safe at home

It is this time of year that my favorite bicycle races  usually occur, the Spring Classics, or Monuments, these are some of the best that cycling has to offer.  I know that the Tour de France is the most renowned and coveted, and the Giro d’Italia, my preference over Le Tour, is another major prize to claim; but nothing compares to the one day classics. 

It would be about now that Paris-Roubaix would be held.  This one day classic starts outside of Paris following a 260km route and finishes in the velodrome in Roubaix on the border of Belgium.  It has been held every year since 1896, with exceptions for the years surrounding the two World Wars.  Generally speaking, this would not be that exciting except that early April in the north of France it means that the weather is unpredictable, often cold, raining, and even snowing.  Oh, and then there are the roads; the route includes 50km of cobblestone roads, actually “road” is not an accurate term these cobblestone sections are actually farm paths.  The approximately two dozen sections of cobblestone are remnants of pre-war France and are maintained by a volunteer organization, with rain they become a mud covered ice patch.  

So when you combine the weather with the cobblestone sections you can begin to understand why the race has the nick name “The Hell of the North” or “A Sunday in Hell”. 

There have been countless memorable moments in this race, so don’t get me started, but 2016 is especially memorable.  I will start with a spoiler, the race was won by Mathew Haymen.  Mat rode professionally from 2000 - 2019 during which time his role was mainly as a domestique, or supporter of the team leader.  He was well respected for his role in helping others win, and the 2016 Paris-Roubaix was only his 8th professional victory.  But by all conventional thinking this race was not his to win, or even ride.

On February 27 of that year Mat crashed in another race shattering the radius bone in his right arm.  The cobbles of Paris-Roubaix are jarring to even a healthy body, a broken arm would be impossible.  But within a day of breaking his arm Mat had set up his bike on an indoor trainer, and using computer simulations began training in his garage with his arm propped up on a ladder.  

The best way for a cyclist to get fit is to race.  The second best way to get fit is to log road miles.  Mat could do neither so his even making it to the starting line of Paris-Roubaix was not expected.  So Mat did the only thing he could do, alone in his garage, twice a day he rode hard, logging more than 1,000km on his virtual trainer.  

When he arrived at Paris-Roubaix no one, including himself, expected that he would do anything other than support his team leader.  But there he was in the early break away.  And late in the race he was with the 5 leaders taking an early lead as they arrived in the velodrome in Roubaix.  Holding off the sprinters coming in fast behind him Mat won his 15th Paris-Roubaix.  

Not able to go outside and ride on the road Mat won this prestigious race by training alone in his garage with his arm propped on a ladder.  It is pretty amazing to see what can happen while stuck at home.  

God be with you until we meet again.

Fr. Henry+       

So make yourself an ark

Two years ago today, we purchased the home where we live.  Not long before that day I would have questioned whether we would ever again own a home.  Fortunately, through the kindness and efforts of many, we are comfortably settled in our, new to us, home.  

As much as we are settled, for the past two years there has been a corner of our garage that I have ignored, stepped around, and tried to divert the attention of visitors from seeing.  It was a repository of boxes and stuff, all my stuff, in a disorganized heap.  It was some odd tools and lots of various containers of fasteners and hardware bits and pieces; it was where things went because you never knew when you might need it (including things from our first home 33 years ago).  

Other than frustrating Diane when ever she had to walk around it, if the pile remained untouched it would not have changed the world.  I am pleased to say that the pile of stuff no longer exists, it is now, for the first time in two years, a functional and clean part of our garage.  

This all occurred because I have a dream.

You see, I come from a long line of boat builders.  My father built boats.  His father built boats.  My uncles built boats.  The problem is that I have never built a boat.  I have actually worked for four different boat companies but that was all fiberglass manufacturing and scores of workers; I have never built a boat and I have a dream to one day build a boat.  

So by cleaning that corner of the garage I am taking steps towards building my boat.  Seems odd, but yet it is a positive steps towards my dream, consider this: 

1. order containers for small parts and fasteners
2. sort through boxes of small parts and fasteners
3. clean corner of the garage and store small parts and fasteners that are actually useful
4. create room for special tools needed for wood working
5. remind Diane that I cleaned the corner of the garage so that I can buy wood working tools
6. acquire tools and store in the clean corner of the garage
7. learn to use the tools properly
8. acquire lumber
9. start building my boat
10. build my boat

There we are, 10 steps away from building my boat and I have already accomplished the first 4 steps.  There is no timeline for each step, only a dream.  But that is what is important.  

I have a dream that a tomorrow will come when I can take the next steps.  

I have a dream that I will build my boat, and I am already thinking about the second one.  And this is all possible because I believe that God turns the darkness into light.  

I know that today, and its darkness, is not permanent.  I know that God will change the darkness into light and all of our dreams will be possible.  With God there is always hope, there is always dreams, there is always light.

And for the record, my boat will be about 7.5 cubits long.

God be with you until we meet again.  

Fr Henry+

A Future Not Our Own

I was reminded that today we celebrate the feast of Oscar Romero, priest, activist, and martyr.  It was a movie of his life that first attracted me to Romero.  In the film he was portrayed as a good priest, though conservative in his application of the Gospel.  The assassination of a dear friend, and Jesuit, changed his own views and he began to speak out against the government of El Salvador, and pleaded to the US government to stop aiding the military of his country.  

When the government repression of the Salvadoran people silenced their voices he took to the airwaves of a small radio station and became their voice.  He became their light and their hope.  While celebrating Mass 40 years ago today, he was assassinated. This was not the last assassination by the El Salvadoran army, but it was the shot heard around the world.  

A statue of Archbishop Romero stands at the west entrance of Westminster Cathedral in London; his statue is joined with 9 other modern martyrs, Martin Luther King and Dietrich Bonhoeffer among them.  

For those with only a passing knowledge of Romero he may be best known for a poem that is credited to him.  In fact the poem was written by Bishop Ken Untener for the occasion of the Mass for Deceased Priests, and first shared a year before Romero’s martyrdom.  This poem was shared with St. John’s by Bishop Baxter on the occasion of my installation as Rector; and it has been a comfort to me throughout my ordained ministry.  

A Future Not Our Own

It helps, now and then, to step back and take a long view.

The Kingdom is not only beyond our efforts,

it is even beyond our vision.

We accomplish in our lifetime only a tiny fraction

of the magnificent enterprise that is God's work.

Nothing we do is complete, which is a way of

saying that the kingdom always lies beyond us.

No statement says all that could be said.

No prayer fully expresses our faith. 

No confession brings perfection. 

No pastoral visit brings wholeness.

No program accomplishes the Church's mission.

No set of goals and objectives includes everything.

This is what we are about. 

We plant the seeds that one day will grow. 

We water the seeds already planted,

knowing that they hold future promise.

We lay foundations that will need further development.

We provide yeast that produces far beyond our capabilities.

We cannot do everything,

and there is a sense of liberation in realizing that.

This enables us to do something, and to do it very well.

It may be incomplete, but it is a beginning,

a step along the way, an opportunity for the Lord's

grace to enter and do the rest.

We may never see the end results, but that is the

difference between the master builder and the worker.

We are workers, not master builders; ministers, not messiahs. 

We are prophets of a future not our own.  Amen.

As we wonder in these uncertain times we plant seeds, and we water seeds already planted.  Much of what we do today will accompany us tomorrow.  When we  come together again we will share the fruits of our labors and see a little glimpse of the Kingdom of God that we shaped together.  That glimpse, though incomplete, is something, a beginning, a step along the way, an opportunity for the Lord’s grace to enter and do the rest.

God be with you until we meet again.

Fr. Henry+

on the seventh day God rested

Growing up on sailboats there was a focus to our sailing time that may seem odd.  Yes, the wind and water patterns were important, the weather forecast, and in the Chesapeake Bay, notorious for shoals, the current depth were all important.  But also important was the status of the battery.  You always needed reserve capacity to start the engine.  And if sailing at night, one of the best times to sail, you need running lights and instruments.  So battery management was important.  

For ocean voyagers the use of a small windmill located off the stern can be a means to recharge the battery.  And now, solar panels can be incorporated into the design with ever increasing efficiency.  

New battery types have also had an effect.  It used to be that wet cell lead-acid batteries were the only choice.  Now AGM and Lithium are options, each with their pros and cons.  Each of these types adapts to extreme temperatures differently.  And each handle a draw down of power differently.  Even thought the limits are different, extreme heat and extreme cold affect the battery.  And regardless of type, even with their different limits, each battery has only so much capacity to give before it is a large paper weight.

Battery management, and battery maintenance, can mean the difference between getting home safely and writing a story that you wish you would never have to tell.  

This is not unlike our own energy reserves.  Extremes in stress and anxiety affect us just as extremes in temperature affect a battery.  And as much as we think that we are invincible, we only have so much capacity in reserve.  

Generally speaking, having worked from home when I owned my own business, I am not very good at battery maintenance.  On more than one occasion I have had to essentially recharge what appeared to be a dead battery.  I suspect that I am not alone in this.

God foresaw this problem.  Humankind wants to do too much, so God reminds us to rest on the Sabbath day.  

I have been to youth soccer games, and that is not restful.  I have been to pro football games, and that is not restful (for the record 1 pro football game, Eagles, and 3 pro baseball games, Orioles)  They may be fun, they may be rejuvenating, but they are not restful. 

God invites us into a Sabbath rest.  This is not so that we do 7 days worth of tasks in 6, we are to work 6 days and rest on the 7th.  Adding to the load of the other 6 days defeats the purpose of the 7th day; we, like the battery only have a finite capacity - a capacity for 6 days of work and then a day of rest. 

As our Jewish brothers and sisters prepare for the Sabbath there comes a moment, when the Sabbath envelops the household, and then all work stops.  What is done is done, what is not done is not done, 6 days of work complete and the Sabbath envelops the household.   

Shabbat Shalom.

God be with you until we meet again.

Fr. Henry+

The Lord has promised good to me

This morning, as I lay barely awake, my feet not yet on the  ground, my mind was taken to the images of balconies in Italy where neighbors stood singing to, and with, each other.  There was a joy in their song, and also a release of tension that had accumulated during their lock-down.  

Then my mind began to wonder about what song I might sing.  As I flipped through a catalog of options, no not that one, not that one either - I found myself singing.

Very quietly in my mind, so as not to wake Diane, I sang Amazing Grace.  From the opening lines “Amazing grace! how sweet the sound, that saved a wretch like me” all the way through to the end “When we’ve been there ten thousand years, bright shining as the sun, we’ve no less days to sing God’s praise than when we first begun.”

All five verses flowed in my mind; I did not sing any better than normal, but I certainly sang with joy.  And I began to wonder what the reaction would be in my neighborhood if I stood on our front stoop and began to sing?  What would the reaction be if I stood on our back deck and began to sing?  Would the neighborhood join in as they did in Italy?

Sadly, I doubt that would be the case.  There was no big snow storm this year and sometimes  the only time I see my neighbors is when we all go out to shovel our sidewalks.  It is not that this is not a friendly street, everyone waves and smiles as they drive past.  When we moved into our home we met everyone along the street.  And then as the novelty of new neighbors wore off everyone retreated to their homes and their lives.  

I woke up with a song on my heart, as the water was boiling for Diane’s coffee I said morning prayer in the kitchen, and I felt a little sad.  I was feeling close to God, and wanted to sing but worried that my neighbors would not sing along.  

This time of wandering in the wilderness is shared, albeit at a distance, with our St. John’s neighbors.  And if we sing, I believe that they will join in.  This is not a time to be apart, this is a time to come together.  Singing makes the miles pass by quickly, and we have a wonderful song to share.

Through many dangers, toils, and snares,

I have already come:

’tis grace that brought me safe thus far,

and grace will lead me home.

God be with you until we meet again

Fr. Henry+ 

things done, and left undone

Today I made a mistake.  Not that I don’t make mistakes every day, but some mistakes seem to have the effect of an avalanche, one small snow ball becomes the whole side of a mountain careening down the slope.  

I have made the same mistake in the past, and will probably do so again.  Some would suggest that it was not even a mistake, but I know better.  

Years ago a dear friend shared some advice that they had received on the day of their ordination.  The Bishop met with those who were about to be ordained and told them to make the Daily Office their own.  Morning Prayer, Noon Day Prayer, Evening Prayer, Compline pray them each day like your life depends on it.  The Bishop was adamant counseling those about to be ordained that there would be days when the only thing that they will have to hang onto is the Daily Office; make it your own now, so that when those days come you will be prepared.  

I remembered those words vividly, almost 11 years ago, when at 5:30am we received a phone call that my sister had died by suicide.  Phone calls at 5:30am are never good, and this one left all of us wondering what was next.  It was then that those words came to me: make the Daily Office your own because you will have days when those prayers are the only thing you have to hang on to.

Morning Prayer helped me to get through that day, and then the next day; one day at a time. 

Today looked to be an easier Monday than most, no school chapel and a series of morning meetings were all cancelled because the office and school were closed.  The only scheduled commitment was a video conference with Mother Shivaun at 9am.  That is when I decided that a quick trip into the office, prior to my 9am meeting, to get some books and files was in order.  That was my mistake.

The quick trip to the office meant that I did not say Morning Prayer.  It was mid-morning when Mother Shivaun and I completed our discussions and by then my to-do list was long and preparations for the Vestry meeting loomed.  

We had already begun making plans and sharing ideas for a Holy Week and Easter celebration that might be virtual, so when Bishop Budde announced in an email that our worship and gatherings would remain suspended until 16 May it would seem that it would have been very perfunctory.     

That is when I realized my mistake, when I realized the things left undone.  

Having said Morning Prayer would not have affected the decision by the Bishop, but it would have changed the affect of those words.  Even the expected can be jarring when you are not prepared, and I was not prepared – I had not started my day with Morning Prayer. 

So forgive me for those things done and left undone.  A mistake by itself may not be bad, unless we don’t learn from it.  This is a lesson that I will keep learning every day that I let my schedule take precedence over God’s call to prayer.  

Heed God’s call to prayer.

God be with you until we meet again.

Fr. Henry+

Into the Woods

Into the woods

First a little explanation: 9 years ago I had the opportunity to study at Canterbury Cathedral in England.  Those several weeks were the longest Diane and I had been apart since our first date 25 years previous.  Studying in England was an experience that I was excited to share so I blogged during my time away.  This was one way that, while physical distance kept us separate, we were able to remain in touch.

Then 8 years ago, when hurricane Sandy threatened the community where I served I again returned to my blog for a single pre-storm post.  

Other than that this blog, Stained Glass Reflections, has remained dormant.  This weekend I was able to dust off the blog, my computer remembered the needed passwords, and it looks like I am back in the blogging business.  

There is no suggestion that you read the past posts, rather, come join me on this journey that we take together, separated by physical space, but united as branches on the vine.  I can’t promise that you will find words of wisdom here, but I will share our journey from my perspective and welcome you to fill in your own perspective in the comments; we can journey together.

The weekend, and even the past week, has been unusual.  Not just from the news regarding COVID-19, but from the need to rethink church.  Just when we thought on Tuesday that we had redone Church according to best practices Bishop Budde informed the diocesan clergy that church would not be happening for the next several weeks.  It was time to rethink Church again.  

Planned days off were out the window and for the next 58 hours Mother Shivaun, Jim Kreger, and I found a new way to do church this weekend.  It was a hectic, stressful, and exhausting marathon but we crossed the finish line late Friday night.  

Saturday morning came around and I vowed to Diane that this day would be a Sabbath.  It was a chilly early spring morning but the sun was shining so I sat on the deck with a cup of tea and a book.  If you read quietly the birds soon get accustomed to your presence and return to the feeders that line the deck rail.  Before too long there was a parade of birds coming and going in a rhythm that was much like the flight patterns of the Atlanta airport during Thanksgiving weekend.  

They were not hoarding bird seed, or toilet paper, just a normal meal, some squabbling, and squirrels on the ground seeking leftovers.  For this feathered community life was pretty normal.  

One can only have so much tea and time to read so all too soon it was time for chores around the house.  A much needed confirmation that the vacuum cleaner worked, in all the rooms, was in order.  Then to Diane’s delight, the Christmas decorations were put away.

Let me clarify, the Christmas decorations had all been taken down after the 12 days of Christmas, but the boxes were piled in the basement and never placed in storage.  So with some reordering and shuffling the boxes were stored properly in the garage and my office area was beginning to look more like an office.  With the realization that I would be working from home for the next several weeks, and dare I say perhaps even longer if the CDC is suggesting such, then cleaning my office area would be helpful.

With the mid-day sun warming the air it was time to clean the gardens for spring.  Having heeded the advice of natural gardeners I had left plants and leaves in place for the winter so a clean up was due.  

Then as the evening chill was soon to approach Diane and I took a walk in the woods where we could see trees beginning to bud and birds doing what birds and bees do.  

It was a day of normalcy.  In the midsts of a storm I had found some semblance of normal.  That is not to say that all was forgotten.  While pruning a tree, with clippers in one hand, there was an angry prayer spewing forth.  

As Bishop Budde suggests in her book, “Receiving Jesus: The Way of Love”, prayer can begin with emptying your mind, dumping all your problems on God, and then seeing the detritus piled before you ask God what you want or need.  

Then comes the hard part – listening to God.  

I emptied my mind of all that was in it for God to see, God already knew but I felt better having offloaded the baggage, and then I listened.  God did not give me an answer that I can share with you today, God did not provide three easy steps for going forward.  But I believe that God told me to figure out how to be Church without a church; how to be Jesus in the world and not in a building.  And figure out how to do this, not for just 2 weeks, but for the long haul.  God was also clear that this is not for me to do alone; not only does St. John’s have wonderful colleagues working together, but more importantly God is with us.  

Our journey in the wilderness is only just beginning.  As they took their first steps the Israelites never imagined that their wilderness journey would be 40 years.  Today I would count it as a blessing if our journey was only 40 days, and a miracle if it is only 2 weeks.  

My first blog posts were based upon being apart from Diane for 2 weeks.  So I begin writing again with the prospect of being apart from the good people of St. John’s for 2 weeks.  We begin our journey together; you, me, and God.

God be with you until we meet again.

Fr. Henry+