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+

In the eye of the storm

For most people on the mid-Atlantic and Northeast coasts Monday morning brought hurricane Sandy, the super storm, the Frankenstorm.  For me, Monday morning also brings Centering Prayer and Morning Prayer.

This week was no exception.  Schools and businesses were closed, but worship continued.  Prudence over driving in the weather meant that many of the regular worshipers chose to stay home, and that is perfectly ok; but worship continued.

As the storm raged outside, the walls of the chapel that have stood for 235 years sheltered those who were inside.  Warm, dry, and with only the sounds of the wind and the rain surrounding us there was a gentle peace.  

It was not unlike the eye of a hurricane.  In the eye of a hurricane the sky is crystal blue, the winds are calm and there is a reminder of the dove returning to Noah saying that all is right with the world.

Being at prayer in the chapel with the storm raging outside was a reminder that all is right with God and God’s world; there may be storms around us, but all is right with God.  The chapel provided a place for the inner peace to unfold.  And deep inside each of us as we worshiped, we found an inner peace.

We did this while the storm raged.  So I have to wonder, why do we not always find that inner peace when the storm is not upon us?  How do we learn to live each day in the eye of a hurricane with a dove returning to us with a message from God?

How does your garden grow?

It is wonderful how Scripture speaks to us in different ways at different times. But most will admit, that at times, it is not always easy to hear what Scripture is saying to us. If only we could hear it differently. Well of course we can. Reading different translations of the Bible is a great way to hear the same passage in unique ways. The ancient Jewish practice of Midrash, the retelling of a story, is also a great way to hear the passage in a new voice. Writing your own Midrash is also a way to understand the passage in a new way.

At least, that was my experience as I sat with Matthew 25:14-30. The story of the five, two, and one talent took on a new life as I read the passage, prayed with the passage, and wrote my own Midrash of the passage. What follows is my humble retelling of the story of the talents found in the Gospel of Matthew 25:14-30:

There was a land owner with three laborers. Not accustomed to explaining himself he was ready to leave town for parts unknown and return as he chose. Prior to leaving he entrusted his land to his laborers and gave each of the three a small packet of seeds.

After many harvests the land owner returned. Immediately he called his three laborers to his side so that he could learn of their efforts. The first laborer invited the land owner to walk with him to a south-facing hillside. It was on the hillside that he had removed the rocks and roots from the ground and watered the seeds lightly. There before them was a field resplendent with color and fragrance enough to make you dizzy with delight. He told of the many harvests of flowers that he has had. He told of the beautiful flowers that now filled the churches and homes of the area; and how everyone seemed to be just that little bit happier because of the beauty that surrounds them. He also told him of the riches he had brought in selling these flowers. The land owner said that he was “good and trust worthy” and that “to whom much is given, much is expected.” And then he received his rewards.

The second then asked the land owner to walk to where he could look down upon a low lying field. There he saw an orchard in full bloom. He explained that he had planted the seeds that and drew water from the stream, he had been able to harvest many different fruits and sell them in the market place. The people in the town were happy with the variety of fruit and the sweetness that enhanced every meal. He also told him of the riches he had brought in selling these fruits. The land owner said that he was “good and trust worthy” and that “to whom much is given, much is expected.” And then he received his rewards.

The third then walked over to the rocks where he had hidden his seed packet. Removing the outer rock a pungent odor crept out from the crevice. He then removed the seed packet from the crevice only to find a mold encased mass. The land owner looked at him in disgust and exclaimed “Not only did you not encourage the seeds to grow, but now they are wasted and of no value. Even if you had only scattered the seeds on the ground then the birds would have had at least one meal to eat.” He was sent away with the burden of the mold encased mass now hanging from around his neck.

Shalom,

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,