedback we have already received and will continue to revise it as we gather additional input. Please send us your feedback and ideas regarding this letter.

Going forward, please watch for drafts of recommendations around the areas of reform that we have highlighted in this note. We will post installments around our ideas as quickly as we can, beginning in late January 2014, to enable as much discussion, debate and feedback as possible. We will continue to post updates to our evolving proposals through the course of the year, as we work towards finalizing our work in late 2014. In addition, we are in the process of planning a special gathering of the Church in the fall of 2014 to further discuss our proposals and to receive feedback. In line with our vision to live into new ways to “do Church” in the 21st century, this meeting will be virtual, so that we can involve as broad and diverse a group as possible, without restricting access to those who don’t have the financial resources to join an in-person gathering.

Finally, please pray for us and for all who are engaging with us, as we try our best to discern the right path for our Church. You might use the prayer that members of our Taskforce have written for us:

Holy Spirit, who broods over the world, fill the hearts and minds of your servants on Taskforce for Reimagining The Episcopal Church with wisdom, clarity and courage. Work in them as they examine and recommend reforms for the structure, governance and administration of this branch of the one holy catholic and apostolic Church. Help them propose reforms to more effectively proclaim by word and example the Good News of God in Christ, to challenge the world to seek and serve Christ in all persons—loving our neighbors as ourselves and to be a blazing light for the kind of justice and peace that leads to all people respecting the dignity of every human being. Be with The Episcopal Church that we all may be open to the challenges that this Taskforce will bring to us—and help the whole church to discern your will for our future. In the name of Jesus Christ our Mediator, on whose life this Church was founded. AMEN

Thank you for the trust you have placed in us, and in the input you have already provided. Thank you in advance for the input and vigorous debate that we hope will mark the next phase of our work with you.

For more info, questions or comments, contact TREC members at reimaginetec@gmail.com

[1] David Roozen, "A Decade of Change in American Congregations: 2000-2010," Hartford Institute for Religion Research, 2011.
TREC Engagement Kit

The Greatest Christmas Story Ever Told

Here again, my friends, is the greatest Christmas story ever told by a great story teller, Al Martinez, formerly of the Oakland Tribune, Los Angeles Times and the Los Angeles Daily News. Al is known as the "Bard of LA" and has won three Pulitzer prizes since he began writing columns in 1952. He wrote his last column on March 30 of this year, dropped by a newspaper publisher for the third, and probably last time. He had this to say in his last column:

"I think part of it is that I don't write local stuff but reach out for a broader view in a style of writing that just isn't "journalistic" enough. Good writing, as one L.A. Times publisher said when the Otis Chandler era came to an end, isn't a requirement for newspapers anymore. My writing is just too ornate, too stylistic, too gothic and too soft for those who own newspapers. And as they sit in lofty judgment on what the public wants, the product that is a result of their judgment drops deeper into the abyss."

I run this story every year in Fiat Lux, and it brings a tear to my eye every time.  So here it is, the Greatest Christmas Story Ever Told:

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A Christmas Story

By Al Martinez

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

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

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

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

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

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

Then the telephone rang.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Not everywhere. Call Australia."

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

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

If Al said call Australia, I would call Australia.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

I won't forget this moment.

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

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

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

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

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

I wanted you to know that this Christmas season.

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

Being in the alpenglow

Last night we held our "Longest Night" service, with readings, healing prayers and candle lighting. The service is more low-key and especially for those who find the holiday season a little too intense. Below is my homily, and the photograph is me sitting on the ridge described (in the Alpenglow):

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If you’ve ever hiked in the mountains, above where the trees won’t grow, you know that the sun can be very bright in the daytime, much brighter than in the lowlands.

The air is thinner above the tree line and it is easy to get sunburned. 

But dusk high in the mountains, that is something all together different.

There is a place I go in the high Sierra. I’ve not been there in a few years, so mostly I go these days in my mind’s eye.

This place is on a high ridge in the heart of Yosemite. It takes about a half-day to hike up there. The ridge faces east, looking out across Tuolumne Meadows, and toward the sharp, glacially polished spires of the aptly named Cathedral peaks.

 I like to sit on this ridge at dusk. As the sun sets behind me, it casts a reddish-orange glow, and the mountains begin to shimmer for a few minutes.

It’s called “alpenglow,” and there is no better place to experience the alpenglow than on this ridge high in the Sierra Nevada. The amazing thing about alpenglow is you can feel the warmth of the sun even as the coolness of the night begins to settle over the mountains. And if you can hold the alpenglow in your mind, its warmth will carry you to the dawn and the return of the sun.  

Sometimes the bright lights of the Christmas season can be a little too intense. Religion itself can be like that. Religion can be too bright, too certain, too religious, and we can feel sunburned by it.

Sometimes all we need is the alpenglow. That is enough.

So tonight we will light a few candles, enough to give us the alpenglow. 

As you sit in the alpenglow tonight, there is really only one thing I want you to know. I have only one sermon, really, and it is this: God loves you. God loves you, no matter what. God loves you no matter what you’ve done, or not done, where you’ve been, or haven’t been. God loves you in your triumphs and in your failings, and God’s love comes with no strings attached, no qualifying phrases that begin with “if” or “but.”

It doesn’t matter what you’ve believe or not believe. You are in God’s loving embrace. You’ve met God in the alpenglow every evening of your life, even when you didn’t see the glow.

Moses saw God in a burning bush, and maybe that was just too bright for the rest of us. That is why I believe the divine came to earth as a human being, the One who we know as Jesus, so that we might experience the alpenglow of the creator. That, really, is the point of Christmas, to celebrate the glow of the One who comes among us.

Yet I know that is not always easy to feel or to believe. So tonight, rest in the alpenglow, and know that is enough.

Maybe there is something weighing on you tonight, a burden you are carrying, or a problem that just won’t resolve, or a relationship that is complicated, or a situation that is difficult. Or you miss someone close who is far away or gone. Rest tonight in the alpenglow of God’s love.

Maybe there is something deep inside you that needs healing. Soon we will offer prayers for healing, prayers for you and prayers for the people you love. I would urge you to come forward, don’t be shy. Come be open to the prayers that are a gift to you tonight in the alpenglow. And then light a candle.

And then I would offer again the words of St. Paul, written long ago to a small isolated community of Christians who were just trying to figure out how to get from one day to the next. He might as well have written these words to us:

“Rejoice in the Lord always; again I will say, Rejoice. Let your gentleness be known to everyone. The Lord is near. Do not worry about anything, but in everything by prayer and supplication with thanksgiving let your requests be made known to God. And the peace of God, which surpasses all understanding, will guard your hearts and your minds in Christ Jesus.”

AMEN

Watching just beyond the candle light

Friends,

I haven't posted here in many weeks, instead focusing on my book project in my early morning writing time. I am close to finishing a first draft, so it is getting time once again to come back to this space.

A few kinds folks asked me this morning to post my sermon, so that seems a good way to start. The day is icy, and sleet is covering the sidewalks. More than 100 hearty souls braved the weather to make it to church. We improvised a few things, and it was a more intimate worship than we typically experience.

I  was not slated to preach today, but put something together with a major inspirational assist from Steven Charleston. The readings for today are Isaiah 11:1-10, Romans 15:4-13 and Matthew 3:1-12.

Here it is:

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         Good morning. Thank you for being for braving the elements and being here this morning. Not everyone could get here, including our scheduled preacher, and so our prayers today are with everyone who isn’t here. And we are here to pray for them.

         I had not planned to preach today, so forgive me, I haven’t had much time to prepare. That of course, goes a bit against the admonitions of Advent, a time when we are told to be awake because we don’t know what is coming next.

         But I am an old newspaper reporter, and I can still do a few things on deadline.

         This morning I could give you a little biblical background about John the Baptist, but I’d rather save that for another day.

         Today might be a day to be a little more low key, a little quieter than John the Baptist calling us a brood of vipers. Today I would rather John’s unquenchable fire stay in the fire place.

         So, I’d like to read you something that a friend of mine wrote the other day on his Facebook page. This is from Steven Charleston, who is the retired bishop of Alaska.

         Here is what he wrote:

         “When the hour is late and the world is quiet, when prayers are being said and dreams are being sought, then the space between this life and the life to come draws thin, and if you look with eyes of the Spirit you will see your ancestors watching over you, watching just beyond the candle light, keeping their gentle vigil through the night, offering their wisdom in words too still to speak.

“You are being blessed by those who loved you most. You are safe in their care. The air around you is filled with a ceaseless benediction, your life held secure in hearts as pure as holy.”

Advent is a time of being awake the holy that is so near us. It is a time of waiting for the holy, but also noticing the holy already here. It is a time for noticing our dreams, looking with the eyes of the Spirit into the candlelight. It is a time for remembering our ancestors, and feeling their presence.

I am always struck by those individuals who feel this more clearly than I do, more clearly than the rest of us. John the Baptist was certainly one – it is why people flocked to the river to hear him and be washed in the river by him. He told them to repent – the word means “turn around.”

The word “repent” has gotten so laden with guilt and judgment that it has lost its meaning with us. But in its classic meaning, repent means simply, turn around to see God once again.

All he was really doing is telling people to turn around, go home, what you seek is already with you – God is walking with you. If you can see that, feel that, your life will be changed.

We’ve had people like that in our own time – and some have been prophets and sages. We know them because we can see how the Holy Spirit changed them, and then how they profoundly change the lives of others, and even change entire nations.

We know them by how they march in the light of God, and how they base their life not on hatred, violence and revenge, but on love, hope and reconciliation.

St. Paul himself was a man of violence and hatred until the Holy Spirit filled him the joy and peace of believing.

We lost one of those giant figures this week – Nelson Mandela. He transformed himself from a prophet of violence to a prophet of love and forgiveness. He changed a nation and changed the world.

At communion today we will sing the hymn, Marching in the Light of God, that became the unofficial anthem of those in South Africa who brought down apartheid.

We are blessed by so many other people still living. And we are still blessed by those who are gone from us but whose lives we can feel in flicker of the candle light, the breath of the wind.

Most of them aren’t famous, but they somehow touched our lives deeply. Who are they for you?

Some are our ancestors, and they watch over us, whisper to us.

May this Advent be a time for you to remember those individuals in your prayers, give thanks for how they changed you, and then be awake to how they still walk with you.

And soon, we will remember again how long ago, God came to be among us as a human being, as Jesus, and how by his life we are changed, healed and made new forever.

There really is more to this life than what you see now.

No matter what bruises and bumps we encounter along the way, healing does come, sometimes here, sometimes in the next life – but healing comes.

Life eternal begins in this place and dwells with each and every one of us. The One who comes is already here. The dawn soon arrives, and the blessing is ours forever. So be awake, look for the salvation that is already yours forever.

And may we always march in the Light of God.

Amen.

Praying for Syria and for our leaders

Dear friends of St. Paul’s,

As our national leaders weigh the moral decision of whether to take military action in the conflict in Syria, we as people of faith are called to common prayer that peace will prevail and suffering will end. Each Sunday we pray for our leaders and for all those in harm’s way. In this time of national debate, it is particularly important that we hold in prayer all those whose lives will be affected by the decisions of our elected leaders.

People of all the Abrahamic faiths – Jewish, Christian and Muslim – are responding especially to Pope Francis’ call to prayer and fasting this Saturday. I am aware of many Episcopal churches and cathedrals across the country that are holding prayer vigils Saturday. However, with a football game near our church it is not practical for us to hold such a vigil in our building. But I would ask that all of us find time on Saturday to pray for peace and an end to the violence in Syria and elsewhere in our world.

I also would urge all of us to be mindful that there are people of good will and strong faith on both sides of the issue on whether to intervene militarily in Syria. We need to be respectful of each other’s viewpoints, and especially hold each other in prayer.

I also want you to know that I met privately on Thursday with U.S. Rep. Robert Hurt, who represents our region in Congress. I assured him that we are praying for him, the Congress, and President Obama. I urged him to set aside political and election calculations and vote his conscience, as the Lord guides him.

I was asked to give Rep. Hurt a letter from Christian leaders in Syria representing the National Evangelical Synod of Syria and Lebanon, which is a member of the World Council of Churches of which we are also a part. In their letter, the Syrian Christian leaders condemned chemical attacks “that have caused immense suffering,” but they also urged military restraint. “We appeal for help to stop violence and help bring about peace and social justice – violence only breeds violence, and justice enhances life. Help the Syrians have life, life in its abundance.”

I would humbly ask that we stand together as people of faith, and that we continue to pray that God’s justice and peace will prevail here on earth.

Blessings,

Jim +

Blessing: May God take your hearts and set them on fire

This morning I used a blessing at the end of our 10 am service that I hadn't used before. I learned it from a priest friend, Liz Jones, who lives in Mississippi. She says the author is unknown (other than the first two lines from the Bible), and so it "belongs to the world." It's known down in Mississippi as "Liz's Blessing." Some asked me for it after church today, so here is Liz's Blessing:

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May the Lord Bless you and keep you. 

May the Lord make his face to shine upon you and be gracious unto you. 

May God give you grace not to sell yourselves short, 

Grace to risk something big for something good, 

Grace to remember that the world is now too dangerous for anything but truth, and too small for anything but love. 

May God take your minds and think through them. 

May God take your lips and speak through them. 

May God take your hands and work through them. 

May God take your hearts and set them on fire.
 

Where are the words of peace?

Egyptian Muslims protecting
Christian churches

Like everyone, I am saddened at the tragic and violent events in Egypt. As a preacher, I found last Sunday's gospel lesson Luke 12:49-56 difficult to work with, to say the least: Jesus declares he comes not to bring peace but division, to set parents against children, and worse.

It was tempting to skip, to preach on something else. But I did my best. Below is my offering from the pulpit.

In the days ahead, my postings here will be less often. I am deeply immersed in writing the book about my abolitionist ancestor, the Rev. George Richardson, that I began nine years ago and put on hold. He lived in a time of great division: the American Civil War. He fought for justice and the emancipation and education of slaves. Peace without that was a false peace.

My sabbatical allowed me to regain the spirit and the words for this project, and I feel it important to finish. My morning writing time will be mostly devoted to writing the book. I will keep you posted on it, and post other items from time to time. Just not as often.

Here is my sermon from last Sunday:

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Shalom. Salaam. Peace.

The words of peace are very hard to hear in our world right now. Very hard.

Egypt is being torn apart by political and religious strife, and many have died. Syria is in the depths of a seemingly unending civil war.

Our own country remains at war in Afghanistan and there are threats of war with Iran. The words of peace are very hard to hear in our world right now.

And the words of peace are very hard to hear in today’s biblical lessons. Instead of words of peace, we get the Book of Isaiah – and words that echo in the Battle the Hymn of the Republic:

“He is trampling out the vintage where the grapes of wrath are stored. He hath loosed the fateful lightning of His terrible swift sword.”

Instead of words of peace, we get the Letter to the Hebrews with descriptions of torture and flogging, and a stern admonition to “run with perseverance the race that is set before us.”

Nor to we get a warm, fuzzy, peaceful Jesus today:

“I came to bring fire to the earth,” Jesus thunders, “and how I wish it were already kindled!” Today, the good shepherd seems to be in someone else’s pasture:

“Do you think that I have come to bring peace to the earth? No, I tell you, but rather division!”

Oh my.

Jesus, most assuredly, is not giving advice on child rearing or solving family dysfunctions. Now, let me pause and tell you I don’t pick these lessons. For those of you unfamiliar with our peculiar way of doing things, these biblical lessons come from what is called “the lectionary,” and the lessons are assigned on a three-year cycle.

You will hear the same lessons today in Lutheran, Presbyterian and Roman Catholic churches, and many other churches.

Today, whether we like it or not, we get a sword, not a plowshare. No peace, no shalom, no salaam.

Or do we?

There may be another way to hear this. It may be that God’s peace is very different than how the world thinks of it.

It may be that God’s peace is not about power and politics, not about armies, but about justice for those who are oppressed, poor, exploited, wounded, and living in the low places. Sometimes being an agent of God’s peace means going into the heart of conflict because it is precisely in those places where God walks with the lowly.

And it is in precisely those places that God’s kingdom breaks through.

A friend of mine, Craig Klein, a deacon who lives up on the North Coast of California, terms passages like this: “God in the sharp points.”

It is on the sharp points that we are most acutely aware of God breaking open our hearts for others around us.

It is very tempting to avoid the sharp points because they are painful. Conflict is unpleasant and messy and worse.

And Jesus knows us well.

We might be tempted to build walls around ourselves by building walls around the church, and insulate ourselves from the conflicts and heartbreaks of the world.

But those heartbreaks walk right through this door whether we like it or not.

The absence of conflict is not peace, it is not shalom, it is not salaam. Sometimes the absence of conflict is acquiescence in, or wishful thinking about, that which wounds us and others. Sometimes the absence of conflict is acquiescence in evil.

The Gospel calls us to see the sharp points of our time, because it is in the muck of conflict where God finds us and shows us a way to real peace.

Real peace is not letting those who exploit people and pollute the earth get away with it.

We are called to build a world where the wounded are healed, the refugees are rescued, the poor are fed and those held in human bondage are freed.

We are called to make no peace with the forces of oppression.

The sharp points can break open our hearts and allow us to respond to the world in ways we never imagined possible.

Jesus never promised this would be easy. But each of us has the gifts to do our share to bind the wounds of the world.

Each one of us experiences the sharp points some time in our life. And that means each one of us has something to contribute from our own experience.

God gives us everything we need to do this work right here in this place and in our daily lives.

Lives really are changed by the Living Christ through you. People really are freed from what enslaves them, and God’s kingdom really is bursting alive through you.

We are called to “run with perseverance the race that is set before us.”

Shalom. Salaam. Peace.

Jeremy Taylor: the saint of practical living for a holy life

I am back from sabbatical, and today seems like a good day to start posting again on the blog. It is the feast day of one of my favorite Anglican saints, Jeremy Taylor. Here is what I wrote about him awhile back...

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Jeremy Taylor

Jeremy Taylor (1613-1667), one of the “Caroline Divines,”  is chiefly known for his masterful work, The Rules and Exercise of Holy Living (1650) which has never gone out of print.

I've mentioned him in this space on other occasions, and I continue to return to his works and wisdom on everything from church politics to prayer. Above all he strived to be practical; theological theory was meaningless to Taylor if he could not touch it, test it, live with it in the real world. Here is a gem from Holy Living:

“Let everything you see represent to your spirit the presence, the excellency, and the power of God; and let your conversation with the creatures lead you unto the Creator; for so shall your actions be done more frequently, with an actual eye to God’s presence, by your often seeing him in the glass of the creation.

In the face of the sun you may see God’s beauty; in the fire you may feel his heat warming; in the water, his gentleness to refresh you: he it is that comforts your spirit when you have taken cordials; it is the dew of heaven that makes your field give you bread; and the breasts of God are the bottles that minister drink to your necessities.”

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 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 most popular book, Holy Living, Taylor explained a way of practicing 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. Edmund Gosse, who wrote a biography of Taylor in 1903 that is still quite readable, considers Holy Dying Taylor's most overlooked masterpiece (the engraving at right is an inset on the cover page to Holy Dying; note the skeleton in the mirror). It is a sad book, and a hard read, but within in the book is hope for new life to come.

Eventually, the monarchy was restored. Taylor was made a bishop, but in Northern Ireland (perhaps because the Royalists did not fully trust him). Truthfully, he had a miserable time as a bishop, fought endlessly with the Irish priests, and longed for a return to England that never came.

In Ireland, he began writing yet another long set of works, including a treatise on how bishops have a role in the church only as long as they are promoting ministry. He also developed his own doctrine of "just war" that was stricter than the prevalent doctrine handed down from the Catholic era in Britain. 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. From Holy Dying: "When we descend to our graves, we may rest in the bosom of our Lord, till the mansions be prepared where we are shall sing and feast eternally."

May you have a blessed feast day of Jeremy Taylor.

By James Richardson, Fiat Lux

Update on our sabbatical

I've got a new post on our sabbatical developments. You can read it by clicking HERE.

New blog for sabbatical

I've created a new blog for my sabbatical journey, called simply enough Sabbatical 2013.

You can also reach it by clicking HERE.

The first article is the same as the article below. From here on out, please check the new blog:

http://rectorjimsabbatical.blogspot.com/

Update on my sabbatical: CREDO conference, core values, mission; and on the the road West

On the road with Lori

NASHVILLE, TENN. – We are on the third day of our cross-country trek, and taking it a little easy on a rainy day. Tomorrow we will tour the Stones River National Battlefield about 30 miles south of here, and then Monday push onward to Memphis. My ancestor – George Richardson, the topic of my sabbatical writing project – was in both places in the Civil War.

But let’s back up a little.

Let me bring you up to date on my sabbatical, particularly the CREDO conference I completed Monday at the Duncan Gray Center in Canton, Mississippi.

CREDO is sponsored by the Episcopal Church Pension Fund, and these conferences are designed to help clergy take a step back from ministry and examine what we are doing, why we are doing it, and give ourselves a little pastoral care in the process.

As I got on the airplane for Mississippi, I had a huge feeling of gratitude for the people of St. Paul’s Memorial Church for giving me this time away after five years. And I am enormously grateful to the clergy and staff of St. Paul’s for “holding down the fort” while I am away.

This was the second CREDO conference I’ve attended. The first was six years ago; also at the Duncan Gray Center. At the time I was in-between jobs in the Church. In a very real sense that first CREDO launched me on the path I am on now because it broadened my horizons and my sense of what God might be calling me to do outside of my comfort zones.

Duncan Gray Center
Canton, MS.

This second CREDO was, in many ways, deeper and richer than the first. There were 30 of us, including several clergy struggling with difficult issues. One member of our CREDO group had his New Jersey church and his home wiped out by Hurricane Sandy.

Other participants were struggling with significant health issues, or life transitions ranging from new positions to retirement. We had a healing service on Thursday of our CREDO week, and there were a lot of tears in the chapel.

The central exercise of our CREDO conference was to identify our personal core values, and then look at how those values fit with our personal “rule of life,” or mission statement. We had a very able faculty with us, and they provided us with personal consultations as we worked on the exercises through the week.

After a lot of work and discussion, here is what I came up with as my top five core values:

• Openness to all people in all circumstances
• God’s dream of social justice, peace and the healing of the planet
• Giving as a way of life
• Creativity
• Loyalty

That is not to say that I live up to those values, but rather that these values should guide me in my life and ministry.

From that, I took a new look at my personal mission statement – “Let there be light” – which is also the title of this blog, Fiat Lux. That statement came out of my first CREDO conference, and is borrowed from a line in the Song of Zechariah (Luke 1:79): “To shine on those dwelling in darkness and the shadow of death.”

I realized at this second CREDO conference that I needed to expand this statement to fit with my core values, and to do that, all I needed to do is add the line in the Song of Zechariah to make my mission statement complete. So here it is, fuller this time, and again from the Song of Zechariah:

“To shine on those dwelling in darkness and the shadow of death, and guide our feet in the way of peace.”

By the way, the full Song of Zechariah is part of the Morning Prayer service in the Book of Common Prayer, on pages 92-93. I like to read it every morning.

Here is another version, from the colloquial translation called “The Message”:

“God’s Sunrise will break in upon us, shining on those in the darkness, those sitting in the shadow of death, then showing us the way, one foot at a time, down the path of peace.”

I will check back with you as this journey progresses.

By James Richardson, Fiat Lux