Thin Places

Grace Episcopal Church, Madison NJ
May 4, 2008
The Seventh Sunday of Easter: The Sunday after Ascension Day

Acts 1:6-14
Psalm 68:1-10, 33-36
(1 Peter 4:12-14; 5:6-11)
John 17:1-11

Thin Places

Well, Holy Week is past. Easter Sunday is past. The bishop’s visit has come and gone. We’re done with the groundbreaking. And everybody who was supposed to be confirmed was confirmed. And I’ve noticed that things are starting to slow down around here at Grace Church. And as things are starting to slow down, I’ve begun to think about the J2A pilgrimage to Northern California this summer. For a little more than a week we’ll be visiting the various Spanish missions along the coast – retracing the steps of those adventurous missionaries who brought the Gospel to that beautiful land. It should be a wonderful trip and I’m starting to really look forward to it.

Actually, I’ve never really been on a pilgrimage before. Sure, I’ve visited places where pilgrims go; I’ve been fortunate enough to go to Rome and to Canterbury. A couple of years ago Sue and I were in London and I dragged her around to all these sites connected to Anglican history. It was just before I started seminary and since I didn’t have to write papers about them yet, I was enthused about Anglican theologians like Richard Hooker, who lived back in the 16th Century.

One of the places we went was the Temple Church, an ancient church where Richard Hooker had served as rector. When we first got there it wasn’t open yet so Sue and I went and had coffee. When we got back to the church even I was surprised to see a line of about twenty people waiting to get in. I smugly said to Sue, “See, I’m not the only one. Look at all these people who are interested in Richard Hooker!” She looked at me skeptically but made no comment. Inside, I noticed that these “pilgrims” were spending most of their time staring intently at and taking pictures of the graves of medieval knights. I couldn’t help eavesdropping on their conversations and I heard a few of them say “DaVinci Code.” These people were not there for Richard Hooker. No, they were there because they were fans of The DaVinci Code. It turns out that a scene in that bestselling book takes place in the Temple Church. Sue had been right to be skeptical.

Oh, well. People make pilgrimages for all sorts of reasons. Thousands of people visit Graceland every year because they love Elvis. People visit the Temple Church because they admire Richard Hooker – or because they enjoyed The DaVinci Code. But why do we make religious pilgrimages? I mean, God can be found in Madison. God can even be found in Florham Park or Chatham. So why would we feel the need to actually visit Jerusalem, Rome, Canterbury or Northern California? Why would we make these trips? What do we hope to find? What do we hope to experience?

In Celtic Christianity there is the idea of “thin places.” Have you ever heard of that? It’s this very beautiful idea that there are places or events in life where the dividing line between the holy and the ordinary is very thin – so thin that the ordinary becomes holy and the holy becomes ordinary.

We go on pilgrimages because we hope to find “thin places.” We hope to find places - we hope to have experiences - where there is very little separating the holy and the ordinary.

And today’s lessons are really about thin places, aren’t they? In the lesson from the Gospel of John, we have a part of what’s known as Jesus’ high priestly prayer just before his arrest and crucifixion. Don’t worry if you had trouble following this convoluted passage. If we read this passage carefully we realize that John is struggling to describe Jesus as being both on earth and in heaven at the same time. He’s describing Jesus in a thin place.

Take a look at it again. John begins his account by writing, “Jesus looked up to heaven and said…” Seems like an ordinary start of a prayer. But we quickly realize that Jesus is in a thin place. The dividing line between the holy and the ordinary gets very thin. Jesus says:

“I glorified you on earth by finishing the work that you gave me to do. So now, Father, glorify me in your own presence with the glory that I had in your presence before the world existed.” Jesus is still physically on earth but John is describing the break down in the barrier between heaven and earth, between the holy and the ordinary.

And finally, the passage ends with Jesus saying, “And now I am no longer in the world, but they are in the world, and I am coming to you. Holy Father, protect them in your name that you have given me, so that they may be one, as we are one.”

In this passage Jesus is in a thin place – the barrier between the holy and the ordinary has become very, very thin indeed.

Our other lesson of course is the account of the Ascension in the Acts of the Apostles. The idea of Jesus ascending into heaven is a tough one for a lot of people to believe. The problem, of course, is that we have a much different understanding of how the universe works than people who lived a couple of thousand years ago. As Lauren mentioned in her homily on Ascension Day there are some people in the church who just dismiss the Ascension as absurd, as impossible, and think we should delete it from the list of things that we say we believe.

But to reject the Ascension as myth or fairy tale would be a huge loss and is really missing the point. The experience of Jesus and the apostles on the mountain that day was a very profound thin place. Talk about the barriers between the holy and the ordinary breaking down! Jesus’ body – which had been a normal human body like yours and mine, was first transformed in the Resurrection. Remember the post-resurrection stories? Remember how the evangelists try so hard to make clear that the resurrected Jesus was not a ghost or a spirit but was a physical presence? Remember how Jesus was the same but different? Remember the disciples on the road to Emmaus who at first don’t recognize him but then they do when Jesus breaks the bread? Remember poor Thomas being invited to touch the wounds?

And now in the Ascension, somehow, in some equally mysterious way, Jesus’ transformed, resurrected body passes through the barrier separating heaven and earth. At the Ascension the thin place becomes very thin indeed.

After this profound experience the disciples are left staring into the sky – yearning for Jesus, yearning for the holy.

And the truth is we are made to yearn for the holy. We yearn for the thin place. We try to satisfy that yearning with all sorts of other stuff, but really all that truly satisfies us is the experience of the holy – the experience of the thin place – the place or the experience where the barrier between the holy and the ordinary becomes so thin. And that’s why we do things like make pilgrimages. And if we find a thin place in Rome or Canterbury or Northern California, that is certainly wonderful. I suspect, though, that we find thin places in Rome, Canterbury or Northern California because on pilgrimages we are particularly mindful and open. On a pilgrimage we are really paying attention, really looking, really seeking. On a pilgrimage we sort of expect, or at least hope, to find a thin place.

But I believe that if we brought that same attitude of mindfulness and openness to our daily lives we would find thin places all the time. And if we reflect on our lives, I believe we would find that we were in thin places and we might not even have realized it. We need to lead our whole lives as a pilgrimage – seeking out, watching for the thin places all around us.

Often we experience thin places at the big moments of life – like births and deaths. And if you think about it, it’s at those big moments when we are really focused on what’s really important.

But we can experience thin places in seemingly small moments too – delivering a bed or a dresser or a microwave oven to a person in need; planting flowers with a child; preparing a casserole for a family touched by illness; visiting someone in the hospital or nursing home; singing or playing a musical instrument; or even simply sharing a meal and having a conversation. We can experience all of these as thin places - if we pay attention.

We are in the midst of a very thin place right here at church today. Now, we might not always experience church as a thin place because we’re distracted or tired or inattentive or stressed out, but when we worship the fact is heaven and earth draw very close to one another.

Just as Jesus crosses the barrier between earth and heaven in his high priestly prayer and in his ascension, so too we cross the barrier between heaven and earth when we join our voices with “angels and archangels and the whole company of heaven” who forever sing their praises to God. Here in church the barrier between heaven and earth, between the holy and the ordinary becomes a very thin space indeed!

Finally, there is the thin place of the Eucharist itself. Could there be anything more ordinary – or thinner, for that matter – than this simple, virtually tasteless wafer? Yet in the thin place of the Eucharist the holy and the ordinary truly become one.

Today’s lessons offer us glimpses of two thin places as Jesus crosses the barrier between the holy and the ordinary, between heaven and earth. As we make our pilgrimage here on earth, let’s keep an eye out for thin places – the places or events in life where the dividing line between the holy and the ordinary is very thin – so thin that the ordinary becomes holy and the holy becomes ordinary.

A Groundbreaking Snapshot

The Messenger
Grace Episcopal Church, Madison NJ
May 2008

A Groundbreaking Snapshot

When I was praying and thinking about my sermon for Sunday, April 13, I found myself looking ahead to the following Sunday when Bishop Beckwith would make his visit and would celebrate with us the groundbreaking of the new parish hall. In my sermon I predicted that the bishop’s visit and the groundbreaking would offer us a “snapshot” of what the Church hopes to be and what the Church really is – the Body of Christ on earth. I have a decidedly shaky track record when it comes to predicting the future, but this is one time when I was right on the money.

I can only imagine what the day felt like for the many of you who have lived through the long years of discussion and planning that led to the turning of the first shovelfuls of soil. I know, of course, that some in our community have had serious reservations about the project. There have been concerns about the expense and doubts about the need. Some parishioners have criticized the discernment process that led to the decision to build a new parish hall. On the other hand, many other parishioners have been enthusiastic and generous supporters of this project from the start. This lack of agreement should be unsurprising. Frankly, it would be highly unusual if there were unanimity in a parish this size about a project this significant.

I found it very moving that most of the parish, regardless of varying personal views, came together to welcome the bishop and to celebrate this milestone in the history of Grace Church. Although the weather was not as bright and sunny as we might have hoped, the day still provided a beautiful snapshot of Grace Church at its best. I am still amazed by the amount of care and effort that goes into planning all of our services, and especially major events such as the bishop’s visit. Nina Nicholson crafted the program and the Grace Notes with her usual keen eye for style and accuracy. Anne Matlack somehow juggled choir members’ schedules and prepared the choirs to produce beautiful music that was thoughtfully-chosen for the occasion. Mary Lea Crawley did her typically sensitive and creative work with our children, giving them a tour of the future construction site and making sure they were equipped to be an important part of the groundbreaking. Despite the mystery of just how many people would show up, Midge Cassidy pulled together a very fine reception. And, of course, Lauren Ackland was, as usual, the calm (at least on the outside) center of the storm. As I told a few people that morning, this was one of the many days at Grace when I was glad to not be the one in charge! This great day was not without its errors and glitches, but overall it offered a beautiful snapshot of Grace Church at its best – a joyful place where God is worshipped and glorified.

And then in the afternoon a good number of us went to Trinity + St. Philip’s Cathedral for Confirmation which, like the bishop’s visit to Grace, was a powerful reminder that we are part of a larger Church. Gathering together Episcopalians from the city and the suburbs in our cathedral offered us another beautiful snapshot of the Church being what it really is – the Body of Christ on earth.

One of the highlights of this long, full day was the adult seminar led by Bishop Beckwith before the 10:00AM service. The bishop shared with us his compelling vision for the Diocese of Newark – a vision of all of us standing with the Living Christ at the “Gates of Hope.” Although I had first heard the bishop outline this vision at our clergy conference in October and later at the diocesan convention in January, there was something particularly powerful about hearing him describe his vision right here at Grace Church. He has challenged the diocese – has challenged us - to focus on the four core values of worship, spiritual formation, justice/nonviolence and radical hospitality.

The bishop’s visit and the groundbreaking of the new parish hall give us a great opportunity to reflect on how we as individuals and as Grace Church embody these four core values. In what ways might we enrich our worship, deepen spiritual formation, promote justice and nonviolence, and offer radical hospitality to all, especially the poor and oppressed? In short, how will we here at Grace Church more fully be what we really are – the Body of Christ on earth?

A Snapshot of the Church

Grace Episcopal Church, Madison NJ
Year A: The Fourth Sunday of Easter – April 13, 2008

Acts 2:42-47
(1 Peter 2:19-25)
Psalm 23
John 10:1-10


A Snapshot of the Church


I guess about twelve or thirteen years ago my wife Sue and I were at a friend’s wedding. I don’t remember now what it was about, but at the wedding reception Sue and I had a pretty big fight. We managed to get through the party without making a scene, but just barely. What’s interesting about that evening now is that someone took a picture of us together in the middle of our disagreement and to this day it’s one of the nicest pictures we have of us – we’re leaning in nice and close, both giving our most toothy smiles. It’s a great snapshot – not of our fight – but it’s a great snapshot of who we hope to be and who we really are.
And today’s lesson from the Acts of the Apostles is sort of a snapshot of the earliest Church. It’s a snapshot not of disagreement and division, but a snapshot of what the church hopes to be and what the church really is. In this snapshot we are given the beautiful image of the early Christians coming together, sharing their possessions, giving to those in need, breaking bread together and, as Luke puts it, “Praising God and having the goodwill of the people.” This snapshot of the very early Church comes very early in Acts – in fact, it’s placed right after a lengthy speech given by Peter on the Day of Pentecost. In his speech, Peter preaches repentance and baptism in the name of Jesus Christ. Since Pentecost is considered the “birthday of the Church,” this snapshot shows us the Church in its infancy.

In this snapshot the followers of Jesus the Good Shepherd are united in prayer, united in generosity, and united in spirit. It’s a snapshot that shows us what the church hopes to be and what the church really is – the Body of Christ on earth.
But this snapshot of unity doesn’t mean that the Church was free of division and dispute even in those earliest years.

From pretty close to the beginning, followers of Jesus disagreed about all sorts of things – just like today, sometimes they disagreed about major, fundamental things and other times they disagreed about minor, trivial things.
Scholars think that close to the beginning there were disagreements between Jesus’ family and Jesus’ disciples. They disagreed about who Jesus was, what was the meaning of his ministry, and who should control the legacy of Jesus. If Jesus is “the gate” as he says in today’s gospel, then from the beginning the Church has argued over just who may pass through the gate and what they need to do to may pass through the gate.

Early on there was the huge disagreement between St. Paul (who never knew Jesus during his earthly lifetime – and in fact early on had persecuted Christians) and the disciples in Jerusalem, like Peter and James, who had actually known Jesus. Paul, of course, took the revolutionary step of bringing the Good News of Jesus to non-Jews. This caused some trouble and raised difficult questions, to say the least. So, was Jesus the Jewish messiah or was he the messiah for the whole world? And what about these non-Jewish followers of Jesus? Should they have to follow Jewish law? Should the men be circumcised? Should the non-Jewish followers of Jesus have to keep kosher?

These questions led to angry and bitter arguments among followers of Jesus. In his letter to the Galatians, Paul gives us one side of an angry and bitter argument when he tells us that he called Peter a hypocrite to his face. Paul was furious because Peter, a Jew, had previously eaten with non-Jews, but now was insisting that non-Jewish followers of Jesus keep kosher.

Yet with all of this arguing going on, the first readers of the Acts of the Apostles had this snapshot of the early Church united in prayer, united in generosity, and united in spirit. The first readers of the Acts of the Apostles had this snapshot of what the church hopes to be and what the church really is.

Over the centuries the Church has been rocked by angry and bitter and sometimes violent disputes about who is this Good Shepherd, who is Jesus, how should Jesus be worshipped, who should lead the Church and how should the Bible be interpreted. And sometimes there were disputes about slightly less important things like… should we have candles on the altar or should priests wear vestments. (I still haven’t gotten over the whole candle thing…)

I don’t need to tell you that today the Church, the Body of Christ on earth, is very broken by disunity. I remember a friend of mine telling me that he was driving around Jersey City and block after block he saw church after church, representing denomination after denomination. As he drove by all these churches he reflected sadly on the disunity, the bad history, the waste, the duplication of effort and resources that they represented.

Often there doesn’t seem to be much unity in prayer, no unity in generosity, no unity in spirit. And yet we still have the snapshot of the Church united in prayer, united in generosity and united in spirit. We still have the snapshot of what the Church hopes to be and what the Church really is.

I probably don’t need to tell you about the disunity in the Anglican Communion and the Episcopal Church. Anglicans and Episcopalians are engaged in bitter and increasingly expensive battles about interpretation of Scripture, authority and church property. Thanks to the Internet we can follow all of this bickering and disunity in real time. In seminary I found myself becoming obsessed with all of this stuff, worrying that just as I was making a commitment to the Episcopal Church it was shattering into pieces. Finally, for my own well-being I had to limit how much time I spent reading and thinking about these disputes.

But whether we choose to know about it or not, often in the Episcopal Church there seems to be a real lack of unity in prayer, generosity, and spirit. And yet we still have the snapshot of the Church united in prayer, united in generosity and united in spirit. We still have the snapshot of what the Church hopes to be and what the Church really is.

And although as I’ve said before Grace Church is the healthiest church I’ve ever been a part of, even here there have been disagreements and disputes, occasionally harsh words, misunderstandings and a lack of unity. And yet we here today – we also have the snapshot of the Church united in prayer, generosity and spirit. We today have the snapshot of what the Church hopes to be and what the Church really is.

And you know that snapshot is not just found in a book written nearly two thousand years ago. If we keep our eyes and minds and hearts open we see those snapshots all around us.

For me one great snapshot recently was the rummage sale. I have to admit that the week before the sale the accumulation of rummage drove me a little crazy, but that day – what a snapshot of what we hope to be and who we really are. Parishioners of all ages, who might disagree with each other about all sorts of things, from all the different corners and services of this church, coming together and doing incredible work – and to top it off, raising a load of money.

Another great snapshot recently was the Maundy Thursday lock-in. Again, leading up to it I kept thinking whose idea was this to invite kids to spend an overnight here in church – and especially an overnight before the busiest days of the church calendar. Well, it wasn’t my idea and it certainly wasn’t a restful night. But I have this beautiful snapshot of our youth in small groups taking their turns spending an hour at the altar of repose. Some of them did yoga, some sang hymns, and some sat in a circle on the floor telling stories. They all took it very seriously - a beautiful snapshot of what the Church hopes to be and what the church really is.

And this morning we’ll have another beautiful snapshot when three babies will be baptized. Whether they endure it peacefully or scream their heads off it doesn’t matter because in that moment as the water is poured over them they will be marked as Christ’s own forever and all of us will be powerfully reminded of who we really are. What a great snapshot.

And we have another important and beautiful snapshot ahead of us next week when the bishop makes his first official visit to Grace Church and ceremonially breaks ground on the new parish hall. What a snapshot that will be of all of us coming together in unity of prayer, unity of generosity and unity of spirit. What a snapshot after all the planning, all the discussion, all the debate, all the hope and, yes, all the anxiety, what a snapshot as we come together and say, yes, we are the Church, we are the Body of Christ – this is who we really are.

The Daily Office

The Messenger
Grace Episcopal Church, Madison NJ
April 2008

The Daily Office

During my first semester at General Seminary my classmates and I were given the assignment of creating a “rule of life.” We were told to come up with a list of spiritual practices that we thought would serve us well during our three years of study and beyond in ordained ministry. To help us come up with our list and to reflect on the importance of spiritual practice we read a useful book called Practicing Our Faith, edited by Dorothy C. Bass. It includes essays on practices such as hospitality, healing, keeping Sabbath, discernment and forgiveness. To be honest, creating a rule of life seemed a little bit like making new years resolutions and sure enough most of my list quickly fell by the spiritual wayside as I tried to get through the day and get my papers written on time.

But one part of my rule of life grew in importance during seminary and has remained a key element of my spiritual life: the Daily Office (Morning Prayer and Evening Prayer). You may know that the Daily Office, found near the front of the Book of Common Prayer, has its roots in very early Christian practice and is the daily prayer that is intended to be prayed by the whole Church. In reality, of course, very few Episcopalians take advantage of this rich resource. At the seminary, however, the Daily Office is offered everyday and being both a morning person and a commuter student I thought that Morning Prayer would be an especially good fit and an appropriately “spiritual” way to start each day. Before seminary I had some familiarity with the Daily Office but I had only prayed it alone. While that’s fine and has its benefits, I have found that for me it is a deeper experience to pray in community.

So over the course of three years I sat in my spot in the seminary chapel and grew familiar with the various prayers and canticles, discovered the psalms and most importantly heard a good portion of the Bible read aloud. In the Daily Office the lectionary just plows through book after book of the Bible so we get to hear the familiar stories but also the more obscure, the legalistic, and the sometimes bizarre parts of Holy Scripture that we usually manage to avoid on Sundays. It was a great spiritual and educational experience.

In his book, Grace at this Time, author C.W. McPherson offers a helpful list of characteristics of the Daily Office. He notes that it is daily but it is also brief. It is stable (pretty much the same every day) but also flexible (all sorts of prayers, readings and music may be added). Finally, McPherson makes the important point that unlike our other church services, the Daily Office is non-hierarchical – anyone may serve as officiant.

In seminary when I imagined my first job I always expected that I would be in a little city church, probably working on my own. (So much for my abilities to predict the future!) I had resolved that wherever I ended up I would institute daily Morning Prayer – and if no one else showed up at least it would give me the structure to help me pray and, who knows, maybe others would be attracted to this simple and relatively brief service.

Well, you know how this story ends! Imagine my amazement when Lauren+ first told me that the Daily Office was offered here at Grace!

Just as in seminary, it has been a great gift to gather together on a daily basis and to say the familiar prayers and to be inspired, challenged and occasionally dumbfounded by Holy Scripture. It has also been moving to see the handful of parishioners who are so devoted to attending and sometimes officiating at the service. One of my worries as I prepared for ordination was if I would ever have a chance to just go to church. The Daily Office here at Grace has given me that chance just to sit and pray and not worry whether I’m forgetting to do something, or preaching too long, or chanting too poorly. The Daily Office offers a chance to sit (and stand and kneel) and pray.

I hope more of us will take advantage of this wonderful gift that we have been given. As with anything unfamiliar, the Daily Office might be a little intimidating or confusing at first. But the officiants usually announce page numbers and I know that the “regulars” are more than happy to help out newcomers. Come pray with us! Who knows, maybe the Daily Office will become part of your rule of life, too!

Faithful Thomas

Grace Episcopal Church, Madison NJ
March 30, 2008

Year A: The Second Sunday of Easter
Acts 2:14a, 22-32
(1 Peter 1:3-9)
John 20:19-31
Psalm 16

“Faithful Thomas”
Each year on the Second Sunday of Easter – otherwise known as “Low Sunday” – the Apostle Thomas gets his moment to…doubt. Now, I’m not just saying this because I’m a Thomas too, but I think the Apostle Thomas has gotten a bad rap thanks to today’s familiar reading today from the Gospel of John.
Yes, obviously, John criticizes Thomas as someone who actually needs to see Jesus in order to believe in Jesus. Now, before all the Peters and Andrews of the world start congratulating themselves, let’s remember that the other apostles didn’t believe Mary Magdalene’s story of the resurrected Jesus, either. They needed to see Jesus too. But we don’t use the expression “Doubting Peter” or “Doubting Andrew,” do we? No, of course not. Thanks to this gospel passage, it’s only Thomas who seems forever to be stuck as the doubter.
And let’s face it, Thomas does say “Unless I see the mark of the nails in his hands, and put my finger in the mark of the nails and my hand in his side, I will not believe.” And so Jesus gives Thomas what he seems to need – Jesus shows him his wounded, resurrected body; Jesus invites Thomas to touch, to believe. And then, amazingly, Thomas says maybe more than he actually understands, crying out to Jesus, “My Lord and my God!” It’s Thomas more than the others who really recognizes who Jesus really is – “My Lord and my God!”
So, yes, it’s true - Thomas is a doubter. And the gospel uses Thomas as a stand-in – as sort off a model for all of us who do not see Jesus in the flesh but are called to believe. But, I would like to suggest to you that Thomas is also for us a model of faith. One of my professors at the seminary said something a few times that has stuck in my head. This professor suggested that we are wrong to say that doubt is the opposite of faith. No, he said, the opposite of faith is certainty.
The opposite of faith is certainty. Try that on for size. The opposite of faith is certainty.
And I think he’s right. Aren’t you usually suspicious of certainty? Doesn’t certainty close our minds and hearts? Doesn’t certainty often get us in to trouble? Certainty seems so easy – it seems almost dishonest. I mean, honestly, how can we go through our lives, seeing and experiencing all the mindless and purposeless suffering that we do, and not sometimes wonder – where is God? Why does God allow these terrible things to happen? Maybe this sounds strange to say in church, but it is very healthy and normal to doubt, to question, to be skeptical.
These past few months I’ve learned a lot from teaching Confirmation class. We’ve talked about some of the major topics of the Christian faith and many of these young people have been open and honest about their questions and doubts about the faith. All I’ve asked of them is to really grapple with these questions and doubts. I’ve asked them to take the faith and their questions seriously – to keep asking and searching. And I believe that our doubts, our questions, our struggles give God just enough room to enter into our lives and hearts.
Now, if we think of faith as having convinced ourselves of something, if we think of faith as something you either have or you don’t, if we think of faith as something that you can get but can also lose, then doubt can be a truly frightening experience. As a young man, Martin Luther was very concerned about how he could know he had enough faith. He worried, what if I need just a little more faith? Or, what if I was supposed to say just one more prayer? Or go to one more Mass? What if I don’t have enough faith? What if I haven’t done enough? Maybe you know the feeling! Luther called his predicament the “terrified conscience.”
After agonizing about this for a while, Luther finally came to realize that it’s not about us, but instead it’s about God and God’s grace. Luther came to understand that faith is not a thing that we can possess, but instead faith is opening our hearts to let God’s grace work within and through us. Faith is putting our trust in God. In a real sense, faith is a way of living, it’s not a thing that we either have or we don’t have.
Like love, faith is a verb, not a noun.
If we recognize what faith really is, then it’s pretty easy to see Thomas as a man of faith much more than a man of doubt: Faithful Thomas, not Doubting Thomas. Truthfully, we don’t know too much about Thomas, but he seems to be a man of action, a courageous man, a true disciple of Jesus. Back in Chapter 11 of John’s Gospel, Thomas says to the other disciples, “let us go, that we may die with him.” Despite that boldness, the events leading up to Good Friday must have been shocking and frightening to Thomas as they were for the others. Like nearly all of Jesus’ followers, of course, Thomas stayed away from Golgotha. He didn’t hear Jesus cry out from the cross in agony or ask God to forgive his persecutors. He didn’t see Jesus breathe his last.
What happens next is crucial. If faith is just a thing then it’s very easy to imagine Thomas giving up in the face of this horrible execution. I was fooled. I thought this Jesus was the messiah, but I was wrong. Look at what’s happened to him – the most shameful death of all. I should have listened when people mocked me and said I was crazy to follow this carpenter from Nazareth.
But, faith is not a thing; it’s openness to the power of God. It is not necessary to have everything figured out. Faith is a trust that God is at work in the world, restoring the world to the way things were meant to be. So what does Thomas do after Jesus’ death? Well, we don’t know, but we do know that he is not fearfully hiding with the other disciples. Maybe he went off by himself to pray and to try to make sense of these horrible events, this huge disappointment. Maybe he cried out to God – Why did you let this happen? Jesus preached the Kingdom of God was near – why did you let his enemies arrest him and kill him? Was it all fake? Was I fool for following Jesus? What do I do now?
Maybe that sounds like doubt. But, really, it is faithfully reaching out to God. It’s honestly admitting to God that this does not all make sense – but I’m not going to give up, I’m not going to close myself off, no matter how much I’m afraid, or confused, or skeptical.
So what does Thomas do when the other disciples tell him about the resurrected Jesus? Is he doubtful? You bet. But the story doesn’t end there. He doesn’t say some first century equivalent of “fool me once, shame on you; fool me twice, shame on me.” He goes back with the disciples to the house – despite his doubt, he is still open to the possibility that God is at work, that things are not quite as they seem, and that death is not really the end of the story.
It’s that openness that gives Thomas the insight and the wisdom to say to Jesus more than he probably understood, “My Lord and my God!”
Faith - that openness to God, that trust in God, is easy to talk about but not so easy to live out in our daily lives – it’s not even easy when you’re like me and surrounded by church nearly all the time. It’s a constant struggle to be open and mindful – to let God work through us - to really pay attention for God at work in the world around us. But, here’s the good news - we don’t have to do all the work. If we’re open even a little, if we leave even just a little room for God, then God will do the rest.
I am sure in the years after seeing the still-wounded, yet gloriously resurrected Christ, Thomas still sometimes wondered and doubted. It was all so amazing. Had it all been a dream? What did it mean? In a way, it seemed like Jesus had changed everything, and yet nothing had changed. Death was defeated, yet there was still plenty of evil and suffering and death all around.
Like us, Thomas no longer saw Jesus in the flesh but was still called to believe – to trust – in Jesus.
According to a wonderful tradition, Thomas’ faith led him to bring the Good News all the way to India. Wherever he ended up we can trust that, despite his doubts, despite his uncertainty, he remained faithful - he remained open to God’s work all around, and within, him. And, according to tradition, Thomas gave his life for his faith in the Jesus he could no longer see. As he faced a martyr’s death, even if he had doubts, even if he was afraid, even if he was not totally certain, “Faithful Thomas” must have cried out to Jesus once again, “My Lord and my God!”
Amen.

It's All About Choices

Grace Episcopal Church
March 2, 2008
The Fourth Sunday in Lent

(1 Samuel 16:1-13)
Ephesians 5:8-14
Psalm 23
John 9:1-41

It’s All About Choices

Well, another week, and another long gospel reading. Once again we’ve modified our gospel procession to save the arms of our verger. And once again we get a long, but powerful, reading from the Fourth Gospel. This time we get a whole chapter – the healing of the man born blind. And what a chapter it is! There’s the healing itself, of course. And the conflict with the Pharisees who are so concerned that this healing has taken place during the Sabbath. And there’s the skepticism of the other bystanders who doubt that this seeing man is the same person as the blind man who sat and begged for all those years.

It’s a great story, filled with irony and paradox and lots of theological meat to chew on. But scholars suggest that there might be something else going on in this story of blindness and sight. There’s general agreement that the Gospel of John was written around the end of the First Century. And it was around this time that the Jewish followers of Jesus were faced with a very difficult choice.

For the first few decades after Jesus’ earthly ministry it seems that Jews who believed that Jesus was the messiah were able to continue going to the synagogue with not too much problem. But now, for a variety of reasons, it had become very difficult to be both Jewish and Christian. Now, a choice had to be made.

The bad news for us today is that we have inherited all this hostile language about the “Jews” in the New Testament, most especially in John’s Gospel. And it’s probably needless to say that this hostile language has all too often served to fuel anti-Semitism among Christians. But, of course, the Gospel of John was written nearly two thousand years ago by Jews for Jews. So, the angry language reflects a bitter battle between Jews who had accepted Jesus as the messiah and those who had not.

In this story of the healing of the man born blind, John the Evangelist is calling the Jews of his time to a choice – Jesus or not. And, of course, you and I here in Madison today are faced with the same choice – Jesus or not. Can we see or are we blind?

Choices. At one of the schools I taught at the dean of discipline had a little mantra for both students and teachers: “It’s all about choices.” “It’s all about choices.” So when a student cut class and got caught, he would say with a little half-smile, “It’s all about choices.” Or when a teacher would create problems for himself by being inconsistent or unfair with students, the dean would give him the same line, “It’s all about choices.”

After a while, of course, we all got sick of that line. But the dean was right – it is all about choices. And as I get older I’ve become more and more aware how my own choices – good and bad, big or seemingly small – have shaped the unfolding of my life.

To give you one little example, many of my seminary classmates chose to attend General Seminary because of its history, or its style of worship, or particular professors. I chose to attend General Seminary really for one reason – it was an easy commute from Jersey City. But that choice, made with very little reflection or consideration – frankly made with very little discernment - set in motion a chain of events that led me to be standing in this pulpit today.

So, yes, it’s all about choices. And today’s gospel lesson is all about choices, too. The bystanders choose to be skeptical about the miracle right in front of them. I can imagine them squinting their eyes and tapping their finger on their chin and saying, “Wait a second, I bet that’s not even the same person as the blind man who used to sit and beg.” They’ve seen the truth - but they choose not to accept it.

And there are the blind man’s parents. They acknowledge that it’s their son who used to be blind but now can see – but they’re not quite able to proclaim that it was Jesus who did it. They are reminiscent of Nicodemus – in a very real and personal way they know about Jesus’ power but are not quite ready, at least not yet, to proclaim Jesus in public, in broad daylight.

And there are the Pharisees – who come up with everything they can think of to discredit Jesus. The Pharisees who, because of closed-mindedness and perhaps fear, choose not to accept the miracle right in front of them. The Pharisees – who choose to be blind.

And finally there’s the blind man himself. It’s interesting that he doesn’t ask for anything. When the story begins he’s sitting there minding his own business, trying to eke out a living. But when the miracle happens he chooses to accept it and is unafraid to tell everyone what happened to him. And something else happens to this man blind from birth. By choosing to accept the miracle and to tell his story, his spiritual vision improves. First he says that Jesus is a prophet. Then later he confidently tells the Pharisees that Jesus is from God. And then finally he tells Jesus that he believes that Jesus is the Son of Man. He sees that Jesus is the messiah.

All of the people in today’s gospel made their choice. The followers of Jesus at the end of the First Century made their choice. So, what about us? It’s all about choices.

Obviously, we’ve already chosen to be here this morning. Obviously, we’ve already chosen to make at least some kind of commitment to Jesus. We’ve chosen to make some kind of commitment to the Church.

The question is how does that commitment translate into the choices we make when we’re not here in church? How does our commitment to Jesus and our commitment to the Church translate when we’re at work or at school, or with our families and friends? How does our commitment translate when we’re out there – out in the world? Jesus or not? Can we see or are we blind?

[And I can’t think of a better question to ask on this Sunday as we mark some of our young people taking another step toward adulthood. So far in your lives most, but not all, of your choices have been made by your parents. But now – and I’m sure this is scary for your parents – more and more choices will be yours to make. And the choices you make will very much shape the kind of person – the kind of Christian - you become. It really is all about choices.]

[This is why I believe discernment is so important. One writer says that discernment is the whole Christian endeavor. Which is a fancy way of saying being a Christian is all about choices. Every day we are presented with all sorts of situations and questions which call us to choose what will either bring us closer to God or drive us away from God. Ignatius of Loyola called them consolation or desolation. Every day we are presented with situations which call us to choose what will help to build the kingdom of God here on earth. And those questions or situations usually don’t come up here in church. That would be nice and easy! Instead, we face them at work, or when we try to balance our checkbooks, or in the parking lot at Shop Rite. It’s all about choices.]

Are we like the parents of the blind man, or Nicodemus from a couple of weeks ago, who although they know the great gift they have been given, choose to keep their faith in Jesus secret because we are afraid or ashamed?

Or are we like the man born blind? Do we see the amazing gifts we have been given – gifts that we never asked for or deserve? Do we see that it’s all gift – the love of our families and friends, the laughter and the tears, the good times and the bad? Do we see that this wonderful church of ours is a gift – a gift freely given by God for us to nurture? Do we see that our very life, our every breath is a gift? Do we see that God has given the greatest gift of all – the gift of God’s very Self in Jesus Christ? Does it make any difference at all?

Are we like the man born blind? Do we see the great gifts we have been given and boldly proclaim, “Lord, I believe”? It’s all about choices.

The early followers of Jesus faced a choice. And today we face a choice. Jesus or not?

It’s all about choices.

Amen.

Servant Leadership

The Messenger
Grace Episcopal Church, Madison NJ
March 2008

Servant Leadership

The whole issue of leadership has been on my mind a great deal lately. First of all, as a priest I am supposed to be a leader and so I find myself reflecting on my own skills and actions and wondering about the kind of leadership I can offer to the Church. General Seminary’s mission statement declares that its goal is “to educate and form leaders for the Church in a changing world.” I guess we’ll see how good a job the seminary did in my case!

I have also been thinking about leadership because Bishop Beckwith has appointed me to serve on the Commission on Ministry. In the past the COM has served mostly to assess whether people who hope to be ordained as deacons and priests truly seem called to those ministries. Since I am just through the “process” my memories of all sorts of paperwork, psychological tests, criminal background checks and questions ranging from “What is your favorite psalm?” to “Now that you’re entering midlife do you have greater awareness of your mortality?” are still very fresh in my mind. This is a particularly exciting time to join COM because the Bishop has put a year-long hold on people entering the ordination process and has charged the Commission on Ministry to reflect on its role in discerning leaders for the church – leaders both lay and ordained. It is an important and daunting responsibility.

Like many of you, I have been following the presidential campaign with great interest. It is certainly the most fascinating and exciting race in my lifetime. And regardless of our political beliefs I think we can all agree that in a time of war and economic uncertainty our country is hungry for strong and effective leadership. The media have mostly, as usual, been focusing on polls and personalities, but there has also been at least some talk about leadership itself. What makes a leader a leader? What is good leadership? Is a leader someone who has lengthy experience and offers detailed plans for grappling with our national challenges? Or is a leader someone who offers a grand and compelling vision, inspiring people with the hope of a dramatically changed society? Or is the truth somewhere in the middle?

Finally, I have been thinking about the leadership of Abraham Lincoln. You may have missed it, but February 12th was the 199th anniversary of Lincoln’s birth. In Jersey City the Lincoln Association has been faithfully meeting every year since 1866 to honor the Great Emancipator on his birthday. This year the Association asked me to return to my hometown and offer the Benediction at the end of an evening of speeches and toasts. As I thought about what to say – what to pray - I remembered that Jesus had a good deal to say and teach about leadership.

On a recent weekday the lectionary offered us Matthew 20:17-28, the familiar account of the mother of James and John asking Jesus, “Declare that these two sons of mine will sit, one at your right hand and one at your left, in your kingdom.” After this bold request causes a dispute to break out among the other disciples, Jesus makes clear that his idea of leadership is very different from the kind of leadership found in the world. He tells his followers, “whoever wishes to be great among you must be your servant, and whoever wishes to be first among you must be your slave.” In his teaching and in his very life Jesus offers the model of servant leadership. The one who hopes to lead must be the servant of all.

When the world thinks about leadership it rarely focuses on service. Instead the world considers leadership the ability to make people do what you want them to do – the power to get things done. By that standard, of course, Jesus with his little band of frequently confused and disobedient followers was a spectacular failure. In reality, although the leadership celebrated by the world may provide power and glory for a time, it is the servant leadership of Jesus Christ that offers true glory and everlasting life.

Let us all pray that God will raise up for us in the Church and the world true servant leaders. Here is part of the prayer that I offered at the Lincoln Association dinner, incorporating some of Lincoln’s own words:

We ask you to raise up leaders like Abraham Lincoln in our own time. We ask for leaders who offer malice toward none and charity to all.

Loving God, we ask you to raise up in our own time leaders who do not presume that you are on our side.

Instead, give us leaders like Abraham Lincoln who hope always to be on your side.

Amen.

Nicodemus: From Sign to Sacrament

Grace Episcopal Church, Madison NJ
February 17, 2008

Year A: The Second Sunday in Lent
Genesis 12:1-4a
(Romans 4:1-5, 13-17)
John 3:1-17
Psalm 121

Nicodemus: From Sign to Sacrament

These past few days I feel like I have been haunted by Nicodemus. In today’s gospel lesson John paints a mysterious, ambiguous and powerful picture doesn’t he? Nicodemus the Pharisee, Nicodemus a leader of the Jews, makes his nighttime visit to Jesus the Son of God.

Nicodemus is interested in Jesus. Nicodemus acknowledges that Jesus is, as he puts it “a teacher who has come from God.” Nicodemus acknowledges that Jesus has performed signs that only God could have allowed.

But, you know, John doesn’t really tell us why Nicodemus goes to see Jesus. Obviously Nicodemus already knows about Jesus and his work and his message. He knows about Jesus. And yet he seems to want more. But, John makes a point of mentioning that this meeting takes place “by night.”

Nicodemus knows about Jesus, he wants more, but he’s afraid.

Most of the commentators on Nicodemus agree that he represents those who sympathized with Jesus but were not quite able to go public. They knew about Jesus but they weren’t able or willing to publicly proclaim Jesus as messiah and Son of God. Maybe you know the type.

I think the story of Nicodemus is haunting to me and maybe to you because this knowing about Jesus, this wanting more, and this fear of what that more might be rings true to our experience.

Many of us know about Jesus, we want to be closer to Jesus, but we know very well that being closer to Jesus will come at a cost, so we are afraid. And often we end up keeping Jesus at an arm’s length. Like Nicodemus, we come to Jesus under the cover of darkness rather than in the light of day.

Nicodemus is impressed by the signs performed by Jesus. He seems to think, seems to hope, that this is all Jesus is – a miracle-worker, someone given special powers by God to do things like turn water into wine. If this is all Jesus is – miracle-worker then that’s great. It’s great because then nothing more is asked of Nicodemus or of us. Nicodemus seems to think that these signs are the truth – that the signs are all there is.

And signs are important, aren’t they? All types of signs. Have you ever said something mean about someone and then stubbed your toe? Ah, see a sign – you better be nicer. Or, your old TV breaks and so you see it as a sign to get a nice high-def flat screen set? See, honey, it’s a sign! And, of course, there are all sorts of printed and painted signs that we rely on.

Over the past six months I’ve driven back and forth between Madison and Jersey City a fair amount. I remember when I first started making the trip how it felt like an eternity but gradually the more I did it the shorter the distance seemed. Especially on the trips back to Madison I have come to notice the signs – signs that serve as landmarks, signs that point the way home.

Not long after I get on to 78 West there’s a sign for Madison Honda. Each time I see it I think, OK, I’m on my way. A few miles along and there’s a sign for Gary’s Wine and Marketplace. OK, getting closer. And then I know I’m getting really close to home when I see the familiar sign with Episcopal shield and the precise distance to church.

When you really start to look for them, you notice that we are surrounded by signs – traffic signs, billboards, notices, and of course bumper stickers. Religious groups are big into signs - trying to get their message out or to create what the secular world would call a brand. I’m always interested in religious bumper stickers.

I worked with a guy once who was a particularly devout Christian and the back of his car was covered with Christian bumper stickers. The two I remember were “My boss is a Jewish carpenter” and “No Jesus, No Peace. Know Jesus, Know Peace.” Of all the religious signs out there though, probably the most familiar is the one held up at pretty much every professional sports game. This one – the one that reads simply “John 3:16.” Which of course is the familiar verse that we just heard in today’s gospel, “For God so loved the world that he gave his only Son, so that everyone who believes in him may not perish but may have eternal life.”

Yes, signs are all around us and signs are certainly important. But signs only point to the real thing. The Madison Honda sign simply points to Madison Honda. The Gary’s sign simply points to Gary’s. The Episcopal Church sign simply points to…well, of course, you get it.

Very obvious. But in religion, in our spiritual life, signs can be dangerous. We can think that the signs are enough. Or maybe like Nicodemus we can hope that the signs are enough! But, All the bumper stickers, all the John 3:16 signs in the world don’t make us faithful Christians. The signs point to the truth, but they are not the truth themselves.

Jesus is asking Nicodemus for more and Jesus is asking us for more. Jesus gives Nicodemus an answer to a question he hasn’t asked out loud – maybe he was too afraid to ask. Jesus says, “Very truly I tell you no one can see the kingdom of God without being born from above.” That “born from above” can also be translated born anew or born again. In a laughably literal way Nicodemus responds to him “How can anyone be born after having grown old? Can one enter a second time into the mother’s womb and be born?”

Is he kidding? I think Nicodemus is being literal to avoid the challenging truth that Jesus is telling him. It’s not only knowing about Jesus. Being impressed by the signs isn’t enough.

To use Rite One language Jesus is telling Nicodemus - and Jesus is telling us - that we must offer and present to God our selves, our souls and bodies.

John 3:16 – “For God so loved the world that he gave his only Son, so that everyone who believes in him may not perish but may have eternal life.”

What does it mean to believe in Jesus? Does it mean being impressed by Jesus’ signs – the turning the water into wine and all that? OK. But it’s more than signs. Does it mean accepting Jesus’ teaching? Sure. But it’s more than that.

In his book The Heart of Christianity the scholar Marcus Borg points out that we have lost the original meaning of belief and believe. We tend to think of it up in our heads – well, I believe that’s true but I’m not totally sure. Or, I believe it and nothing you can say can convince me otherwise.

But Borg points out that before the 17th Century believe actually meant to love. The words believe and belove are closely related.

For God so loved the world that he gave his only Son, so that everyone who believes in him may not perish but may have eternal life.

Jesus is telling Nicodemus and Jesus is telling us the thinking and the knowing are fine. The signs are pointing us in the right direction. But, Jesus is calling Nicodemus and Jesus is calling us to more. Jesus is calling us to belove – to give our self, to give our soul and body, to be born again and to live forever in the love that is God.

It’s a lot to ask.

In a way, Jesus is telling Nicodemus and telling us that we need to move from signs to sacraments. Our catechism defines sacraments as outward and visible signs of inward and spiritual grace, given by Christ as sure and certain means by which we receive that grace.

In other words, sacraments are signs that actually give us what they point to. It’s as if the Gary’s sign out on 78 actually sold wine.

Think of the two great sacraments - Baptism is a sign of our new birth in Christ and our new birth in Christ takes place at our baptism. The Eucharist is a sign of Christ’s presence and the Eucharist actually gives us Christ’s presence.

And by believing in Jesus the Son of God - by beloving Jesus the Son of God - we become living sacraments too. We become signs of Christ and we also become Christ’s physical presence in the world. We become the Body of Christ – not just a sign, but a sacrament.

Of course, we know almost nothing about Nicodemus. But he does reappear later in John’s Gospel and it seems that Jesus’ call to move from sign to sacrament has transformed him.

In John 7 Nicodemus reappears, presumably in broad daylight, and boldly stands up for Jesus against his fellow Pharisees. The Pharisees pointedly ask Nicodemus “Surely you are not also from Galilee, are you?” Nicodemus the Pharisee who came to Jesus fearfully at night is now publicly associated with Jesus.

And Nicodemus appears one more time after Jesus’ death on the cross. He and Joseph of Arimathea handle the burial of Jesus’ body. And John gives us an important detail. John tells us that Nicodemus brought a mixture of myrrh and aloes, weighing about one hundred pounds – which would be about 75 of our pounds.

That extravagant generosity to Jesus is no accident. John is telling us that Nicodemus has been transormed. Nicodemus moved beyond just knowing about Jesus and Jesus’ signs. Nicodemus came to believe in – came to belove – Jesus. In anointing the body of the Son of God, Nicodemus became a living sacrament.

“For God so loved the world that he gave his only Son, so that everyone who believes in him may not perish but may have eternal life.”

Amen.

A Benediction for the Jersey City Lincoln Association Dinner

A Benediction for the Jersey City Lincoln Association Dinner, February 12, 2008



God of our Fathers and Mothers,

We thank you for the gift of Abraham Lincoln.

We thank you for his courage, wisdom, and steadfastness.

We thank you also for the faithful witness of the Lincoln Association of Jersey City.

We ask you to raise up leaders like Abraham Lincoln in our own time. We ask for leaders who offer malice toward none and charity to all.

Loving God, we ask you to raise up in our own time leaders who do not presume that you are on our side.

Instead, give us leaders like Abraham Lincoln who hope always to be on your side.

Bless our great city with prosperity and wellbeing for all. Bless all of us gathered here tonight.

Give all of us the strength to finish the work we are in.

We ask all of this confident that you alone are perfect peace and perfect liberty.

Amen.

Transfiguration: A Preview

Grace Episcopal Church, Madison NJ
February 3, 2008
Year A: The Last Sunday after Epiphany

Exodus 24:12-18
Psalm 2
Matthew 17:1-9

Transfiguration: A Preview

Today’s gospel offers us the familiar, mysterious story of the Transfiguration. It’s a brief story with some quick, powerful, vivid images. Jesus with three of his disciples up on the mountain. The face of Jesus shining like the sun – his clothes dazzling white. Elijah and Moses appearing. Peter very sensibly suggesting they memorialize this big day. And then, as if all this weren’t enough, the voice of God declares “This is my Son, the Beloved; with him I am well pleased; listen to him!”
There is a lot going on here – and it’s hard to make sense of it all – it all happens so quickly. As I’ve thought about it I’ve come to realize that the Transfiguration is not so important on its own. In fact, the Transfiguration is really kind of like a movie preview. The Transfiguration just gives a glimpse, just a taste, of what’s to come.

Now, if you still go to the movies you know that previews have gotten kind of long – and most of the time they pretty much tell the whole story of the movie – or at least show most of the best, or funniest, parts. The Transfiguration isn’t that kind of a sneak preview. Bear with me, but the Transfiguration is actually a little bit like the preview for the new Star Trek movie.

Yes, Star Trek. I don’t know if any of you are Star Trek fans. Or if any of you will admit that you’re a Star Trek fan! I’ll admit that I’ve been since I was a kid – not quite a put on pointy ears and go to a Star Trek convention kind of fan – but I was an eat my dinner in front of the little black and white TV and watch Star Trek reruns kind of fan. Anyway, in December a new Star Trek movie with new actors playing Kirk and Spock and the rest will be coming out.

And a few weeks ago they started showing the preview. The whole thing lasts less than a minute. It starts out with a shot of a welder at work and then there are shots of what looks like some kind of metal and odd angles and then at the very end there is a glimpse of the familiar starship Enterprise and we realize we’ve been watching the ship being built. And across the screen flash the words “Under Construction.” OK, I admit to having watched it a few times online. And I admit that it’s a very effective preview – I can’t wait to find out more about the movie and to see it in December.

Transfiguration - a sneak preview. Just a glimpse. Just a taste. A preview of what’s to come. Under construction. Transfiguration.

Just as we’re about to begin Lent, the Transfiguration is a preview of the glory of Easter. It’s a preview of the glory of resurrection. It’s a preview of the glory of Heaven. Transfiguration is a last little alleluia before we enter a season of penance and sacrifice and later the great joy of Easter. It’s a preview – we can’t see the whole picture yet. It’s just a glimpse of what’s under construction for Jesus and a glimpse of what’s under construction for all of us.

The Transfiguration is also a call for us to pay attention. It’s a call to mindfulness. Just as I’ve carefully studied that Star Trek preview over and over to pick up clues about the movie, we are all called to pay close attention so that we don’t miss the glimpses, the previews of the glory that is to come.

I’ve noticed that very often these glimpses, these previews of glory, happen in the midst of suffering. Maybe God knows that’s when we need the encouragement – it’s when we need the hope. The evangelist Matthew seems to understand this. He places his Transfiguration account right in the middle of a bleak part of his gospel. Matthew reports that the Pharisees and the scribes continually try to trick Jesus with their questions. They are trying to figure out how to get rid of the troublesome rabbi. And Jesus himself has begun to predict his own death – to the shock and dismay of his disciples. Jesus has told them, “If any want to become my followers, let them deny themselves and take up their cross and follow me. For those who want to save their life will lose it, and those who lose their life for my sake will find it.”

Yes, for Jesus and his followers the storm clouds are gathering on the horizon. The realization is sinking in that Jesus’ ministry is going to cost him and cost his followers a great deal. And it’s at this time of anxiety and fear that Jesus, Peter, James and John have this mountaintop experience. It’s at this time of anxiety and fear that they get a preview of the glory that is to come.

Of course, the Transfiguration doesn’t make all the bad stuff go away. Even there on the mountain Jesus has to say to the disciples, “Get up and do not be afraid.” And we know all the suffering that Jesus and his followers had yet to face. But in the midst of anxiety and fear and suffering the Transfiguration is a glimpse, a preview of what’s come.

Some of you know that everyone who hopes to be ordained spends time training as a chaplain – usually in a hospital. It’s called Clinical Pastoral Education – CPE. IT was the most intense and most valuable part of my whole seminary experience. I did CPE at Christ Hospital in Jersey City for most of one summer. Talk about a time of anxiety and fear! I was anxious working in a hospital with surrounded by sick and sometimes dying people – people who were looking to me for comfort, hope and sometimes unfortunately even looking to me for answers. I was anxious and afraid. And, of course, many of the patients, their family and friends were anxious.

And yet in the midst of all that anxiety and fear when I prayed and paid attention I was able to experience some real Transfiguration moments. I was able to glimpse the glory of God. I was able to get just a taste of what awaits us. I was able to see what God has under construction for all of us.

I remember an old woman in the hospital who was dying. It wasn’t a good death; the doctors were trying to keep her alive and so she was enduring a lot of suffering. I visited her day after day – often she was confused and would speak nonsense. But one time her eyes cleared, she looked at me intently and I’ll never forget what she said. She looked at me like it was the most important thing she ever said, and she whispered, “I never knew I could love my children so much.”

There was another patient, a woman, about my age. She had clawed her way out of desperate poverty in Jersey City, gone to college, gotten a good job, and then was diagnosed with breast cancer that despite all the treatments was spreading throughout her body. She was one of the people the nurses called “frequent fliers” – she was in and out of the hospital all the time. I talked to her for many hours. She was skeletal and in great pain. Her family was mean and uncaring. She had every reason in the world to be angry and bitter. And yet this woman who had so much suffering and anxiety and fear once said to me that she used to ask God “why me? And then when I saw all the other sick people in the hospital after a while I began to ask God, why not me?”

There are other stories I could tell you, but my experience in Christ Hospital with those two women has stayed with me. In a time of fear and anxiety through them I was able to glimpse God’s glory – to get a preview of what God has under construction for all of us. I was able to glimpse the power to love more than we could ever imagine. I was able to glimpse such humility that in the midst of great suffering asks why not me?

I don’t need to tell you that we live in a time of great anxiety and fear. The problems of our world sometimes – maybe usually - seem insurmountable: The desperate poverty, the polluted environment, the widespread hatred and violence. Many of us are concerned about the economy. In conversations around church I’ve come to understand just how fragile finances are for many of us.

And, of course, the church isn’t immune to anxiety and fear. During the weekday services we read all the names on the parish prayer list. It’s a long list. And each time it reminds me just how much suffering and anxiety there is here in our community. And, although this is the healthiest church I’ve ever been part of, at last week’s parish meeting we acknowledged a dip in attendance and financial concerns. And regardless of finances the start of a building project is always a time of anxiety.

And so just as Jesus went to the mountain to pray this is a time for us to pray. This is a time for us to pay attention. This is a call to mindfulness.
And if we pray, if we pay attention, if we are mindful, I believe – I know – that we will glimpse our own transfiguration. If we look around, if we keep our eyes and ears open, we will see a preview of the glory that God has under construction.

Episcopalians and Race

The Messenger
Grace Episcopal Church, Madison NJ
February 2008

Episcopalians and Race


A little more than a century ago in his groundbreaking book The Souls of Black Folk, W.E.B. DuBois famously declared “…the problem of the Twentieth Century is the problem of the color-line.” DuBois was undoubtedly correct in his prediction about the last century. Certainly there was much remarkable and lasting progress made in guaranteeing civil rights for all Americans. However, just in case we somehow thought that the issue of race had been settled before the turn of the millennium, the current presidential campaign has again exposed the racial strains and scars that continue to stress and blot American society. As an American institution, it shouldn’t be surprising that the Episcopal Church has a decidedly uneven record when it comes to race. For me, three key figures highlight this ambiguous legacy.

Absalom Jones (1746-1818) was the first black man to be ordained in the Episcopal Church. He was born into slavery but managed to teach himself to read and later enrolled in a night school for blacks run by Quakers in Philadelphia. He eventually purchased first his wife’s freedom and then his own. After his emancipation Jones and Richard Allen became leaders of St. George’s Methodist Episcopal Church where they dramatically increased black membership, stirring up the racism of white members. When the church leadership tried to segregate the blacks into an upstairs gallery, Jones and Allen led their people out of the church. Jones and Allen became leaders of the Free African Society which built a church that in 1794 was admitted by the Episcopal Diocese of Pennsylvania as St. Thomas African Episcopal Church. Absalom Jones was ordained a deacon in 1795 and a priest in 1802.

I had never heard of Alexander Crummell (1819-98) before I began my studies at General Seminary. In the seminary chapel each morning the sacristans begin to prepare for the day’s worship by lighting a candle beside an icon of Crummell that hangs in a prominent spot in the chapel. The icon and the daily candle-lighting ritual serve as a powerful reminder of – and atonement for - a shameful episode in the seminary’s history. Crummell had been educated at an interracial school in New Hampshire and discerned a call to ordained ministry in the Episcopal Church. His application in 1839 to General Seminary was denied because of his race. Crummell was persistent, though, and after private study was ordained in the Diocese of Massachusetts. After ordination, Crummell went on to study at Cambridge and then went as a missionary to Liberia, where he became one of the leading figures in that African republic. He eventually returned to the United States where he led the fight against segregation in the Church by forming the organization that later evolved into the Union of Black Episcopalians.

Like every other American institution, the Episcopal Church was tossed and turned by the political and social turmoil of the 1960s. Many in the Church were galvanized by the martyrdom of Jonathan Myrick Daniels (1939-65), a seminarian from the Episcopal Theological (now Divinity) School in Cambridge, Massachusetts. Daniels and other seminarians answered the call of Martin Luther King, Jr. to participate in the march from Selma to Montgomery, Alabama. Unlike the other seminarians who stayed down South for a few days before returning home, Daniels stayed for months, eventually being arrested after picketing whites-only stores in Ft. Deposit, Alabama. After a brutal week in jail, Daniels and the other protestors were released. On the day of the release, while waiting for a ride back to town Daniels and some of the others approached a store to buy a cold drink. They were met by a shotgun-wielding white man who threatened them and took aim at a seventeen-year old black woman, Ruby Sales. Daniels pulled Sales aside and was killed instantly by the shot intended for her, becoming a martyr for the cause of civil rights for all of God’s people.

In a society still burdened with racism, it is important for us to reflect on, and learn from, the lives of these remarkable Episcopalians. In a world distorted by sin, we are called to live out the promises we make in the Baptismal Covenant to seek and serve Christ in all persons, to love our neighbor as our self, to strive for justice and peace among all people, and to respect the dignity of every human being. As a small step toward living out those promises, I invite you to join Mother Lauren and me at Trinity + St. Philip’s Cathedral on Sunday, February 10th at 3:00PM for the annual service commemorating the life of Absalom Jones. It is a wonderful event, and our presence can be a sign of our commitment to justice and peace for all.

Where is the Child that was Born King of the Jews?

Grace Episcopal Church, Madison NJ
January 6, 2008 – The Feast of the Epiphany

Isaiah 60:1-6
Psalm 72:1-7, 10-14
(Ephesians 3:1-12)
Matthew 2:1-12

Where is the Child who was born King of the Jews?

Well, they finally made it. These past couple of weeks each time I’ve passed through church in my mind I’ve kind of encouraged the three wise men, “Come on , keep going you’re almost there. Just a little bit farther” And now today we celebrate that they made it. Today we celebrate the arrival of the wise men in Bethlehem. Today we celebrate Epiphany.

The Epiphany story is so beautiful and so powerful. It strikes a chord deep inside of us. We don’t really know anything about these wise men – or kings – or astrologers, or whoever they were. Although the cast is a mystery, it’s a story that strikes something inside of us. Epiphany is a powerful story with two deeply related parts. First, God’s love is manifested in Jesus Christ. In Jesus, God says to the whole world – “Here, this is who I am.” “This is how much I love you.” And the second part of Epiphany is the response of the wise men to this manifestation – they give gifts to Jesus.

Epiphany: a powerful story of manifestation and response.

Somehow this story of wise men traveling from who knows where to the backwater town of Bethlehem to pay homage to the newborn king of the Jews strikes a chord in many of us.
To this day Cologne Cathedral in Germany contains the shrine of the Three Kings – I had the chance to see it back in the 80s. The shrine is a large golden sarcophagus that supposedly contains the remains of the Magi. Because the Epiphany story is so powerful, it was quite a catch for Cologne to get these relics. Not surprisingly since medieval times the shrine has attracted many pilgrims and people continue to visit it everyday.

Epiphany –a powerful story of manifestation and response. It’s a story in two parts – the manifestation of God’s love in Jesus and the gifts that the wise men give to the Baby Jesus.

I think the power of the story comes from the search for Jesus. The wise men ask when they arrive in Jerusalem, “Where is the child that has been born the king of the Jews?” They are looking for Jesus. Part of the power of the Epiphany story comes from these people taking a chance, following a star, and searching for the king – searching for Jesus.

The truth is, we may be a little envious of the wise men. In some ways they had it easier than we do. Yes, they had to leave their homes. Yes, they had to follow the star. Yes, they had to trust. Yes, they had to outwit Herod. But, at the end of their journey they found the child, the newborn king, they found God’s love. They found Jesus under the star.

There in the manger, God’s love is manifested in Jesus. The wise men can see him, hear him, and present him with their gifts.

We are also on a quest for Jesus. But today Jesus, who is God’s love, is not made manifest in the same way as he was for the wise men. No, we are in the same position as the apostle Thomas. We are challenged to believe without seeing, to believe without hearing, to believe without touching. But, although we are in a very different situation than the wise men, the two parts of the Epiphany story remain the same – the manifestation of God’s love and the call for us to respond to God’s love.

We are on a quest for Jesus. Where is the child who was born the king of the Jews? Where is Jesus? How is God’s love made manifest today, here and now, right here in Madison? How is Jesus made manifest right here at Grace Church? And how can we respond? What gifts can we give to Jesus?

In thinking about where to find Jesus today I was reminded of a famous quote from Teresa of Avila, the 16th Century Spanish mystic. She said, “Christ has no body on earth but yours, no hands but yours, no feet but yours. Yours are the eyes through which is to look out Christ’s compassion on the world. Yours are the feet with which he is to go about doing good. Yours are the hands with which he is to bless men now.”

Very beautiful and very true. So maybe our quest is easier than the quest faced by the wise men. We do not have to travel to a distant land to find Christ. We can find Christ inside of us and in the people who are around us. If we pay attention, if we are mindful, we can experience Epiphany every day. If we pay attention, if we are mindful, we will find that God is made manifest in Jesus right here and right now.

So in my quest for Jesus, my quest for God’s love here at Grace Church I did the obvious thing – I opened up the latest edition of The Messenger.

One of the things I still haven’t gotten used to here at Grace is how much is going on week after week. It’s amazing, and sometimes a bit overwhelming to be part of a church that does so much.

As I mindfully flipped through The Messenger, God’s love was made manifest on page after page.

There was the story of Chris Wilde running in the Marine Corps Marathon and raising $3400 to support research to cure Leukemia and Lymphoma. Epiphany.

There was the story of our children making Christmas cards for the residents of Pine Acres and talking about how Jesus didn’t just talk about doing things, he did them. Epiphany.

One of the children told the story of being at the nursing home. He said, “I took my best card, you know the one I had spent all this time making, and there was this guy sitting in the corner, and like no one was looking at him or going to him. So I went over there, and I gave it to him.” Epiphany.

There was the story of Grace parishioners donating gifts so that the Recycling Ministry could make a wonderful Christmas for ten families and ten adults. Epiphany.

And speaking of the Recycling Ministry, on a nearly daily basis Kit and his crew manifest God’s love and in very concrete ways transform people’s lives. Epiphany.

There was the story of the Rite 13 bake sale raising $80 for Heifer International. Along with a generous donation from the Outreach Committee, we were able to make real difference in the lives of people in the developing world. Epiphany.

No, I’m not done - there’s more! There was the story of thirty-four parishioners donating food to the Community Soup Kitchen in Morristown and thirteen parishioners working in the kitchen serving over 200 meals. Epiphany.

I could keep going, but you get the idea. God’s love is made manifest right here at Grace Church. It turns out, if we pay attention, Epiphany happens everyday, right here, right now.

As Christians we are called to manifest God’s love in the world. We are all called as Teresa of Avila put it, to be Christ’s body, to be Christ’s eyes, to be Christ’s feet, to be Christ’s hands.

Which brings us to the second part of Epiphany – our response. We know how the wise men responded – by giving their gifts. So how about us? In that same issue of The Messenger there were lots of upcoming opportunities to manifest Jesus in the world. There are lots of potential Epiphanies.

There is another soup kitchen date in February. Kit is always looking for some help on the truck. In The Messenger I wrote about our new “Driven by Grace” program. What a gift to drive someone to church who couldn’t get here otherwise!

On February 20, St. Vincent’s Church will be hosting the interfaith homeless shelter. What a gift to offer shelter to people who have no place to rest!

On February 3, we’ll be celebrating “Souper Bowl Sunday” with soup pots available for donations after every service. The money raised will go directly to the Community Soup Kitchen in Morristown. What a gift to make a donation that we know directly benefits people in our own community.

If we pay attention, there are so many potential Epiphanies. There are so many ways for God’s love to be made manifest, right here and now.

So, on this Epiphany let’s celebrate that the wise men made it. They completed their quest. They encountered God’s love in Jesus. And they responded by giving gifts. If we pay attention we can encounter God’s love here and now. How will we respond?

Driven by Grace

The Messenger
Grace Episcopal Church, Madison NJ
January 2008

Driven by Grace

Many of you know that before moving to Madison at the end of August Sue and I had lived nearly our entire lives in Jersey City. So, naturally, people here at Grace as well as back home in Jersey City have been asking how the adjustment to suburban living has been going. Considering how long we lived in the city, I am amazed at how easily we have settled into our new environment.

Certainly there have been adjustments. Obviously life on Surrey Lane is a whole lot quieter than the cacophony that surrounded us back on Highland Avenue. The city is bathed in the glow of artificial light, so it took some time to get used to the real darkness at night. But, it sure is wonderful to see so many stars in the sky on these clear crisp winter nights. Our cat Noelle was predictably freaked out by the move but she has created a new routine and has quickly grown to love – and in fact very often yearn for – the screened-in porch.

In reality there is quite a bit about Madison that feels very familiar. I am grateful to live in a town that has a diner like the Nautilus. From the start I felt right at home during our weekly Men’s Breakfast at the Bagel Chateau. And right next door is Garden State News – not much different from many similar newsstands back in Jersey City. Sue and I enjoy eating out and we have managed to find reasonable facsimiles for most of our favorite places in Hudson County.

There is one aspect of suburban life that has been more difficult for me – the need to drive just about everywhere. Living in the city for the first ten years of our marriage, Sue and I were able to get by very easily with just one car. Occasionally there was some conflict that we had to negotiate, but usually one car was sufficient. In fact, considering how scarce parking was in our neighborhood, having a second car would have been a major headache.

Fortunately we lived within walking distance of a PATH station and several bus lines, so getting around was pretty easy. And, my almost daily walks to the station provided me with a fair amount of exercise. Once we knew we were moving to Madison we understood that we would have to buy a second car. So now I spend a good bit of time scooting around in my car – which I don’t mind too much, except that my expanding waistline is telling me I need to find a new form of exercise.

But I have become aware of how crucial the ability to drive is for people who live in our community. So much of our independence and quality of life is connected to our ability to take care of seemingly simple everyday tasks – tasks that become much more challenging without access to a car.

Here at Grace Church we have a number of parishioners who very much wish that they could come to church more regularly but cannot because they do not have a ride. Although we try to make as many pastoral visits as possible, the truth is there is just no substitute for being gathered with the rest of the community to hear the Word of God and to receive Christ’s Body and Blood. So, to try to meet this important need, we are beginning a new program called “Driven by Grace” which will connect parishioners who have transportation with those who do not.

The plan is simple. If you are interested in providing this service all you need to do is call or email me. Let me know which Sunday service you attend and if there are any upcoming Sundays that you will not be in church. On the other hand, if you are interested in getting a ride to church please give me a call and let me know which service you would prefer to attend.

Hester Wharton and I will work to connect drivers with passengers. We hope to begin on Sunday, February 3. As always with something new, “Driven by Grace” will be a work in progress. But with a bit of generosity and some logistical work more of us will be able to fully participate in our Christian community. That seems like a great way to start a new year!

Agents of Grace

Grace Episcopal Church, Madison NJ
Christmas Day, 2007 – RCL 2

Isaiah 62:6-12
Titus 3:4-7
Psalm 97
Luke 2:1-20

Agents of Grace

It’s good to be at Grace Church at Christmas. There’s been so much going on – so many services, so much preparation, so much beautiful music – so much Grace! For many of us it’s been just about all grace all the time.

And now this morning we’ve come to the heart of the Christmas season – Christmas Day itself. It’s good to be here, because it would be very easy for Christmas Day to be an afterthought. It would be easy for us to be like the rest of our society and already impatiently move on to the next thing. I don’t need to tell you that the society’s calendar is a little different than the church’s calendar. For the world, Christmas began back around Halloween and as of this morning Christmas is officially over. I am sure the TV commercials are already running encouraging us to take advantage of the big after Christmas sales. (I’m actually a little surprised that stores aren’t open today…)

But that’s the world’s calendar. Let’s remember that the church calendar is very different. For us, this is not the end of the Christmas season, but just the beginning. But, if we’re not careful we can get swept up with the rest of the society and really miss out on Christmas. If we’re not careful we can miss out on the whole point. If we’re not careful we can miss the grace that God gave the world that first Christmas – and the grace that God continues to give us here and now.

It’s good to be at Grace Church at Christmas. It’s good because Christmas truly is the season of grace.

Grace. It’s the name of our church. And for some it’s their own name. But what exactly is grace and why is Christmas the season of grace?

Well, the catechism in the prayer book gives us a great definition of grace: “God’s favor towards us, unearned and undeserved; by grace God forgives our sins, enlightens our minds, stirs our hearts, and strengthens our wills.”
Grace: “God’s favor towards us, unearned and undeserved.” Christmas truly is the season of grace.

And we sure do need grace. It’s pretty obvious that something has gone terribly wrong. Life, the world, was not supposed to be this way. In the Bible we have the description of God being so very pleased with creation. But then something goes horribly wrong. Human beings, represented by the Adam and Eve, turn away from God, reject God, hide from God. And so pain and suffering and sadness enter our lives.

God could have just given up on us. Instead the Bible tells the story of God over and over reaching out to humanity – making covenants, trying to be in relationship with us. But, you know the story – over and over human beings follow the example of Adam and Eve and turn away from God – over and over we reject God’s offer of friendship.

And so we come to Christmas. Christmas, the ultimate act of grace. Christmas, the supreme gift of grace. Christmas, unearned and undeserved. Christmas, when God reaches out in the most extreme way by becoming one of us in this newborn child – this Jesus – born in the middle of nowhere, born to a couple of nobodies.
But, God couldn’t do this on God’s own. God needed the people we’ve been hearing about in church over these past few weeks. God needed the people we saw in the pageant yesterday. God needed agents of the grace.

God needed Mary to carry Jesus inside her. God needed Mary to set aside her doubts and fears. God needed Mary to take the risk, to risk the gossip and the snickering, to risk her marriage to Joseph, to risk her life itself. Mary could have said no. Instead Luke recalls her saying to the angel, “Here am I, the servant of the Lord; let it be with me according to your word.” The prayer says Mary was “full of grace.” But more than that by saying yes to God, Mary became an agent of grace.

God needed Joseph. As Mother Lauren pointed out in her sermon on Sunday, Joseph was an extraordinarily honorable man. Greeted with the news of Mary’s pregnancy he could have rejected her and even had her stoned to death. Instead Joseph says yes to God, stays with Mary, and raises Jesus as his own. By saying yes to God, Joseph became an agent of grace.

God needed John the Baptist to prepare the way for Jesus. We don’t really know how John got from the comfortable life of a priest’s son to the life of a prophet out in the wilderness preaching repentance and forgiveness. We can be sure that like the other prophets before him he received a call from God and was given a choice. John could have said no and remained in relative comfort but instead he said yes to God. By saying yes to God, John the Baptist became an agent of grace.

And the same is true for the rest of the cast. The shepherds could have shaken their heads in disbelief – maybe the wine they had drunk that night was stronger than usual – after all why would an angel appear to them? And who sees angels anyway? And who sees angels who say that the Messiah is born to a couple of nobodies just down the road? Instead the shepherds say yes and become agents of grace.

The wise men could have taken a pass on the long trip following a star to Israel of all places. Because of our faith we tend to think of Israel as being a very important place, but most of the rest of the ancient world saw it as no place important – a backwater – noteworthy only for its odd religious belief in one God. But the wise men said yes and so they too became agents of grace.

So Christmas is the story of God’s grace. It’s the story of God’s favor towards us, unearned and undeserved.

And Christmas is also the story of ordinary people saying yes to God and becoming agents of God’s grace.

So you know what the question is. We can skip right over it and move on to those big sales tomorrow. We can skip right over it and start thinking about the next thing – vacation, New Years Eve, whatever. We can ignore the question but this Christmas, this festival of grace, this Christmas will we say yes to God? This Christmas will we say yes to God and become agents of grace?

The truth is God is asking us for help all the time. God is asking us to be agents of grace. The request may not be quite as dramatic as what Mary and Joseph and the rest received, though you never know. But today and everyday God is still asking the question. Will you help me?

Sometimes God’s grace can come very suddenly – we tend to call that a miracle.
Usually, though, God’s grace can come over a very long period of time. Think of how many centuries God reached out to humanity before that first Christmas. So it can take a long time and usually God’s grace takes the form of a series of nudges in the direction God knows is best for us.

Certainly for me Saturday’s ordination was a day of extraordinary grace – unearned and undeserved. But as I’ve thought and reflected on it, that day was the result of God’s grace nudging me and guiding me through all sorts of mistakes and detours until God finally got me where I was meant to be. It took a long time and required many agents of grace to get me here. And I was so happy that so many of those angents of grace were in church on Saturday.

I want to tell you one story of grace from that day. I have an uncle named Jimmy who was always sort of the wild child in my mother’s family. He married his high school sweetheart and they had two kids, a daughter and a son. For a time things seemed to be going pretty well for them. Jimmy had a good job; they had a nice house in the suburbs, and all the rest.

Unfortunately, Jimmy had a problem with alcohol and drugs. To make a long and horrible story short, Jimmy ended up losing everything – his job, his home, his family. He has not had any contact with his children in sixteen years. Ten years ago he was working at a gas station and each night he went back to his apartment and drank until he passed out.

That life took its toll. He had a stroke and without money he ended up in a nursing home in Newark – where he has lived ever since. Slowly he has recovered; building a new and sober life for himself – but still the loss of contact with his two kids was an open wound.

Some of my relatives tried to figure out a way to get him to my ordination but logistically it just wasn’t possible. And so on Saturday while the rest of my family was here in church Uncle Jimmy was in the nursing home in Newark, as usual.
And then his phone rang. And it was his daughter calling. It was his daughter. He had not seen or spoken to her in 16 years. But she had kept his phone number and after all this time she was reaching out to him. It took a long time but through agents of grace God had nudged her enough so that she was able to take this huge step and begin reconciliation.

Let’s stop there. Just as in today’s gospel we leave Mary and Joseph with their newborn child let’s leave Uncle Jimmy on the phone with his long lost daughter.
And let’s reflect on all the grace that has brought them all to this moment. Let’s all reflect on all the grace – unearned and undeserved – that has brought us all here this morning.

And on this Christmas let’s say yes. Let’s say yes and be agents of God’s grace.

Amen.

Wounded and Bold

The Messenger
Grace Episcopal Church, Madison NJ
December 2007

Wounded and Bold

In these last few weeks as I prepare to be ordained to the priesthood, I have been spending some time reflecting on how exactly I have gotten to this major landmark in my life. I remember one time years ago my father once said that in our lives we seem to go from one random event to another, but at certain points we can look back and see that what seemed random at the time was actually part of a journey with definite shape and purpose. I am not sure now when and why he said that, but having a gotten a little older and hopefully having gained some perspective, I can see that he was right. As I look back I also realize that it is the people we encounter even more than the events we experience that make our journeys unique.

An offhand remark in the faculty room at St. Peter’s Prep led Sue and me to St. Paul’s Church in Jersey City seven years ago. It was there in that beautiful wood frame Victorian church that we found the spiritual food that we needed so much. It was also at St. Paul’s where I met two of my great friends and clergy role models. More than once they have half-jokingly referred to themselves as my spiritual father and grandfather.

I can vividly remember how stunned and moved I was by the exchange of the peace that first Sunday at St. Paul’s. Frankly, Sue and I were a little overwhelmed by the exuberance and warmth of the congregation. These people seemed genuinely happy to be in church together! Although we were sitting in the back of the church, the priest approached us, extended his hand and said, “I’m Dave Hamilton, welcome to St. Paul’s.”

And so began one of the closest friendships of my life.

I believe that my sense of vocation was reawakened by the example of Dave’s priesthood. At St. Paul’s he never allowed himself to be placed on a pedestal. Instead, there was always a powerful sense of authenticity in his ministry, and especially in his preaching. Although he was a strong leader, there was always the honest acknowledgement that he was like us - a broken person trying to faithfully follow the way of Jesus Christ. Later when I read Henri Nouwen’s classic book The Wounded Healer I immediately thought of Dave – this man who had found great success in a thriving suburban parish only to painfully lose it all. Yet, when all seemed lost, he recovered and was gloriously reborn as a city priest, first at Trinity+St. Philip’s Cathedral and then at St. Paul’s. Dave, very open about his alcoholism and recovery, did not dwell on his wounds in self-absorption but rather honestly allowed his wounds to shape his ministry. It is a challenging model, but the only way to authentic ministry.

I have also been profoundly shaped by my spiritual grandfather, the rector emeritus at St. Paul’s, Frank Carr. Although he is more than twice my age, over the years he and I have also developed a close friendship. His example encourages me to be bold in my ministry. When he was graduating from seminary in the early 1950s, the bishop of Montana (then still an outpost of the Wild West) asked if any of the newly-minted Episcopal deacons had the boldness to go minister in the frontier. Only Frank Carr, born and raised in Boston, answered the call went west. He began a ministry that took him to Olympia, Beverly Hills, Ft. Worth and finally Jersey City. In addition to his example of boldness, Frank has also given me what I think is the best definition of the Christian life. He always says it is a life of love, forgiveness and service. Even today, burdened with blindness and other ills, he continues to live out the Christian life and his ordination vows as he ministers to a large network of people across the country and through a deep prayer life.

My ordination gives me a good occasion to reflect on Dave and Frank and the many other people who have given my journey its distinctive shape. Maybe this month, as a new church year begins and a calendar year draws to a close, we can all reflect on the people who have been with us – and continue to be with us – as we follow the way of Jesus Christ. And, since in our baptism we are all called to be ministers, maybe this month we can acknowledge our own wounds and go forth to love, forgive, and serve with authenticity and boldness.