Preaching to the world

Photo:  The nave and high altar of St. Paul's, Chattanooga.

St. Paul's is a vibrant, large urban parish filled with the Holy Spirit.  

 A gem in the Diocese of East Tennessee that makes you feel blessed to be an Episcopalian.

Tomorrow, live at 10:30 a.m. (Eastern Standard Time), yours truly will be preaching at my field education parish, Saint Paul's Episcopal Church in Chattanooga, Tennessee. You can hear a live stream of the service, which will include five baptisms, via the parish's website or you can go directly to the radio station's site.  Both links are posted below.

If you can't spend that much time listening tomorrow, the sermon will be archived in a few days on the parish website, click below to go there now.  I'll be posting the text on the blog tomorrow as well.
St. Paul's Episcopal Church website

To listen to the service tomorrow, go directly to Talk Radio 102.3 fm in Chattanooga where the service is broadcast live, simply click on the "Listen Live" button at the top of the webpage.

Little Eucharists

Thank God for little eucharists. They come at unexpected times and usually in unexpected ways. It's so easy for me to bury myself into the work of the day to forget these thanksgivings, these God-given and Spirit-filled moments of pure joy. It's like a pinprick of light bursting through the grayness, or like a drop of water flooding your soul. Refreshing and invigorating, no doubt; they pick you up when you really need the warm hug of love.

It doesn't have to be big, in fact sometimes it's the smaller ones that really hit home. Whether it's a friendly smile, a short e-mail from a friend, or even just the ability to breathe a little, I thank God for little eucharists.

St. Hildegard, Abbess of Bingen and Mystic

A Collect for St. Hildegard (from Lesser Feasts and Fasts)

God of all times and seasons:  Give us grace that we, after the example of your servant Hildegard, may both know and make known the joy and jubilation of being part of your creation, and show forth your glory not only with our lips but in our lives; through Jesus Christ our Saviour, who lives and reigns with you and the Holy Spirit, one God, forever and ever.  Amen.

Poem: Water-logged

Help!  I'm soaked to the bone.
There's no sun, nothing to dry my body,
nor heat to warm my soul.
It just keeps pouring, and flooding,
and driving me away.
I can't even clear my eyes to see!
Help me Lord!
Give me something, some dry land,
some foothold in this world.
Subdue the waters and give me your
Daystar.
Please help me!  I fear I can't tread
the waters much longer.

Art: The Burning Bush

[Moses] led his flock beyond the wilderness, and came to Horeb, the mountain of God. There the angel of the LORD appeared to him in a flame of fire out of a bush; he looked and the bush was blazing, yet it was not consumed. Exodus 3: 1a-2a.

The Burning Bush, by Julie Carson, 2009.

Oil on canvas.

I came across this image in The Christian Century in the Spring 2008 and was stunned by the brilliance of the color and the feeling of the Divine that the painting evokes.  I took it to a close family friend and talented artist, Julie Carson, to see if I could commission her for this work.  Double-click on the painting to enlarge the image.

Today, this magnificent work hangs above the fireplace mantle in our living room.  It is very, very special to us and represents Julie's gift from God to paint and to express herself through this medium.  The camera does not even come close to catching the brilliant colors.  The texture of the oils, combined with the illuminating essence of the metaphor is quite striking!  I fully expect to see Julie's work progress in the years to come, who knows, she could be the next household name in oil painting.  Thank you Julie for this heartfelt gift of joy and wonder!

Icons in Progress

I wanted to show my readers some of the latest iconography that is currently in progress.  Double-click on the image to enlarge the photograph.  Note:  the camera does not do justice to the colors.

This is the second icon that I've written of Our Lady of Walsingham.  The size is 11.5 in. x 21.5 in., acrylic on wood.  It debuted this past Friday at the Sewanee Taize service at St. Luke's Chapel.  It adorns my prayer desk and never fails to move me into contemplation.  What strikes me are the eyes; a mother looks with tender love into those of her own son, knowing in her heart that his path will take him away from her.  The compassion and loving expression gets me, which is why I adore this particular icon of Our Lady.

I begun work at our recent Seminary Quiet day on Saint Edward the Confessor, whose shrine adorns the royal peculiar of Westminster Abbey in London.  St. Edward is a continuation of my desire to restore the images of British saints from the past--which now includes icons of Chad of Lichfield, Hugh of Lincoln, and King Charles the Martyr.  Future icons in this series will include St. Alban the Protomartyr and Edmund, King and Martyr.  This icon is 12 in. x 16 in., acrylic on wood.

In a pleasant break from the norm, I have also begun work on a Coptic-style icon of Christ enthroned.  The style is different and I am joyful with my progress so far (in fact, this was all done yesterday!).  You can also see the icon on the right which is the model.  Size is 10 in. x 17 in., acrylic on wood.

The Feast of the Exultation of the Cross

The Calvary Garden, The Community of the Resurrection, Mirfield

V. We adore you, O Christ, and we bless you.

R. Because by your holy cross you have redeemed the world.

"Don't romance the tragic," screamed my moral theology professor to us in class. The very thing that we have turned into jewelry, stickers, car magnets, and generally anything else that consumers will buy has not only romanced the tragic but anesthetized us from the real horror of the cross. The cross was a Roman torture device used for traitors and rebels of the Empire. I can envision hillsides littered with corpses and fallen crosses. It was the supreme statement of Rome to anyone who dared to defy her imperial power: we will hang you by the tree in the most humiliating death possible! The cross was cruel, the very shape intended to pull the body apart by means of a slow and certain death.

Today marks the Feast of the Exultation of the Cross (September 14th) and I cannot help but think of these things every year that we remember this day. I am afraid that so many of us Christians have softened the cross too much, glorifying it to the point of taking away its power.My doctrine professor says it quite succinctly, "there is only one cross that we glorify." Have we taken away it's efficacy? Has the meaning of the cross been dulled over time and by capitalism?

The versicle/response at the beginning is used at the start of each station during the Stations of the Cross. It is a clear reminder that by one cross and one Lord, the whole world was redeemed. Jesus the Son of God came into the world to teach us how to live, love, and forgive. His gospel was too radical for the established powers and principalities, overturning the balance of power in favor of the least, the lost, and the last. And we nailed him to the cross because of it, thereby God showing us the extremity and depths of true forgiveness and love.

A prayer from Saint Francis [paraphrased by BOB]:

"O Lord, may I feel in my body as much as possible the pain and suffering you endured on the cross. But even more, Lord, may I feel and know in my heart the love that brought you there." Amen.

Sweet Caroline

I found a new use for the maniple, and my model was my precious girl, Caroline. You can catch a glimpse of my latest icon of Our Lady of Walsingham in the background above my prayer desk.

A Prayer

“Fierce and Friendly Lord, we feel alone, but even here in school and in this class we discover friends we did not know we had. The discovery that we are not alone both gladdens and frightens us. Sharing life threatens loss of self. Give us the grace to learn that we have no life not shared. Father, Son, and Holy Spirit, make us in your image that we might be worthy witnesses of the joy that comes from your claiming us as friends. Amen.”[1]

---

[1] Stanley Hauerwas, Prayers Plainly Spoken (InterVarsity Press, 1999), p. 55.

Missale Anglicanum

I've blown my book budget this semester! But, I'm also now the proud owner of the Missale Anglicanum, The English Missal. This is a faithful translation of the Missale Romanum and tends to be popular amongst Anglo-Papists. Known as the "Knott Missal," the book has undergone several editions and now through Canterbury Press, one can order the most recent. Knott and Sons was the original publisher of the Missal.

I snagged a Third Edition of the Altar Missal published in 1934, complete in leather binding and with gilt-edged pages. It was sleeping in a small bookshop in England and will hopefully be airlifted to Sewanee in due time.

The Old Catholic Church has a comparison of the Ordinary of the Mass from two missals (Anglicanum and Romanum) on their website.

Didn't someone say blessed are the poor? I am now in that category...

Missale Romanum

Last night I ordered an old copy of the Missale Romanum, the Altar Missal for use with the Tridentine Rite Mass. No, I'm not swimming the Tiber--I've already done that and washed back up in the Thames. My fascination with Altar Missals began this summer whilst perusing the bookshops in Walsingham. It was in a smallish, but fantastic theological bookshop, where I came across a magnificent copy of the "Altar Missal," which was published in the late 1800s by the Society of Saint John the Evangelist. Complete with old leather tabs and gilded pages, the missal includes the Sarum Rite, the South African Rite, and parts of the Roman Canon. You should have seen how I traveled with it back to the States from England!

Now, I've added a few more altar missals to my collection: the 1928 Altar Services (The BCP), the 1979 Altar Book (current edition), and the Anglican Service Book Altar Missal (which I believe has since gone out of print).

So now, I'm adding one of the famous Benzinger Brothers edition, Pre-Vatican II Altar Missal to my collection. The etching above is one of the many illustrations to be found within the Missal. I cannot wait.......I'm a liturgy geek.

Old Mirfield

The College of the Resurrection at Mass.

Lower Church, The Monastery of the

Community of the Resurrection, Mirfield.

Needless to say, if you were to walk into "Lower Church" today at Mirfield, you would not find the worship space oriented in this direction. Much less, that crucifix, I believe, currently resides in the upstairs sacristry. The good old days....

Charles Gore, CR

The tomb of The Rt. Rev. Chares Gore, CR

The Community of the Resurrection, Mirfield, West Yorkshire

I like Charles Gore. I dig his theology--catholic and ardent Anglican. In our Doctrine courses, we are asked to select a theologian and then argue the various church doctrines through that theologian's words. I, of course, chose Gore. I even keep an old photograph of him on my desk in my study. A bit over the top? Nah.

I venerated the tomb of Blessed Charles when I stayed at Mirfield. I suspect that he's turned over and over in his grave with the rise of Anglo-Papists in the seminary college. I join with him in weeping for the Church of England. Pray for the Church!

The Altar at the foot of the Tomb of Gore.

Living Trees

Photo Credit: Mary Krouse

Mirfield, West Yorkshire

May 2009

Prosperous Blessings

“Prosper them with your blessing…”
From the CR’s Office of Compline

What is a blessing?

Is it always packaged nicely?

Does it sing sweetly?

Or can it sting?

I’ve discovered that prosperous blessings

are all that and more.

Abundant? Perhaps.

Graceful? Sometimes.

Painful? Most always.

They can feel as gentle as a late Spring rain,

or smell as a sweet as a Yorkshire rose.

Always, they reveal truth and always imparting

God’s healing grace.

So I’ll take mine with a smile and a tear.

Why I Chose the Episcopal Church

The challenge: in 150 words or less, describe why you chose the Episcopal Church. This was the challenge that The Forward Movement gave to seminarians in anticipation of publishing a new booklet. Below is what I wrote and submitted.

Heralds and Prophets

Submitted by Chad M. Krouse

“No other church heralds the Kingdom of God quite like the Episcopal Church. Our Church lives on the margins, where our Lord’s ministry heralds us and where the Kingdom stirs. I am an Episcopalian to stand among other prophets calling for the freedom of the Kingdom today, living an open Gospel witnessing Christ’s love to every one, everywhere. We struggle openly with the dangers of prophecy in our contemporary world, yet always honoring our history of truth and justice. I cannot sit idly by and ignore the pain and brokenness walking about; I am an Episcopalian to live as both herald and prophet of this Kingdom, working to bring about equality, healing, and peace.”

Windows Into Heaven

These are photographs that I took at Manchester Cathedral this summer. The windows were absolutely amazing and strikingly modern.

The "Fond du lac Circus"

At the consecration of R.H. Weller,

Bishop Coadjutor of Fond du Lac, 1900

I was in need of some light Anglo-Catholic humour. Interestingly enough, St. Tikhon of Russian later adapted the 1928 Book of Common Prayer to "Orthodox standards" and ushered in the Western Rite for the Orthodox Church.

From the Diocese of Fond du lac's Website:

"In 1900, Bishop Grafton found himself at the center of controversy when he presided at the consecration of R.H. Weller as Bishop Coadjutor of Fond du Lac. A number of bishops from neighboring dioceses took part in the service. Also in attendance, at Grafton’s invitation, was Tikhon, the Russian Orthodox Bishop of Alaska and the Aleutian Islands. After the service, the bishops went outside to pose for a picture. For the first time ever, bishops of the Episcopal Church were photographed wearing copes and mitres. The picture, which became known as "the Fond du Lac Circus," and was widely published in church publications and became a heated controversy.

"There were a number of controversies associated with this photo. First, the Episcopal Church had always had high, low, and broad factions that emphasized different aspects of the faith. The low church faction typically identified itself as Protestant. Contrast this with the high church faction which has identified itself with other "catholic" churches, such as the Roman, Old Catholic and Orthodox Churches. This photo was the first public photo, showing Episcopal bishops dressed in catholic vestments (as opposed to the more Protestant rochet, chimere, and tippet) and was an outrage to low church members of the Episcopal Church.

"Bishop Grafton had invited St. Tikhon and his Orthodox entourage and Bishop Kozlowski of the Polish National Catholic Church to come to the service, not merely to observe, but to participate. Ultimately, they did not, but they did vest and sit with the other bishops present. Even this was scandalous to the low church members of the Episcopal Church who held that Episcopalians had more in common with the other Protestant denominations than with the Old Catholics or "Greek Catholics" (i.e., Orthodox)."

Font of Blessing

"O font, font, font..."

++Michael Ramsey upon seeing his baptismal font.

Here at Saint Peter's Episcopal Church, located in the west end of Huntington, West Virginia, I was buried with Christ in the Spring of 1980. It was here at this old wooden font, complete with eight sides, that I rose up out of the waters of baptism to become a member of the Body of Christ.

St. Peter's is a very special church for me and my family. My brother and I were baptized there, my mother was baptized there, my parents and grandparents were married there, my grandmother was buried there, and I was married there. St. Peter's holds much of my family history--it's sort of like an ancestral church for us. It was there that I learned what church was and to appreciate the mystery and beauty of the sacraments. Since becoming a seminarian, I have preached there a number of times and have even read the Gospel at the Christmas eve Mass. Desmond Tutu allegedly preached from the pulpit here during an American tour many, many years ago.

I am a product of this parish. My whole life has been formed by the people there--past and present. As I move forward in the process towards priestly ordination, I cannot help but reflect on the foundation that was created there at St. Peter's.

St. Peter's has the first free-standing altar in the Diocese of West Virginia. I cannot tell you how many years of my life were fed from that altar. My heart will always be there.

Below is the Children's Chapel located in the Nursery. It was here that I learned to say the Lord's Prayer. I remember sitting in these miniature pews. I can still smell the wax candles burning. . .

Subversive Bread

10th Sunday after Pentecost
Sunday, August 9, 2009
Holy Trinity Episcopal Church
Onancock, Virginia

Deuteronomy 8:1-10

John 6: 37-51

“I am the living bread that came down from heaven. Whoever eats of this bread will live forever.”

We Southerners are very particular people. We’re particular about our traditions, we’re particular about our Ice Tea, and we’re especially particular about our food. You know exactly what I’m talking about. There’s only the proper way to make potato salad, devil an egg, or even fried chicken. Food here in the South is more than just sustaining life, it’s a way of life. It’s a way that we show hospitality and share with one another the fruits of our labor. Now living in England for seven weeks showed me a different side of food. The English are not exactly known for their cuisine, you can only live for so long on fish and chips! Before long, Mary and I were reminiscing about food. Ah, comfort food, the stuff that reminds you of home, of something familiar, of family. Hers was chicken and dumplings and mine was pecan pie and fresh tomatoes! Everywhere we went, we would somehow say to one another, “don’t you miss having such-and-such…” We were in West Yorkshire talking about Southern food. We didn’t go over there for the cuisine, but somehow that follows you. Inevitably, it seems, that you miss the comfort of things you can have easily only once they have disappeared.

Bread is the food that is woven throughout our readings this morning. In the Old Testament lesson we learn from Moses why Israel spent forty years wandering in thedesert. Forty years! Moses tells them that this was in order to humble them, and that in all that time the LORD was there leading them---never allowing the clothes on their backs to wear out or even their tired feet to swell up. They were given manna to eat, a strange new food, in order to teach Israel that they could not live on solely, “in order to make you understand that one does not live by bread alone, but by every word that comes from the mouth of the LORD.” Israel lacked the comfort of a home and the comfort of familiar food. And only by God’s grace did Israel survive the long ordeal. Their reward, however, was great. The land God was setting aside for was filled with olive trees, honey, figs, wheat, barley. The land was so rich that the flowing streams of waters were fed by deep wells—wellsprings that will not dry up. This place, this land is where Israel will lack nothing, where they can eat bread without scarcity. This is the gift and promise of God, so long as the commandments are kept.

Bread takes on an even deeper philosophical meaning in John’s Gospel reading. Jesus boldly proclaims, “I am the bread of life.” Jesus is the living bread that came down from heaven. Surely this is not the comfortable food that the disciples,much less even today, we can stomach reasonably. What an astonishing statement. “I am the living bread that came down from heaven. Whoever eats of this bread will live forever; and the bread that I will give for the life of the world is my flesh.” Consider this familiar statement heard every Sunday: “take eat, this is my body which is given up for you.” I wish the disciples’ reaction to this statement was recorded, probably more eyebrows were raised in the Upper Room than we can imagine. And yet we listen to all this as though we have heard many times before. Nothing seems odd to us about claiming one’s body as food. Yes, intellectually, we know that Jesus is clearly talking about something beyond the daily need of food; perhaps he’s clever at metaphor. But, if we cannot live by bread alone and at the same time we’re to eat the living bread from heaven, then what are we supposed to be eating?

It’s no coincidence that the language of food is used to help us understand in the most basic of ways our need for sustaining life. Feeding the stomach is important; feeding the soul is critical. Bread is one of the most staple items in just about every diet. Christ as the living bread from heaven is the gift from God to the world—just as the promised land was a foretaste of heaven on earth for Israel. All this, however, presupposes our complete and total dependency on God, or as the psalmist writes, “taste and see that the Lord is good, happy are they who trust in him.” You cannot simply feed your stomach and ignore your soul. You’ll surely die. And yet this heavenly bread is not comfort food—it’s not intended to satisfy our sense of building a comfort zone. It is to feed our souls and to spur us to action for the Kingdom. I am afraid that we hear those words so many times, “take eat,” or “give us today our daily bread,” that we use them as a sense of comfort rather than a call to action for Kingdom. The reality is that the Christian life is not a life of comfort. Even here, in this house of worship, there is no safe side of the altar or even a safe pew to hide from the call of Christ to work for the Kingdom. To eat this living bread, to partake in the life of Christ is dangerous work. And yet the rewards, the joy, the freedom of love which this life offers is truly awesome.

The words of Jesus are radical indeed. This bread is subversive to the established powers and principalities of this world. It subverts all the things in this world that are fleeting and flawed, things like power and greed. This bread is celebrated more times than we recite the pledge of allegiance, more times than we pay our taxes, and more times than we vote. The power of Christ is threatening to the powers because they live on bread alone. When we gather to break this bread and celebrate Jesus as the living bread taken, blessed, broken, and given to us and to the world, we are putting our trust in his Kingship and sharing in the powerful nourishment needed for body, mind, and soul. It’s easy to think that we eat Christ in the sacrament, but really it is Christ who consumes us. Hear again the words from this morning’s Collect, “Grant to us, Lord, we pray, the spirit to think and do always those things that are right, that we, who cannot exist without you, may by you be enabled to live according to your will.”

Our joy and our comfort comes from knowing that Christ has made a complete and total claim on our lives, and that we cannot exist otherwise. Our hope is that by sharing in the bread of life, we can be partakers of the Kingdom and serve as Christ’s hands in the world today. We live dangerously as Christians, but we live protected by God’s love and grace which is sustained every time we gather as the Body of Christ. Our comfort comes from trusting God, trusting in God’s ability to nourish us with exactly what we need, never going hungry. “I am the living bread that came down from heaven. Whoever eats of this bread will live forever.” Amen.

Transfiguring Motion

Climb! Climb! Climb!

The Feast of the Transfiguration is a feast of motion and movement. Our Lord takes his chosen disciples up on the mountain to reveal His glory; and the response is quite simply this, get down the mountain and walk on the via crucis to Jerusalem. Up and down, the motion that transfigures us to be disciples and to become bread to others for the Kingdom.

Up to ascend to the heavens is our response of love to God, upwards towards God who calls us into a life of divine consumption. Flowing down from heaven is God descending into our lives, into our souls, stirring us to become what we were created to be.

Once we have climbed the heights and been blinded by the radiance of brilliant grace, we are forever changed--we are transfigured into love. All we can do, then, is feel our way down to the bottom where we must live. We cannot stay on the mountaintop forever! The motion of transfiguration is ongoing and a permanent reality in our lives. Ours is the decision to climb and to follow the call of Our Lord to the summit where we can be consumed into His heart. And so the descent is an obvious one, stay and die or get down and live and work for the Kingdom of Christ.

From the Office of Matins, Monastic Breviary.

An Ancient Hymn of Transfiguration:

Quincumque Christum

All ye who yearn the Christ to see,

Uplift your eyes exultingly,

Eternal glory's symbol there

To your astonished glaze lies bare.

Exceeding bright the mystery

To us revealed, that knows no end,

Celestial, everlasting, high,

And older far than heaven or hell.

We there the Gentiles' King behold,

And King of his own Israel;

To Abraham once promised,

And all his seed, whilst ages run.

To him, fortold by prophets old,

Again by prophets witnessed here,

The Father's greater witness bids

Us listen and with faith adore.

To thee, O Lord, be glory given,

Revealing thus thyself to-day,

With Father and with Spirit one,

For ever and for evermore. Amen.

On Prayer

A Morning Prayer Sermon, 8th Sunday after Pentecost, Year B
Sunday, July 26, 2009
Holy Trinity Episcopal Church
Onancock, Virginia

Ephesians 4:1-7. 11-16
Mark 6:45-52

"And he went up on the mountain to pray."

Spirituality is in and religion is out. That’s the new trend these days. Stroll down the aisles of any bookstore and you will see many titles purporting to help your spiritual growth. We no longer need institutions such as the Church to bring us into a life of holiness; we can now do it alone. Spirituality, I believe, is a hyped up synonym for prayer, and prayer is something that we do not talk enough about in the Church. As a life-long Episcopalian, I cannot recall a single Christian Education class that even remotely came close to the topic of learning how to pray. Prayer is simply a given, so we believe, Jesus will teach you how to pray and your life will be prosperous. Ask and you shall receive! Knock and the door will be opened to you! That is prayer. . . come again? That simplicity fails to recognize the complexity and diversity of the human situation. How do we pray as a community? How do we pray privately? How do we know if we are doing it the "right way?" Unfortunately, there is no step-by-step numbered guide for instruction in prayer.

Building a rich life of prayer is more like an adventure, a journey to the heart. I sometimes wonder that the reason we neglect to seriously address this critical part of the Christian experience is because we are afraid that we will be found out—found that we cannot or do not pray or even believe that we lack the theological language to express our feelings and emotions, fearing our simple ways of the heart before the throne of the Almighty. I want to be a priest who prays. So often I see in parish profiles that parishes are searching for dynamic, visionary leaders—someone who can preach and help move a congregation to grow. We seem to take for granted that all of this should come automatically. It doesn’t. Only if it comes from a life deeply rooted in prayer.

Prayer is the essence of the Christian life, and we see that modeled in this morning’s gospel from Mark. Last week we heard the story of Our Lord feeding five thousand hungry souls, a miraculous action that still astonishes us today. And now this week we see the reflective side of
Jesus: “and he went up on the mountain to pray.” The model, we learn, is that of action and reflection—a paradigm of movement and rest. Which one comes first, well, that seems to be a chicken-and-egg question. The point is that Our Lord takes time in his earthly ministry to be alone and to pray. We see this pattern again and again. To go up to the mountain symbolizes a lot of the movement of the Gospel story—a movement of ascent, up to the heavens, the language of resurrection. Mark does not give us the content of the prayer and we can only presume that in that act of prayer there was more movement of descent, God indwelling in the recesses of the heart than could ever be reported. There is nothing wrong with the language of resurrection, for it’s a critical component to our story and our common life. However, we seem to have lost the language of Pentecost, the language of Incarnation—God descending to us, God desiring to be in an intimate relationship with God’s creation. The language of spirituality, and I would be willing to wager that most books on Spirituality, neglect this essential descending movement of prayer.

The problem is an old one and continues to plague the church even today. The problem in prayer is intellectual ascent. Culturally, we are hard-wired that education equals success, degrees equal security. Smart people are promoted, smart people make six figure salaries and have second homes. But when that logic is applied to the life of prayer it only reduces God to an object—an object that can be studied, measured, and ultimately contained. Prayer becomes like any another intellectual activity. But God is not an object, God is limitless and surpasses our human understanding.

So, we cannot climb mountains and think our way into heaven. God came down to us first, descending into our hearts and stirring us to work for the Kingdom. The action part of the model comes out of and is informed by, a rich life of prayer. The Christian life is not about doing good works in order to obtain heavenly salvation, the point is to be the hands of Christ, the mouth of Christ, and the visible and embodied love of Christ here and now. All this flows out from the totality of our life being consumed by Christ in prayer. I suspect this is what the Gospel passage is pointing us towards. “Speaking the truth in love,” as St. Paul says in today’s epistle, is only possible through intimacy with Christ in prayer—a total and complete dependency upon God as the strength and source of our action. Thus, prayer is at the very heart of all ministry—a piece of equipment that every saint and sinner needs.

If then prayer is at the heart of our common life in Christ, it must also be work. For this reason, we come up with a lot of reasons to avoid or put off praying. “There’s no time for praying, I am way too busy.” Believe it or not, this is heard more than you would imagine in our seminaries these days. There’s always a vestry or committee meeting to attend, a church fundraiser to organize, the altar brassware needs a good polishing, the Vacation Bible School needs my help—and these are just some of the more common Christian excuses. The call of God to prayer is deep and we need to get past our limitations that we place on God, for God is not interested in how pretty our altars look, how concise our bulletins are, or even how well we think we worship. God is interested in what is in our hearts, the very substance of our souls. When we descend with the mind into the heart, there we find God’s presence that was instilled in us from our creation. There we find our integrity and authenticity, there we see our sinfulness

surrounding by God’s gracious mercy and love.

If prayer is work, then prayer is also dancing. With each beat, each rhythm of the heart, God calls us onto the dance floor to be in intimate relationship. God’s love comes to us in prayer: we do not have to have a heightened vocabulary or even much experience of prayer, all we have to do is go out onto the floor and be guided in our footsteps.The dance is both vigorous and slow, close and yet far apart, strange and somehow very familiar. It is work and yet is also rest—it is the most intimate way in which God comes to us

So, then, we as church have our work and our fun cut out for us: we need to talk openly about our life of prayer—our struggles, our disappointments, and our breakthroughs. The community, the body of Christ, is the ultimate support group and is necessary in prayer. No book can offer you this, it is experiential and embodied in flesh, not paper. When we allow ourselves to be consumed by the risen Christ, we can with our minds descend into our hearts and find a wellspring of the living presence eternally inside of us. Prayer is the vehicle to wholeness, the means for us to remember that it is “not I, but Christ who lives inside of me.” Being spiritual or religious is completely meaningless unless it is dependent upon prayer. What ever your language, your style, or situation in life, pray. Pray and pray always that God is the source of your ministry and the foundation of your being. God can teach us to pray, we only need ears to listen. Amen.

Views of the Eastern Shore of Virginia

Some random shots that I've taken while here on the Shore.

My Summer Field Ed. Parish

My diocese asked me to do several weeks of parish field education back home. I was very fortunate to land at Holy Trinity Episcopal Church in Onancock, Virginia (Diocese of Southern Virginia).

Unexpected Friendship

In light of my recent post, "The Faces of God: God the Unexpected," I want to share a story with you.

- - -

I lit my cigarette and began to walk down the garden path on the monastery grounds.  It had proven to be an extraordinarily long day.  The stress and anxiety had been building all day in our small flat in the retreat annex; the children had indeed driven my wife to the brink.  So when I arrived back from a day journey to interview a priest, I walked into the thick of it rather unexpectedly.

As I strolled along the gardens, I heard the bell calling the community to Compline--the final service of the day.  Compline simply means "complete" and it's a way of completing the day with a beautiful service praising God for the blessings of the daytime.  I fell down into the comfort of a wooden bench, perched strategically behind some blossoming flowers.  Privacy, I thought to myself, and a brief escape from the world.  I could not bring myself to enter the 

monastic church that evening, I was beyond my capability to use words or find a sentence to utter in the coming twilight.

After I snuffed out the butt, I sat there in a daze.  I wondered all about the predictable stuff: did we make the right decision to move our small family to England for a time?  At what cost was this to my family to merely live out one of my longest-held dreams?

Before I came round, I could see the movement of black cassocks in the distance.  I snapped to and glanced down at my watch.  Blimey, I thought, Compline was over and so was my free time. I needed to get back to help get the children to bed.  While I had not discovered any new answers to my cause, I had enjoyed a brief respite from the hell of cranky children and a distant spouse.  I dreaded going back, fearing another screaming, crying meltdown from the kids.  My ears were exhausted.  

Just then, a black cassocked monk strolled along the path.  He rose about five feet in the air

 and his grey scapular was neatly swaying as he walked with his hands clasped behind his back and his head hunched over.  It was too ironic or coincidental that this one brother of the Community had taken to fancy night walks following Compline and here I was in his pathway. He was clearly deep in reflection or what one professor loves to say when he daydreams, "off in wonder, love, and praise!"  I had met Father John several weeks ago during a pilgrimage to Our Lady of Walsingham down in Norfolk.  He is a Guardian of the Shrine and a runner.  A monk-priest from Northern Ireland, John has been in the Community for nearly thirty years--an incredible source of spiritual wisdom!  I remember vividly waking up from my power nap on the bus back from Walsingham when I overheard him talking about running to a nearby seminarian--he must be in his late 60's and the shock jarred me out of my slumber.  What was more surprising was this seemed to be the first time I felt as though I had something in common with another person in the Community.  Running, I thought, was the perfect God-given commonality so I went for it and begin a conversation with John.

"Father John," I cried out, "do you have a minute?"  Knowing full well that the CRs enter into their silence following Compline lasting until Matins, I chanced it.  I was desperately reaching out.  Being fully pastoral, John broke his silence and sat down next to me on the bench.  I had managed to pull myself together by this point, wiping away tears and fearing my awful smoke-stained smell.  

It did not take any remarkable power of observation to see that I needed the company and someone to talk to about what was going on inside.  John was able to talk sweetly in his Irish voice and helped me calm down.  His faith and insight truly makes him stand twenty feet into the air even though I tower over him. 

Thus began an unexpected spiritual friendship that continued on throughout my time at the Community.  He agreed to serve as my temporary confessor and spiritual guide and I remain forever grateful to him.  Just as I began to think I was alone and disconnected to the community that I found myself in, God gave me Father John.  It surpasses the explainable coincidence, this was truly a gift and one that I quickly recognized in the silhouetted figure of a small, Irish monk off in the distance.

God the Unexpected was the face that I saw that evening.  I even smiled afterwards thinking about this blog post and knowing full well that I had encountered this joyous face in the midst of my own stress and spiritual loneliness.  Thanks be to God for this and for what I believe will be a friendship for the rest of my life.

An Evensong Reflection

Preached at Halifax Parish Church

Sunday, June 28, 2009

Halifax, West Yorkshire (England)

The Feast of Sts. Peter and Paul

Jeremiah 11:1-14 

Romans 13:1-10

“Love is the fulfilling of the love,” writes Saint Paul.  Love, “all you need is love,” I overhead whilst in Liverpool the other day.  Jesus himself adds a new commandment, “love one another as I have loved you.”  How do we fit in our need for God’s love with the ever-present and enduring state of sin in our lives, knowing that the sword of wrath is nearby?  Judgment is not a popular preaching topic in most Anglican pulpits in America or I suspect here in England.  It’s simply too uncomfortable; too impolite.  We hear the words and the commands to love one another, to love ourselves, to love God and God’s creation.  But we never get clear instructions as to how we achieve this in our every day lives!  Is it physical or emotional?  Is it simply spiritual love?  Or is it Eucharistic?

Jeremiah’s warning from God about the impending disaster to befall Judah and Jerusalem seems to collide into what could otherwise be a pleasant reflection about God’s love.  How does this fit?  Covenants and disasters are not the purpose of the Old Testament.  Unfortunately, many Christians take the approach that God in the Old Testament is a jealous god ready to deliver punishment on a whim, a God of the law, and then with the flip of the page, the God of the New Testament is the God of Love revealed in the person and work of Jesus Christ.  In fact the proper Jewish understanding of the Law is that the Law is freedom, the law is our delight—it is not a burden but rather a map to living in a loving relationship with God.    

The previous chapter in Jeremiah reveals that Israel has fallen by clinging to idolatry and worshipping false gods. There we read, “I know, O Lord, that the way of human beings is not in their control, that mortals as they walk cannot direct their steps.  Correct me, O Lord, but in just measure; not in your anger, or you will bring me to nothing.”  And now we read of God’s pending wrath. 

The connection in these two readings comes by simply looking into the center of our lives and seeing what we hold up as truth, what we worship.  Idolatry in the Old Testament would easy translate into today’s desires for more money, better appearances, and generally anything else that pulls our hearts away from the love of God.  God is always faithful, waiting patiently for us to respond to the invitation of love.  Just as Jeremiah says, we cannot direct our own steps, we need God’s help in our everyday lives.  When we try and walk alone, we follow our own will and not “thy will.”  That’s when trouble begins.

In this season following Pentecost, most commonly referred to as “ordinary time,” I prefer to look at this space before Advent as simply “Kingdom time.”  This is a time following the inauguration of the Kingdom where we are called to live deeply into its truths and live out its promises of justice, equality, and above all, love.   If love is indeed the fulfilling of the law, then we must open up our very souls to be flooded with heavenly grace.   Living in the Kingdom is not just about being good, it’s about living by God’s directives.  The latter day prophet, Mother Teresa once said, “at the end of our life we will not be judged by how many diplomas we have received, how much money we have made, how many great things we have done.  We will simply be judged by 'I was hungry and you gave me to eat, I was naked and you clothed me, I was homeless and you took me in.’”  If there’s any doubt, then, as to what we are to do in our daily lives as Christians it is simply that. 

There’s a rather young hymn in the American Church with a simple refrain, “they will know we are Christians by our love.”  How we love and what we love are equally important to the Christian task.  In this morning’s Gospel, we heard about Jesus giving to Peter the power of the keys—the power to bind and loose on earth.  What strikes me the most about this is that we tend to bind more than we loose.  We bind out of fear, fear of the unknown, fear of the other.  We bind out of judgment—repelling those things that we see in the world that we know exist inside of us.  We bind and thus we ourselves are bound.  In light of the command to love one another as I have loved you, we should be persuaded to loosen more than we do.  We do this by love, we do this by mending broken relationships, standing alongside others in their battles with addiction and recovery, being a strong shoulder for a loved one who has recently been diagnosed with a terminal disease, or simply stretching forth our arms to our sisters and brothers living on the margins of the world.  We loosen those chains in our lives by relinquishing the power of our own idolatry.   When we honor the Christ in each stranger, we are in affect loving the Christ that lives inside of us.  We love and so let go of those things that really bind us, loosening by God’s grace and allowing the light to shine brilliantly inside of us.  

Then, they will know we are Christians by our love.