Tosa Rector

2011-04-26T23:00:00.001-05:00

Tosa Rector Moves On (in the Blogosphere that is)!

Greetings!

After a good run of consecutive posts (January 8 - April 20, 2011), the streak ended when the days of the Triduum began. I enjoyed the discipline of attempting to have something to say on a daily basis. So much so, that the more I began to experiment with this "blogging thing", the more frustrated I became with:

1. My ineptitude of figuring out how to make some of the features of this particular publishing platform work, which led to, unfortunately, a blog that was visually unappealing and technologically challenged.

2. All of the editorial strictures I placed upon myself. After all, if I was "Tosa Rector", wasn't I in some way "speaking" for/to the parish I serve? How was I to experiment with finding my voice if that voice was always governed by the very title of the blog?

So, for at least those two reasons, this is my last post here. I'm presently working with a new platform and this evening, I managed to get the title page and first entry posted. I hope the new site will provide the technical flexibility and user-friendliness I need. I'm also going to use the new platform to speak more as "me" and less as "the Rector". I'm not exactly sure how that will work, but I'm ready to give it a whirl.

Until we have all of the particulars figured out with the Trinity website, the "blogging with the Rector" button will still bring you here. But that's OK...I'm not going to take this down for a while (I need to cull through the past 3 years of entries to see if any are worth saving). In the meantime, you can find me at:
http://soulwerker.com

I hope to see you over there soon!
Easter blessings to you all.

2011-04-20T18:36:00.000-05:00

Reaffirmed

Every year during Holy Week, the clergy from all over the Diocese of Milwaukee make their way to (usually) the Cathedral Church of All Saints for the purpose of reaffirming the vows they made on the day of their respective ordinations. This is a tradition in the Church dating back centuries, and many dioceses throughout the Episcopal Church observe the custom. Taking time during Holy Week to reconnect with the call to ordained ministry is a wise investment of time during a week when it's easy to get caught up in "bulletin busy-ness", "sermon shaping" and "leaping through liturgies" -- as if the goal of the week is to simply make it to the Easter afternoon nap.

As I stood in the Cathedral yesterday reaffirming my commitment to the vows I made the first time over eight years ago, I couldn't help but remember the day of my ordination to the priesthood. I remember how fast it all seemed to go -- the liturgy, the reception, the well-wishes from family and friends. But the place where time seemed to pass in slow motion was during "the Examination" (BCP, p. 531ff). As the Bishop Suffragan of Southern Virginia looked me in the eye and asked me question after question (the vows), the weightiness of the moment solidified all around me. I felt alone and supported simultaneously. I knew this was the ministry to which I had been called and I was anxious to "get on with it". But the Examination provided the necessary corrective -- the ministry of the Church is lived out in a different timeframe than the rest of the world.

Everything the Examination asks of those ordained to the priesthood, diaconate and episcopate takes time...lots, and lots of time. There is no way to cultivate a life of prayer in 20 minutes each week. Reading and studying can't be done in the time it takes a microwave dinner to cook. Caring for God's people is more than an e-mail or a Facebook post. One cannot minister the sacraments of the New Covenant "virtually" -- it's all done with real people in real time.

From time to time, I still want to "get on with it". Impatience is a constant in my life -- to the extent I become impatient with my impatience. Yesterday reminded me (AGAIN!) that this ministry isn't on my timeline -- it is on God's. My job is to remember my role -- a servant of God's people in the service of the Good News. I may fail miserably at remembering this role tomorrow. But for now, for today, I am "reaffirmed".

2011-04-19T15:32:00.000-05:00

Holy Tuesday

Here's the reprint of the post I wrote for the Diocese of Milwaukee's Lenten Bible Study Blog:

“The message about the cross is foolishness to those who are perishing, but to us who are being saved it is the power of God.” – 1 Corinthians 1:18

When the Apostle Paul penned these words nearly two millennia ago, the notion that Messiah, God’s Anointed, had actually been put to death by the machinations of an Empire was an affront to the “way things were supposed to be”. Messiah was supposed to liberate God’s people from oppression, not fall victim to it!

Paul’s argument in the face of this contradiction was to adamantly hold to the righteousness of God and to invite his friends to enter more fully into the mystery of the cross as saving event rather than mourning it as a travesty of justice or the tragedy of human cruelty. We are invited, during this Holy Week to do the same. To walk the way of the cross is to confront our own discomfort with a part of the Gospel story we’d probably prefer to ignore.

The collect appointed for today, asks, in part, that the Church will “glory in the cross of Christ”. How does that happen? How is God’s wisdom made known in the illogical (even foolish) shamefulness of the cross? How is the wisdom of the world turned inside out by this event which defies human logic? How exactly does the body of Jesus being nailed to the cross unleash the power of God to save the world?

So many questions come along with us on this Holy Week journey. Very few answers make sense. Most answers sound somewhat incomplete.

I wonder. If we could figure out all the answers, would we then begin to trust our own wisdom as a power on a level with God’s? Would we begin to act as if we had some control over the God of Sarah, Rebecca, Ruth, Hannah and Mary – the God who, over and over again, refuses to conform to human expectations of how a god should behave?

The God of the Matriarchs and Patriarchs still confounds us today – with irascibility we find unsettling. This God comes to us in the ways of weakness – a babe in a stable cave and a dying man on a cross. The Church proclaims, with particular emphasis during Holy Week, that this foolishly behaving God has, “brought us out of error into truth, out of sin into righteousness, out of death into life.” (BCP, p. 368) But this power of God to salvation and wholeness isn’t merely a set of interesting teachings inscribed in a book. This saving power is gifted to the world in the weakness of human flesh – Jesus, Son of Mary, Son of God.

2011-04-18T21:45:00.001-05:00

A Homily Summary from Holy Monday
As a part of our Holy Week observance at Trinity, we have a brief service of Holy Eucharist on Holy Monday (today). The Gospel reading appointed for this liturgy is the Gospel of John's version of the woman who pours costly perfume on Jesus. In John's telling, the woman is Mary, sister of Lazarus (who Jesus raised from the dead). In all of the Gospels which record this extravagant act of giving, one or more people criticize the act as being "wasteful". Couldn't the expensive and precious ointment have been sold and the money given to the poor for their benefit?

Here in the Upper Midwest, such practical frugality is applauded.
Don't waste!
Be judicious!
Benefit the most with the least!

But the woman demonstrates to us
That sometimes,
Prudence must be laid aside
In an extravagant act of love.

As I reflected upon the woman's gift to Jesus, I kept thinking of how, in the Church, we've turned Holy Week into some sort of endurance contest. We're constantly inviting each other to take care of ourselves, not get too stressed, and to remember that "Holy Week will be over soon and then we can get some rest."

We seem to have forgotten that Holy Week is why the Church is "in business". The events we will commemorate this week are the formative events of the faith. Why are we always telling ourselves to "take it easy"?

Here's what I hope.
I hope that I can so fully
Enter into the Mystery of this Week
That by the time the liturgies of Easter Day
Are completed
I will be fully emptied.
Expended.
Out of gas.
Used up.
I hope I am able
To fully let go and lavish
My worship upon Jesus.
Somehow, this seems appropriate.
After all, he lavished his life upon me.

2011-04-17T21:30:00.001-05:00

Announcing the Tour de DioMil

Some of you have heard about this already. But here are a few of the developing specifics. As a part of my sabbatical, I intend to spend the better part of two weeks biking the "perimeter" of the Episcopal Diocese of Milwaukee. The purpose of this ride is threefold:

1. My own personal benefit. After rediscovering biking last year, I have reconnected with my love of the outdoors and the sheer fun I have getting from place to place aboard two wheels and pedals. I'm not a racer. I'm not an extreme sports kind of guy either. In fact, most of my friends know me as more of a couch potato/book worm type. But I wanted to set a goal and then work toward acheiving something that is both reasonable and challenging for me personally. Between now and the end of August, I will be working to ride an average of 75-100 miles each week (either outside on my bike or inside on various bike substitutes). But as I post my weekly totals or several of the longer day trips I plan to take between now and then, I wanted you all to know the context for all of this pedal pushing.

2. To call attention to the ministries of (mostly) smaller Episcopal Churches that have their being on the outskirts of the Diocese of Milwaukee. This diocese is essentially the southern one-third of the state and most of the congregations are concentrated in the greater Milwaukee area. The parishes in small towns are often overshadowed by larger Roman Catholic and/or Lutheran congregations, even though these parishes do remarkable ministries within their communities, often without the benefit of "full time" clergy presence. My hope is that at each stop, I will be able to meet with parishioners of the congregation, hear their parish story and learn about their ministry in the particular context in which they are located. I also hope that this venture will serve as a way of calling attention to the fact that in the Episcopal Church, "the Diocese" isn't an office building, but people in parishes, serving Jesus in cities, villages and towns.

3. To raise at least $50,000 for three very worthy causes -- The Haiti Project of the Diocese of Milwaukee ($20K); The clean water initiatives of Episcopal Relief and Development (15K) and World Bicycle Relief (15K).

The days and route of the tour are as follows (and for you non-Wisconsin readers, I recommend checking some of these towns out on a map!):

August 30: St. Simon the Fisherman, Port Washington to St. Mark's, Beaver Dam
August 31: St. Mark's, Beaver Dam to Trinity, Baraboo
September 1: Trinity Baraboo to St. Barnabas, Richland Center
September 2: (Rest Day)
September 3: St. Barnabas, Richland Center to Holy Trinity, Prairie du Chein
September 4: Holy Trinity, Prairie du Chein to Trinity, Platteville
September 5: Trinity, Platteville to St. Andrew's, Monroe
September 6: (Rest Day)
September 7: St. Andrew's, Monroe to St. Paul's, Beloit
September 8: St. Paul's, Beloit to St. Matthew's, Kenosha
September 9: St. Matthew's, Kenosha to St. Simon the Fisherman, Port Washington (with midday stop at the Cathedral of All Saints' in Milwaukee)

A website is presently under construction and I'll let you all know when it's completed (hopefully in the next week or two). In the meantime, I hope those of you who live in the Diocese of Milwaukee will consider helping me promote this initiative and join me on the tour for a "leg" or three! I am excited about this project and I can't wait to see how it will unfold. Thanks for reading! Thanks for praying! Thanks (hopefully) for giving! :-)

2011-04-16T14:48:00.001-05:00

Church Chores

This morning,
While no one was looking
A few people went about their work --
Preparing the worship space
For tomorrow's liturgy.

Arranging palm fronds in vases,
And for distribution on Sunday morning.
Removing the Lenten altar vestments,
And replacing them with the Holy Week Red.
Setting the elements and various containers
In their appropriate places.

This activity of "setting up"
Takes place week in and week out
Mostly unnoticed
Mostly anonymous
Mostly without wrinkle or hitch.
Which is how
Altar Guild members want it!

Their service is an act of devotion
To their Lord
And for their church.
No one else needs to know.
But I do.
For the gift of dedicated service
To the "House for God's People"
And the care of "Holy Things"
By these Holy People
I give hearty thanks.

2011-04-15T11:36:00.000-05:00

Holy Week ZZZZ's

Yesterday, I was reading the story in Matthew's Gospel about Jesus in the Garden of Gethesemene. He's got eleven of the Twelve with him -- Judas has already departed the scene. Jesus takes Peter and the two sons of Zebedee on ahead of the other eight and instructs them to "stay awake" while he prays. Three times Jesus prays that God's will be done in whatever awaits him. Three times he returns to Peter, James and John and finds them asleep. The final time, Matthew writes, "because their eyes were heavy."

The more I've thought of this scene and the more I've listened to clergy types make the annual statements concerning the amount of work attendant to our Holy Week schedules (looming ahead for next week). The more I've begun to wonder about how, if I'm not careful, I could very well spiritually "sleep walk" through the entire thing. Now my eyes will be wide open. I will be officiating and preaching and liturgizing all over the place. We will walk the way of the cross as a community of faith. It will all be more than worth the efforts expended by so many people.

But I am praying now that I won't miss the point of it all. Because it matters not whether we are producing the sounds of bone-weary snoring or hyperactive buzzing, the "zzzz's" will preclude us from watching with Jesus and seeing the victory of our God.

2011-04-14T21:30:00.001-05:00

Training

Yesterday, in a back issue of a biking magazine, I read the story of a guy who, in the course of five years, lost over 330 pounds through biking and managing his diet. His starting weight was 501 pounds. The story brought me to tears in a couple of places. He had to have his bike custom made to support his beginning weight. When he began to cycle, he often endured taunts, jeers and people throwing objects at him. When he began this odyssey, he could barely walk a few paces without having to sit down and catch his breath. As of now, he regularly bikes across entire states. How did he do it? One pedal stroke, one day, one meal, one breath at a time.

Yes. I know that last line sounds trite...but I would not call this person's journey trite. I would call it a triumph beyond belief. In fact, the guy's doctors told him there was no way anyone with the amount of weight he had to lose could do so without bariatric surgery or a similarly aggressive approach. The results did not happen over night. I'm guessing there were plenty of frustrations along the way. But he simply kept getting on his bike and riding as far as he felt he could. And then riding a little farther.

At the risk of making a sweeping generalization, our society is into immediate results without much effort. What the "Large Fella on a Bike" (this is the name of his blog...Google it if you want to read more about him) did was settle in for the long haul and commit to a daily practice. While he did this for his physical well being, there is a spiritual truth writ large in his jouney. Want to have a better prayer life? Pray today. Want to know more about the Bible? Read the Bible today. Want to have a better relationship? Spend time with the person you want to be in relationship with today.

Invest some time. Every day. Without fail. Get in training for the life abundant Jesus talks about. There's no telling where any one of us will end up...if we will only start.

2011-04-13T12:00:00.034-05:00

Attendant to the Voice

Today at our weekly Eucharist, the Gospel appointed for the day was the "Good Shepherd" passage from the tenth chapter of the Gospel of John. In it, Jesus notes that the sheep know the voice of their shepherd -- listen to that voice and aren't swayed by the voice of the hired help. In my homily, I noted that I didn't know much about sheep, but over the past 6+ years, our terrier mix, Freddie, has taught me a great deal about attendant listening.

We've noticed that Freddie can discern the sounds of each of the Manning vehicles from afar -- as far away as about a quarter of a mile if there's enough quiet in the environment. He can distinguish the sounds of our cars from cars of the exact same model. When he hears the sounds of either vehicle he will immediately make a beeline for the kitchen door which leads to the garage and stand, at attention, tail wagging, on full alert, waiting for the member of the family in the returning vehicle. Usually he's standing at the door, before the returning family member has entered the driveway or pushed the remote control to open the garage door. It's a sight to behold for the family members who are inside the house and have witnessed this behavior time and time again.

Of course, we all know this is a conditioned response, right? At some point Freddie has associated all of those sounds with some sort of reward -- food, a walk outside, a playmate or a pat on the head. He is attendant for these sounds out of his own self-interest (even though I'm not certain dogs have "self-interest"). As I have reflected upon Freddie's behavior and the attention he invests in each member of our family, I couldn't help but wonder about the amount of attention we followers of Jesus lavish upon listening for the sounds of the Good Shepherd in our midst.

Can we hear the Voice in the din of all the other voices which surround us?
Can we hear the Voice above the crowded chatter of our own thoughts?
"My sheep know my voice," Jesus says.
I get comfort from knowing that Jesus is speaking.
I feel challenged by knowing how little I'm listening for the sound of his voice.

2011-04-12T15:00:00.001-05:00

Talking Church

Some folks think we priests
Only talk about God.
I think we mostly
Talk about God by analogy --
We "talk church" instead.

We talk about
Sunday attendance at worship;
Budgets and endowments;
Programs and ministries;
Challenges and opportunities.

Church talk is addictive.
We can confuse
Talking about church
With being church
For one another.

Church talk is insidious.
We can forget
Church isn't the sum total
Of our prayer life or
Our life in God.

It's so much easier, though.
To talk church than to
Talk God.
I wonder with all the church talk
If God can get a word in edgewise.

2011-04-11T06:40:00.002-05:00

Two or Three

For the past six Lents, every morning 6:30 a.m. (from the Thursday after Ash Wednesday, until the Saturday before Palm Sunday) for six days a week, the Morning Prayer has been read at Trinity Church. Now, this shouldn't seem a cause for celebration -- after all, the "Daily Office" is a part of the Anglican heritage dating back centuries. To this day, Church of England clergy commit to praying Morning and Evening Prayer EVERY DAY as a part of the fulfillment of their ordination vows. For much of the history of the Episocopal Church, Morning Prayer was the form of weekly corporate worship for most Sundays of the year.

But these days -- given everyone's schedules, the press of families and jobs -- it's more and more difficult to make time for corporate worship. And in an increasingly, "Eucharistically-centered" denomination, many people have the opinion if the Holy Meal isn't served, then somehow worship hasn't happened. That's what has made these mornings of prayer so meaningful to me. Worship HAS happened -- reciting the psalms, the prayers of the Church, reflecting upon the reading assigned for the day. Taking time to share thoughts or questions about that reading, offering up our individual petitions and thanksgivings. This is worship in its most essential form.

Do we need to come to a building to pray Morning Prayer? Absolutely not. However, as I have sat in the Trinity Church chapel and prayed along with my friends, there was a "quiet confidence" of being connected with the Anglicans around the world who treasure this ordered way of worship and who had prayed, were praying or would be praying these (or similar) words throughout the day. Millions upon millions of Anglicans gathered together -- two or three at a time.

2011-04-10T21:17:00.000-05:00

Thinking about Parochial Economics #2

Perhaps facing honestly into the fiscal realities knocking on the red doors of many parishes would allow us the opportunity to meet our economic challenges with creativity and enthusiasm instead of desperation and depression. Isn't it about time we spent some time clarifying the expectations congregations have of clergy? What roles are clergy to fulfill? Primarily sacramental? Somewhat pastoral? Or mostly administrative?
Exactly how does a priest-in-residence impact the communal life of a congregation? Don't get me wrong, I'm in no hurry to get into another line of work, but these questions continue to roll around in my head and I constantly wonder why we don't seem to be able to have any sort of non-anxious conversation around such things.

2011-04-09T20:41:00.001-05:00

Thinking about Parochial Economics #1

All of the political hubbub here in Wisconsin over the past two months has had me thinking about "wages and benefits" as it relates to the life of a full time clergy-type. I've ruminated on some of this before through the years, but the ways in which the conversation about state employees -- their pensions, health insurance costs and salaries -- unfolded here has left me pondering ecclesiastical economics again.

I will make no claims about how I sacrificed financially to become an Episcopal priest or how I gave up a lucrative position in the private sector in order to serve the Church. Certainly, there are some priests who did just such a thing, but not me. With an undergrad degree in theology/religion and with my "Masters in Divinity" (M.Div.) degree from seminary, the fact is, I'm in the only real profession available (unless I want to attempt to make my way on minimum wage!).

The truth is, I am blessed by a congregation which offers an above average stipend (churchspeak for "salary") and a house in which to live. Trinity Church also covers the entire cost of my family's health insurance and pays a pension premium on my behalf. Both of these benefits are required by the current canons (rules) of the Episcopal Church. The sum of the health insurance and pension costs is equal to 85% of my stipend. Anyway one wants to slice such a number -- the fact remains, I am in a "benefit rich" situation, and such a situation is no longer sustainable for the majority of Episcopal parishes (and I suspect, at some point in the future, will present a challenge for Trinity Church as well).

How can I honestly preach about "stewardship" when everyone knows (because my salary/benefits package is public knowledge, as it should be!) my livelihood depends upon the generosity of the parishioners I serve? I can dress it up in theological lingo all I want, but the truth is, we have a budget to meet as a parish and I have bills to pay as a priest. Now, I know this isn't a subject anybody wants to talk about. Yet I wonder how we can continue to pretend this financial reality doesn't exist, and/or act as if it can be remedied by better liturgies or more erudite sermons.

Calendar Counting

2011-04-08T07:35:00.000-05:00

My calendar is overstuffed.
And I'm the one who stuffed it!
Time to go on a commitment diet,
And trim some excess activity.
"Gluttony," someone once said,
"Comes in many forms."
A fresh look at my fat calendar
Has me nodding in
Rueful agreement.

Sent from my iPad

Progress through Failure

2011-04-07T16:56:00.000-05:00

"If you're not failing regularly, you're definitely not making much progress."
-- Robin Sharma

I read lots of business books and business writers. Perhaps it's a residual habit from my previous life in sales. I like to think it's more about my fascination with the general business tendencies toward continuous improvement and customer satisfaction and what these twin motives might teach us in the congregational development world. Robin Sharma is one of my favorites. The quote above is from one of his recent blog posts: 50 New Rules of Work. You can read the other 49 at http://www.robinsharma.com

What called me up short in this quote is the recognition of the tremendous amount of energy in congregational life invested in "not failing". I suspect we fear failing because we so often feel our congregations are barely holding their own -- declining budgets, aging congregations, shrinking Sunday attendance -- if we fail, the thinking goes, we might lose pledge income or people...and if enough of those failures happen, our congregations may die. All of a sudden we are paralyzed. Inaction is deemed safer than failure. We become so concerned with preservation, innovation is sacrificed as too risky. Of course we don't use that sort of language. We dress it up in ecclesiastical excuses: "That's not who we are," or "That's not in keeping with our tradition," or "Our judicatory would never put up with something like that." I've been guilty of saying stuff just like this. Seminary, after all, trained me to manage and maintain, not lead and coach a congregation through the experience of failure.

Often, in planning meetings, I've asked (or been asked), "What great thing would this congregation undertake if we knew we couldn't fail?" I think maybe that's the wrong question. Maybe a better question is, "What are we so convinced God is calling us to do that we will invest, wholeheartedly, our time, our talent and our money, to go all out in its pursuit -- even if it means we could fail colossally?"

Wow! Who knows what we might discover about ourselves in that sort of process? And God only knows the sort of progress we could make!

Sent from my iPad

2011-04-06T19:31:00.001-05:00

Book Burning

When the cameras were pointed elsewhere,
When we were distracted by whatever we were distracted by
The person dispensing hatred under
The banner of Jesus
Burned the Holy Book of Islam...
And set off another round of violence
Ending in the deaths of people who weren't responsible
But were somehow deemed
"Guilty by association."

The pastor who burned the Book
Claimed to be making a statement
About the violence of Islam.
With his provocative act he
Set violence in motion, which, may have
Proved his point to others easily influenced.
Those who reacted to this offense with violence,
While attempting to defend the honor of their faith,
Further buttressed the claims of the
Mind-Fried-Book-Burner.

Burning books.
Burning flags.
Burning mosques.
Burning crosses.
Burning churches.
Burning temples.
Burning houses.
Burning people.

Humans have burned it all...
In the name of "righteousness";
In the name of "justice";
In the name of "freedom";
In the name of "protest";
In the name of "revenge";
In the name of God
(By whatever name we call God.)

How is it
We can set the fires of destruction
Giving so little thought about
How those very fires we ignite
Have the power
To burn us up too?

2011-04-05T23:28:00.000-05:00

Callings...

We don't know, really
How it is that God calls us.

We struggle...
"Where does God's voice begin,
And our voices interrupt?"

On very rare occasions
The way is perfectly clear.
Mostly, though,
We slog through uncertainty.

How do we keep the faith
While ensnared in
Our own uncertainties?

2011-04-04T22:44:00.000-05:00

The Forgiveness Cross

On the first Sunday in Lent,
We placed a large, wooden cross
At the front of our worship space.
We didn't need another cross, really.
We've got dozens of them already.
Mostly, our crosses fade into the
Fuzziness of familiarity.
We see them so often
We no longer see them.

People have been invited to
Pin pieces of paper to this
New, Lenten addition.
The papers represent
Those we need to forgive and
The things for which we need forgiveness.
I don't know exactly how many
Pieces of paper are currently
Pinned to this cross...
A few dozen maybe?

The number is probably
Not as important as the visual.
Those slips of paper remind
All of us that
We are a people in process.
A people seeking to forgive.
A people seeking forgiveness.
And the cross is both the
Starting point and the
Ending point for the journey.

For four Sundays
I've looked at this cross.
Bearing the burdens of
Hurting people.
Reminding us of the
Power of God
Revealed in
Weakness.

"Father, forgive them
For they don't know
What they are doing."

2011-04-03T22:19:00.001-05:00

A Church "Distributed"

This afternoon, I happened to catch the PBS weekly broadcast of Religion and Ethics Weekly. The subject of one of the reports was the impact of social media upon the way in which people experience both faith communities and the Faith in such a hyper-connected society. From a mega-non-denominational church in central Florida (with an average weekly worship attendance of around 15,000) to a significantly smaller community of nuns and every sort of gathering in-between, there's little doubt social media has impacted the way in which the Church goes about proclaiming its message and creating connections between both people of faith and those dealing with their doubts.

To see the media center in the mega-church was to see technology at its finest. The nuns weren't doing a bad job keeping up with the times either. Of course, the report managed to interview a good, solid mainline denomination pastor (who happened to be Presbyterian, but could have easily been Episcopalian!). To see the juxtaposition of the mega-church staff's iPAD, iPhone and multiple computers was impressive. To see the Sisters' Facebook page and watch them interacting with people who write into their site was inspirational. To watch the mainline pastor, dutifully sitting at his desk, highlighting text out of a book and writing notes on a legal pad without a piece of technology in sight...well, that was poignantly anachronistic.

Naturally, we mainline Christians are slow to adopt technology. We are suspect of anything that smacks of "remote church". I would claim, like the mainline minister in this report, that there's more to Christian community than watching a sermon on a TV screen. But Christian community is also far more dramatic and life-giving than a weekly gathering of a few scores of people in a building where a seminary trained "expert" leads the (mostly passive) "flock" through a series of ritual actions without any sense of how those actions actually connect to the lives they're living outside the doors of the church house.

Technology allows the conversation about matters of faith and spirituality to be much broader and include more people than ever before -- think the printing press to the 10th power (at least!). Of course this sort of grassroots theology always makes the "command and control" structures of denominations nervous.

How can we be sure of the qualifications of those engaged in the discussions? How do we prevent (horrors!) some bit of imaginative theology which might call our staid dogma into question?
And above all, if people stay home to chat and tweet about faith, how will we generate enough income to sustain our overhead -- the buildings, grounds and professional staff we've come to believe are essential to facilitate the community we claim can't be experienced remotely.

Maybe I'm overreaching, but our nervousness sounds a lot like the religious authorities' nervousness in Jesus' time. After all he hadn't been vetted through the proper channels. His birth narrative was "irregular" at best. He chose a ragtag bunch of rabble as his core leadership team. He seemed to have no appreciation for the power of tradition. After his death (the religious authorities of the time wouldn't own the possibility of resurrection), his followers continued his penchant for ignoring structure. They met for prayer and fellowship, in of all places, each other's homes! The "Church" in the Book of Acts didn't begin to grow until it left Jerusalem -- until it was distributed! The message of Jesus was distributed using the technologies of the day -- the most powerful of which was the Pax Romana -- the very Empire so hellbent on keeping control provided the means (roads, trade routes, language, etc) for the message to spread like wildfire.

Imagine that! The Gospel spreading like wildfire -- not marching in a stately procession behind an ornate cross at 11 a.m. on a Sunday morning! The Gospel being "tweeted" and "retweeted"...spreading from person to person. I don't know about this sort of viral phenomenon -- it sounds a bit too dangerous. After all, we may want people everywhere to come to faith in Jesus, but don't we really mean, "Come to faith in Jesus the way we tell you to."?

2011-04-02T22:06:00.000-05:00

For or Against?

Over the past couple of days, I've watched enough television to have the opportunity to view the latest round of political advertising. Here in Milwaukee County, we will be electing a new County Executive (to fill the vacancy created by the recent election of Scott Walker as Governor) and statewide, there is a contested election for one of the judgeships on the Wisconsin Supreme Court. What have I noticed about the commercials so far? Here goes:

Each candidate (or "independent" organization advertising on behalf of a political perspective) is busy telling the viewers why we DON'T want to elect the other candidate. Perhaps I've missed some of them, but I haven't heard or seen a single advertisement aimed at lending credibility to a candidate or proffering a rationale for supporting her/him. The campaigns seem to be more concerned with discrediting their opposition.

Now, "negative" campaigning is nothing new. We certainly have seen far worse examples than the ads currently on the air. But I'm left wondering what it means when the message the various candidates are sending is, "It's more important for you, the voter, to cast your vote AGAINST my opponent than casting that vote in favor of me." Is this what we've come to?

Apparently (if one goes by the television ads) no candidate needs to propose any viable solutions for the problems facing our community or our state; she/he need only point out, in as vitriolic and inflammatory fashion as possible, the problems with his/her opposition's proposed solutions. Certainly there's nothing new in this sort of advertising. The reason candidates and their constituents still engage in this category of political speech is because the electorate responds to it. In short, if I can make you hate/distrust my opponent enough, you will vote for me without ever actually asking me what I my values, goals or aspirations are, and if I don't have to name those values, goals or aspirations, then I don't have to defend them or address any of my own philosophical inconsistencies.

I can't fix such shenanigans, but watching all of them has led me to reflect on the importance of the speech we use around the parish community I serve. Language is, indeed, formative. The way we talk does, in fact, "construct", in some fashion, "who we are". Are we, as Christians, simply "against" this thing or that? Do we define the Christian life only by what it is not? Further, as Episcopalians, is our main claim to fame that we are "not" (Roman) Catholic or Lutheran or Evangelical or Pentecostal? Does the only way we (Christians in general or Episcopalians in particular) identify ourselves devolve to positioning ourselves "over and against" others?

When I first entered the priesthood, I sweated over every word -- the words in sermons, the words in bulletin announcements, the words in newsletter articles, the words at coffee hour, the words in e-mails, the words used in classes, the words used in informal conversation and every other sort of verbal communication. I fretted (before and after!). I edited (whenever I could). I pored over the stuff attempting to make sure that the correct nuance was conveyed (mostly unsuccessfully). Often, I was so ecclesiastically tongue-tied I prayed for deliverance from having to say anything.

Over the years, though, I fear I've gotten sloppy. Crafting a consistent message is hard, inexact and exhausting work. And besides, who am I to presume to speak either "to" or "on behalf of" an entire parish?

This recent deluge of political advertisements has called me to think a bit more deeply about how we tell our story to one another and to the community around us. To be honest, I would hope people who dare to identify themselves as "Christians" would be the most inclined to mind our words.

What would it be like if followers of Jesus ceased using our power of speech as a means to slice and dice our perceived "enemies"?
What would it be like if we recovered the creative power of our words to heal and raise the dead?
Who knows?
We might just turn the world upside down!
And it wouldn't be the first time!

2011-04-01T18:18:00.001-05:00

Poetry, Preaching and Wendell Berry

I confess. I'm not much of a poet. Iambic pentameter fits me about a well as "slim cut" jeans. But over the past few weeks, I've enjoyed experimenting in this space with my own sort of blank verse structure which has almost "written itself".

The ease with which much of this writing has occurred has made me suspect the writing itself. After all, the notion that writing should be a tortured, arduous and nearly miserable process has been ground into the fabric of my being by a lengthy procession of English teachers and professional writers talking about challenges of the craft.

As a preacher, though, I've been enamored of poets and their precision with words for quite some time. Poetry and preaching share a commonality, I think. Both are significantly harder to do that it may appear at first glance. Both crafts seem to exist on the fringe of a society which values practicality and usefulness above just about anything else. I think poets probably rank a bit farther up the ladder of usefulness than preachers -- after all, at least poets can claim their work as art!

The writer/poet who has influenced me in these recent efforts (even if he might prefer not to be the source of such "inspiration!) is Wendell Berry. Find him on Wikipedia or Google and read all about him. Here's the short sketch: Berry "made the decision decades ago to give up the literary life in New York and seek a deeper bond with his ancestral home, a hillside farm in Henry County, Kentucky on the Kentucky River..." (from the New York Times Book Review). His poems and essays reveal a deep spirituality rooted in a love of the land he has worked year after year.

Of all the things I admire about Berry, it is his consistent contrariness that inspires me the most (maybe it's a Southern thing?)...anyway, I thought I'd share a favorite passage from his Collected Poems: 1957-1982..."The Contrariness of the Mad Farmer":

..."Dance," they told me,
and I stood still, and while they stood
quiet in line at the gate of the Kingdom, I danced.
"Pray," they said, and I laughed, covering myself
in the earth's brightnesses, and then stole off gray
into the midst of a revel, and prayed like an orphan.
When they said, "I know that my Redeemer liveth,"
I told them, "He's dead." And when they told me,
"God is dead," I answered, "He goes fishing every day
in the Kentucky River. I see Him often."
When they asked me would I like to contribute
I said no, and when they had collected
more than they needed, I gave them as much as I had.
When they asked me to join them I wouldn't,
and then went off by myself and did more
than they would have asked. "Well then," they said,
"go and organize the International Brotherhood
of Contraries," and I said, "did you finish killing
everybody who was against peace?"

2011-03-31T21:45:00.000-05:00

Of Fasting and Fish Fries

Fasting
Is out of fashion.
In a culture of
Over consumption
Under consuming is
Suspect.

Living
Within our means.
Streamlining our stuff.
Eating less than
All-we-can-eat.
Acts of subversion?

Friday Fish Fries:
The supposed fast
Which leaves us stuffed.
Chocolate abstinence
Hardly seems
A sacrifice.

1.4 billion people
In the world live
On less than $2.00 a day.
I wonder
What's in their
Happy meals?

My spirit is
Willing.
Yet all this talk of
Fasting
Gives me a
Headache.

Maybe it's time
For me to put my faith
In the Bread of Life
And remember,
I will not live by
Bread alone.

**************

I have been thinking about fasting for the past few days.

There's a gentleman in Madison who has been on a hunger strike for 27 days in protest of the governor's budget repair bill. Read about him at: http://hungryguymadison.blogspot.com

The folks at Sojourners are currently involved in a fast to protest Federal Budget Cuts that will adversely affect those on the margins in the U.S.: http://www.sojo.net

One of my Facebook friends is considering participating in an Australian project called "Live Below the Line" -- a way of getting ourselves in touch with the multitude of people in this world who earn less than $2 per day. http://livebelowtheline.com.au

Clearly these people and organizations understand the power of food in our world -- the extravagance of those of us in the "have" category and the powerlessness of those in the "have not" category.

I'm seriously considering Holy Week as an opportunity to offer up a fast, both for my own learning and discipline and to listen for ways in which I can be more attentive to those in Milwaukee who go hungry while I simply go to Panera's.

2011-03-30T11:50:00.001-05:00

21st Lent

Now that I'm
Almost midway through
Another Lenten season
I can't help but ask myself,
"What's different?"

After living for thirty years
Without knowing of this holy time,
Lent is still a gift for me
Even if I don't readily see
Change.

I get distracted
By blue skies,
Warmer temperatures
Lengthening days and
My ever-present "Undone List".

Maybe the distractions are necessary fuel.
Maybe I find the fodder for
Reflection in them.
Jesus set his face like flint toward Jerusalem.
Can I wash my face and keep my fast?

I'm still learning the joys of Lent.
Thankfully, God has
All the time in the world and
All the patience of eternity
To help me understand my lessons.

2011-03-29T19:56:00.002-05:00

Struggles

"My fellow Americans, I know that at a time of upheaval overseas -- when the news is filled with conflict and change -- it can be tempting to turn away from the world. And as I've said before, our strength abroad is anchored in our strength here at home. That must always be our North Star -- the ability of our people to reach their potential, to make wise choices with our resources, to enlarge the prosperity that serves as a wellspring for our power, and to live the values that we hold so dear." -- President Barak Obama, March 28, 2011

Potential.
Prosperity.
Power.
Am I the only one who gets nervous?

I think there was a time when I believed
In the infallibility of my country...
My own personal Age of Innocence.
In 1969, I asked my mom,
"Why are we in Vietnam?"
She told me to stop
Watching Walter Cronkite.

Last Saturday
As I stood in the security line
At an airport in Florida
I heard cheering and clapping.
I turned and
Watched a wife and daughter run
Arms outstretched and
Tears streaming to
Embrace their Man
In a Navy uniform.

Someone in line behind me said,
"Thank God, he's home safe."
I silently agreed.
Momentarily I was relieved.
On this spring day,
Two people had their loved one walk to them!
No doubt, on the same day
Other families in other places watched
As their loved ones were carried to them
In a flag-draped box.

I am under no illusions.
I can question our actions
Because of the sacrifices of those
Who take the actions.

I can question the Executive Orders
Because others obey them.

Potential.
Prosperity.
Power.
Are these our values?
I struggle mightily as a follower of Jesus.
And yet...
I can only stand in awe of those who
Struggle to follow orders.

I can struggle philosophically

Because others struggle physically.

2011-03-28T18:46:00.000-05:00

Three Months

Since January I have...

Officiated at four funerals.
Had my soul shredded by
Senseless violence in Tucson.
Had my heart broken by images
Of tragedy and destruction from Japan.
Found myself utterly "caught up"
In Wisconsin political drama.
Been righteously infuriated by
Our national inability to bypass war.

I have also...
Learned anew the extent of
My powerlessness --
Against the Powers;
Against Death.

So what to do now?
Prattle on in sermons?
Or get a milkshake?
Rage against the Powers?
Or go shopping?
Shake my fist at Death?
Or lay down and die?
Pray like Hell?
Or fantasize about Heaven?

Not that simple!
You protest.
So do I.
But the question remains
What to do now?

2011-03-27T14:05:00.001-05:00

Crying in Church

I can never tell exactly when it will happen...
When the words of the liturgy will
Wiggle their way past my intellect
And create a crack in my well-defended heart.

Spirit works in wonderfully subversive ways --
Ever-resistant to predictability
She will not be controlled or confined;
She floods my arid cynic with Living Water.

My throat gets lumpy;
My heart expands;
My racing thoughts go still...
And the flood leaks out in tears.

2011-03-26T19:30:00.001-05:00

Praying Out Loud

I suspect I'm not the only one
Who can sometimes be cynical
About wordy prayers.
After all, didn't Jesus warn
His followers about
"Vain repetitions"?

Besides, do I really believe
Praying out loud makes
Any sort of difference?
Can my words,
No matter how passionate,
Actually influence a response?

Then, this weekend
I spent several moments
Praying within a particular community.
When the invitation was given
To offer prayers and thanksgivings,
"Silently or aloud"... to my amazement
I heard many prayers and thanksgivings!

Quietly spoken, but spoken nonetheless.
Thanksgivings for weather and
Family and friends and each other.
Petitions for those who were ill or
Suffering with addiction or
Japan or peace in the world.

Praying out loud.
Prayer as a grammar of faithful living.
Praying out loud.
Prayer from the heart of a faithful community.
Praying out loud.
Prayer towards the heart of a faithful God.

Learning in Community

2011-03-25T16:55:00.000-05:00

As a person who regularly stands in front of groups of people to "say stuff", I am constantly amazed at the level of engagement I witness in the faces of the people who are sitting in the crowd listening to the stuff I'm saying.

Sometimes I wish
I would have said stuff better.
Or more clearly.
Other times I wish
I would have left stuff unsaid.
Or had said it
With a bit more sensitivity.

The great news about learning within a community is the one who is supposedly the teacher actually becomes a learner. I always learn more in the process of presenting to people than I would have learned otherwise. An engaged group challenges me to be engaged myself. The questions which arise are always more interesting than the answers I think I might have.

This is the gift of Church --
A group of learners,
Following the Master Teacher,
Learn from each other
Under the guidance of the Spirit.

Sent from my iPad

Catching Up

2011-03-24T10:42:00.000-05:00

I am in northeast Florida for a brief visit with the rest of my family (parents, sister, niece and all the rest) prior to a weekend's worth of work in the Episcopal Diocese of Georgia. At dinner last night with my sister and brother-in-law and at breakfast this morning with my parents, the conversation was all about "catching up":

How's work?
How's health?
How are other extended family members (uncles, aunts, cousins)?
What's going on (or not)?
What are plans for next week? Next month? Next year?

Much of the chatting would be characterized as "small talk", but beneath the talk are the bonds of love and affection which have been formed through years of relationship -- times when these relationships have been really close and times when they have been strained.

In the telling of our various vignettes of how our lives are unfolding, I hear and see the ways we relate to each other -- the comfortable familiarity, the ease of laughter, the awareness of certain parts of our history which won't be revisited during such a brief time together.

Reflecting on these few hours, I couldn't help but think about how we have turned concept of "family" into an ideal (or is it idol?) that is "high and lifted up" from the ways in which most of us get to live. The meaningful moments are indeed found in the presence one gives to the mundane moments. Perhaps if we could reclaim a degree of realism with regards to our familial relationships this would lead us "church types" towards a more patient stance with our respective communities of faith.

Families aren't perfect. Neither are local congregations. But in many instances, we're all doing the best we can to connect with other human beings -- to remind ourselves God never intended us for isolation. After all, for Christians, the way we speak of God begins with the understanding of God in Community with God's Self -- Father, Son and Holy Spirit.

Maybe the way we begin to catch up with God is to invest the time necessary to catch up with one another.

Sent from my iPad

2011-03-23T10:52:00.000-05:00

A Prayer to Share

After the past two posts, I went back to my library looking for something that might turn me toward another subject, but instead, I found myself leafing through a little book, Prayers Plainly Spoken (another gem by Stanley Hauerwas). I rediscovered the following prayer at the back of the book -- a prayer written after the U.S. had sent missles into Iraq because Iraq had allegedly tried to kill former President George H. W. Bush by launching some missles of their own into Kuwait during Bush's visit in late April 1993. Then President Clinton authorized the U.S. missle strikes to show the Iraqi government he "meant business". I offer this almost eighteen year old prayer entitled, "Save us from our American Power", for our reflection:

Graceful Lord, we find ourselves living in the most powerful country in the world. The pride and self-righteousness such power breeds are beyond compare. No power exists that can humble us. We are tyrants of all we survey. We decide to bomb these people, send rockets against those people, kill those we call terrorists --all because we can. We are the most powerful people in the world. It is hard not to be caught up in such power. It is intoxicating. Save us from it. Sober us with the knowledge that you will judge this nation, you will humble this nation, you will destroy this nation for our pride. Send us a reminder that you are God, that you alone have the right of vengeance, and if it be your will, make those we bomb instruments of your judgment. At the very least, save us from the "nomality of killing." Amen.

I am discomforted by the strength of those words. They are difficult to read on this side of September 11, 2001. But these are words I will be sitting with in the days ahead. As I told someone via e-mail recently, I wrestle with what I believe to be Jesus' call to his followers to live the ways of non-violence, and I wonder how such a stance is possible in such a violent world. This wrestling is why I believe the Church is so necessary -- to provide a place in which confused souls like me can draw strength and support from a community which spans across space and time.

2011-03-22T20:29:00.000-05:00

Pacifist in Training

"Christians today are desperate to show they represent the best humanisms around,

and I think that's a strategy that's deeply unfaithful.

Let's start with Christians recovering why they have a problem with war."

(Stanley Hauerwas in an interview with America: The National Catholic Weekly, May 2010)

I continue to wrestle with the issue of what makes me (or any Christian for that matter) any different than my neighbors who are not. Nice people come in all sorts and conditions, and one needn't be a follower of Jesus to be a good human being. In fact, throughout my life, I've met plenty of atheists who are every bit as respectful of others (and in some cases even more so) than those claiming a "relationship" with Jesus.

In spite of some Christians' desire to make it otherwise, the "Christian" life is about more than nice manners, politeness and "accepting Jesus" so that one gets her/his ticket punched through the pearly gates for eternal life. The Church is more than a self-improvement society. The Church, as the Body of Christ, actually stands over and against the structures and powers which attempt to convince us we can make our way through this life under our own power.

And we crave our own power, don't we?
At least I do.
Maybe the craving of power
Is the heritage of being born in a country
That projects its power all over the world.

But for Christians
(at least as I read the New Testament)
The power at work in Christ
Is the power to lay it all down...
To offer it all up...
To trust that God is working
Even in those moments when it seems
God is absent.

To hope.
To love.
To pray.
To die.
To trust that
In dying
New life will arise.

The victory of Easter
Doesn't come through legions of angels
Sword-wielding seraphim or
Bomb-dropping cherubim.
Easter overcomes Death
In the shadows,
From within the dankness of the grave.

This is the message we have
Not of superior numbers or
Advanced technology.
Rather, a beaten, bruised
And very dead
Corpse.

The remains of the
Prince of Peace
Slaughtered
By the whims of Empire.
Easter isn't the
Happy ending to a fairy tale.
Easter is Hope Incarnate
That the human penchant for killing
Will not have the last word.

Maybe if we could trust the
Unsettling Good News of Easter,
We could forego our trust in the
Dehumanizing machinations of war.
And if Christians could
Recover our problem with war,
Who knows?
We might just become interesting again.

2011-03-21T21:53:00.001-05:00

Odyssey Dawn

I'll admit it.
This is my place of struggle.
Preaching about the Prince of Peace...
And saying far too little
About our penchant for war.
Afghanistan. Iraq.
And now, Libya.
Where does it end?

Do we even want it to end?
Or is it just simply
A power game?
With the members of our military
Playing roles assigned
By people in power suits?
Some would say,
"Now wait a minute, preacher!
Church is no place for politics!"

But Jesus was up to his eyeballs in politics.
If this statement offends you,
Consider this...
He didn't wind up on
the Cross simply because
He was nice to people.

Preaching the Good News of Love
Unsettles the Powers,
Who work to manipulate and control
For their own benefit and gain.

Feeding.
Healing.
Raising the Dead.
These are political acts,
In the face of Empire which longs to play God
(even while invoking a version of "God").
Empire wills to make the decisions --
Who gets fed;
Who gets well;
Who lives and who dies...
Under the rubric of public policy,
But primarily for
Empire's benefit and glory.
(And re-election too!)

The idolatry of Empire is
A bipartisan religion.
Democrats and Republicans
All bow down and worship, craving
The power Empire drizzles on them.

Go ahead.
Wave the Flag.
Sing "God Bless America";
Fire the missiles.
Drop the bombs.
Claim the high ground and
Crucify Jesus again.

2011-03-20T23:59:00.001-05:00

Penitent

O God, whose glory it is always to have mercy: Be gracious to all who have gone astray from your ways, and bring them again with penitent hearts, and steadfast faith to embrace and hold fast the unchangeable truth of your Word, Jesus Christ your Son; who with you and the Holy Spirit lives and reigns, on God, for ever and ever. Amen.

(Collect for the Second Sunday in Lent)

From time to time, I feel a certain impatience with language intended to convey a theological concept, but instead impacts me as overly pious and lacking much connection to people's day to day lives. The appearance of the word penitent in today's collect is such an occasion. When used as an adjective (as in this prayer), penitent means, "feeling or expressing sorrow for sin or wrongdoing and disposed to atonement and amendment; contrite." Even the language used to define the term employs another layer of religious/theological terminology!

Sin.
Atonement.
Amendment.
Contrite.

Used as a noun, penitent means "a person who confesses sin and submits to penance." What's penance? "A punishment undergone in token of sorrow for sin." I can't help but wonder if all of this stained glass language simply serves to further distance us from confronting ourselves honestly and compassionately.

In my own life, I'm all too aware of the ways in which I have failed. Feeling sorrow comes easily. The guilt monster can overwhelm me with a sense of my own ineptitude. I know the helplessness of relationships broken by my own selfishness. And, if I'm not careful, such feelings do not assist me in correcting behaviors, rather they simply paralyze me with shame.

On the one hand, I don't think we can simply ignore the ways in which our tendency toward breaking relationships -- with ourselves, our loved ones, our communities or God -- is a manifestation of our own spiritual brokenness. And yet, I wonder if employing the language of punishment assists us in the amendment of life to which I believe Lent beckons us. I know all too well that the only way I can "hold fast" to the Good News of Jesus is because God, through Jesus, is already holding fast to me.

Perhaps remembering God always acts first and through such loving action empowers us to act as beloved of God is the first step on the way toward a new beginning.

2011-03-19T22:38:00.000-05:00

Holy Food and Drink

Irish soda bread;
Corned beef and cabbage;
Shepherd's pie and salmon;
Bread pudding;
Beverages -- fermented and
Carbonated.

Adults gathered 'round tables;
Children romping with abandon;
Friends, strangers and neighbors
Young, old and in between...
Sharing a drink;
Sharing laughs;
Sharing stories;
Sharing music;
Sharing a dance;
Sharing a meal.

The cooks were in the kitchen for hours --
The better part of the day, actually.
The clean-up crew remained long after
Everyone else had departed.
A fifteen hour day for a few
Culminated in three hours of joy for many.

I don't know what heaven will be,
But I like to think
I saw a glimpse of it tonight.
A room full of people;
Bonded for a moment
Of respite in the midst of
Changes and chances.
Eternal life made present.

Sometimes church looks its best
When it doesn't look like church at all.
Tonight we "broke bread",
And in that breaking were bonded to each other.
Holy food and drink
Offered freely and joyfully.
A taste of a hint
Of the mystery of
New and unending life.

Communion!

2011-03-18T18:13:00.001-05:00

Confession and Repentance

"Confession is the first step to repentance." (Local church sign)

Someone asked me yesterday what I thought about that sentence. They said they were confused by it. Because the sentence was on a Roman Catholic Church sign, they thought the sign was encouraging everyone reading it to visit with the priest for the Rite of Reconciliation.

"Isn't saying 'I'm sorry' enough? Why should I have to tell some man what I did/didn't do?" my friend asked.

"Well, actually, saying 'I'm sorry' is the confession part," I said, "Making a decision to change one's behavior so as to not need to say 'I'm sorry' again for the same offense, well, that's repentance."

My friend responded, "This is way too complicated. I don't want to talk about it anymore."

As I've thought about this brief exchange, I wondered about the ways in which we've been unclear in our language in the church. Or we use language with a different meaning than intended. Or we've assumed people know the meaning of the words we're using.

The fact is, repentance (which means to turn around and head in an opposite direction), is always preceded by confession (which means we recognize we've been going in the wrong direction in the first place!). Admitting we're wrong leads (hopefully) to a change in behavior. Without confession, repentance is unlikely. Without repentance, confession means nothing.

All of which has had me thinking today.
What are the things I need to confess?
Where are my opportunities to turn around?

Confession and repentance.
Words that create some tension --
Maybe as a result of misunderstanding.
Perhaps the real challenge about these words is
They remind us that our work of formation is never done.
These words prod us toward self-reflection and
Amendment of life.
They are meant to lighten our burdens through life
Not burden us down with the weight of guilt.

Where are our opportunities for confession?
What are the new directions we would travel
If we could only admit we were going the wrong way?

Repent, for the kingdom of heaven is at hand.

2011-03-17T21:40:00.000-05:00

Two Churches?

Today has been a day for talking church.
Not church with a capital "C"...
As in the Church Mysterious --
The Body of Christ.

Nope. Today has been all about
The church with a little "c"...
As in the church incorporated --
The 501(c)3.

The Body of Christ transcends
Time and Space.
The 501(c)3 inhabits the
Here and Now.

The Body of Christ works in
Water and Bread and Wine.
The 501(c)3 works in
Dollars and Buildings and Personnel.

The Body of Christ proclaims the
Good News of grace and faith.
The 501(c)3 proclaims the
Other news of duty and effort.

The Body of Christ lives
By the leading of the Spirit.
The 501(c)3 lives
By the enactment of rules and regs.

The 501(c)3 constantly contemplates
Its own demise.
The Body of Christ constantly contemplates
The promise of resurrection.

I never weary of reflecting on
The Body of Christ...
But I'm bone-tired by the stark realities of
The 501(c)3.

2011-03-16T22:05:00.002-05:00

Pauses

This evening a few folks gathered in the worship space at Trinity Church for a service of Evening Prayer. Setting aside time for prayer at the beginning and ending of the day has been a spiritual practice across all traditions for millennia. Before human beings began to artificially manipulate the world about them by employing such concepts as "hours, minutes and seconds", the constant was the rising and setting of the sun. To acknowledge the mystery of sleeping and waking as well as pausing to reflect on the day just past seem to be built-in responses of the human psyche.

Who among us hasn't felt that primal sense of awe upon witnessing a sunrise or sunset? And how much more miraculous and mysterious must daybreak and nightfall have seemed before humans were able to use other means to keep the darkness at bay?

The structure of Evening Prayer is fairly simple. A few verses of scripture. A couple of hymns. Formal, historic prayers (called "collects"). A set of petitions and responses called "suffrages". To read the service straight through and sing the brief hymns could be accomplished in under fifteen minutes. But our observance of this time of communal praying took about a half hour tonight.

Why?
Simple.
We allowed time for pauses.
Space to breathe.
To sit with our thoughts,
Our circumstances,
Our concerns,
Our thanksgivings,
Our feelings.

We reconnected
With communal solitude.
While the world continued to
Whiz by outside the sacred space,
Inside Trinity Church there were
Moments of stillness.
Time to catch our breath.
Time to order our thoughts.
Time to be.
Time to pray.

Being still isn't so much on people's minds these days -- there's always more to do than time available. But for a few minutes this evening, as the rays of the setting sun faded into night, I reconnected with a sense of the mystery of life that goes beyond frenetic activity. In those pauses, each person present had the opportunity to connect with the changelessness of God -- and in those moments of connection, briefly touch the timelessness of eternity.

2011-03-15T18:58:00.001-05:00

Keen Listening

"...keen listening will take us to some surprising places into and beyond the mystery of Christ."

--The Rev. Deacon Marge Kiss, All Saints' Cathedral, Milwaukee, WI

As a part of Trinity's Lenten Practice, we are reading Morning Prayer every weekday during Lent at 6:30 a.m. To connect what we're doing with the life of the larger Church (and in particular, the Diocese of Milwaukee), we're following along in the Diocesan Lenten Bible Study on the Gospel of Matthew. You can find this study at:

http://biblestudywithbishopmiller.blogspot.com/

Because of our schedule and that of the Diocese, we're a day behind with our readings, so today, we read Matthew's Nativity account (1:18-2:12) and the devotional comments offered by Deacon Kiss. As I listened to the leader read the reflection, the line that caught my attention is the one quoted above. I began to wonder:

How do we sharpen our spiritual listening skills so that they are "keen" -- razor sharp?

What would it be like to inhabit a community in which listening for/to God and each other was more important than getting our own message out?

How do we listen below the cacophony of sounds that assault us day in and day out to hear the whisper of the Spirit?

I don't have any answers to these questions, but given the climate in our culture these days, having our ears open to keenly listen seems like a laudable (and lifelong!) mission. What do you think?

2011-03-14T22:58:00.001-05:00

Two Perspectives

I was the celebrant earlier today for a weekday Eucharist at another parish in the area. I was the substitute priest, filling in for a clergy friend who was busy attending to a burial in another state. To say that 5:30 p.m. on a Monday afternoon isn't necessarily a day/time that will draw the multitudes to a worship service, would likely be an understatement. In fact, the total attendance (including me) for the liturgy was six people. At age 52, I was the youngest person present. The entire liturgy, from start to finish lasted slightly under 30 minutes.

From the standpoint of efficiency, cranking out one liturgy after another for several people at a time is probably not the best use of the gifts/skills of that parish's clergyperson. In reality, the liturgy seemed "tired" and a bit wrung out. And, to be honest, I wondered as we were working our way through worship, if old, tired and gray had become the de facto description of the Episcopal Church.

At the same time, I couldn't help but give thanks for the witness of the five people who made it to the liturgy and participated in the service with as much verve as they could muster. I think I might have seen one of them smile! They are, undoubtedly, witnessing to faithfulness (even when such faithfulness comes disguised as a degree of grumpiness) and what such faithfulness looks like to a culture lacking in any "stick-to-it-ness".

So, was today's liturgy simply a trip down memory lane and "what was"?
Or a trip to look out across the horizons of possibility and identify "what could be"?

Perhaps it was a little of both.

2011-03-13T16:08:00.001-05:00

Sermon Snippets

I don't write many sermon manuscripts these days, but given what has been happening in Wisconsin over the past few weeks, I felt it imperative to put my thoughts in writing, both from the standpoint of getting clear myself and to keep me (as much as possible) from saying something I would later regret. Eventually, today's sermon will be available for your hearing (should you want to do that) at:

http://www.trinitywauwatosa.org

The Gospel reading upon which the sermon is based is Matthew's account of the Temptation of Jesus (Matt. 4:1-11). This sermon was my attempt at connecting the lesson assigned by the lectionary with the context of "where I live". Time will tell whether or not I was successful in accomplishing such a thing.In the meantime, I have opted to post a few paragraphs from today's sermon instead of the entire text. Hopefully these snippets will give the reader a general feel for the sermon's overall trajectory without the laborious task of reading it all...

*************

We do live in wildernesses, don't we? And not just for 40 days! Some of our wilderness wandering has gone on for years or even decades. We even brought our own personal wildernesses to church with us this morning.

Wildernesses of disease, grief, addiction or anger. Wildernesses of shame, resignation or depression. Wildernesses of greed, inattention or apathy. Wildernesses of distraction, hatred or pride. Wildernesses of guilt, self-righteousness or pain.

We will not walk out of these wildernesses by simply giving up chocolate or reading some devotional literature. We've lived within these wildernesses so long, we think they are our homes. Our sense of ourselves has become skewed. Our priorities have become disordered. Our behaviors constantly miss the mark -- we fall short of what we know to be true -- individually and collectively.

Whatever else may be going on in Madison, at the root of it all is the constant human temptation to believe that we can save ourselves. We can save ourselves if we balance the budget. We can save ourselves if we can maintain our rights. We can save ourselves if we create enough jobs. We can save ourselves if our voices are heard. We can save ourselves through the legislative process. We can save ourselves through bold, decisive leadership. We can save ourselves through a recall effort. We can save ourselves if we "believe in Wisconsin again".

We fall victim to the belief that we can turn the rocks of poverty into the bread of plenty simply by trickle-down economics or through the construction of vast swaths of social safety nets. We put God to the test by asking God's "blessing" on our own opinions and prejudices, promising that, if we get our way, we will "give God the glory". We fall down and worship just about anything -- be it the markets on Wall Street or the unions on Main Street -- if we even vaguely think such worship will give us the power over our own lives (and the lives of others!) we so crave.

The temptation is to think that our hungers are the only ones that need filling. The temptation is to behave recklessly in the name of "having faith". The temptation is to reduce worship to some sort of transaction in which if we say/do the "right thing", all the good stuff and ONLY the good stuff will come our way.

*************

Enough said (for now).

2011-03-12T16:41:00.000-06:00

Faith-Walking

On Ash Wednesday, the Church began its ancient journey to the Cross. As we work our way through the next few weeks, we will hear the the familiar stories of Jesus as his ministry gathers a following (and a goodly group of critics). We will get weary of the entire season of Lent about two weeks before it's done. Hymns in a minor key will expedite that weariness, no doubt! Marching to the darkness of Golgotha seems counterintuitive as we watch the days grow longer in the light of Spring.

But our own journey of Lent differs significantly from the final days of Jesus' ministry.
We have heard the story before.
We know how it will end (whether we believe the ending to be historical fact or not).
We can become fairly ho-hum about the entire matter.

We say,
"Yes, yes, I understand...
Jesus teaches,
Runs afoul of the religious and civil authorities;
Winds up executed for his trouble.
Then three days later he rises from the dead.
When do the Cadbury eggs go on sale?"

For us, Easter is a done deal.
We know the rest of the story...
So even at the foot of the Cross on Good Friday,
We're not worried.
We know Easter's coming.

All of which makes me wonder.
What did Jesus know and
When did he know it?
I suspect plenty of people have opinions on this matter.
So do I.

I believe Jesus lived faithfully every moment of every day.
I believe he walked the life of faith he taught.
His life was a sermon as much as his words...
And it all finally made perfect sense to him
When he opened his eyes on Easter!

For me, if Jesus knew
Everything would happen the way it would happen,
And he knew his identity and played along with the circumstances...
Then the example of his life is greatly diminished.
Jesus was a human being,
Who came to know, along the way,
His identity as God's Son.
Rather than God Almighty
Who merely pretended to be human.

The God of all Creation in the person of Jesus
Followed the same path offered to the people of Israel:
Live by the Word of God.
Don't put God to the test.
Worship God alone.

In walking life by faith,
Jesus shows us all a faith worth living.

2011-03-11T22:43:00.001-06:00

On the Last Day

"O God, whose days are without end, and whose mercies cannot be numbered: Make us, we pray, deeply aware of the shortness and uncertainty of human life; and let your

Holy Spirit lead us in holiness and righteousness all our days, that, when we shall have served you in our generation, we may be gathered to our ancestors, having the testimony of a good conscience..." (from the Burial of the Dead, BCP, p. 504)

We see things these days -- because of ubiquitous nature of cameras of every sort and the instantaneous nature of communication -- that are beyond our ability to fully absorb. Such was my experience of the images I've seen today from Japan.

Today lives were cut short.
Today other lives were irrevocably changed.
Tomorrow many of us will go on about our business.
As if nothing has happened.
Because what happens on the other side of the world
Has no direct bearing upon us.

We might feel pity.
We might feel anger.
We might feel helpless.
We might feel nothing.

We receive these images, which
Only serve to depersonalize the dead
Objectify the survivors,
And reduce natural disasters to a sort of morbid entertainment.

I pray we will remember to pray for those who lost their lives today.
And for those who lost loved ones;
And for those who lost their health;
Or their faith or their hope.

And my other prayer is that
While we're praying for everyone else...
We won't succumb to the notion
That our tomorrow is guaranteed.

We never know, do we?
Our last day may come upon us at any moment...
Even a heartbeat away.

All the more reason to pray fervently.
All the more reason to live faithfully.
Kyrie eleison.

2011-03-10T14:33:00.000-06:00

Wanting

"The devil is but another name for our impatience. We want bread, we want to force God's hand to rescue us, we want peace -- and we want all this now. But Jesus is our bread, he is our salvation, and he is our peace. That he is so requires that we learn to wait with him in a world of hunger,

idolatry, and war to witness to the kingdom that is God's patience.

The Father will have the kingdom present one small act at a time."

(Stanley Hauerwas in "Commentary on Matthew", p. 55)

Lately I've been very impatient about God's patient (and peaceable) kingdom.

Why won't it come RIGHT NOW ?
(On my timetable!)
How am I to respond when the kingdom for which I pray seems to recede further and further into the future? (Facing my mortality never makes me happy!)
And who has time for small acts? Isn't it time we do something BIG?
(I'm not sure I can trust God to get anything done...so I need to do something myself!)

As the political situation here in Wisconsin continues to spiral towards God-only-knows-where,
I keep wondering, "How is the faithfulness of Jesus calling me to live right now?"
I don't think it's as simple as trumpeting forth in the pulpit.
Or posting blog entries, or reading about "the issues", or (for me) even demonstrating.
I'm too attached to my own vision of an "appropriate outcome" to pray honestly about it.
By Hauerwas', definition, "the devil's got a hold on me"!

"Humans need more than bread to live."
"Don't put God to the test."
"Worship and serve God alone."
Those were Jesus' answers to his temptations.
Jesus' answers always challenge me to ask better questions!
What about you?

2011-03-09T10:03:00.000-06:00

Dusted

"All of us go down to the dust..."
(The Commendation, BCP, p. 499)

"Remember you are dust and to dust you shall return"
(The Imposition of Ashes, BCP, p. 265)

"Ashes to ashes, dust to dust."
(The Committal, BCP, p. 501)

Remembering
Where we came from while
Looking toward
Where we're going
Challenges us to live fully today.

To say the prayers of the Church
In a space where the ashes
Of those who have gone before
Are at our backs...
Grounds us in the present.

The dead will be raised,
Our Faith tells us.
But for now,
They are dead.
And we will die too.

Marked with ashen crosses,
Dusted with the reminder of Death.
We arise from our prayers
Penitent?
Humbled?
Rededicated?
Hopefully.

2011-03-08T15:26:00.002-06:00

Paying Respects

Funeral entourages don't happen very often these days. The long, slow stream of cars, headlights beaming following the hearse to the cemetery has nearly become a thing of the past as fewer and fewer people seem to opt for caskets and vaults and graves as final resting places for their mortal remains. During my entire time at Trinity, I think I've only ridden in three or four processions. Previous to today, the funeral director was charged with "traffic control" -- which amounted to hapless attempts at darting in and around the rest of the folks on the roadways without causing an accident, or in any way slowing the pace of everyone not in the procession.

I asked one director a few years ago, "Don't people stop when a procession comes by, out of respect for the dead?" He simply laughed at me. Then he said, "I think people don't want to stop, because they don't want to spend even a minute or two of being reminded that, sooner or later, they're going to die." I also asked about police escorts for processions. He patiently explained the number of municipalities in our county and the costs associated with such extravagances. I simply reminded myself, "You're not in the South anymore, Gary." And let it slide.

Then today happened. Today I was in a funeral procession like none in my years of officiating at funerals. At least a half a dozen (but I think several more!) of our city's police department turned out -- squad cars spit and polished, lights flashing and when necessary, sirens blaring. And bringing up the rear? One of the city's Engine Companies, loaded with firefighters.The official vehicles blazed a trail -- parting traffic like Moses parted the Red Sea.

We ignored stop lights.
We took our time.
We "owned" the road.
People had to wait.

I also noticed something else. Vehicles in the oncoming lanes moved to the edge of the road and stopped until we had passed. I even saw a few people cross themselves. I saw some road maintenance people remove their hats. I saw a couple of spontaneous salutes. Paying their respects. Pausing in the busyness of life to reflect on the brevity of life and reverencing the dead.

I'm sure some people who saw this sight probably thought all of the commotion must have been for some politician or "famous" person. Certainly, Pete had the nickname, "Mayor of Wauwatosa", and he was more-than-famous to his family, his friends and the public servants (police officers and firefighters) he welcomed day in and day out for decades into his bicycle shop. Pete was a guy who served his country (WWII), raised his family, ran his business, enjoyed a good meal and a good brew. He was a good neighbor. He was a person who embodied hospitality and humor.

And the friends he made through his life would not have Pete's final trip be interrupted by the likes of traffic lights and impatient drivers. So they did what Pete would have, undoubtedly, NOT wanted. They made folks wait. They saw to it that respect was paid -- by paying their own respects in a caring, solemn and professional fashion.

Pete was laid to rest with the prayers of the Church. The sounds of "Taps" and the flapping of the Flag as it was folded, wafted through the air. His family and friends huddled in the almost-spring breeze. His officer friends stood at attention in a final salute. Paying respects.

Being in Pete's processional today,
The day before Ash Wednesday, makes me wonder.
If we took more time to respect the dead,
How would we more fully reverence the living,
Since we are all, after all, created in the image of God?
"Remember, you are dust, and to dust you shall return."

2011-03-07T22:49:00.002-06:00

Sit Back, Relax, Enjoy the Flight

I'm by no means a road warrior. I don't have thousands of frequent flyer miles. I have, however, heard the "important safety information" spiel from the flight attendants, enough times I'm fairly certain I could now deliver the information on their behalf. At some point in the pre-takeoff routine, the pilot or co-pilot gives the weather conditions at the destination city (temperature, wind speed, ceiling and precipitation). There's also an estimated flying time ("wheels up to wheels down").

And the doxology at the end of this pre-flight liturgy? "Sit back, relax and enjoy the flight". I suspect it is the airline equivalent to "have a nice day" -- an afterthought that pilots perpetuate from one generation to the next because it sounds hospitable.

These days the phrase rings a bit hollow. How can we sit back when the seats are so close together that to recline the seat at all will immediately place us on the knees of the passenger behind us? How can we relax when we are literally shoulder to shoulder with the person next to us -- a bit phyiscally closer than we're used to being for extended periods of time, with loved ones, let alone complete strangers. Given these questions, "enjoying" the flight seems to be reduced to getting from point A to point B with as little turbulence and as close to "on time" as possible.

This is the time of year we liturgically-minded clergy have our own version of the offending pilots' phrase. We are busy "bidding" folks to "a holy Lent". And even as I have used the phrase over the past few weeks, I've begun to wonder (thanks to my four flights over the weekend), exactly what I mean by saying such a thing.

What is a "holy" Lent? Why is it important to attempt to "have" one? What are the ways someone could actually engage the season in a "holy" fashion? Why bother? What's the point? Who cares? How can this invitation possibly become more than ecclesiastical "filler" with no discernible traction in/impact upon people's lives?

From unreflective stained glass language...
Good Lord, deliver me!

2011-03-06T22:59:00.000-06:00

Birthday

Today is the final day of my 52nd year....
Tomorrow, when asked my age,
I can say, "I'm 52."
And the count towards 53 will begin.

To my teenaged son,
I'm almost ancient.
To many of my octogenarian parishioners,
I'm but a baby...
Some have been kind enough to tell me so!

My day will begin with a meeting at 7:30 a.m.
And unfold with one appointment after the other.
Then there will be a funeral in the evening.
At my age, birthday celebrations are optional.

And yet, I find something remarkably poetic
About officiating at a funeral on my birthday --
A wonderful reminder not to take any day as a given.
A cautionary tale to those of us who would pretend
Immortality is a birthright.

The Mystery of Love

2011-03-05T15:17:00.000-06:00

> In a couple of hours, I will have the privilege of preaching a wedding homily for one of my dearest friends from seminary. We will have all of the glorious pomp and circumstance attendant to such an event in the Episcopal Church -- classical music, appropriate hymns, the solemnity of the Eucharist. We will see a beautiful bride and a handsome groom. We will pray for them, celebrate with them and wish them well in the ardent and arduous undertaking that is marriage.
>
> Church weddings bring us face to face with our innermost longings to love and be loved. But love does not come to us without exacting something from us. We give something of ourselves away because of love, while simultaneously becoming something more than we could be without love. The mutuality of giving and receiving -- not as a transaction but as a sign of transformation -- is part and parcel of ANY loving relationship, whether between wife and husband, parent and child or two best friends, just to name a few. In short, we are each changed, for better or worse, as a result of the qualities of our relationships, and our part in them over time.
>
> The mystery of love isn't a puzzle to be assembled or a problem to be solved. The mystery of love isn't the romantic fantasy of happily-ever-after. We catch glimpses of this mystery in the moments we least expect it -- a certain tone of voice, the tilt of a face, the sparkle of an eye or the hint of a smile. Sometimes the mystery looks pretty mundane -- taking out the trash, doing the dishes or walking the dog. Other times the mystery takes on a heroic quality -- long hours in a hospital room or the day-in-day-out toil of caregiving for someone no longer capable of caring for themselves. In the end though, maybe the best way to experience the mystery is to take the plunge and the risk of loving and being loved.
>
> Call me naive, but I really do believe the plunge is worth the risk.
>
>
>
>
> Sent from my iPad

The Last Alleluias

2011-03-04T15:57:00.000-06:00

This coming Sunday is the last of the season of Epiphany. In a few short days, the words, "Remember you are dust, and to dust you shall return." will be uttered over those who receive the imposition of ashes to mark the beginning of the season of Lent. From Ash Wednesday through the Great Vigil of Easter one word will be noticeably absent from our liturgies -- no "Alleluias" will be chanted, sung or said.

Along with the sparseness of the hymnody and the penitential tone of the words we will use during worship, the absence of any peep of an "Alleluia" will remind us that we are, indeed, in a VERY different season. Lent is meant to be wilderness-like...to grab us by the heart and usher us into a time of contemplation and yes, even repentance.

Contemplation and repentance can seem counterintuitive as the season of spring breaks out all around us. The lenten journey toward Easter is arduous and marathon-like. We do not journey alone, but with the blessed company of all faithful people. The journey begins in less than a week. Get ready. And this coming Sunday? Let those last "ALLELUIAS" ring!

Sent from my iPad

2011-03-03T18:43:00.002-06:00

With Apologies (to the Meek)!

"In a time of change, learners inherit the earth,

while the learned find themselves beautifully equipped

to deal with a world that no longer exists."

-- Eric Hoffer

In 1997, I entered the ordination process in the Episcopal Diocese of Florida. Over time, I learned that "The Process" (as it is nearly universally referred to by both those who are in it and those who are products of it) has one goal -- produce priests (hopefully learned ones!) for the Church. Aspirants, Postulants, Seminarians and Candidates are scrutinized, interviewed, stretched and compressed in a myriad of ways throughout "The Process". All of this is in the name of formation.

In this model, seminaries serve the function of providing academic quality control -- insuring that the persons desirous of Holy Orders are duly educated, so that, upon ordination, congregations can be assured of a modicum of learnedness.

And I'm beginning to wonder...to what end is, "learnedness" -- particularly if the foregone conclusion is that such learnedness is preferable to energy, enthusiasm and a high capacity for adaptability, flexibility and change?

The fact is, the Church (Episcopal and otherwise) is being pressed upon from all sides. But you couldn't tell such a thing by the way most of us "do church"! We crank out the liturgies. We generate sermons faster than rabbits do what rabbits do. We grind out discipleship. And we forget that to be a disciple of Jesus one must be a learner! We get so busy telling people what "they" need or ought to do, we forget to discern what we need to be doing in our own vocations of discipleship.

I continue to ask myself if the Church has become irrelevant.
But maybe it's simply become too learned for its own good.
I continue to believe the meek will inherit the earth.
Perhaps the stance of remaining a learner is simply being meek enough to admit one doesn't know it all.

2011-03-02T12:42:00.000-06:00

One Week Until Lent!

"Instead of making anything new, the ego simpy repeats patterns."

-- Sonia Choquette

I've been pondering the above quote since happening upon it in a book yesterday during my morning reading. The sentence called me up short and stopped me in my tracks. How many patterns do I continue to repeat, mindlessly moving from one to the next, in some sort of unreflective circle dance?

The more I thought about it, the more I recognized my own recipe for repeating patterns:

A bit of drama here.
A pinch of self-criticism there.
A dash of self-justification.
A splash of selfishness.
Sprinkle liberally with guilt.
Add a bundle of self-righteousness.
Stir with pride (often disguised as "humility").
Bring to a boil with manipulation.
And presto!

Something I've tasted time and time again --
Regret.
Perhaps Lent isn't as much about giving things up
As it is about changing things up.

2011-03-01T14:25:00.000-06:00

Still Preaching

"Whenever the Christian community gains worldly power, it nearly always loses its capacity to be the critic of the power and influence it so readily brokers" -- The Rev. Peter Gomes

Peter Gomes, for years the preacher for Harvard University's non-denominational Memorial Church, died earlier today. He was in his late 60's. Gomes was a true "pulpiteer". He cultivated the eloquence and intellectual air that could get him a fair hearing from those not totally convinced about preaching's value on the grounds of a secular university. He also could spin a down-home story with the best of them. I only heard Gomes preach in person once, and from an "entertainment" perspective, he did not disappoint, but the way I most "know" his work is through his writings -- several books and collections of sermons.

Many would no doubt, refer to Gomes as a classic social-justice, progressive Christian thinker. Some employ that description as a compliment to his work. Others would use such a description as a judgment of it. My guess is, Gomes would simply say he was doing his best to live out the call of spreading the Good News to all God's people -- regardless of socio-economic class, race, gender or orientation.

The quote from Gomes at the beginning of this post has been with me for years. It reminds me not to get too comfortable with the trappings of respectability and to pay particular attention to the seduction of power and influence. I'm not sure how Gomes managed to walk that tightrope at Harvard. That's for someone else to say. But for this preacher, keeping another preacher's challenge before me has aided my own perspective about the preaching task. That quote keeps me honest. It reminds me that I must continue to learn how to follow Jesus in the way of the Cross even as I preach to others about the life-giving necessity of doing the same.

Thanks Peter! May you rest in peace and rise in glory.

2011-02-28T11:19:00.000-06:00

A Movie Scene and a Lenten Discipline?

In an otherwise perfectly forgettable movie ("2012") there is one very remarkable scene...

The tidal wave of inconceivable destructive force (it's going to put the Himalayas under water, for goodness' sake!) races to make landfall. The people who have been in the know and have been selected, by either hook or crook, to survive in order to repopulate the world are scurrying to get tucked into their hi-tech, indestructible "arks" in order to be saved. Ostensibly unaware of any of the drama going on in the world around him, a Buddhist monk meditates. As the wave approaches the monastery, the roar of oblivion catches the monk's attention. He opens his eyes to see the tower of water bearing down upon him. He closes his eyes in meditation and is swept away.

This scene has been replaying over and over in my head over the past two weeks. In the midst of all the clamor and chaos here in Wisconsin, I've been caught up in the emotion, the feelings of helplessness, and the over-wrought sense that I "should be doing something". I've lived with the gnawing sense that I could shake my fist at the tidal wave of rhetoric and position-taking, but with little effect, except to ratchet up further my own frustration.

I know where I stand on the issues raised by the Governor's "budget repair bill". I also know how I feel about the necessity of reasoned dialogue and open conversation. I know how much I desire to believe our country (and this state) are places where people of different opinions can reach mutually agreeable (if not perfect) decisions for the good of the society at large. The "common good" seems lost in a flood of "special" interests.

The adrenalin of the past two weeks has been nearly all-consuming for me. I can only imagine what it's been like for those whose lives will be affected by some of the changes in the proposed legislation. Perhaps that's what has disturbed me so much about the whole thing -- somehow in the midst of fighting for our rights or fighting for our principles or fighting for the people who elected us or fighting for a balanced budget or fighting for whatever-the-hell we're fighting for, we've been reduced to mostly fighting. Oh, we're not taking swings at each other (yet) but our verbiage continues to teeter on the brink of crossing the line into the all out "us-against-them" arguments that lead nowhere in particular except to destroy (if not physically or legislatively, at least logically) "the other".

All of which, leads me back to that scene from the movie and my discernment towards a Lenten discipline. Yesterday, I mused on a Facebook post about the possibility of taking a "fast" from all forms of news for the season. I wondered if such an attempt would lead to a more "peaceful" me. I also wondered what effect such a fast would have on my perceived relevance. Several people who commented on the post seemed to think the fast was a good idea. Another mused about responding to the news in a different fashion -- perhaps discerning how to pray in the midst of all the information we receive through the news. One of my clergy friends (humorously?) suggested that, as a group, clergy are already "irrelevant". As I think about the fictional monk getting back to his vocation of meditation, even as he was about to be swept away, I wonder how my own vocation as a priest calls me to live in the midst of the turbulence that churns around me. Swimming has never been a strong point for me...but I'm not sure I'm ready to drown.

2011-02-27T22:09:00.004-06:00

The Truth is More Important Than the Facts!

"Truth and falsity don't belong to words (or 'things' for that matter). Truth belongs to 'understanding' (i.e. the mind -- Aquinas: truth is in the mind, goodness is in things) and therefore to the person with understanding. We learn what is true by being catechized into the truth of the world; a training that assumes a connection of truth to existence, and therefore, to God (who is existence without remainder)."

--The Rev. Lyndon C. Shakespeare, a comment on my post on February 26

I'm a lover of words and a lover of facts. I like how words fit together and how they can be used to buttress an argument. I've been known to build a few of those quasi-logical buttresses myself -- drawing a few inferences here and teasing out an implication there -- all from seemingly disparate sources and piecing together (many times without even questioning my inferences!) in my head a version of "reality" that has very little bearing in the supposed "real" thing.

Recently, I've been watching the sort of "truth-telling" both Hauerwas and Shakespeare call into question so boldly. To be sure, this difficulty of telling the truth is being played out in real time, whether on television screens or Facebook News Feeds. Every information outlet has an agenda (and they can't help having one!) as they have reported on the scenes from Madison over the past two weeks. The battle of "who has the best data" (or at least who can make the most drama out of the data they have) has been raging. FOX News and MSNBC are each "hard at work" to earn "our trust" -- and yet, simply tying together a string of facts does not necessarily describe "the truth".

Developing the character(istics) of truthfulness and trustworthiness -- whether individual, institutional, corporate or governmental -- cannot be distilled to simply a more adept use of "the facts" for the purpose of buttressing one's own opinions (no matter how attached one may be to them!). Thanks, Lyndon!

2011-02-26T18:29:00.000-06:00

And now, a word from Stanley Hauerwas....

I was bouncing around on the Internet and found this excerpt from an interview Hauerwas (theology professor at Duke University) had with a journal about preaching some years back. Given recent conversations about preaching and politics amidst the ongoing situation in Madison, this seemed a wonderful exchange to consider on a Saturday evening as preachers and politicians work to deliver their respective messages.

Please note: Hauerwas' directness is not be for the thin-skinned! I'll admit to being a bit stung, myself. Enjoy (or not)!

Hauerwas: The difficulty about becoming a public official in America is that the training necessary for being a politician makes you the kind of person that can’t distinguish a lie from the truth anymore.

Homiletics: So politicians should not go to law school, they should go through seminary.

Hauerwas: That would be a really good idea — a way of formation. But then, you see, one of the things that bothers me deeply about the situation we’re in is how seldom preachers tell their congregations the truth! That’s where you’ve got to start in a genuine politics.

2011-02-25T14:03:00.001-06:00

Evangelized!!!???

Last evening, as I was leaving a local hospital (in my clergy duds, no less!), a fellow walks up to me and asks, "Father, may I share something with you?"

I responded, "Sure." Whereupon the gentleman hands me a piece of religious literature boldly emblazoned with the words, "Religious, but don't Know God?"

I said, "I don't think I need this."
He said, "Are you SURE???"
I said, "Yes, I accepted Jesus Christ as my Lord and Savior when I was 7 years old and he has been my friend ever since."
He said, "Praise his Name!"
I said, "Amen"...and walked away as quickly as possible.

Since the fellow wouldn't take his literature back, I looked at it when I got home and noted the artwork on the front of the leaflet was a pair of hands, folded in prayer, with a rosary draped over them. It was as I had suspected, my interrogator had assumed I was a Roman Catholic priest.

I won't go into a line by line exegesis of the content of the document, but here's one thing for sure. The presupposition behind it is that everyone is going to Hell, unless they have prayed some sort of prayer similar to the one I prayed so long ago as a little kid in the church of my childhood.

Now, I'm not arguing about professions of faith -- people make them all the time and those professions prove meaningful and life-changing for many, me included, even when the event happened over 44 years ago. What I found challenging (actually maddening!) in the encounter was the air of superiority that accompanied the exchange.

To "evangelize" in the classic New Testament usage, means to spread the "Good News", the Gospel of Jesus. Spreading this news isn't about condemning people or pre-judging them about whether or not they "know" God. The more I think about the encounter, the more I wonder how we Christians as a whole have missed the point of spreading the Good News.

Some Christians (and regardless of how I may feel about having a brother in the Lord question my relationship with the Lord, the guy is still part of the Body of Christ) seem to think the way to tell the Good News is to lead with themes of judgment, fear, sacrifice and death.

Others of us (particularly Episcopalians) have so equated "nice and well-mannered" with being a Christian that we never actually mention our faith out loud at all, hoping instead that our actions will somehow interest people around us enough so they initiate a conversation on matters of faith.

In the meantime, I suspect there are any number of people who are ready to hear Good News of mercy, forgiveness, wholeness, healing and life...if some of us would only tell them (and not assume a piece of literature can do so on our behalf).

2011-02-24T11:47:00.000-06:00

Attention!

"Everything is changing. Everything is connected. Pay attention." (Zen saying)

I was listening to a podcast the other day in which the speaker noted the ways in which we are bombarded with information and the effects such bombardment has, over time, on our ability to focus on the task at hand. The speaker was actively debunking the idea of multi-tasking and advocating for the more tried and true methodology of "one thing at a time" in order to actually get things done. I found myself absent-mindedly checking my e-mail, texting a friend and reading an article online all the while the audio was playing. Thus, I was the case in point for the speaker's podcast!

Paying attention has become an increasing challenge for me through the years. This past week has been particularly challenging. I've found myself unable to resist constantly checking for updates on the situation in Madison, perusing articles about church growth online or about the unrest in the Middle East. Of course, updating my Facebook status has been an unusually high priority as well. Simultaneously, I've been struggling mightily with a growing "to-do" list, which only mirrors my distractions and the loose ends dangling everywhere. Because I'm a solution-seeker, I've spent time consulting friends and colleagues about my situation. I've rummaged through my collection of time management books. Yes, I've been busy figuring out how to get things done without actually doing much of anything. Paradox or paralysis?

Yes, yes...you've read it all before if you've read any of my stuff over the past couple of years. I've been struggling with these issues for a while now. And you've got struggles of your own. Everyone's life is full -- perhaps overly so...I'm beginning to feel as if mine sure is. Recognizing one's limitations and living with those limitations are two separate things.

So how do we pay attention to our interior (spiritual) lives when our attention is so drawn to so many things in the world around us? I don't have any answers. But I do believe the answers lie in the sort of questions we ask about a given situation. My questions for today?

What would 15 minutes of single-minded focus look like?
Could I embody four segments of such focus between now and bedtime?
What might I accomplish in that hour?

I'll report any progress tomorrow.

2011-02-23T20:21:00.000-06:00

"Christian __________________"

"He's a Christian man."
"She's a Christian woman."
"I want to see a Christian therapist (or accountant, attorney, dentist, or doctor)."
"This is a Christian nation."

I admit, whenever I hear the noun,
"Christian"
Used as an adjective,
I get squeamish.
What exactly does such a descriptor mean?

That the man is kind or honest or trustworthy or non-violent?
That the woman is sweet or passive or deferential or submissive?
That the professional is more sensitive/understanding towards her/his patients?
That the nation has a particular set of political beliefs or social/moral stances?

Any time "Christian" is used in this fashion,
Certain behaviors/attitudes seem to be implied by the descriptor;
Even when the implied behaviors vary widely from person to person
And place to place.
And even if, there is some vague awareness that "Christian"
Is an identifier (noun) imprinted on us at Baptism.

I would argue...

We don't act our way into being "Christian".
We are baptized as Christians and then
We spend our lives growing into the identity
We were freely given in the splash of water
And the smear of oil.

Don't call me a "Christian" minister!
Redundant!
I am a Christian!
And to serve (minister) in the world
Is who I am.

2011-02-22T20:50:00.000-06:00

Business as Usual?

Earlier today, I ventured over to the Episcopal News Service website. I go there every few weeks to see if anything much has happened in the Church since my last peek. I read a few articles. The one that caught my attention was the summary of the "goings on" at the recently concluded Executive Committee meeting (this is the body of lay folks, clergy and bishops who manage various aspects of Church life in between General Conventions).

As I read the summary of the multi-day meeting, I will admit that most of the content was a bit foreign to me. Lots of accounting verbiage. Lots of policy, procedure and resolutions. Lots of management stuff. Not much of anything about mission or ministry.

For all of our studying, debating, report writing, counter report writing, and whatever else is going on in the Episcopal Church, one thing is clear to me --we are more comfortable with word-smithing resolutions than engaging, in real time, the work such resolutions might actually entail.

I continue to pray we won't confuse gobs of meetings with actually proclaiming the Gospel (in word and deed), but I also recognize that keeping ourselves busy with meetings prevents us from facing squarely into the resurrecting power of God.

2011-02-21T14:16:00.001-06:00

Compartments

I still remember the first time I bought lunch at the school cafeteria in elementary school. I don't remember what was on the plate, but I do remember the plate -- some sort of hard plastic dinnerware, tan in color, divided into three sections by raised ridges -- compartments! The gravy for the mashed potatoes stayed in place, as did the liquid runoff from the ever-present, artificially green peas. Applesauce no longer oozed everywhere like an out-of-control amoeba. Everything was contained. Separated. In its appropriate place.

I was fascinated and immediately wondered how to get my parents to outfit our table with these fabulous inventions. I failed in that endeavor (unfortunately!), and instead, had to devise other ways to keep everything carefully separated on my plate at home. But, in many ways those cheap, ugly plates, with their immovable compartments mirrored the way I was formed as a person (formally and informally) at home, at school and at church. Here are a few of the "social compartments" I learned about throughout my childhood:

"Separation of church and state."
"Religion and politics don't mix."
"Keep your religion to yourself when you're at school."
"Witness to the faith out there, 'in the world', because the 'world' is sinful and needs saving."
"The body is to be controlled and denied so the soul can progress."
"Heaven above. Earth below. Hell beneath."
"Sin and Salvation."
"There is one way to 'heaven' and everyone who refuses (or is ignorant of) that way goes to 'hell'."

To be sure, I no longer see life as quite so neat and orderly. Compartments are constructs. Life isn't so simple. I cannot keep my religion, my politics, my race, my socio-economic status, my education, my gender, my orientation, my family of origin and my nationality from bumping into each other, influencing each other, oozing onto each other, arguing with each other, wrestling with each other and competing with each other. One part of who I am cannot be cordoned off from the rest of me. And, I question anyone who would argue that they have the ability to compartmentalize themselves to the extent that one aspect of who they are doesn't impact another part of who they are becoming.

Over the past few years, I've struggled with this notion of keeping my personal opinions separate from my work as a pastor and priest. Do I have the authority to speak to controversial issues as a priest when no authority has been given me by the judicatory to do so? I'm well aware my ordination vows collar me to a way of life in which I am to care for all people -- even (and maybe even especially) those who have different views on any range of issues than I do. Does the collar (as I have so often joked) really come with a muzzle?

How do I balance the convictions that I have as a result of who I am, where I've been and the experiences of my life with the Church's penchant for having its clergy be agreeable, pleasant and nondescript under the rubric of inclusivity and of not giving any sort of "offense" to those we are called (or is it hired?) to serve?

Here's the rub. No one is going to be too angry with me for much of what I say publicly. If anything, the ordination process, seminary and these few years of priesthood have taught me to be careful about what I write, what I say, when I say it and to whom. Up until now, I've been pretty good at keeping the compartments in place.

But I'm beginning to wonder, do my compartments keep me safe or keep me incarcerated?

2011-02-20T15:02:00.001-06:00

A Sunday Sermon at Trinity Church, Wauwatosa

Matthew 5:38-48

Earthquakes and Tsumanis and Hurricanes. Mass shootings in Tuscon last month and in Poughkeepsie last Friday. Wars in Iraq and Afghanistan, the latter war now in its tenth year. The violence which seems to be a way of life just a few miles east of this corner. Year in and year out, week in and week out, over the past six and a half years of our time together, we have come to this sacred space and prayed.

Prayed for those who have lost lives or loved ones or livelihood. Prayed for those who have lost homes and hope. Prayed for the unemployed and the underemployed. Prayed for the sick and the suffering. Prayed for the hungry and the homeless. Prayed for those whose have been elected to public office and who have undertaken to fulfill their duties "to the best of their ability", so help them God.

Certainly, this parish has done more than mouth the words of prayers. We've put muscle and money behind our prayers. We have given and given generously toward relief efforts in the aftermath of Katrina, the Southeast Asian Tsunami and the earthquake in Haiti. We've participated in giving away thousands of articles of clothing at Red Door Clothes. We've given through the funds raised at our Awesome Auction to places like Our Next Generation and Sojourner Truth House. We've given money and time and energy to Habitat for Humanity. But in, around and through it all, we have prayed. For many of us, though, all of that praying (even in the face of so much tragedy and pain) has been fairly routine. After all, praying is part of what church folks do, right?

If we're not paying attention, praying can seem like an innocuous expenditure of time. Even in the face of differences of opinion, we can all agree on praying, can't we?  After all, praying seems passive enough so as not to damage our reputation or our social status or our friendships. We can pray quietly. We can pray privately. We can even pray without committing to much of anything. We begin to treat prayer as a no-loss, no-gain proposition.

We can be easily lulled into the misunderstanding that prayer is the activity religious people engage in either, when we don't have any other action in mind or when we have no real intention of actually taking any sort of action. In fact, from time to time, some of us may wonder when (or if) the church will ever do anything BESIDES pray. We may hear our internal voice yelling,"Don't just pray there, DO SOMETHING!"

Over the past week, the images from our state Capitol building have been stunning.  I can only imagine what it's like to BE there as some of our own parishioners have been. Clearly, there are literally tens of thousands who have been compelled, because of their convictions, to make the journey to Madison and have their voices heard. They HAD to do something! For many, this is a defining moment, with much more at stake than the particulars of a piece of legislation.

Exactly how this will be a defining moment seems to depend upon which side of the political aisle one is occupying. The rhetoric has been steadily ramping upwards. Opinions have set like concrete. The fortifications of blame and frustration are being erected. Slogans and mantras are lobbed across the airwaves, though cyberspace and onto the Capitol grounds.

This is the sort of moment tailor-made for the reality programming our culture so craves. One side says, "Come back and do the work you were elected to do." The other side says, "We're working to defend the rights of those who elected us." Pundits pontificate and cast the moment as evidence of the ideological divide in this country which is impossible to bridge.

Make no mistake; in the end, there will be winners and losers. And whether we want to acknowledge it or not, there are followers of Jesus on both sides of this situation -- at the Capitol in Madison and right here, in this room.

How are we to faithfully engage the words of today's Gospel, when our own emotions are running so high? How do we live the love of neighbor Jesus commands of his followers when our own sense of justice is so offended? How do we pray for our enemies when we want so badly to WIN and we want so fervently to see them LOSE? How do we face into the conflict such situations "out there" stir up for us when we're together "in here"?

The Sermon on the Mount is so simple when it's a hypothetical exercise, isn't it? As long as the enemy is "over there" -- across the ocean or across the country in Washington, DC, or even 75 minutes away in Madison -- we can "love them" in theory. But what about when the "enemy", the one opposed to us, lives next door in our neighborhood? Or across the hall at work? Or on the next pew at church? All of a sudden praying for our enemies takes on an urgency which is undeniable. But when the enemy lectures us on our television screens or shouts at us across a table, to offer a prayer for them becomes almost impossible. We choke on our anger. We can't bless because we want so desperately to curse.

A scant seven years ago, this parish was reeling in the aftermath of months of intense conflict. Longtime friendships had been strained until they had fractured beyond repair. E-mails had flown. Voices were raised. Scripture was quoted. Resolutions were proposed. Meetings, some public and some in secret, were conducted. By the time the dust settled, everyone (those who left and those who remained) had been changed irrevocably by all that had happened.

Then, in the spring of 2004, Trinity Church was given a gift on its way toward healing. That gift came embodied in the person of Skita Cassell, who we are remembering in particular today. As Skita battled the ravages of scleroderma, her family and friends asked to have a prayer service for her here at Trinity. Two of the songs we are singing this morning were sung at that service. Scripture was read. Prayers were prayed. People surrounded Skita, her son, Abayomi, and her mother Marilyn with love and concern.

I'm told (because I wasn't here at the time) that, in a very real way, this healing service marked a new beginning for Trinity Church. As parishioners here continued to embrace Skita and her family through her illness, they began to risk embracing each other again as well. That simple prayer service planted the seeds of a healing ministry which continues to blossom here today. Skita didn't get cured, but her life was a witness to the healing power of God.

So here we are today.

Perhaps broken and hurting. Perhaps angry and frightened. Perhaps wondering, "What are we to do in the face of so much confusion and contention?" Jesus' sermon calls to us across the centuries. This call is clearly a call in the prophetic tradition.

We are called to be holy. Holy in our words. Holy in our habits. Holy in our treatment of others -- even those with whom we adamantly disagree.

We are called to be patient. Patient enough to bear persecution. Patient enough to give away our money with no hope of repayment. Patient enough to give away our clothes with no guarantee of return. Patient enough to get slapped in the face and respond, not by taking a swing at the person who slapped us, but by giving the offender an open shot at the other cheek.

We are called to love -- not just the ones who love us in return, but the ones who hate us. Love the ones who would see us suffer and not lose a moment's sleep. Love the ones who would take the very food off our plates or the money out of our wallets. Love the ones we have come to hate.

Jesus' way is not the easy way. Jesus' way takes us along the way of the cross. Jesus' way stretches our sense of justice. Jesus' way squeezes our opinions through the narrow gate of God's righteousness.

Jesus' way presses us into the company of fellow pilgrims -- a community of people with whom we agree and disagree; some who become friends and some who remain enemies. Within this community we call Church we make our way toward healing and wholeness. Within this community of faith we share our joys and our sorrows; we share our frustrations and our anger; we share our fears and our anxieties. Together, in this community of faith, we practice how to live Gospel lives. Together, in this community of faith, we learn what it means to be holy, to be patient and to be loving.

What if we're too angry to be holy? And what if we don't want to be patient? And what if we'd rather die than be loving? Well, this is the place to risk giving voice to our struggles. This is the place to risk being real. This is the place to open ourselves to the healing power of the Crucified God.

And maybe (in the words of those special hymns we're singing), "taking it to the Lord in prayer" would be a good place to start.

2011-02-19T21:29:00.000-06:00

Perfect???

"Be perfect, even as your Father in heaven is perfect" -- Matthew 5:48

Jesus offers these words at the conclusion of a difficult set of teachings in what has come to be known as the Sermon on the Mount (Gospel of Matthew, chapters 5 through 7). This imperative collides with the cultural wisdom, "Nobody's perfect."

Nobody's perfect at loving their neighbor.
Nobody's perfect at praying for their enemies.
Nobody's perfect at non-violence.
Nobody's perfect at keeping themselves from anger.
Everybody messes up, right?
And Jesus' words simply stare back at us from the page.

2011-02-18T19:18:00.000-06:00

Dwelling Places

Do you not know that you are God's temple and that God's Spirit dwells in you?

In the course of my work, I get the opportunity to speak with folks from different congregations all over the country. For all of the diversity in the Episcopal Church, the frustrations and challenges of church life remain remarkably constant -- aging congregations, decreasing Sunday worship attendance, increasing expenses, deferred maintenance on century-old buildings, and all the rest. In our anxiety-driven fixation on institutional survival, we easily overlook one very important reality -- the Church isn't the sum of its real estate holdings, endowments and credit rating.

The temple of God isn't in bricks and mortar,
But rather it is in the flesh and blood of the Baptized.

Imagine that!

God's Spirit howling through the recesses of our hearts!
Setting us free to do the work God has given us to do!

Sometimes I wonder...
What would the Church be like
If we actually began to live into our identity
As the dwelling places of Holy Spirit?

And what would happen...
If we began to treat each other like
Being the Temple of God was their identity too?

2011-02-17T21:55:00.000-06:00

Friends and Neighbors

At a local diner this morning, the conversation turned to the spectacle of thousands of people who have converged upon Madison, Wisconsin over the past few days in response to an impending vote on a bill before the state legislature. The people involved in the (very heated) breakfast discussion had apparently known each other for years.

As the volume of the discussion increased, all of a sudden, the restaurant didn't seem like a safe place to be. Listening to friends and neighbors shouting over their eggs and at each other had not been on my agenda. I made quick work of my breakfast and departed. Somehow, 7:30 a.m. seemed a tad early to be mediating arguments.

A few moments ago, after a full workday, I sat down and briefly perused Facebook. I scrolled page after page of my Wisconsin friends' status updates. And not surprisingly to me, their opinions on the proposed legislation were fairly consistent. They were posting the same links, sharing the same videos and pictures from Madison, and their status updates made their position on the issue clear. In fact, my friends' opinions were so uniform that when I scrolled upon a status update from another friend which offered a contrary viewpoint, I found myself lingering over the status -- reading it and rereading it.

Here it was in cyber-print! The truth so easy to forget when we get caught up emotionally in an issue -- friends and neighbors can and do disagree -- sometimes vehemently. And the convictions at the headwaters of those disagreements are so contrary to each other the hope for "compromise" seems hopelessly misplaced.

How do we engage in respectful conversation when we don't fundamentally trust our conversation partners? How do we remember our Baptismal vows and conduct ourselves accordingly when we want so badly to be right? Or to have our position validated? And to WIN? How does the Gospel call those of us who purport to follow Jesus to be with our friends and neighbors who also claim to follow Jesus, but who draw different conclusions about what "following Jesus" means with respect to politics and public policy?

I'm pretty sure the command to "love our neighbors" doesn't just apply to the neighbors who agree with us. The call to friendship isn't about ideological alignment. I am grateful for my friend with whom I disagree. Perhaps being grateful is the first step toward infusing a difficult conversation with graciousness.

2011-02-16T18:52:00.001-06:00

Take Time to be Holy

"You shall be holy, for I the LORD your God am holy." -- from Leviticus 19

When I was in college, I was a member of a congregation located just outside of Chattanooga, Tennessee. On the inside wall of the worship space, above the doors leading to the foyer (and positioned such that the preacher could readily see it from the pulpit) was a very large clock. Inscribed on the face of the clock, in large, captital letters were the words, "TAKE TIME TO BE HOLY."

Honestly I felt like the clock was yelling at me every week when I departed from worship services. And the message I often took home with me from this directive went something like this, "You sluggard, get with it! You've got to pray more, give more, read your Bible more, serve more and witness more! You've got the time to be holy, you just don't TAKE it!" (Yep, guilt was very much a part of my religious experience then!)

I've spent years attempting to figure out what it means to be "holy" and not simply pious or sanctimonious. These days, words like "holy" and "holiness" sound somewhat archaic and carry some baggage with them in the popular culture. The word which seems to have greater cache amongst both religious and non-religious folks is the word "spiritual". There is an interest in spirituality that seems to transcend the general population's distrust of religious institutions. Even regular attenders at worship in "traditional" venues are seeking ways to better connect to a sense of meaning and transcendance in their lives (without subscribing to the necessity of being conversant in the finer points of theological dogma). Spiritualities abound! But how exactly does one become "spiritually" attuned?

The reading from the Hebrew Scriptures appointed for this coming Sunday is from Leviticus, and is specifically drawn from the section of that biblical book known as "The Holiness Code". Interestingly enough, though, the way in which the Hebrew people were to live life to give witness to their "holiness" doesn't look too "spiritual". Instead, holiness has a distinctively down-to-earth quality:

--Leave a little of the harvest (including the grapes used for making wine!) so the poor and the immigrant can find a bit of sustenance.

--Don't take what doesn't belong to you.

--Be honest in your dealings and in your speaking...tell the truth.

--Pay your debts. Pay the hired help in a timely fashion.

--Don't persecute the physically disabled

--Live justly; deal with others in a just fashion.

--Don't say things about your neighbor that slander their reputation.

--Don't profit as a result of your neighbor's loss .

--Keep a distance from hatred, exacting your own version of vengeance or holding a grudge.

--Love your neighbor as yourself (sound familiar?)

None of the items on this list are particularly "groundbreaking". In fact, it all sounds fairly simple, perhaps even boring (but by no means easy!). The behaviors outlined in these few verses don't come with a guarantee that those who follow them will suddenly ascend to spiritual heights. But maybe being "spiritual" (or even holy!) isn't about doing great things. Maybe the spiritual/holy life is about practicing behaviors that are sometimes inconvenient or even counterintuitive.

And practice? Well, that takes time.

2011-02-15T20:07:00.000-06:00

Numbers

Wisconsin has somewhere in the neighborhood of 5.6 million residents. As of 2008, there were 50.35 full time equivalent (FTE) Wisconsin state employees for every 1,000 of those residents. At that time, this ratio was about 8.2% fewer state workers per 1,000 than the national average.

The changes to pay, benefits and union access for state workers presently before the Wisconsin State Legislature (which, as of this writing, are likely to pass) will impact a statistically small number of Wisconsin citizens. Some money will be saved, but Wisconsin's budgetary problems will not be solved. Fiscal conservatives will laud the changes as a new era in responsible government. Social liberals and those sympathetic to labor unions will decry the changes as insensitive and regressive.

State workers will go back to work. They will also go back to their calculators and ledger sheets to figure out how to keep their households fiscally sound in the face of significant changes in their take home pay. Like so many of us, they will worry about how to pay their mortgages, put food on their tables, gas in their cars, educate their children, etc. My guess is the legislators who will vote in favor of the changes are people who care about the future of Wisconsin. Undoubtedly, they will go home feeling good about their decisions. Some of them won't lose much sleep over the impact their vote will have on the lives of literally thousands of people. Philosophically, I can understand that "winners and losers" are a part of the political process we call democracy. Theologically, I recognize democracy isn't the means to usher in the Kingdom of God.

This coming Sunday is my turn to preach. If it's an average Sunday at Trinity Church, there will be 30-40 folks at the 8:00 a.m. service and 135-160 people at the 9:30 a.m. service. We'll hear some texts read from Leviticus, 1 Corinthians and the Gospel of Matthew. And my job is to make some connection between at least one of those passages and what's going on in our world and in our lives. Situations like the one unfolding at the Capitol Building in Madison makes this work a particularly daunting task.

I can understand why the temptation to offer a "personal piety talk" instead of a sermon is so irresistible. After all, I'm one voice in a sea of millions. Statistically speaking, the number of people I will be preaching toward is negligible in the broader political schema -- even if everyone present on Sunday agreed on the goodness or the horridness of this week's legislative actions.

And besides, what do I know?
I'm not an accountant, a union organizer, a legislator or a state employee.
I'm a preacher. Plain and simple.

I periodically remind the congregation I serve that
Jesus worked in small numbers -- one person at a time.
I'm pretty sure there's no other way to be the Church.
I'm also realistic, though.
I understand not much
I will say on Sunday will change the numbers --
Either of the "budget repair" or the "pay cut" variety.

But I keep thinking
I have to say something...
Because I can't believe the prophets of Israel and Judah
Would have kept their mouths shut;
Jesus certainly had plenty to say about how we treat one another.

Good Lord, deliver me from timidness and arrogance!
The timidness that convinces me what I might say won't make a difference
And the arrogance that seduces me into thinking something I could say will.

2011-02-14T22:59:00.001-06:00

Budget Repair in Church?

What is the role of the Church in times of heated political debate?
Silent prayer? Business as usual? Advocacy?
Pretending events of the "outside world" are concerns of others?
(As if people who comprise the Church aren't in the middle of such concerns!)

"No politics in Church!"
We preachers hear that mantra all the time.
Check your political beliefs at the door!
Church is the place to attend to one's spiritual life!
Church is to be a place of safety and security!
Church is to be a place of peacefulness!
Church is the refuge from the raucousness of debate!
Just preach the Gospel, preacher!
(As if the Gospel has no bearing upon the politics of human relationships!)

"All politics are local," the saying goes.
I've certainly seen that slogan writ large over the past few days.
Budget repair.
Collective bargaining.
Wages and benefits.
Plenty of issues.
Plenty of opinions.
I have some opinions on the issues myself.

How am I to preach the Good News of God's salvation...
As if it is separate and distinct from the lives people live?
This coming Sunday,
Will I preach an escapist, individualistic Gospel?
(The Gospel of being a "nice" person with good manners!)
Can I stick to the prescribed script and check the politics at the door?
After all, saying nothing overtly political does
In and of itself, make a political (and theological) statement, doesn't it?

2011-02-13T21:52:00.095-06:00

A Bit about Change

"The only constant is change."

We've all heard that one.

In fact we've probably said it a time or two.

Sometimes as a way of defending a change we're in favor of.

Sometimes as a way of resigning ourselves to a change we're opposed to.

This morning, the liturgy at Trinity Church

Looked much the same as it has from week to week for years.

And, of course, the liturgy was different --

Different because I'm not the same person as I was years ago.

I've aged;

I've learned to listen a bit better;

I'm a more experienced priest;

I've lost some weight;

I've gained some perspective on myself;

I have a history now with the people in this parish.

We know some of each other's stories.

The people at Trinity are different too --

Some are different because, like me, they have changed "in place";

Maybe the change hasn't become noticeable to them just yet.

Still others are new to the parish within the past few years;

And new people invariably bring new ideas and new energy.

The change has happened slowly (but not glacially!),

And is present and palpable every time we gather.

Easy to forget --

That slow and steady change can be as unsettling

As the rapid and erratic sort.

I know it can be difficult to accept --

When one enters into a familiar space;

And feels like a stranger.

I've had it happen to me

At other times and in other places.

I keep reminding myself that change

Is all around me and deep within me;

And deep within others as well.

Could it be that the "wind of change"

Is actually the breath of the Spirit?

Pleasing God?

2011-02-12T18:54:00.000-06:00

What does it mean to live a life pleasing to God?
Indeed, can God be "pleased"?
Isn't this sort of language the epitome of projecting human characteristics upon the Divine?

Every now and then, the opening prayer (called the "Collect of the Day) assigned for a given Sunday in the Episcopal Church provokes me toward such questions. The prayer for tomorrow says, in part, "...and because in our weakness we can do nothing good without you, give us the help of your grace, that in keeping your commandments we may please you both in will and deed..."

I wonder how many of us consider ourselves so "weak" that we can do NOTHING good?

Theologically, I believe that God's Spirit supports and sustains us in the lives we live. I believe in God we "live and move and have our being". I believe that to become aware of our dependence upon God's presence in our lives (every moment of our lives!) is to begin to get an inkling of the ethereal nature of "grace". Perhaps we're in need of being reminded from time to time of our dependence upon God.

Perhaps this language of dependence is necessary to remind us that God is God and we are not. I wonder how such language impacts any understanding of human agency. Or maybe such language is simply pious-speak that floats over us in a few seconds during the liturgy. Tomorrow's prayer raises plenty of questions for me and maybe that's the point.

Sent from my iPad

2011-02-11T06:08:00.001-06:00

Keeping Our Word

But I say to you, "Do not swear at all, either by heaven, for it is the throne of God, or by the earth, for it is his footstool, or by Jerusalem, for it is the city of the great King. And do not swear by your head, for you cannot make one hair white or black. Let your word be `Yes, Yes' or `No, No'; anything more than this comes from the evil one." -- Matthew 5:36-37

At the conclusion of the fifth chapter of Matthew, we read Jesus' challenging reinterpretations of some of the "tried and true" commandments in the Torah -- commandments that seemed so straightforward anyone should know what to do (or not do) in order to keep them. Some version of the formulary, "You have heard it said...But I say to you..." occurs four times between versess 21-37. In the two instances, Jesus expands the prohibitions against murder and adultery. He challenges his hearers to consider anger and name-calling to be akin to murder and the thinking of illicit thoughts in and of themselves to be on a par with actual adulterous behavior. In the final twist (see the verses above), Jesus takes on the practices of oath-making and of keeping one's word.

In the complicated parlance of human barter and negotiation, words and trust are of utmost importance. As it is in our society, so it was in Jesus' time. But how could one secure one's word? And perhaps more importantly, how could one be influenced to trust the other party in the negotiations, even when the other party was essentially a stranger? How could one offer assurance to the other party in the contract that the deal being consummated would be kept to the letter? And, how could enough wiggle room be left in a seemingly airtight deal to afford each party the right to declare the contract null and void and thereby be released from any liability for failing to follow through on the terms of the original agreement?

In the absence of a legal superstructure and legions of contract lawyers, how did one prove one's trustworthiness? Well, by oath-making of course! To our ears this offering of an oath (no matter how intricately worded) seems a tenuous exercise at best. By Jesus' time, entire systems of oath-making had evolved such that, to leave one word unsaid in the complicated oath-making process could have significant ramifications for the future of the contract. The "double dog dare you" of the first century oath-making formula was to swear "by Jerusalem"; the "triple dog dare you" was an oath offered on the surety of "heaven above".

Jesus cuts to the heart of such superfluous speech. "Yes" and "No" are sufficient. Indeed, if one's "Yes" and "No" cannot be trusted, no amount of extraneous oath-making (regardless of its poetic, well-parsed, serpentine language) makes the contract any more secure. Beyond the practicalities of plain speech, though, Jesus is naming a far more difficult reality -- human beings are simply not in control of the Divine. To invoke God to underwrite a contract is to overstep human authority. God cannot (and will not) be used to buttress the inconsistency, selfishness and intrinsic human tendency to want the position of power over another human being.

Last fall, as this country went through the stresses and strains of the "election season", we witnessed the candidates vying for office engage in the point/counterpoint of comparing each other's policy statements with previous statements made through the years (in writing or the media), which seemed to irrefutably point to contradictions in a candidate's thinking. This practice of camparing/contrasting each other's previous statements with the election season rhetoric about various issues had a singular aim -- to cast doubt on a candidate's trustworthiness. Interestingly enough, since all candidates seem to be unable to resist such a strategy, the public is left with the distinct impression that every candidate is, at some level, suspect.

The battle of sound bites raged over the radio and television for weeks. In the end the elections happened and the pundits began their own process of interpreting the results. The newly elected basked in the glory of victory. Those ousted from office did their best to remain dignified in the face of defeat.

And then, this past January, in the Capitol Building of the United States, those who had been elected raised their right hands, and said the following:

"I do solemnly swear (or affirm) that I will support and defend the Constitution of the United States against all enemies, foreign and domestic; that I will bear true faith and allegiance to the same; that I take this obligation freely, without any mental reservation or purpose of evasion; and that I will well and faithfully discharge the duties of the office on which I am about to enter. So help me God."

Of course, as a Christian, I wonder what sort of "God" is being invoked to assist the Representatives and Senators in their duties (presumably the same God who is invoked to "bless" America). In light of Jesus' words, though, the intent in this oath is still the same -- to enlist the heavens to do what we humans seem so often to be incapable of doing -- keeping our word.

2011-02-10T23:25:00.007-06:00

Going With

One of the interesting expressions of speech here in Wisconsin is the phrase, "go with". The phrase is often used like this, "I'm/We're going to (insert destination here), do you want to go with?" The person or people with whom one will "go with" is assumed in the subject section of the question. I appreciate the efficiency of the shortcut, even if I still haven't been able to incorporate it into my own way of speaking. But I suspect there is something more going on than simple efficiency. Whenever I have had that question asked of me, I've often exprienced it as an offer of hospitality and inclusion -- a way of saying, "I'd/We would be pleased if you'd join us on our journey."

To travel together in the company of a friend is to add a new dimension to an errand. There's the opportunity for a shared experience, for conversation, for deepening the relationship -- whether the desitnation is the shore of Lake Michigan, the museum or the dairy aisle of a grocery store. To keep company is the way we get to know each other, experience each other's individuality and learn about "who we are" in the process.

This evening, I was reading from a book of prayers when I ran across the following benediction:

May the peace of the Lord Christ go with you:
wherever he may send you;
may he guide you through the wilderness: protect you through the storm;
may he bring you home rejoicing: at the wonders he has shown you;
may he bring you home rejoicing: once again into our doors.

To be a follower of Jesus is to be in the company of the Risen Christ (whether we are aware of it or not); and to be privileged to be a part of the community of the Baptized, who are our fellow pilgrims through the changes and chances of this life. I suspect if there was a Wisconsin translation of the final words of Jesus in Matthew's Gospel it would go like this: "..And remember, I'll go with always, even to the end of time."

In a world so chock full of loneliness and isolation, that's Good News!

2011-02-09T21:01:00.001-06:00

Apostolic Agriculture

I planted, Apollos watered, but God gave the growth. So neither the one who plants nor the one who waters is anything, but only God who gives the growth. The one who plants and the one who waters have a common purpose, and each will receive wages according to the labor of each. For we are God's servants, working together; you are God's field, God's building. -- 1 Corinthians 3:6-9

The church in the Greek city of Corinth had plenty of "issues". We know about some of those issues as a result of a careful reading of the letters written to the church by Paul the Apostle. Granted, Paul's assessment of the Corinthian situation was skewed by virtue of his own involvement as a teacher in the congregation through the years. Nevertheless, his attempts to offer the congregation guidance in form of the letters we now know as 1 & 2 Corinthians give us, not only an insight into the difficulties of congregational life back then, but also underscores the common themes of congregational communal life which are remarkably consistent over the course of centuries.

In this coming Sunday's reading assigned by the lectionary, we read Paul's attempt to address a tendency among the Corinthians toward partisanship. Apparently there was some conflict around which of the itinerant teachers who had been a part of their communal life should hold the most influence on doctrine and practice. Some were for Peter. Some were for Apollos. Some were for Paul. Some members of the congregation seem to have claimed a direct encounter with Christ (even though the Crucifixion and Resurrection had occurred at least 15 years prior to the time of the letter).

At the beginning of chapter 3, Paul asserts that this partisanship merely demonstrates the congregation's immaturity -- spiritual infants who required "milk" in spite of the expectation that they would be munching on the "meatier" issues of the spiritual life. Then, using an agricultural metaphor, Paul puts all of the teachers on a par with one another. Even if each of the teachers had brought different gifts to the "field" which was the church at Corinth, no one of them could claim primacy -- simply because the only way a church could grow was by virtue of God's quickening Spirit in the life of the congregation. Everyone gets a job, but God gets the glory, because God gave the growth.

Recently I was in a church building and happened to walk around a corner and down a hall only to be confronted with two rows of pictures (portraits really). One row contained the portraits of the men (and only men to this point) who had served the parish in the role of rector through the years of the parish's existence. The other row contained the portraits of the men (and only men to this point) who had served that diocese as its bishop. I had an immediate reaction. "The spirit of Corinth lives!" I thought to myself.

Now some would argue that to have these portraits hanging on the wall in an out of the way hallway somehow "honors" the history of that particular parish. My guess is there are still parishioners in this location who have some interesting stories to tell about the last 3 rectors and (at least) the last couple of bishops. My argument is such a "hall of fame" mentality puts the focus in the wrong place.

Over the time of any congregation's existence there have been some priests/bishops who have had a positive impact on its communal life. Others have hand an impact which could be viewed as less-than-positive. In the final analysis though, priests and bishops are farmers -- planting the seed of the Gospel, watering it, maybe doing a bit of weeding here and there, fertilizing the soil, protecting the plants from the plague of all sorts of insects. With the ecclesiastical gardening tools, clergy-types do their work of encouragement and exhortation, all the while having very little clue how it will all work out.

There are no guarantees in apostolic agriculture. But I think what Paul was attempting to cajole the Corinthians into understanding was that no one is more important than anyone else. The personality of the farmer has no bearing upon the bountifulness of the harvest. That's out of our hands. We can plant. We can water. But God gives the growth! (The sort of growth that can't be captured in a picture frame.)

2011-02-08T22:45:00.002-06:00

A Bit of Wisdom

"If you choose, you can keep the commandments, and to act faithfully is a matter of your own choice."

(Ecclesiasticus 15:5)

Situated in the section of the Bible that is off limits for most Protestants, the writings often referred to as The Apocrypha are an interesting collection of stories, poetry and sayings. More properly called The Deuterocanonical Books (meaning "second canon"), the books in this collection were primarily written in Greek (instead of Hebrew), even though they tell stories that are attached to particular times in the history of the Jews. These texts appeared in the Greek version of the Hebrew Scriptures known as The Septuagint, and have enjoyed an uneven history of acceptance within the Christian Church. Presently included in the Roman Catholic Bible and excluded from most Protestant Bibles, the Episcopal Church has consistently read texts from these books in worship and considers them valuable and sacred (even if not quite "inspired" to the same level as the generally accepted books of the Bible).

The verse above is from the deuterocanonical book of Ecclesiasticus (not to be confused with Ecclesiastes!), which is also known as "The Wisdom of Jesus, son of Sirach" (not to be confused with Jesus, son of Mary!). Most scholars date the book to the 2nd century B.C. and there is general agreement that it was probably written within the environs of Alexandria in Egypt. The content of Ecclesiasticus resembles other writings in the "wisdom" tradition (particularly the Old Testament book of Proverbs). Wisdom literature is characterized by its focus on practical advice, which, if followed, will lead the one heeding this advice toward the "good life".

Wisdom literature is also characterized by its affirmation of human agency. Human beings, in this literature, have the power of self-determination! They can choose which God to worship (or not). They can choose how to behave in proper society (or not). They can choose the commandments they will keep (or not). In fact, the one given in this literature is the individual's inability to choose whether or not she/he actually has the power to choose. We ALL can choose, and the person of wisdom will inevitably make the right choice.

While I appreciate the sentiments of Jesus ben Sirach, I'm not too sure of the "givenness"of human agency. I know my own struggles to "keep the commandments". I know too well my own faults and failures. And yet, the power such a text has on a Sunday morning is, to remind the hearers that our role as people of faith is about far more than "sharing" opinions and offering helpful advice to others. Our work is to keep making the choice -- no matter how many times we falter -- to "act faithfully".

At the same time, the optimism inherent in Ecclesiasticus is contagious: "Keep making the right choice! Keep being faithful to the choices you have made! And before you know it, you're not simply reading about "wisdom", you're living as a wise one in the world!"

And Goodness knows, the world could use a few more "wise ones"!

2011-02-07T16:22:00.001-06:00

Things Left Undone

Mondays are my "usual" days for sabbath time. Unfortunately, I have struggled with the concept of "a day off" for the bulk of my time as a priest. Today was no exception. By 9:15 a.m., I could feel myself sliding into a bit of a frenzy about things needing to be done between today and the end of the week. I looked at my handy-dandy web-based "to do" list and panicked just a bit. Even with my less-than-perfect project management skills, I immediately recognized that many items would go undone until next week (or beyond) unless I tackled them TODAY!

I charged over to the office, fired up the computer, cleared the desk of paper...and I was off to the races. Thirty minutes later, I was stuck. The top task on the list was now hopelessly tangled in a mess of delays -- technological and otherwise. I wanted desperately to stick to the task until it was FINISHED! But clearly that would be a misguided attempt at stubbornness. How I longed to close even one loop, to check off even one item and remove it from the list! For me, having an item "in progress" didn't count as getting one DONE! So I moved to the next task. The results? Not much better.

Oh, and in the time I was working to eradicate two tasks which were far more complicated than I had originally envisioned, guess what? Yes. Several new tasks appeared in the forms of e-mail requests to process, phone calls to be returned and forgotten tasks suddenly getting remembered. Grumble. Grumble.

When I have days like today, I often ask myself the question, "How in the world do people in high pressure exec-type jobs ever manage to meet the stampeding herds of to-do's and effectively deal with them without being trampled?" As soon as I consider this question, I immediately begin to think about the ways in which my work, by comparison, is fairly manageable. I mean, I do work for an organization that uses eternity as its horizon! Doesn't working for the Church entail a different sort of pace -- a pace of a more "spiritual" sort? Aren't clergy called to model appropriate ways of dealing with stress? Great. Now I can heap some guilt about feeling stressed on top of everything else!

So, after three and a half hours of frantic non-productivity,
I opted for reclaiming today as sabbath.
Too little. Too late.
Then I decided to address one last "to do".
And yes, in keeping with the theme of the day,
That one is undone as well!

2011-02-06T22:34:00.000-06:00

Two Liturgies for Today:

One liturgy took place in a church building;
The other could be viewed from afar via satellite and cable media feed.

One liturgy had 150 people present, in one room, to give witness;
The other had millions of spectators in every corner of the world.

One liturgy had simple words, water and candles, bread and wine.
The other had a gargantuan stadium, hi tech glitz, celebrities and fighter planes.

One liturgy had us following a cross;
The other featured people chasing a bouncing ball.

One liturgy crowned new "world champions" for a year.
The other sealed one, new Christian for all eternity...

2011-02-05T21:51:00.000-06:00

And Now...A Word from the Lord

"I became silent and began to listen.

I discovered in the silence, the voice of God."

-- S. Kierkegaard

What does it mean to say, "God spoke to me."?
To be honest, when I hear folks use that phrase,
I get nervous.
I grew up in a religious context where God was very, very chatty.
God told folks LOTS of things!

Sometimes God even provided fashion advice by indicating to the faithful follower which pair of shoes should be worn on any given day. Early on, I began to wonder if God really had time to help people make decisions about their footwear, since it seemed to me God must have much bigger chores to attend to -- like global warming, hurricanes, earthquakes, etc.

In that religious context, I also heard people quoting things they were convinced God had told them. Such conviction couldn't even be overcome by pointing out the inconsistencies between what someone said God said to her/him, and the sorts of things the God portrayed in the two Testaments had been credited with "saying" in ages past. The more people reported God's many comments, the more difficult it became for me to believe God was being accurately quoted.

And then I became an Episcopalian.

For the record, Episcopalians are lovers of words -- specifically, the words of the Book of Common Prayer. We also love the words of Scripture and the words of various and sundry hymns. We are a text-driven group. And we readily affirm every Sunday morning, when a reading from Scripture has been proclaimed, that we have just heard, "the Word of the Lord". Yet, in spite of our love of words and our belief that Jesus is "the Word" and our desire to pray "the proper words", the majority of Episcopalians aren't given to making any sort of claim that God "spoke" to them in any shape, form or fashion.

In the Pentecostal tradition, God is the ultimate stream-of-consciousness communicator, blathering away about all sorts of issues -- divine and profane -- to just about anyone who will take the time to listen.

In the Anglican tradition, God is barely audible -- sort of a heavenly mumbler who doesn't speak clearly or convincingly, but who is, at some level, "nice enough". Anglicans prefer to read the notes from God's many speeches (BCP, Scripture, etc.), which contain the appropriate, well-vetted, in-decency-and-in-order-words that will not create much interest, but neither will they offend anybody. After all, with God so busy running the universe, it's little wonder there's so precious little time remaining in God's day to chat with the likes of us.

What both streams of the tradition share in common is their nervousness in silence.

Pentecostals love to sing, clap, shout, dance, speak in tongues. In fact, God would struggle to get a word in edgewise. To be silent is to risk becoming "lukewarm" (which is far worse than simply being "damned"). Episcopalians, on the other hand, love to read silently to themselves and speak in gravely affected tones. While there are some of Episcopalians who are quite demonstrative in their worship, most of us are uncomfortable with the possibility that displays of emotion might actually break out among us!

Somewhere between those two perspectives,
I believe the path toward hearing from the God who desires to be heard is getting clearer.
I can't help but wonder...
What would happen
If we take some time pondering the silence?
Who knows what God might say?
And wouldn't it be awe-inspiring to hear such a "Word from the Lord." ?

2011-02-04T23:55:00.000-06:00

Another Day in the Life...

From time to time, people ask me, "Now, exactly what do you do in the course of a day?"

I've come to appreciate that this question doesn't arise from a place of suspicion, but rather from a place of curiosity. Face it. When people see priests "in their element" on Sunday mornings, it seems exceedingly clear what we do. But what about the rest of the week? For most folks, the daily work life of a clergy person is somewhat of a mystery. And to be honest, sometimes what we actually "do" is a mystery for priests as well!

The fact is, much of the work I do doesn't look much like any sort of "actual" work -- if work is defined as the production of a "thing" or the management of people who engage in the making, marketing and selling of "the thing". At some level, clergy don't "produce" (which in a consuming culture makes us anachronisms), but we are charged with envisioning a world in which Christians are known more for the quality of their relationships than the quantity of items they consume on a monthly basis.

So to answer the question, "What do you do in the course of the day?" I have included a running tabulation of Feburary 4, 2011:

5:00 a.m. -- up to think about several projects I'm involved with, do my first e-mail check of the day (nothing urgent!) and otherwise get ready to "face the day".

6:00 a.m. -- prepare for the weekly Friday morning service (today was the feast of Cornelius the Centurion)

6:30 a.m. -- celebrate the Holy Eucharist, Rite I

7:00 am. -- spend 45 minutes sharing breakfast and conversation with the Friday morning congregation.

7:45 a.m. -- take my son to school and then travel to Milwaukee's East Side for a meeting.

8:30 a.m. -- meet with fellow members of a subcommittee, which is one component of an overall strategic planning process for a prominent Milwaukee non-profit agency. I have been a member of the Board of Directors for this particular "non-prof" for just under two years.

9:45 a.m. -- on the road again...this time to Greendale.

10:10 a.m. -- spend time in a coffee shop in Greendale to write an article for a newsletter.

11:00 a.m. -- meet with the Diocesan Congregational Development Officer to think about the next "CDI" (Church Development Institute) weekend in Madison as well as reflect more broadly upon new organizational models which would enhance parochial ministries throughout the Diocese.

12:40 p.m. -- leave Greendale, headed to Wauwatosa

12:55 p.m. -- shopping for items to take to tonight's foyer group, and drop them off at the house.

1:35 p.m. -- off to Brookfield from Wauwatosa.

2:00 p.m. -- meeting with one member of my personal "health and wellness" team -- this is the person who helps me stay reasonably patient with myself and whatever progress I may see @ Trinity Church.

3:15 p.m. -- off to Delafield from Brookfield.

4:00 p.m. -- meeting with seminarian in Delafield.

5:15 p.m. -- return to Wauwatosa from Delafield.

6:00 p.m. -- spent some time checking e-mail and returning phone calls in advance of "Foyer Dinner".

6:30 p.m. -- Foyer Dinner with parishioners.

10:00 p.m. -- leave dinner, off to another parishioner's house (where my son has been spending time playing the game of the week with a couple of his church friends).

11:15 p.m. -- return home. Now, time for bed!

What a day! Lots of stuff to think about! But for now, I need to close my eyes and close the books on the past 24 hours. In the words of "Night Prayer" from the New Zealand Prayer Book, "What has been done, has been done. What has not been done has not been done. Let it be." -- Amen, and Good Night!

2011-02-03T21:33:00.000-06:00

Community Observed

Something marvelous happens in my neighborhood after a snowstorm:

People emerge from their houses --
bundled in winter gear,
shovels in hand or
guiding snow throwers belching
the white stuff
up and away from the driveway or sidewalk.

"That sounds practical, not marvelous," you say.
And if solitary snow relocation according to
Individual taste was what you witnessed,
You'd be correct.
But something more occurs
There on the sidewalk:

People help each other.
People laugh and tell stories of winters past.
People inquire after each other's families.
People share opinions...
(even if the opinions only concern the best way to relocate the snow!).

The weather which should keep folks inside,
Becomes the catalyst for folks to get out of their houses,
Out of their routines.
And straight into the path...
Of other people!

The Greek word translated as "church"
Literally means, "those who are called out".
When we are being the church, we aren't:

A building;
A set of programs;
A worship service;
A social action committee;
Or any number of other stereotypes.

The church is nothing more
Or nothing less, than people who have
Responded to Something beyond themselves
By getting out of their routines,
And finding themselves smack in the path
Or other people!

And guess what happens?

People help each other.

People laugh and tell the stories of faith from the past.

People inquire after each other's families.

People exchange opinions.

People share a holy meal.

People who would prefer to be alone

Are caught up in the power of being with others.

And in these moments,

When the the Church is at its best,

When we move beyond our delusions of individuality,

Something sacramental happens...

The Church ceases to be an "institution"

And becomes something much more important;

A community of faith!

2011-02-02T14:50:00.000-06:00

Digging Out

The much anticipated blizzard howled through last night. I was (thankfully) barely inconvenienced by it. With no flight to catch, a properly functioning furnace and plenty of food in the house, last evening was virtually stress free for me. While, I am well aware others had a more difficult time, I am grateful that all I had to do was wait for the storm to pass.

The morning light revealed the storm's wind had done a wonderful job of insuring an uneven distribution of the snow. There were numerous dunes and drifts lounging about the property. Two of the larger ones were crosswise of the most frequently used entrance/exit points of my house. So, at 7:00 a.m., the process of digging out began.

In spite of all the whizz-bang power tools available for snow removal, I sill prefer the old fashioned shovel for "close" work. With drifting snow up to my front door, I began from inside the house, methodically pushing and clearing the stuff until I finally made it to the sidewalk. A few steps into the work, it became quite apparent that this excavating would take a bit longer than usual. I slowed my pace, and soon had a strategy -- take a few inches "off the top"; repeat; repeat; repeat; repeat; repeat again, until the sidewalk appeared. Then, take a step forward and begin the process again. Fortunately, I only have a porch, and two relatively short sidewalks, so the entire procedure was completed in a bit over ninety minutes.

Midway through this morning's project, I began to think about the ways in which I've felt "buried" over the past several months -- too many unfinished projects, too many dangling loose ends, too many details drifting about my office, my computer and my calendar. Bits of paper, piles of files, stacks of stuff -- the accumulation of many months of unreflectively moving from activity to activity, without any sort of strategy for dealing with it all.

Granted, I've been working on the de-cluttering now for some months. I've ebbed and flowed between acceptance, resignation and aggravation. Progress has been slow. Given the drifts and dunes of "stuff", it couldn't have been any other way. But finally, progress is beginning to be made. I couldn't help but wonder, "Why can I be so patient on the end of a shovel after a snowstorm and so impatient with the time all the other sorts of 'digging out' is taking?"

I think my impatience may be directly related, not to the "stuff" that has accumulated in my life, but the awareness that my own indecisiveness in dealing with it all contributed greatly to the problem. Certainly, some share of the "stuff" arrived from others and as a result of my job. But much of the "stuff" came into my life and my space because I brought/bought it myself! I'm guessing the latter scenario has been the case 90% of the time.

Lessons learned?

1. For the short term, I have resolved to be ruthless in disallowing "new stuff", no matter how intriguing it may be (new book, new opportunity, new learning experience, etc), from entering my spaces (home or office; intellectual or emotional). No new "stuff" equals no new decisions to be made or deferred, actions to take or things to file, sort or store.

2. For the long term, I will adopt the same attitude of dealing with my "stuff" accumulation I used this morning on the snow: a little at a time, taking a bit off the top, repeating as necessary.

3. Between now and that great day when the "stuff" is at last to a manageable level, I will implement a strategy I learned this morning. The strategy of appreciation. As I clear away the "stuff" of my life, cutting paths through it all by finishing a project, shredding/recycling papers, donating books or making difficult decisions,I will step back, pause, enjoy the view of the newly cleared space and give thanks for having the patience and perseverance to finish that part of the job.

While the city around me continues to clear away the snow, it's time to find my decisiveness shovel and open the next box of "stuff". There's more digging out to do.

2011-02-01T17:28:00.002-06:00

Well Supplied

Much of the local media conversation the past several days has been dominated by two headline stories:

1. the impending arrival of what may be a significant snowfall/blizzard event and
2. the possibilty of another Super Bowl victory by the beloved Green Bay Packers.

In fact, such is the hype around both possibilities one would almost believe nothing else is presently occurring in the whole of our community.

I've been fascinated by the enthusiasm with which the various "eyewitness" teams, complete with adrenalin & caffeine infused reporters and high tech satellite link-ups, are frantically patrolling the streets and highways of southeastern Wisconsin so they can be first on the scene with live shots of the snow as it falls. Of course, snow in Wisconsin in February is so unusual I can see why it's necessary to have such on-the-scene reporting. Meanwhile down in Dallas, other local reporters, flush with per diem cash (and no doubt excited to be getting a trip to the Super Bowl as a part of "work") are scurrying about to get a chat with the quarterback or the head coach -- as if the Milwaukee football fan can't find out more than she ever wanted to know of it all by a few clicks of a mouse or the touch of an iPhone screen.

But one common angle for both of these stories has emerged already -- the laying in of supplies. For the snow, one must be well-stocked with assorted groceries and other items to make the potential in-home isolation bearable. Grocery stores are jammed this afternoon with last minute shoppers attempting to prepare for the possibility that they may be unable to get out of their driveways for a few hours while the snowplows clear the streets tomorrow morning and afternoon.

I've also seen a story or two already about getting one's supplies for the perfect Super Bowl party. Obviously cheering for the Packers from the comfort of one's living room will generate quite an appetite. Of course, every one who is hosting a Super Bowl party understands that it's the duty of the host to have a well-stocked smorgasbord of high quality/high calorie foods and beverages to add to the enjoyment of the event.

Earlier today, I read a story from the Gospel of Mark about Jesus feeding 4000 people. Supplies were limited -- a few loaves and some fish. But as Jesus blessed the bread and fish, broke it all into pieces and had his students distribute it to the crowd, an interesting thing happened. All were fed until they were satisfied. And there were leftovers. Meager resources yielded mighty results.

I can't help but think of all the people who will sleep outside tonight in Milwaukee and the surrounding counties. The street is their home all year round, but home is particularly life-threatening on winter evenings like this one. And as I have had my own fun with the dire predictions of the weather prognosticators, the harsh reality for a number of people in our area is that tonight could very well be life-threatening. The end of their world could indeed come tonight, while others of us are safe and sound in warm houses, munching on our blizzard snacks and planning our menus for Sunday afternoon's game.

I've often said that the various feeding stories of Jesus are mysteries. I believe that they happened. I believe people were fed and not because Jesus simply "inspired people to share". And yet, I can't help but wonder what would happen if our society at large (and this community in particular) could get just a bit more inspired and significantly more resolved to share our resources for the common good.

Maybe our meager supplies,
Which appear so tiny in the face of the twin demons of homelessness and hunger;
Pooled with the resources of others in our community;
And offered with thanksgiving,
Could yield mighty results...
Satisfy the hungers of those who partake...
As well as the hungers of those who serve...
And even produce leftovers that would feed our souls!
Maybe that would be a miracle in and of itself.

And who knows? Such a story might make the headlines -- even when competing with the likes of snow in Wisconsin and the Packers in the Super Bowl.

2011-01-31T18:40:00.003-06:00

Blessed are...

Yesterday's Gospel reading was Matthew 5:1-12 -- the passage commonly called "The Beatitudes". The "attitudes" Jesus names as "blessed" at the beginning of the Sermon on the Mount have been the launching pad for many-a-sermon through the last 20+ centuries of Christian preaching -- the poor in spirit, the mourners, those who starve (and thirst!) for righteousness, the merciful, the pure in heart, the peacemakers, the persecuted, the reviled and the falsely accused. The blessings Jesus pronounces upon these ways of being in the world have, for so long, been a part of the common parlance of "Christian speak", they mostly fail to inspire, challenge or even mildly offend us.

When confronted with the words from Matthew again, maybe our internal dialogue can sound something like this, "Thanks Jesus for the good words, but right now, my attention must be focused on the 'real world'. After all, I've got a life to live, a family to raise, work to do and bills to pay. Time is really in short supply. I don't really have lots of time to develop these characteristics you seem to be so interested in blessing. I already feel guilty about my station in life, and now you're telling me about all this other stuff I need to do! When will I fit it all in? Besides, becoming a poor, grief-stricken, starving, thirsting, merciful person (either literally or metaphorically) sounds VERY difficult...next to impossible actually! Purity and peacemaking have never really been my strong suits either. Sorry about that. Oh, and living a life that ends up being reviled, persecuted and falsely accused doesn't sound very promising, let alone blessed! To be honest, I'm exhausted (and fairly guilt ridden!) after reading your list!"

But what if?

What if Jesus isn't giving us another "to do" list? Or even a "to be" list?

What if this is a list about recognizing the "blessed" who are already among us (maybe even sometimes, ourselves!)?

As I have read these verses again and again over the past few days, I have became increasingly aware of the ways we church folk can take a descriptive passage and morph it into a prescriptive one. And the result? We get to feel guilty about all of the things we aren't. Or at the very least we get to reassure ourselves that the life of faith is so difficult, regular folks like us should simply quit while we're behind.

But what if?

What if we are enough?

Already. Without additions or subtractions?

Could we live with that?

What if the Beatitudes are already among us?

Within us?

If we only began to recognize them?

And live like who we already are?

That would be a blessing in and of itself, wouldn't it?

Of course, a community of blessed people is inherently suspect...

Particularly by religious sorts...

Undoubtedly revulsion, persecution and false accusations would ensue...

But none of those things could

Remove the blessing already bestowed...

Because Jesus doesn't take blessings back.

2011-01-30T15:34:00.003-06:00

A Three Week Project

As some of you know, I've been "de-cluttering" (more like excavating) the basement of the house I live in (a.k.a.: "the Rectory"), on and off since last summer. This ongoing basement project has now been subsumed under my 2011 intention to "simplify". The purging, donating and recycling continue. Progress, though slow, is being made.

I am both amazed and almost ashamed at the sheer number of things I have discovered during this process, many of which I had even forgotten were in my possession. Going to the basement has become my own personal archeological dig, but instead of chipping through rocks and brushing away soil, I'm clearing shelves and pawing through storage boxes.

One artifact I discovered yesterday on such an adventure to the bottom of a storage box full of books was entitled, Two Weeks to a Breakthrough: How to Zoom toward your Goal in 14 Days or Less. It's the sort of book one usually finds in the business section of airport bookstores. As I leafed through it, I discovered plenty of underlines, highlights and written notes in the margins. The copyright date on the book is 2007. I'm guessing I read it on a trip that involved at least several hours of flying time.

The book is divided into two sections. The first section outlines the author's philosophy of creating a breakthrough. The second section provides a 14 Day Game Plan outlining, step by step, the actions the reader is to take so "zooming" will occur.

Alas, though, I find no record of experiencing "a breakthrough". In fact, I can see no evidence in the book's margins that I even took the time to identify a zoom-worthy goal. My guess is, I mistakenly substituted reading some advice for actually taking any sort of action. Yesterday I decided, quite on the spur of the moment, to attempt the schedule the author outlines in the text. And, since I have committed to another 21 consecutive days of blogging, I thought I'd post any progress I made toward my goal here.

Granted, this is a self-indulgent use of my time and this space. I promise this little experiment won't be the only subject of my blog posts, but I've been thinking a good bit lately about my fascination with "self-help" and "self-development" literature through the years. I've probably read hundreds of texts like Two Weeks to a Breakthrough. I can also count on one hand the number of times I've actually did any of the "exercises" such books helpfully provide at the end of each chapter. Lots of potential actions left undone and the unremarkable results I've "achieved" speak for themselves.

So, here's my plan. I'm going to spend the next few days re-reading Part One (or in ecclesial lingo, "listening to the sermon") and defining my goal. I'll begin the author's 14 Day Plan next Sunday, February 6, when I begin to try to "live the sermon" in the real world! We'll see how it goes.

In the meantime, if you'd like to check out the blog associated with the book I rediscovered in my basement yesterday, you can find it at:

http://managementcraft.typepad.com/2weeks2abreakthrough/

Zoom, zoom, zoom!

2011-01-29T17:23:00.003-06:00

Saturday Night Wrestling

I've been at it all week...reading, re-reading and reading again. Thinking, re-thinking and thinking again. Praying, re-praying and praying again. The homiletical wrestling match is now in its seventh day. My partners in this exercise are the texts the Church (in the form of the Revised Common Lectionary) has given me. Lectionary preachers stand in front of the weekly texts and struggle mightily, sometimes hoping against hope to hear a sermon worthy of sharing with the folks who take time out of hectic lives to attend a Sunday liturgy.

I confess. This week's selections are not choosing to give up a sermon without a struggle.

The Old Testament lesson from Micah concludes with a well-known question, "What does the Lord require of you, but to do justice, to love mercy and to walk humbly with your God?" Is this the week for a good social-Gospel-type sermon? I wonder.

In the Epistle lesson from 1 Corinthians, we hear Paul at his serpentine best, talking about God taking the foolish things of the world (in particular "the cross") to confuse the wise. What would it be like to preach about the cross within the cultural context of middle class suburbia? I wonder about that too.

The Gospel reading assigned for tomorrow affords us the opportunity to listening once again to Matthew's version of the Beatitudes. I wonder how might a sermon might assist us all in engaging such a familiar passage with fresh ears? Or am I already too convinced I know what Jesus is talking about for the Spirit to get a word in edgewise? I don't know. But, I'm pretty sure tomorrow isn't the time to attempt a "fresh interpretation" of this passage. I'm way too stale.

All of this wondering has given me a good case of preacher's block. I'm tongue tied at the moment. The intro is weak. The transitions are rickety. The trajectory is erratic. The conclusion is vapid.

But, as my homiletics professor used to say, "A sermon is never finished, it just comes time to preach." My hope at the moment is to get a sermon started. The night is young. Eight o'clock in the morning will be here before I know it. So now it's time to get back to the wrestling. And if a sermon (of any sort of coherence) fails to appear? Well, it won't be because of a lack of effort!

Finding My "Voice"

2011-01-28T19:05:00.000-06:00

So today is the end of the 21 day exercise. I'm not sure if I've firmly reestablished the habit of posting something in this space with a greater degree of frequency or not. I have decided to extend my personal challenge and attempt another 21 consecutive posts.

As I scroll back through the past three weeks, I can see a certain unevenness in the work...some days, I'm too tedious. Most days, I'm too long-winded (occupational hazard, I suppose). Perhaps the entries have been "too personal". Or maybe "too introspective". Some days it's obvious that I've waited far to late in the day to attempt anything requiring coherence!

For those of you unfamiliar with my self-imposed content parameters, here they are:

1. I will, for the most part, steer away from partisan politics. Whenever I post about current events, I attempt to reflect upon them from a Gospel perspective (as I currently understand it). This is why there was no comment upon the SOTU (State of the Union) speech earlier this week. Given our current political climate, I wasn't sure there was anything I could write that wouldn't be misconstrued by persons from either side of our two-party aisle.

2. I don't usually comment upon issues within the Episcopal Church/Anglican Communion -- for much the same reasons as listed above, and because there are plenty of people already flooding the blogosphere with their understandings (and misunderstandings) about ecclesial goings-on. To be honest, I don't read much Episcopal Church news these days. I find this practice has made me a much happier clergy person! Besides, I've discovered that being informed about the latest controversy, or downward statistical trend, or political intrigue (yes we certainly have those in abundance in Episco-world!) doesn't necessarily lead to any clearcut action(s) I might be able to take to make some change in whatever the "issue" is. I'm not supporting willful disengagement, but I am spending time attempting to determine the difference between real engagement and the supposed engagement one might feel by virtue of simply being "informed".

3. I don't administer Trinity Church through this space. While I will certainly share anecdotes about the parish, they are not for the purpose of attempting to leverage influence upon what may/may not be happening within this parish community.

Unfortunately, these self-imposed parameters seem to have painted me into a corner so that the reader is left with the randomness of my thoughts on any particular day. I'm attempting to be patient with myself as I seek to find my writer's voice. For those of you who visit this page from time to time, I'd count it a great honor if you would be patient with me as well (and don't hesitate to let me know when/how this effort could be improved).

I've heard from a few people that they have difficulty posting comments. If this applies to you, please e-mail me directly at garybriton@gmail.com and I will post your comments (should you desire it) to the blog so that others can read them and the conversation can be expanded.

See you tomorrow.

Sent from my iPad

2011-01-27T17:49:00.002-06:00

Dreaming

"If you follow every dream, you may get lost." -- Neil Young

I ran across this quote earlier today during my morning reading. And to be honest, I've been thinking about it all day. I shared it with several people with whom I'm working, and one of them said, "I love this quote! Because if you listen to the people who are always on Oprah, they constantly say, 'If you can dream it, you can do it!' Young's line makes plain the reality of our limitations."

Amen.

Young's line also questions the assumption that life must pay off by rewarding us with fulfilled dreams at every turn -- even when those dreams are contradictory or draw us away from our own integrity. At some point, we have to accept certain limitations -- only so many hours in the day, only so much energy, only so much talent. This isn't easy for most of us. We keep hoping that we can break free of the limitations of time and space. If we just "wish upon a star" correctly, or offer the appropriate "Shazzam!" at just the right time...THEN, our dreams will come true.

The fact is, some dreams, regardless of the intensity of our efforts, will fail to come to fruition. In other cases, we continue to say we have something as a "dream", but we never actually take any sort of concrete action toward it (I would suggest these sorts of dreams are really little more than fanciful fantasies).

But every now and then, we will be captured by a dream to such an extent we will give over our entire self -- body, mind and soul -- to pursuing it. And occasionally such single-minded focus yields either the fulfillment of the dream or significant progress toward that fulfillment.

A few days ago, as this country remembered the legacy of Martin Luther King, Jr., the grainy footage of what has come to be known as his "I Have a Dream" speech was played and replayed. As I listened to his inspiring words yet another time, I was reminded of the price he paid for his dream:

People tried to ignore him.

He refused to be ignored.

People tried to make him go away.

He refused to be silenced.

People tried to persuade him to move more slowly.

He refused to be impeded.

People threatened his life.

He refused to surrender to the threats.

He was singularly focused on his dream. A dream that was bigger than he could possibly bring about by himself. He would not take detours. He would not be deterred. He paid dearly for his fixation on the dream, and he died without being seeing it come to pass. Some would say we're still a long ways away from the Promised Land of equality for all God's people. I would agree. Yet, we are further down the road toward that destination because of King's tenacity and focus.

Young's lyric and King's life are instructive in a culture that operates within the fantasy of entitlement underwritten by the myth of the "multi-tasker". We only have so much time and energy (and we don't know when either of those commodities will expire for us). We cannot do it all, in spite or our attempts to do so.

As for me, now is the time to admit it. I've wandered around from curiosity to curiosity. Ostensibly interested in many things, but committed to little. Unwilling to voluntarily narrow my focus.

The results? Well, I think some parts of my life have (unintentionally) proven the truthfulness of Young's lyric! I've been lost a few times. I've been confused about my "next steps" many, many more times! But for now, in this moment, I've reconnected with recognition that to decide one thing is to decide to leave another thing undone.

What next?

I'm think it's time to decide which dreams I'll release into the ether -- letting go of them, so they will let go of me. Then, I'm going to give some thought to the dreams that have captured my heart and my imagination.

After all of that?

I'm going to pray for the tenacity to follow a dream or two, and then pursue those dreams like the requisite tenacity has already arrived. Wishing upon a star may work for some. For the rest of us, following our dream is more about inching forward, one day at a time, through the "stuff" -- good, bad and otherwise -- that is life.

Don't get lost, OK?

2011-01-26T20:13:00.002-06:00

Paid Religious Professional

Some days, I wear the collar

Because I need the reminder --

"You're under orders!"

(As in "ordained").

Other days, I don acetate,

Because I will function in

A "sacramental role"...

Black shirt and white collar required!

And then there are other days...

When I show up with a

different role -- that of

the paid religious professional.

My job on these days?

Two-fold:

Act priestly enough to add a dash

Of gravitas to the proceedings, but

Not so religious as to make anyone

Uncomfortable...

The day unfolds.

Lots of conversations and dialogue,

Discussing and deciding.

No overt religious talk, though after the invocation.

Prayer, like strong medicine, need only

Occupy the tiniest and most unobtrusive of spaces.

Prayer like a hair care product of the 1950's

Must be dispensed in "dabs"...

That'll do ya!

So how important is this ministry?

My ministry as an inoffensive anachronism?

I wonder. And I'm aware at

How easily I provide what is expected,

A brief prayer for guidance...

And then the meeting unfolds,

Unimpeded and unfazed by any Gospel challenge

To the way things

Have been done;

Or are done;

Or will be done.

With so many plans,

Who needs prayer?

Midway through the day,

I become aware of my own complicity in

Perpetuating the role of

The paid religious professional,

Whose primary role in such meetings is

Ornamental.

Kyrie eleison.

2011-01-25T22:51:00.003-06:00

Standardized Spiritual Maturity?

In a culture fixated with numbers of all sorts, it was only a matter of time...

Today, while enjoying my afternoon caffeine infusion at a local coffee shop I couldn't help but overhear a self-proclaimed "Christian Maturity Data Analyst"(honestly, I wasn't being nosey, the person was simply VERY loud!). He was busily regaling his potential client with stories of the importance of "tracking baby Christians" -- measuring the speed with which they are progressing toward maturity and their ability to "meaningfully contribute" (in dollars, hours and skill sets) to the life of the congregation within the shortest amount of time. And apparently, this evangelist for charts, graphs and metrics had developed the computer software that would crunch such numbers.

Six Sigma meets Salvation. Good Lord, deliver us.

Apparently the proprietary software assigns mathematical values to:

1. The number of times one attends worship.

2. The number of church-sponsored education/enrichment opportunities one attends (and number of worksheets correctly completed for "credit").

3. The number of tasks one performs for the benefit of the congregation (appropriately "weighted" to account for the investment of time required for each task).

4. The number of outreach activities in which one is engaged and last but not least...

5. The amount of money one gives each year, with an emphasis on the "growing one's financial commitment" to the life of the church.

I was sitting with my back to this conversation, attempting to remain focused on my reading when I heard the following from out of the salesperson's mouth:

"After all, church is too important to allow non-productivity. Let all those other so-called churches with their touchy-feely penchant for 'mercy' (he said sarcastically) have the dead weight! Those churches are dying anyway. The way a church grows to its fullest potential is when it minimizes the elapsed time between a new person's arrival in the church and the time when that same person maximizes his/her giving for the furtherance of the ministry."

The Protestant penchant for works righteousness meets the information age. Uh oh. I have to confess, I didn't stay around to hear if the salesperson made the sale, but the emphatic nature of his presentation made it clear that he was a BELIEVER -- if not in Jesus, then certainly in the product he was peddling.

I'm not sure how I feel about the salesperson's ease with the "assembly line approach to faith development." His fixation with metrics doesn't fit well with my understanding of the ongoing maturation process, which is such a crucial part of the spiritual journey.

We grow in fits and starts. Some days we're feasting on the "meat of the Gospel" and other days we're barely able to swallow a bit of "spiritual milk". We cannot be "processed through to productivity" (yes, I actually heard this phrase!) by the sheer application external pressure.

Maybe the "Christian Maturity Data Analyst" was right. Those of us who are into "mercy" will not likely produce mind-blowing statistics or accurately track new members' conversion ratios. Perhaps we'll simply have to settle for stories of lives changed by an encounter with the Risen Lord.

Come to think of it, those 1st century followers of Jesus didn't have any means of tracking their progress. They were simply too busy making tracks to the next town to tell their stories of Jesus. And along the way, they lost count of how many were joining up with them for the trip...but by the looks of things, enough people down through the centuries have showed up and stuck to it, and we are the beneficiaries of their faithfulness (standardized or otherwise!).

Thanks be to God.

2011-01-24T21:50:00.003-06:00

Of Calendars and Moments

Someone said to me yesterday, "Check your calendar and let me know when you're available to meet." In response, I sent an e-mail today outlining possible dates for our meeting. I received a reply e-mail indicating that none of my suggestions would work in the other person's calendar. The person in turn, sent me some dates/times that would work for them. Of course, none of those dates/times worked for me. This e-mail exchange took place in the aftermath of me spending an hour or so this morning simply attempting to get all of my calendars "synched" and dates "plugged in" (I finally stopped when I put a date in the calendar for December, 2012). And the pace of my job is nothing compared to the pace kept by many of the parishioners of Trinity Church!

What does it say when a parish priest, whose job mainly entails "being present", is constantly thinking about the future? Yes, I know, our culture values good planning and preparation. I also understand the importance of keeping all my dates straight so that I minimize the chances of overcommitting or worse, missing commitments. But I couldn't help but think that there was something a bit "off" when, on the 24th day of January, I was already feeling as if the year was over and that I hadn't accomplished anything!

"Teach us to number our days," the Psalmist prayed.

I wonder if this obsession with a future orientation was worrisome to the Psalmists?

Maybe they understood the necessity of keeping things in perspective.

I've been noticing all day today how easy it is to always be thinking about what's next, while barely noticing "what's now".

"Failing to plan is planning to fail," is a mantra of our culture.

Fail at what?

Planning for what?

I understand that if I don't do some amount of planning (and following through on said plans!), I could find myself out of a job or out of money or out of the good health I presently enjoy.

I also think that if all I do fixate on getting the most stuff possible into my calendar,

I could very well miss getting the most joy possible out of my life.

This moment now is a gift.

It won't come around again.

Can I enjoy it for what it is?

Raving Fan

2011-01-23T23:57:00.000-06:00

OK. I think I finally get it. Wisconsin is hopelessly fixated on the fortunes of a certain football team headquartered in Green Bay. And tonight, the fortunes of the Packers are VERY good -- they are headed to the Superbowl in a couple of weeks. Today I've seen people dressed in all manner of green and gold apparel, heard plenty of "trash-talking" and witnessed folks dancing on street corners, in sub-freezing temperatures, without the benefit of overcoats, scarves and mittens. And, I confess, I got caught up in the excitement of the game myself. But I was, at best, only a spectator. I'm not (as many-a-Packer-backer would say) a "true" fan. I'm a johnny come lately. I haven't paid my dues by suffering through an appropriate number of less successful seasons.

Before settling in to watch the game, I was present for the Trinity, Wauwatosa Annual Parish Meeting. This meeting provides parishioners an opportunity to see (and ask questions about) the previous year's balance sheet and also be apprised of the upcoming budget for the year ahead. By all accounts, Trinity Church is riding a wave of good energy. We finished the calendar year of 2010 with a "real dollar" surplus of over $22K.

Attendance at worship services is up just a bit. New people are getting involved in the various ministry opportunities present within this community. And while we have a significant budgetary deficit for 2011, we are hopeful of God's provision as we remain faithful to the work we have been called to do. To be at Trinity Church is to be among a people who are continually looking for ways to engage the mission of God in the world beyond our walls. To be at Trinity Church is to be among a community of people who go out of their way to be of service whenever the need arises. To be at Trinity Church is to be among a community of people committed to the listening for God's call -- to whatever God has planned for us next.

As I looked around the Parish Hall today and saw the faces of some of the people I've come to know and love through the past 6+ years, I realized something about me. I was no longer simply a spectator in this community, but I am a Raving Fan!

I can hardly wait to see what God is going to do next!

Sent from my iPad

2011-01-22T23:35:00.002-06:00

Georgia (Episcopal Diocese of) on my Mind

For the past two days I've worked, along with two colleagues from the Diocese of Milwaukee, in the Episcopal Diocese of Georgia, as that diocese begins its own Church Development Institute ("CDI" for short). The group we've been working with are clergy and laypeople who primarily go about their ministries in smaller towns and in small congregations. They go about their work far from the limelight of the "traditional" haunts of the Episcopal Church -- large metro areas, university towns, or centers of national influence.

My newfound friends worry about things like establishing a denominational identity in a part of the country commonly called "The Bible Belt". In their world, friends and neighbors look upon the Episcopal Church as some sort of exotic species of religion. Indeed Episcopalians, with their formal liturgy, reserved manner and good-natured worldliness are often seen as foreigners in this land of altar calls, impassioned pleas for people to "accept Jesus" (or face the fiery consequences of perdition) and where sweet tea is the strongest beverage a "good Christian" would ever dare to drink (at least in public).

As one clergy person told me, "In all of these small towns, our congregations are dwarfed by some other church -- Baptist, Methodist or Presbyterian." Many of these Episcopal congregations struggle to balance the budget. Many of the clergy work long hours for remuneration their sister and brother clergy elsewhere would probably find "substandard".

But as I've gotten to know these thirty or so people in two weekends' worth of work, I'm encouraged by their joy, their obvious love for each other and their willingness to engage the work of the Gospel with a hopefulness and humility that is nothing less than awe-inspiring. I've watched them pray with each other. I've listened to them argue with each other. I've heard them share their deep concerns and their irascible commitment to the Lord with each other. I've seen them draw strength and encouragement from each other. I am inspired by their dedication, their willingness to try new things and the ease with which they break into smiles...and from time to time shed a tear or two.

In our work in congregational development, my colleagues and I often say that numbers (as in average Sunday attendance or number of pledging units or annual operating budget) can't possibly tell the whole story of the health of a congregation...or even a diocese. The Church, as the Body of Christ, has always been a day-to-day proposition, in spite of our fixation upon the notion that, "Once upon a time, in the Good Old Days, the Church was overflowing with people, flush with cash and everything was beyond wonderful."

As long as we continue to confuse bigger with better, we will find very little to be hopeful about in the current realities impacting churches of all denominational stripes. For my part, I'm going to give thanks for my new friends and fellow members of the Body of Christ who are plucky witnesses to the Risen Lord in places like Bainbridge and Waverly, in Darien and Valdosta, in Albany and Dublin. I don't know how much I've "taught" them in our brief acquaintance, but I know what I've been learning from them -- unabashed hopefulness.

"There is one body and one Spirit, just as you were called to one hope when you were called; one Lord, one faith, one baptism." (Ephesians 4:4-5)

Sent from my iPad

2011-01-21T08:59:00.002-06:00

Process and Progress

In a world of texts and tweets, bottom lines and balance sheets, sound bites and summaries, the thirst for shortcuts, easy answers and "return on investment" is nearly unquenchable. We live our lives in a press of deadlines, a crush of e-mails and backlog of voicemails. Understandably, we want to find a solution to the problem in front of us, check it off the list and move on, because we can already see the next problem descending upon us. Sometimes we may begin to feel as if problems are stacked up like planes attempting to land at Chicago's O'Hare or Atlanta's Hartsfield-Jackson airports!

We bring this pressure-induced impatience with us to church and church meetings. We want to get in, get on with it, get it done, get out, and go on. After all, we're taking time out of "real life" to deal with church business, right? Isn't it to our advantage to be as efficient as possible with the precious little time we all have?

And then someone suggests we spend time "reflecting" or worse yet, "sharing"! Who has time for this warm and fuzzy stuff? Why are we wasting the little time we have on things that don't move us forward?

Lately, I've been wondering about the most important things we can do in church meetings...and the conclusion I've been reaching is convincing me that we have mistaken the "business of church management" for the "business of the church". Our work, as the Church, is about strengthening relationships -- relationships with God, relationships with one another, relationships with the community beyond the confines of our parishes. And there are no "relationship shortcuts". Relationships cannot be measured (no matter how much the business books might tell us otherwise!) as a matter of return on investment.

Those of us in mainline denominations can look at the data and the balance sheets. We know that we are an aging demographic in an overall population in which fewer and fewer people are interested in attending a weekly worship service and serving on several committees designed primarily to assist perpetuating a congregation's existence. In desperation, we grasp at finding answers to our decline:

We need better music.
We need different liturgy.
We need more families with young children.
We need clearer doctrinal statements.
We need more powerful preaching.
We need more youth.
We need better newcomer's programs.
We need more financial commitment from our existing membership.

With all this neediness, we forget to pay attention to the work of community -- of praying for one another, of learning about each other, of sharing each other's burdens, of deeply listening to one another, of thanking one another. This is the work of relationship!

Some may say that, given the stresses upon mainline churches, we would be wasting our time doing all the "process" work required to intentionally strengthen relationships within a local congregation. I'm wondering if we took our relationships within a congregation more seriously and invested our time in cultivating them, would our efforts at such "process" yield far more "progress" than we could ask or imagine? I don't know. Perhaps we might learn that while many people don't want to be a part of helping us "survive" through another year, they would want to be a part of a group of people who are open, honest, curious, compassionate, and determined to live into being a followers of Jesus. Who knows? A few people might be really intrigued about being our traveling companions on the spiritual journey.

That would be progress, wouldn't it?

Traveling Light

2011-01-20T14:40:00.000-06:00

I'll admit it. Paying for my suitcase to fly in the hold of the plane is counter-intuitive, especially when it can fly for free in the main cabin! Yet, since most people share my logic, the limited overhead space on board aircraft is rapidly filled to overflowing, leaving little room for anything extra.

So, now when I travel, I've taken it as a personal challenge to see just how lightly I can pack for a 3-5 day trip. These days, I can usually manage with a small roller board and messenger bag. Not only does this make my transition through security easier, I find that all in all, I spend less time managing my stuff once I arrive at my destination and less time repacking for the return trip. Now, I'm no efficiency expert, nor am I some road warrior who has all the space/time saving gadgetry. I've learned by trial and error (and I was spurred on by the frugality activated by all those the extra fees of the airlines!).

But, in keeping with all the other load-lightening I've been doing these past few months, I can't help but wonder...

When Jesus pointed out to some of his followers that "foxes have dens, birds have nests, but the Son of Man has nowhere to lay his head..." was he inviting them (and us) to consider the ways in which the stuff we are attached to has its way of attaching to us?

How do we travel lightly through this life, maintaining the delicate balance between "enough" and "too much"?

How do we distinguish between what we "need" and what we "want"?

And for me, if I'm not willing to pay for my suitcase to fly, why am I willing to pay (in all sorts of ways) to have things around that occupy more space than I have available and are constantly requiring some degree of my attention?

I'm not ready for the life of the ascetic, but I wonder...

How is it in a culture of greater-than-plenty we are always in search for just a little bit more?

Sent from my iPad

Of Predictability

2011-01-19T15:57:00.000-06:00

My boarding passes were printed. The line through security at the airport moved quickly. I made my way to the gate to await departure to Jacksonville, Florida (with a connection in Charlotte, North Carolina). The time for boarding the plane came and went. We received an announcement from the gate agent notifying us of a mechanical issue on the plane which was to ferry us to Charlotte -- a mechanic had been called and was on the way. No connections were in danger of being missed.

Then the time appointed for take off came and went. Twenty minutes more of waiting. The next announcement informed us the mechanical issue would take some time to repair. Flight cancelled. Rebooking on other flights would require us to trek to the ticket desk in the main terminal. And so, off the 50-60 passengers went -- hiking at various speeds and with varying degrees of humor. By the time it was all said and done, about half of us were shifted to other flights (and in my case another airline). Others were simply informed they would be resuming their trips the following morning.

The people who were the most distressed were the folks who had scheduled trips with such exactitude even a few hours' worth of delays would mean missing an important event (in one case, a grandson's graduation from college, in another case a major "deal"). From the vantage point as witness to their frustration, anger and disappointment, I could understand why they were reacting as they were.

The gift of air travel in this country is its reliability and predictability. Things work so smoothly the flying public often forgets the complexity of the operation. Schedules are honed to within minutes. Extra time is built into schedules to allow some cushion for the unexpected. And for the vast majority of travelers most every day, everything works perfectly enough to lull us into the false assumption that it all works perfectly ALL the time.

But airlines don't work perfectly all the time do they?
And neither does life.

We assume (to our own detriment) that we control the events around us. We operate as if we know, with certainty, what will take place three days or three months or three years in advance. Inherent in all of our to-do lists, goals, and planning (of the tactical or strategic sort) is the tacit denial of the unpredictable -- be it as minor as a change in our air travel schedule or as major as the loss of a job, our health, or a loved one.

We make our plans. We set our calendars. We do our best. But sometimes our only choice is to respond to whatever it is life brings us.

I noticed yesterday the people who seemed to take the glitches with the best attitude were the folks who were prepared for the unpredictable. They hadn't cut their calendars too closely. They had work to do while they waited. I even saw a few business travelers, put their feet up, take out cards from their brief cases and start writing (by hand!) notes to loved ones, business associates and prospects. I overheard one of them say, "Sometimes these cancelled flights are the greatest gift. It's like a mini-vacation from the pressure." In the middle of it all they were calm and of good humor.

The entire scene left me wondering about the way I greet my days. Do I assume I am in control and that my plans are immoveable? Do I overbook my calendar to the extent that there is no cushion for the unexpected? Do I forget to bring flexibility and humor to my work? Am I so busy with crossing things of various lists I become blind to the blessings that surround me on every side -- family, friends, good health, fresh air, clean water, shelter?

If I'm not careful, daily life can lull me into the mindless assumption that everything will go according to plan. Yesterday's airport adventures served as a timely reminder to the contrary. And those business travelers? They were my sages, teaching me to greet the moment as it comes, even when the moment which shows up brings with it the reminder "predictability" is, at best, unpredictable.

Sent from my iPad

2011-01-18T04:44:00.006-06:00

A Lesson on Learning from the Skating Rink

I have recently rediscovered my enjoyment of roller skating after a hiatus of more than thirty years. The good news is that, for the most part, I have retained the balance required to accomplish this task with some degree of fluidity. While I don't have the "moves" of the advanced skaters at the rink -- no jamming, dancing, or speed for me yet -- I'm reasonably happy with my progress.

With one exception.

In the intervening years between high school and now, I've forgotten how to skate backwards. I've made a few attempts to remedy this situation, but the necessary "muscle memory" is nowhere to be found in this regard. Presently, my redevelopment as a skater is thwarted until I move past this hurdle.

I know this intellectually. I really WANT to skate backwards. So, I was chatting with one of the rink regulars the other night and asked him for a few pointers. OK, I know, I was substituting talking about doing the thing for actually doing the thing, but humor me!

Here's the advice I received, "The first thing you have to do is get comfortable with the fact you're going to fall. If you relax into that, everything else will be easier. The problem with adults is falling feels like failure and we'll do just about anything to avoid failing, including not even making the attempt. I can give you a few simple instructions about the 'how' of skating backwards, but you must find the 'why'. Why do you want to learn how to do this in the first place? If your 'why' isn't strong enough, it will never overcome the adult fear of failure."

A philosopher on speed skates! Who knew?

Well, he named my reticence directly and with clarity! I don't want to fall/fail! But there will be no re-learning this skill or further advancement in my rediscovered avocation until I'm ready to take the lumps and bumps that go along with it. To get better, I have to become a beginner again.

I have to take the risk of looking awkward. I have to be patient with myself and celebrate the little milestones instead of measuring my progress against those who have been skating for far longer than I have. I will probably need to invest some money in taking a lesson or two and receiving some one on one coaching.

The choice is mine. I can be content with the level of ability I have now. Or I can challenge myself to learn something new -- and not substitute learning about something for actually learning it. The little exchange with the skating guru the other night has challenged me. How many other places in my life are in arrested development because of a fear of falling or the unwillingness to take a bit of a risk?

2011-01-17T07:22:00.003-06:00

Knowledge and Wisdom

Over the course of the past six months, as I have sorted, re-sorted, picked over and picked through the hundreds of volumes of texts which once comprised my library, I've been thinking a good deal about the difference between knowledge and wisdom.

In a consumer culture, it's little wonder that knowledge, which is often claimed by our society to be "power" in and of itself, has become another product to be bought and sold. We can even acquire the trappings of knowledge, without ever actually becoming knowledgeable. We chew up information, digest it, apply it or discard it with little thought as to the ways such information has formed us in the process. In a society constantly looking for the next big thing, learning for the sheer joy of learning has been overshadowed by the pragmatic concerns of "making a living" (income generation) so that we can purchase the stuff society tells us are the markers of people who are living "the good life".

Sitting in the basement of the house I live in, surrounded by the volumes -- read, partially read, unread and unlikely to be read -- I had to face the facts. More knowledge of how to better manage my time wouldn't make me a better time manager. More knowledge of how to pray wouldn't make me a more prayerful person. More knowledge of how to write wouldn't make me a better writer. More knowledge of the game of golf wouldn't make me a better golfer. At some point, I would actually have to "practice" the activities of time management or prayer or writing, or golfing (or any of the dozens of other self-improvement projects that have been a part of my life since adolescence).

In my insatiable thirst for new knowledge, I neglected to understand the necessity of allowing myself the space and time to practice doing the various things that comprise my interests. Throughout the course of my life, I've accumulated a fair number of facts, figures, quotations, sayings, theories and all the rest. There are certainly plenty of people smarter than me -- with more knowledge than I have or will ever be able to acquire. And I've begun to wonder a bit about my own knowledge chase through the years. Exactly what have I been attempting to prove to myself? To others?

One of the challenges of a consumer culture is the constant reminder that we each need "one more thing" to make us complete. For me that "one more thing" had become another book. For others it may be the next electronic gadget, the next drink, the next car, or the next relationship. My experience of turning loose of so many of the books I have collected through the years has made me all too aware of my own attempt to find completion, wholeness, maybe even "salvation" apart from God and through my own efforts at acquiring the right sort of information.

The writer of Proverbs (slightly paraphrased) said, "Living in the awe of the Lord is the beginning of wisdom"...and I can't learn how to live that sort of life out of a book.

2011-01-16T23:58:00.004-06:00

A Few Late Night Questions

Where do we go to speak our mind?

Or to have the minds we feel compelled to speak actually heard?

And is speaking and/or" being heard" the real goal of such work?

What does it mean to have "holy conversations"?

I'm asking these questions because I sense that there are so few (relatively speaking) conversations in our lives. Oh sure, we exchange information with each other. In our culture we are always talking (or texting or skyping, or facebooking). But how do those exchanges impact us? Are we drawn deeper into the mystery that is human relationship? Or are those exchanges more transactional (I give you this in exchange for you giving me that) than relational?

The fifth century monk, Benedict, who bequeathed to the Christian Church his Rule for monks living in community, clearly saw the necessity for learning in the "school of the Lord". Benedict's idea of a school wasn't simply about the individual assimilation of information for the purpose of mastering the information and leveraging it for self-improvement and personal advancement. Benedict saw the necessity of engaging with other human beings as a primary way of engaging with God. Through our work with others, our worship with others and having our lives intertwined with others' lives, we learn what it means to be human beings...and we experience "conversion".

For Benedict, conversion of life wasn't some momentary, supernatural jolt that propelled us into the stratosphere of spirituality. Rather, this conversion of life grows within us as we attend to the most basic tasks of relationship. Every task or chore, undertaken with another in the community or alone on behalf of the members of the community, has the potential to open one's awareness to the movement of the Spirit within one's own life.

Earlier today I received the unexpected gift of what I will name as a "holy conversation". It unfolded and meandered over the course of two hours. Sometimes punctuated with great emotion and other times interrupted with spontaneous laughter, the conversation seemed to take on a life of its own. When the conversation concluded, none of the "presenting issues" which prompted the conversation in the first place had been solved, but somehow something was different. I was certainly different. So what made the conversation holy?

Did we speak directly about God or learn a new fact about the Bible? No.

Did we talk about the Church politics and/or debate the finer points of liturgy? No.

Did we even pray together? No.

Yet, upon reflection, I believe the Spirit was hovering (dare I say brooding?) over this conversation. And by the end of it, in some way, each of us was changed -- even though neither of us could readily explain how. But the experience has left me with plenty of questions about our societal (and my own incessant) drive toward efficiency and the "saving of time". Today taught me a lesson about spending time and the result was yet another opportunity to experience conversion.

2011-01-15T20:43:00.002-06:00

Voices from the Past

For the first two weeks of 2011, I've been on a mission to purge. I've pitched files. I've given away books. I've schlepped boxes upon boxes of various "treasures" to the dumpster in the church parking lot. I've made several trips to the Goodwill Center here in Wauwatosa. I've mercilessly plowed through the sorts of memorabilia that seem to adhere to clergy-types with time-honored predictability: old worship service bulletins, newspaper clippings, cards, notes and the like. To be honest, I had forgotten I even had some of this stuff!

Upon "reconnecting" with these various artifacts, I would ask myself a simple question, "If you haven't even thought about this thing for years, do you really need to keep it?" And, with only one exception the answer has been a resounding "NO!" And that exception was a homemade "bon voyage" card given to me by the members of an adult Sunday School class I taught in the years before leaving Florida to go off to seminary in Virginia.

I spent some time late this afternoon reading the card and appreciating the artwork. I found myself vividly remembering the two dozen or so folks who had spent nearly every Sunday morning together with me for over five years studying, wrestling and arguing with each other, all the while allowing the voice of the Spirit to be heard through each other's voices.

I read my friends' handwritten greetings in that homemade card. I noted the words of encouragement they offered. I remembered the great affection we had shared with each other. I also became aware of how many folks who had signed this card had since moved on to the "larger life with Christ." These "voices from the past" didn't haunt me, but they did powerfully remind me of our inter-connectedness -- across time and space. Sitting in my basement, I could see their faces; hear their voices; remember their gentleness and their grumpiness.

This group of people helped me hone my love of teaching. Their questions pushed me to learn. Their curiosity about God kept me curious. They taught me far more about the joy of community than one can learn out of a book. They were the Body of Christ to me.

And so tomorrow, when I celebrate the Eucharist, when I get to the part of the prayer where the celebrant acknowledges the heavenly chorus -- "Angels, Archangels and all the company of heaven", I will remember a few names of the the great multitude which no one can number -- C.T., Dorothy, Jack, Betty, Boots, Bitsy, Etta Mae, Ham, Laura, Jini, Walter and Lorraine -- the voices from the past who spoke to me today through their words of encouragement inscribed on a piece of poster board that's eleven years old.

The Episcopal Church is a better church because of them (even way up here in Wisconsin!), and I would have most certainly been less of a priest without them.

2011-01-14T18:35:00.004-06:00

A Day in the Life

Today is one of those typical days for a parish priest -- a day in which not much happened, but was full of activity anyway:

The day began with a celebration of the Holy Eucharist at 6:30 a.m. -- this early morning custom has been observed most every Friday at Trinity Church for nearly 50 years. What made this morning's celebration interesting was beginning it when no one was in the congregation -- just the priest and the acolyte in attendance (after all, Jesus said, "Where two are three are gathered in my name, I will be in the midst of them," right?). Fortunately, three folks arrived shortly after we began, so we had 5 in attendance for the day. We continued our time together with breakfast afterwards, shared a few stories and laughs as well.

After a quick break to take my son to school, I was back for a meeting with our parish Deacon a bit past 8 a.m. -- at my favorite meeting place, a coffee shop near Trinity. We enjoyed two hours' worth of conversation as we reflected on the ways in which God was working both in the Deacon's ministry beyond Trinity Church and the ongoing movement of the Spirit within our congregation. We outlined some next steps for two initiatives that we'll be sharing with the parish going forward.

I was back at the office by 10:15 a.m. and spent the next hour and a half answering e-mails, returning phone calls and initiating a few calls as well. By 11:45 a.m., it was time to dash across town for a meeting with a member of my support team who assists me in my own spiritual/psychological development. After a ninety minute meeting, it was back to the office to gather materials to take communion to one of our newer parishioners who is recovering from a recent surgery. By 4 p.m., that appointment was done and I realized I hadn't had lunch yet! So lunch was procured. A bit of reading done. Another few phone conversations.

And then, it dawned on me, "Oops! I never managed to post something to my blog!" So I sat for 30 minutes attempting to figure out something "meaningful" to write...and in the end, figured I'd offer a travelogue for my day. This is the thing about the work of the priest. Sometimes it doesn't look much like work. But, given the fact that I've been at it for twelve hours, it seems like I've done enough for today. I promise a better post tomorrow! Good night!

2011-01-13T13:24:00.002-06:00

Are We a Danger to Anyone?

"...if Christians live faithfully, the world will seek protection from the church. The task of the church is not to retreat into its own enclave but to keep heading further out despite the dangers. Indeed, the very fact that we keep pursuing our mission means that we necessarily create dangers that otherwise would not be there if we had stayed home...We live in a world that is dangerous to the church because of our church's self-deception that Christianity has tamed the world..." (Stanley Hauerwas & Will Willimon, Where Resident Aliens Live, p. 30)

Ever since last Saturday's shooting in Tuscon, I've been thinking lots about what it might be like for the Church to receive those tragic events and, instead of simply offering a few religious platitudes, get off our pews and charge out into the world with the reconciling message of Jesus.

What would it be like if Christians got involved with debating politicians -- regardless of party, on the merits of specific policies in light of our understanding of the Gospel?

What would it be like, if, instead of praying for peace within the comfort of our worship spaces, we became "warriors for peace" (a favorite Hauerwas phrase) and agitated for peace in the public sphere?

What would it be like if "respecting the dignity of every human being" became, not just a poetic line in the Prayer Book, but the marching orders for activism as we worked to transform systems which, desensitize us to the "image of God" in our fellow human beings?

I'm not suggesting we attempt to bend society to our will, or to attempt to make it "more Christian". Redemption isn't our work -- that belongs to God. Proclamation is our work. Giving voice to the Good News is our work. Being agents for healing, wholeness and new life is our work. This is dangerous work -- because it will threaten the status quo. Yet the healing, wholeness and new life such work can facilitate will spring up in all sorts of unlikely places -- legislative committee chambers, courtrooms, soup kitchens, prison cells, Habitat for Humanity build sites and countless other unexepected locations. Salvation comes where the Gospel is proclaimed and lodges in the hearts of those who hear it...and I suspect it most dramatically shows up in places far removed from a church building.

The events of last Saturday (as many other events in recent years) starkly remind us that our culture isn't "Christianized". There are dangers afoot. And yet, the call to the Church is to follow Jesus, wherever he leads -- out into the places where we are exposed, vulnerable and at risk. We may just get ourselves killed. But, until we are willing to engage the Gospel mission with abandon, I suspect ecclesiastical anemia will kill us long before "the world" will.

2011-01-12T09:46:00.003-06:00

Waking Up is Hard to Do

"And so in order to wake up, the one thing you need the most is not energy, or strength, or youthfulness, or even great intelligence. The one thing you need most of all is the readiness to learn something new. The chances that you will wake up are in direct proportion to the amount of truth you can take without running away. How much are you ready to take? How much of everything you've held dear are you ready to have shattered, without running away? How ready are you to think of something unfamiliar?" -- Anthony de Mello (Awareness: The Perils and Opportunities of Reality, p. 28)

The book purge continues. And an interesting thing happened in last evening's adventure into the basement. I rediscovered, buried in the bottom of a box, the book from which the above quote is drawn. Anthony de Mello, a Jesuit priest known for his writing and his leadership at spiritual conferences, was an early companinon in my explorations of the spiritual journey. Along with Joan Chittister, Thomas Merton, Thomas More, Henry Nouwen, Kathleen Norris, Parker Palmer and Eugene Peterson, de Mello introduced me to a way of reflecting upon life as it is lived -- not theorized out of a heavy tome of theology.

As I leafed through the pages of Awareness, I became painfully aware of how hard I've been working to avoid having anything "shattered". Keep it all together. Box it up. Organize it. Regardless of what "it" is. Books. Papers. Opinions. Work. Ministry. Keep everything under control. Live with the veneer of niceness. For God's sake, don't face into the harsh realities surrounding me -- injustice, oppression, violence, war, hatred and the rest. Can living neatly mitigate living in denial?

And then there's last Saturday in Tuscon. Once again I am reminded of the uncertainty of life, the consequences of violence and my own complicity in a system which benefits me while keeping so many others from enjoying the benefits of the life I so easily take for granted.

Nope. I don't want to stare into the mirror of THAT truth.
Too uncomfortable.
Easier to sort books.

Lord, have mercy.
Christ have mercy.
Lord, have mercy.