Tales from Canterbury - part XIV

Some experiences feel too amazing to be true, but God has a way of showing us the way and teaching us the truth.

Today was remarkable in many ways, it is Pentecost, it is the last day that the Canterbury Scholars are in residence, and it is the day I witnessed hospitality and servanthood in a manner that is beyond imagination.

For the past two weeks I have been treated royally eating wonderful gluten free meals and always having a gluten free host available at Eucharist. These were always provided with a smile and the feeling that it posed no inconvenience; it was true hospitality. The Pentecost mid-day Eucharist was much larger than previous Sunday worship, it was a high mass complete with incense. The presider was the Arch Bishop of Canterbury, Rowan Williams. The liturgy, music, and homily were all amazing, clearly the Holy Spirit had descended upon us.

The Dean and Canons of the Cathedral had become accustom to serving me a gluten free wafer during Communion; however when it was time to receive Communion I realized that I was in line to receive from the Arch Bishop. I began to question if I should receive the regular host that is poison to my body, or should I step past the Arch Bishop and receive only the wine. Before I realized it, I looked up and asked the Arch Bishop if he had a gluten free host. When the answer was no I tried to indicate that I would receive wine as communion in whole. But he as not to be deterred. The Arch Bishop quickly asked the Canon across the aisle and she indicated that it was on the altar. Before I knew it the Arch Bishop was walking back to the altar and returned with the gluten free host. I had been served by a true servant.

Feeling very humbled by my own forwardness and wanting to apologize to an appropriate Canon I proceeded to the scheduled reception at the Deanery. There I stood in the crowd trying to not cause more trouble.

It was then that I felt a gentle hand upon my shoulder. I turned thinking that it was a new dear friend; as I turned there stood the Arch Bishop of Canterbury in his crimson cassock. He had sought me out to apologize for taking so long in providing the gluten free host. This humble and gentle man embraced me with hospitality and servanthood.

As I write this it has been hours since this experience unfolded and I am still overwhelmed by emotion. The life he lives and embodies is a living example of service to God and to others. On the first day that the Canterbury Scholars met servanthood was a topic of discussion. Two weeks later, on the final day of the pilgrimage, a living example was presented to me; God always knows how to fill your cup when it is most needed.

When Jesus met Bartimaeus, a blind man, along the road Jesus asked Bartimaeus “what do you want me to do for you?” Bartimaeus asked to receive his sight, and he was healed.

When I went forward to receive Communion the Arch Bishop asked with his gentle presence “what do you want me to do for you?” And with that I was fed.

On this last night in Canterbury my prayer is that you are fed and hospitality surrounds you,

May the Grace of our Lord Jesus Christ,

and the love of God,

and the fellowship of the Holy Spirit be with you evermore.

Amen.

Tales from Canterbury - part XIII

In the 580’s Ethelbert, heir to the throne of Kent, married the French princess Bertha. As a condition of her wedding Ethelbert was required to allow Bertha to continue worship as a Christian. Ethelbert provided a Roman building to be used as the royal chapel. Because Bertha had been raised near Tours where Saint Martin had been bishop two centuries earlier this chapel was named for Saint Martin.

When Saint Augustine arrived in 597 it was in Saint Martin’s Church (pictured here) that he lead worship. It was also here, in about 601, that King Ethelbert was baptized as a Christian. This change was significant, not only for Ethelbert’s baptism, but also because for the first time in English history the monarchy and the Church were united.

Baptism is a significant change for an individual as they are welcomed into the Christian community. This Anglican Pilgrimage at Canterbury also provided the impetus for significant changes for the participants.

For some this means they will listen more. For others they will speak out more. Still others found changes in their prayer lives. It is also safe to say that for many the recognition of change will only be apparent with time.

During our final formal session we crafted a statement explaining what occurred these past two weeks. It was an interesting exercise in getting thirty two people to agree on one statement. The result reads as follows:

As servants of God we gathered in diversity to meditate upon our ordination vows. We built friendships through prayer, fellowship, and sacrament. Through respectful listening we learned that the Anglican Communion is a dynamic, rich part of the Body of Christ sustained by God’s Grace for His Glory.

It is not possible to spend two weeks in community, praying together three times a day, eating together three times a day, and participating in discussions both simple and complex without being transformed.

For Christians baptism is our most significant moment of change, at that moment we move from a life facing death to a life eternal. Ethelbert’s baptism was significant for him and for the spread of Christianity in England and the Western world. For the Canterbury Scholars our experience was transformative. With God’s help this will also be transformative for the Anglican Communion.

On this Pentecost Eve my prayer comes to you from the Church of England prayer book:

Come, Holy Spirit, fill the hearts of your people,

and kindle in us the fire of your love.

Tales from Canterbury - part XII

On Friday I was treated to a different perspective. Many of us had the opportunity to climb the very long spiral stair case to the top of Bell Harry Tower. The tower was completed in 1498 and is 249 feet tall, at the top is the bell that calls everyone to service. The bell is named for Prior Harry (Henry) Eastry.

Climbing that tower provided a very different perspective. From about the mid-point you can look out on the inside of the church and see the quire and the nave from very different perspectives.

A little further up is a large wooden wheel, it looks a bit like a water wheel at a granary. Two men would have stood inside the wheel and walked in one direction or another to raise and lower building supplies for the tower. It is a “modern” convenience from a different time and culture. Though now tied off the wheel is still functional. The trap door in the ceiling used for the rope and basket is now used for hanging television cameras when a service is to be broadcast.

High upon the tower you can look in all directions and see the city of Canterbury. From this perspective you can see that the town was built around the Cathedral in rings moving out from the center, like rings in a pond when a stone is dropped in. Interspersed among the many old buildings in the city are new buildings dating to the mid 20th century. These buildings were placed there out of necessity; the bombings of WWII had destroyed their predecessors. In many cases the exact date of the bombing that destroyed a particular building could be identified. Seeing these holes in the fabric of the building history is most noticeable from the perspective of the tower.

Climbing this tower provided a very different perspective on this Cathedral, the surrounding town, and the Anglican Communion.

On the surface it would seem that two priests from the same country, both women, would have similar stories. Yet one priest is from a First Nation. There are some aspects of her ministry that have more in common with a First Nation priest from North America than her colleague in the same country. They share different perspectives.

Other members of the Anglican communion can literally face death for what they preach. Speaking out in opposition to a rival group can lead to a quick and final retribution.

Another perspective shows us that in some areas widows and orphans are not cared for, they are cast aside. In that community people can eat for weeks on the amount of money many in the Western world spend on a coffee at Starbucks each day.

We share different perspectives on the Episcopate and Bishops. The US Episcopal Church is often remembered for the advertising campaign that said “You don’t have to check your brains at the door in an Episcopal Church.” Yet in some parts of the Anglican Communion the bishop will tell a priest where to serve, what to preach, and what to believe. One brother on this pilgrimage was informed by his bishop that with his ordination to priesthood only months away he must find a wife and be married prior to ordination.

Or consider the country where Anglicanism is relatively new. If a priests talks about the history of the Anglican Church in terms of King Henry VIII and his desire for a divorce the faith is not received well; however if the history begins with Saint Augustine arriving in England in 597 there is great acceptance. It is simply a matter of different perspectives.

This pilgrimage has provided a very different perspective on many areas of ministry and of the Anglican Communion.

My prayer from Canterbury is that you are blessed by different perspectives,

Tales from Canterbury - part XI

Early in this Anglican Pilgrimage we were reminded to look and listen. Several days later the Arch Bishop of Canterbury reminded us to look and listen. Scripture tells us that Jesus did what he saw the Father doing; he also was practicing a ministry of look and listen.

Have you ever read the Bible and heard the stories and wondered why there are two Creation stories? Have you ever looked and listened and wondered why there are two flood stories? Did the animals come two by two, or where there seven of each kind? Have you ever wondered why and questioned what difference does this make? Have you ever looked and listened to the stories about Jesus and wondered why Mark, Matthew, and Luke are so similar and John is so different? Why would that occur and what difference does it make? Have you ever wondered why some of the Bible is written in prose and other in poetry? Have you ever wondered what the world was like when the Bible was written, what was occurring and what did life look like? Have you ever wondered why one translation uses a particular word and a different translation found a different word more fitting? What is the effect when we consider that many of the original Greek words have multiple definitions? Looking and listening to the Holy Scripture brings these questions and so many more.

Asking these questions is how many, though not all, Anglican seminarians and clergy learn to look and listen to Scripture. As I look and listen to my brothers and sisters from around the world I find that for some their education and their ethos does not lead to reading the Bible in this same manner.

Every November or December the same conversations occur; some people complain about the use of “X-Mass” in lieu of “Christmas.” They say you should not take the Christ out of Christmas. This argument is not about intelligence or education level, it is about different education. An education in Biblical Greek will inform the recipient that “X” is the letter chi; the first letter in Khristos or Christ. With that knowledge Christ is very much a part of X-Mass, it is a matter of a different education.

In our pilgrim journey walking 12km along Saint Augustine’s trail to Canterbury we all walked differently. Some walked and constantly paused to look or listen to the sounds of nature. Others strode confidently as if in a race. Some listened to music and others to nature and some talked with their walking companion. In our pilgrimage in quiet in All Saints Chapel some sat in silence, some prayed, some fidgeted and left as soon as possible, and some struggled with the silence. We all manifest our pilgrimage differently.

We also read the Bible differently, the same words but different meanings. Some of that is a result of different seminary and theological education. Some of that is the pressures of the hierarchy of the Church. Some of that is culture.

In some ways the 800 pound gorilla in the room was recognized today; Americans are ordaining homosexuals and lesbians. Unfortunately there was little looking and listening. I was told that as Americans we don’t read Scripture properly and that we don’t take the Bible seriously enough; as a result we have all these problems with “the gays.” Sexuality is not a new issue. In the mid 1900’s the bishops at Lambeth Conference discussed ordination of women. Some fifty plus years later the Lambeth Conference was preoccupied with sexual orientation and ordination. Hundreds of years prior to all of these contemporary questions the celibacy and marriage of priests was questioned. These are the same issue, just different perspectives.

I am saddened that not all brothers and sisters of the Anglican Communion are ready to look and listen. Not all are ready to find an understanding of the other. Until understanding occurs, note I did not say “agreement,” the 800 pound gorilla will continue to sit in the corner and eat much of our valuable time and efforts. It takes a lot to feed an 800 pound gorilla.

I am also pleased that dialogue does exist with others, many do look and listen. And I am pleased that we can find common ground on so many other parts of our ministry. This view is true for the Anglican Communion, it is also true for differences within a parish.

Looking and listening is so simple, but clearly not easy. Reading the Bible is so simple, but clearly not easy. This is not a me - you, or us - them problem; we all struggle with looking and listening at different times.

Saint Augustine’s grave (pictured above) lies among the ruins of the monastery that he built in Canterbury. When Augustine arrived in 597 he had been instructed by Pope Gregory to look and listen. He was to take what was good of the customs of the existing Christians and of the pagans and use those customs as appropriate. Our religious practices today incorporate elements of these other cultures. Saint Augustine looked and listened and Christianity flourished.

From Canterbury I pray that you may be blessed by looking and listening,

Tales from Canterbury - part X

“In my Father’s house there a many mansions.” House within a house? That does not make much sense does it? The Latin word mansio is the root of mansion; however it is more accurately translated as a resting place.

On a journey a resting place might be a brief stop, or it might be a longer stay for rejuvenation. During a pilgrimage the mansio may be the destination or it may be found along the path. Finding the space that rejuvenates you could be invaluable.

Yesterday, Tuesday, we took a pilgrimage that traced a probable 12km route along Saint Augustine’s path to Canterbury. Today we made a very different type of pilgrimage. Along this pilgrimage we rested in a small chapel up a very narrow set of curved stone stairs. We found ourselves in the Chapel of All Saints. This Holy Space high above the south transept dates to about 1400.

It was in this resting place, this place of hospitality that, after a reflection on a Bible passage, one of our fellow pilgrims led us in the singing of Dona nobis pacem.

The Chapel of All Saints became a mansio for me. I have other spaces like that as well, whether it is the office of my mentor, the sea, a mountain top, a kneeler before a candle, or my new found space Christ Church Canterbury Cathedral. We all need a space of hospitality and rejuvenation.

Sometimes that space is the journey, sometimes that space is the destination.

I pray that you find your own mansio and in the silence of the hospitality you remember that “silence is the language God speaks and everything else is a bad translation.”

From Canterbury I pray, Dona nobis pacem,

Tales from Canterbury - part IX

It is no surprise that learning occurs in and out of classrooms. Tuesday was a day out of the classroom. We traveled by coach to Ebbsfleet on the Kent coast. This is the sight of Richborough Fort.

Richborough Fort was founded by the Roman Empire about the year 43. It is also the probable site of Saint Augustine’s landing in Britain in 597. The Roman settlement would have been the first spread of Christianity to the British Isles, and Saint Augustine would have brought the more formal and recognizable religion that we know today. This is where Christianity began for Britain and, through colonization, for America. It is Holy Ground.

Augustine would then have traveled by foot and horse to Canterbury, a distance of 25 miles. The exact path of his journey is not documented, though there are probable routes. We walked 12km of that route from Grove Ferry into Canterbury. It was a pilgrim’s journey.

One never knows who they will meet on a journey, though along the road to Emmaus a particularly interesting traveler was revealed. Did we meet Jesus on the pilgrim’s path to Canterbury? Certainly not in the same way that Cleopas and his companion did, but I strive to see Jesus in everyone I meet, though through my own failings I am not always successful. We did see the beautiful country side of Kent, and we certainly saw Holy ground, and the bonds of lifelong friendships were solidified on the journey.

As Christians we are called to be in community. Our community and the friendships of that community were strengthened. As we walked the trail of Saint Augustine we certainly witnessed Jesus at work.

Tales from Canterbury - part VIII

Contemporary tradition; I am not sure if that is the best term but it came to mind and will have to work for now. Here I am resident in a community with a history dating to 597. This space and this faith are deeply rooted in tradition. That is a factor that makes the Anglican Church attractive to many people. The deep full history enriches the worship experience and provides a foundation for the spread of the faith to others.

Yet here we are in the year 2011. A period where many would suggest that traditions from a thousand years ago, or even a hundred years ago are out of touch with the realities of today. I find that nothing could be further from the truth.

Evensong tonight followed the usual pattern, one that has existed for centuries with little change. Every movement, song, and Scripture reading would be recognizable to someone from the eighteenth or nineteenth centuries. As is tradition, following the choir anthem, we pray for the Anglican Communion near and far, and for those in need. It was at that moment that a tradition that is alive in a contemporary context became apparent to me.

The first of the intercessions offered this evening was to pray for those suffering the darkness of depression. I was transformed from being attentive to being hyper-attentive. Two years and one month ago my sister ended her twenty five year battle with depression. I have forever been changed by that experience. Depression is a disease that is hidden and people are loath to discuss, like the disease itself depression hides in the darkness. This centuries old cathedral now resounded with prayers for this contemporary illness.

Lord Jesus Christ, who for love of our souls entered the deep darkness of the cross: we pray that your healing love may surround all who are in the darkness of great mental distress and who find it difficult to pray for themselves. May they know that darkness and light are both alike to you and that you have promised never to fail them or forsake them.

The disbelief of that morning two years ago as I learned of my sister’s death still resonates strongly with me. Feeling a total loss for direction that morning I remembered the words of a priest who has walked with me in my formation. She had shared with me advice that she had received at her own ordination; that advice was to make the Daily Office (Morning and Evening Prayer) your own, because there would be days that the Daily Office was the only thing you could hold on to. With the news of my sister’s death I had entered one of those days. For the next several weeks it was Morning Prayer, a tradition dating back more than 1,000 years, that allowed me to move forward each day.

Today hearing a prayer in a traditional service of Evensong for those suffering the darkness of depression, a very contemporary issue, made me realize that beneath the deep emotion and tears that I was experiencing I was supported by the love of Christ and the Anglican faith. A faith that is alive with contemporary tradition.

My prayer from Canterbury is that your days be filled with light,

for my brothers and sisters who are in darkness may you be reborn in the light.

Tales from Canterbury - part VII

Sunday was our first day with a full sung Mass at the Cathedral. We celebrate Eucharist every day, along with Matins and Evensong; however Eucharist is usually said, not sung, and any hymns are a cappello. Today the Mass included the Cathedral Choir, perhaps you can tell that I am overwhelmed by this choir.

The Eucharist is celebrated at the High Altar. When it is time for Communion the choir processes to the High Altar to receive first; this is not unusual otherwise Communion hymns become an issue. Now here is the difference, the choir did not process back to their seats.

Following the reception of Communion the choir ascended twelve steps above and behind the High Altar to the area known as Trinity Chapel. This is where the shrine to Saint Thomas Beckett stood prior to 1538 when King Henry VIII had it destroyed. From this lofty position above the High Altar the choir began to sing without accompaniment. The song choice was Psalm 150. During the administration of Eucharist the entire Cathedral reverberated with the voices of the choir and these words:

Hallelujah!

Praise God in his holy temple;

praise him in the firmament of his power.

Praise him for his mighty acts;

praise him for his excellent greatness.

Praise him with the blast of the ram’s-horn;

praise him with lyre and harp.

Praise him with timbrel and dance;

praise him with strings and pipe.

Praise him with resounding cymbals;

praise him with loud-clanging cymbals.

Let everything that has breath

praise the Lord.

Hallelujah!

High above the altar these words of praise rang out. There were no projection screen TVs, no praise band, no smoke machine, no flashing lights. Simply the sound of twenty seven pure voices singing praise to the Lord.

This simple act took my breath away.

Peace and Blessings from our Anglican home,

Tales from Canterbury - part VI

With Angels and Arch Angles,

Liturgy in the Cathedral has been flawless and wonderful. There are nine vergers employed full time at the Cathedral, as a comparison the National Cathedral in Washington has two full time vergers and five volunteers. These professionals see that the services are without unintended distraction.

Evensong, sung each day, has been blessed this past week with the choirs of Saint Martins in the Fields, and the University of the South Sewanee Tennessee. While these services are beautiful there is little space for active participation by the congregation. The service is sung by a priest, and the choir. The Creed and the Grace are the only active parts for the congregation. My own personal habits have involved services with more active involvement. These services are asking for emotional and spiritual involvement.

The Cathedral Choir has been on holiday and that is why the talented voices of these other choirs joined us this past week. On Saturday the Cathedral Choir returned; and with Angels and Arch Angels the service was sung.

The Cathedral Choir consists of choir master, fifteen young boys and twelve men. The songs and chants of this choir are truly, as expressed by Saint Augustine, best described as “He who sings prays twice.”

With this choir in place I no longer felt the void of not actively participating in the Evensong service. I was deeply involved in the service, involved on a very spiritual level.

In liturgy there is definitely a place for congregational participation. There are also times when we should allow others to take us to spiritual spaces. Working with that balance and providing different experiences for different people and different times is a duty to not be taken lightly. Recognizing the gifts and ministries of others so this can be facilitated is important. Liturgy is after all, not for our own glory, but always for the glory of God.

Peace and Blessings in the continual worship of Our Lord,

Tales from Canterbury - part V

There has been so much violence in and around the Church. Very real examples of this were evident during a candlelight tour of the Cathedral Friday night. We stood on the site where Saint Thomas Beckett was martyred by his king in 1170. And we concluded our tour with prayers in Trinity Chapel; the site of the shrine to Saint Thomas Beckett that was destroyed by King Henry VIII in 1538. This site had been the destination of so many pilgrims that the stones are worn down from where they kneeled to pray. Unfortunately that violence continues today in so many forms.

As part of ordination clergy take a vow of obedience to the Bishop and the canons of the Church. Part of Friday’s discussion was around discipline as related to this vow of obedience. This discussion was lead by an evangelical Anglican bishop from Nigeria. The definition of discipline that was offered by many of our African brothers focused on rules, regulations, and punishment.

This is in contrast to the view of some of my American brothers and sisters. At least those I discussed this with are aligned with the thoughts of Arch Bishop Williams when he talked of how the word “discipline” comes to us from “disciple.” As a disciple we give ourselves fully. We follow the Church and the leaders out of love, not fear of retribution. As Nouwen said “power offers an easy substitute for the hard task of love.” I wonder if these divergent views of discipline come back to power versus love. The easy road versus the hard road?

Yes, violence seems to have surrounded the Church for centuries. Unfortunately it still exists around the Church, and sadly within it as well.

Our hope though lies in looking, listening and in prayer. As Canon Condry pointed out when showing the indentations in the stone where countless pilgrims kneeled at Beckett’s shrine, “With time, even stone is worn away by prayer.”

Peace,

Tales from Canterbury - part IV

Thursday was a day of experiential learning; and it was a truly amazing experience.

A bus took us to London where we crossed the meridian in Greenwich (think Greenwich Mean Time) had a quick view of Saint Paul’s, Westminster Abbey, Parliament, Buckingham Palace and the sights and sounds of this bustling city. Astounding to me in this city, with the energy and density of New York, there was not a single car horn to be heard. Perhaps English driver education teaches this, or perhaps there is a different ethos being exhibited.

Most of our day revolved around Lambeth Palace in London. This is the center of the Anglican Church. Here we ate lunch in the gardens, and toured the palace. The walls are lined with portraits of the succession of those who have served as Arch Bishop of Canterbury. These portraits tell the history of our Anglican Church.

Part of that history is the King James Bible, written in the common language - English. On display in celebration of the 400th anniversary of the King James Bible is a first edition Bible. Respect for protocol means that I do not have a photo of this very important book, though its image will be with me forever.

We were also treated to an audience with the Arch Bishop of Canterbury, Rowan Williams. Arch Bishop Williams is warm and genuine. We received warm hospitality first in a discussion and then in afternoon tea. He is a servant leader in all the wonderful ways that we discussed earlier in the week. There is so much to pass along from our discussions but I will limit it to this one aspect. Part of our role, as Christians, is to look and listen. As reflected in the Gospel of John, Jesus tells us that he does what he see the Father doing. By looking and listening we can see what the Father is doing and do likewise. For the Arch Bishop this is best exemplified by faithfulness of prayer.

This was truly a day of experiential learning. We said Evening Prayer with the Arch Bishop in his private chapel in the crypt of Lambeth Palace. This holy space is where the Arch Bishop says Morning and Evening Prayer when he is in residence. This holy space has resonated with prayer for years and will continue to do so. This is part of how we look and listen.

We also look and listen by opening scripture and reading the Bible with the expectation of learning, with the expectation of being changed, and with the expectation of being converted. The Arch Bishop provided the reminder that none of us is the second person of the Holy Trinity so in our imperfection we must expect to always be converted.

Living as a Christian means living in community. As we look and listen we keep and build relationships in community. As we look and listen we can also build relationships beyond our Christian community. As we look and listen we keep and build our relationship with Father, Son and Holy Spirit.

As I reflect on this past day I am reminded that there were no car horns sounding in the busy city of London. I am also reminded that the Arch Bishop said to look and listen. He did not speak about talking, expressing yourself, or making yourself heard. Maybe the silence of the car horns says that all those thousands of drivers were looking and listening and did not need to be heard.

Peace and Blessings from Canterbury,

Tales from Canterbury Cathedral - part III

This third day of the Anglican Pilgrimage at Canterbury we discussed ordination vows and in that context - servant leadership. There were some teasers offered of future conversations that need to occur; if not in this setting then in a pub. Entertainment tonight was the movie “Of Gods and Men,” yes we are theology geeks. A fascinating story of persecution by terrorist extremists, and all too real.

The movie centered on intolerance and power. Interestingly we discussed power in relation to our conversation of servant leadership today. A stunning comment on this topic comes from Henri Nouwen:

“What makes the temptation of power so seemingly irresistible? Maybe it is that power offers an easy substitute for the hard task of love. It seems easier to be God than to love God, easier to control people than to love people, easier to own life than to love life.”

While our discussion on this quote focused on priests and bishops, this statement is universal in its appeal. I am intrigued at how this dynamic plays out in the work place, in the home, and in our communities?

“Power offers an easy substitute for the hard task of love” - that is something to work with for a long time. That is not to say that I can not begin to implement the concept before truly understanding it. Starting on the path of love should not be delayed by a lack of complete understanding, rather the journey will provide the illumination needed to continue and to be embracing of love. And the journey will provide the encouragement needed to avoid the easy road of power.

I am coming to see that Nouwen, with his usual illumination, has framed the love of Jesus in a manner that is easily applicable to our contemporary context.

Choosing love over power may mean that projects, activities, or events may not turn out exactly as you envisioned them, and that may be the joy of it. I am reminded of a father’s day breakfast about ten years ago (my son was quite young); the core menu of ham and eggs seemed harmless enough. However the ingredients also included olives, lemon juice, and green food dye. Through power my wife or I could have assured that the meal was prepared in a conventional manner. Through love I was served a memorable meal (that I hope to never repeat) and to this day that meal continues to feed me with great joy and love.

My prayer tonight from Canterbury is that you may be guided by love, and that you may love others fully.

In the love of Christ, Peace and Blessings,

Tales from Canterbury Cathedral - part II

Tuesday was the first official day of the Canterbury Scholars Program. It was a day of more formal introductions and study. There was time for a walk around Canterbury, as well as dinner at the Deanery.

One of our topics today was reading the Bible and our early memories of the Bible. I have come to realize that I was raised in a home that though we attended church we did not own a Bible. And I know that I am not alone in that experience. The Bible was read as part of church liturgy, but not at home and not by laity.

I was constantly reminded of the story of why Episcopalians like the Bible so much - they like the Bible because it quotes the Book of Common Prayer so often. That story tells much of how a person could be raised in the Episcopal Church and not read the Bible.

Several colleagues with Evangelical childhoods told stories of how the Bible had been used as a weapon to force a particular behavior. There were also challenges between kids to show how quickly you could locate a particular passage in the Bible. For some the Bible was read at family meals. One person from south Asia told of using the Bible to learn to read because it was the only book available.

A particularly strong story was told by one of our brothers from an African nation where persecution of Christians is still common. When he was a child thieves broke into his home and stole everything; every belonging was gone. Several days later the bag in which he kept his personal belongings was located. It was empty of all his toys and possessions. Empty except for the Bible that his mother gave him at age eight. The thieves had left behind the Bible. That Bible remains a treasure these decades later.

What became evident from our discussion is that as we read the Bible we often find questions rather than answers. These questions are a gift from God. So why do we resist receiving these gifts? Why do we resist the formation that occurs when we read the Bible?

This poem, shared with us by The Rev. Dr. Kathy Grieb, may help us to see how we can best learn to read the Bible, accept the gifts of questions that God gives us, and cherish the formation that occurs.

I ask them to take a poem

and hold it up to the light

like a color slide

or press an ear against its hive.

I say drop a mouse into a poem

and watch him probe his way out,

or walk inside a poem’s room

and feel the walls for a light switch.

I want them to waterski

across the surface of a poem

waving at the author’s name on the shore.

But all they want to do

is tie the poem to a chair with rope

and torture a confession out of it.

They begin by beating it with a hose

to find our what it really means.

Billy Collins

May the Bible be for you a poem with which to dance.

Peace and Blessings from Canterbury,