Merry Christmas!

A blessed Christmas to one and all! While all our stockings may be hung by the chimney with care, and while we may be excited about the celebration of this Holy Season, Christmas does remind us about a sobering and eternal truth. And it is only as we appreciate this truth about Christmas that we can fully understand the impact of the message, summed up so pointedly in John 3.16. “God so loved the world that he sent his only begotten son to the end that all who believe in him should not perish but have everlasting life.”

Those are familiar words. But they take on a greater meaning when we pause a moment to realize that every public moment of our Lord’s life was surrounded by scandal and controversy, from his conception to his last dying breath on the cross. Our Lord came into the world, and he was human as any one of us, but his life, the quality of his life was not like ours. Conceived in a manner that was a cause of scandal upon his mother and upon Joseph, born in a stable, and homeless and indigent for most of his life, the incarnate Lord saw the worst of life, not the happier side of it. Not only was his mode of dying painful, it was the sort of death reserved for criminals of the worst sort, the scum of society. He was truly, as Isaiah foretold, the man of sorrows and acquainted with grief.

How many of us think about LG (Life is Good) in the celebration of the good life. There is no LB (as in Life’s bad) brand of appliances—and yet, that was the quality of life that our Lord Jesus lived, and he freely embraced it for your sake.

So, as I wish you all a blessed and merry Christmas, I would implore you to ponder this mystery of God’s love. Not to create a blot, an execration upon our joy and celebration, but to help us to appreciate the wonder of the greatest gift of all, the true love of God in Jesus Christ our Lord.

Faithfully,

 

Canon Greg+

Anticipating Jesus, the temple of the presence of God

Why on earth should we have a reading from the Second book of Samuel today? Why should we care, in the midst of all our preparations for Christmas? What matter to us whether David did or did not provide a house of worship for God, the house of cedar, rather than the tent of the presence of meeting?

Perhaps we do not really care, or perhaps we know enough about biblical history to know that it was Solomon who built the first temple, not David, who was Solomon’s father. But what we probably do not appreciate is the way in which this passage was understood in the early Church. Among the earliest of Christians, this passage was understood to be a foretelling—a prediction of the coming of the Lord Jesus Christ. That, of course was based on the ending: “The Lord declares that the Lord will make you a house…Your house and your kingdom shall be made sure forever before me, your throne shall be established forever.”

Granted, it may not have been appreciated in this way by king David. But the early Christians, understood that the birth of the Lord Jesus was the fulfillment of this promise of God—this passage of scripture from 2^nd Samuel.

 And, moreover, in their metaphorical way of looking at it, they quickly moved to a meditation that the living God would not come to reveal himself as a place in the world, but a living entity.  They saw how this living, dynamic presence of God was prefigured in the mobility of the tent of presence and the ark of the Covenant. The image is that God and his power are not limited to a fixed location: he goes where David goes; He goes where you go; God does not reveal himself as a building. So, in their understanding of this passage, they would have said, the temple of God is not the house of cedar; the temple of God in the world is the flesh and the blood; the earthly life of the human infant Jesus.

Now, one thing I’ve learned as the Rector of Saint Paul’s is that we all do come from a wide variety of backgrounds: some of us do not feel the slightest bit uncomfortable when it comes to the topic of today’s Gospel. Others of us come from a different background in which we were infused with a great deal of suspicion of things that seem overly Marian. But if I may be so bold as to venture to make a few comments about the Gospel. After all, at this season, even my more protestant friends send Christmas Cards that feature the Holy Family wending their way to Bethlehem.

In proper reference this morning’s gospel is called the annunciation because at this moment in salvation history, God announces his plan of salvation to Mary. In the early church they saw how this was connected to the first lesson. God chose not to dwell in a house made of cedar, built by human hands; he chose to dwell instead in a temple constructed of the flesh of humanity. Just as the ark of the covenant was clothed in the tent of presence; just so it was clearly understood that the ark of the human life of Jesus was veiled, contained within the Blessed Virgin. This is reflected in many familiar Christmas Carols which we’ll be singing next week such as Hark the Herald Angels sing:

Veiled in flesh, the God head see, hail the incarnate diety, pleased as man with man to dwell, hail to our Emmanuel. Hark the herald angels sing, glory to the new born king.

So readings today set the stage to prepare us for the coming of the Lord Jesus Christ at his birth, reminding us of this: God is a living active dynamic presence; not at static, lifeless entity, but living in our midst: a theme that is not singularly unique to the coming season, but a theme to be found throughout all of scripture.

 Faithfully,

Canon Greg+

Advent: Gettin’ scrubbed and ready

Remember being a child and coming in after a day of playing and being ordered immediately by your mother to take a bath? Even before dinner? Ever have a child in your grade at school who never seemed to get quite clean? I remember a teacher taking one such a hapless fellow in a headlock. Dragging him bodily over to the sink, she inflicted upon him a thorough scrubbing. Not only did he emerge much cleaner, this event made an impression on the rest of us. Of course, you and I know such a thing would never happen in school these days, but as they say, that was then . . .

The second week in a row we meet John the Baptist, whose formidable message bodes neither tidings of singular comfort or joy. When asked why he did it, John responded that his authority was not messianic—he made no claim to be the messiah. John made it clear that he was just the bulldozer. As in any home renovation project, his was the demolition phase, that uncomfortable moment when counter tops are ripped out and walls are knocked down. His message reminds us that the human condition is sinful, not filled with grace. Vigorously as that grade school teacher applied fels naptha soap  to my hapless classmate, so John applies fels naptha to the soul, convicting of sin and scrubbing clean in a baptism of repentance. His is not the Baptism of the fire of the Holy Spirit, just the remedy to prepare the way of the Lord.

And yet it is with this vigor that we must be cleansed, so that we might put on the garments of salvation, and be adorned with the grace and the power of the Holy Spirit.  Advent’s message is one of getting ready that we might be fit to receive the power of the love of God in Jesus our Lord.

Advent, the Season of New Beginnings

Prophets and prophesy. Generally speaking, when people think about either, they think about unpleasant people delivering the unpleasant message about God’s judgment and the punishment. Deep down inside, we know we deserve both. How can we believe and accept the message of God’s love when we are overwhelmed with the evidence that humanity tends to be fairly inhumane? If we were all so loveable, why is it that all families struggle with brokenness? Yet, since we wonder how we are worth loving, we also puzzle: how can it be that God really loves us. So, when we hear the message of the prophets, what do we tend to hear? We hear what we know that we deserve, not what God promises.

But this week’s first reading of Isaiah 40:1-11 begins with a promise. He did not proclaim “afflict, afflict my people; but comfort, comfort my people.” Speak not harshly, but speak tenderly. Prepare the way of the Lord. The job of the prophet is to encourage, not excoriate. In the Acts of the Apostles, a fellow named Joseph became known as the son of encouragement, for the way in which he was so filled with the power of the Holy Spirit to offer positivity in the face of the other disciples’ struggles and discouragement. He became known as ‘Barnabas’ which is literally translated as ‘a son of encouragement.’ But ‘Barnabas’ is derived from the Hebrew bar (son of) nabi—that is the son of the prophet.

Granted, some camel skinned, locust munching fellow who probably should have taken a bath in the very Jordan River in which he baptized may not present us with what feels like the image of comfort. But even in strident language of John the Baptist there’s a message of great comfort. That message? Quite simply, that a new start and a new beginning are always possible in God’s sight, even when it is not possible from the human point of view.

Advent is the message of hope: we can turn again, and find yet again the grace and forgiveness, the new start in the eyes of God.

Faithfully,

Canon Greg+

Advent reminds us that God is Emmanuel, God is with us

Of course, there are those who do fervently hope and long for that moment when God might rend the heavens and come down, do awesome deeds and kindle fire upon the earth. There are those who, based on the calculations of the ancient Mayans earnestly believe that will happen within this year, at the conclusion of 2012. But, from time immemorial humans have predicted the ending of all things such as we have known them. For is it not human nature that when we are confronted with the reality that things change, we long for, hunger for, we desire the immutable. And, yet there is only one thing that is immutable. Certainly we may have noticed that it was not the 1928 Prayer Book, or the 1940 Hymnal. The only immutable thing is God.

Change is always perceived as loss. To most of us, that was made clear in the changing of the prayer books and the hymnal. But, actually it is one of the celebrated themes of scripture.

For example, Psalm 102 has these words:
25 In the beginning you laid the foundations of the earth,
and the heavens are the work of your hands.
26 They will perish, but you remain;
they will all wear out like a garment.
Like clothing you will change them
and they will be discarded.
27 But you remain the same,
and your years will never end.

When we deal with the literature of Advent, we tend to see it as referring to an unsteady and frightening future. And, we ask ourselves questions, the sort of questions that provoke anxiety. We know that as a human race, we’ve tended to be naughty, not nice. So, there’s not a shadow of a doubt that we deserve the judgment, the chastening hand of God upon us. For, are not all our deeds, even our righteous ones like a filthy cloth? We cannot help but wonder: Are we living in those last days? What if these are the end times?
So it never occurs to us to see the ways in which the kingdom of God is already here and in our midst.

We plaintively sing, “Come O Come Emmanuel,” but how quickly we forget that Emmanuel has come and dwelt in our midst. In ten dollar words, we have become so caught up in the anxiety of eschatology, that we have failed to realize how we also live in realized eschatology.

God has already torn open the heavens and come down, and done such a thing so wondrous that the mountains quaked at his presence. We call that the doctrine of the incarnation, Christmas. For do we not prepare ourselves to celebrate again how the love of God was shown to this world in this season known as Advent?

Do we not celebrate how God has indeed kindled a fire upon the earth as when a fire kindles brushwood and causes water to boil to make His name known to his adversaries? And do we not call that event Pentecost, the day of the outpouring of the very spirit of God upon all flesh?

Do we not have before us the outstanding track record of the way in which God has acted in ways that we did not expect, but reveals himself to those who wait for him?

Do you remember how hard it was, when you were but a child to wait for Christmas? At a certain point, in my home we used a rather thin advent wreath and an advent calendar. Every day we would open the calendar and read a verse that had to do with waiting and expectation. And did not the time seem to drag on interminably slowly like molasses in winter? Every day before Christmas seemed like a year.
It may be that for us this year, the message of Advent that we need to hear is not about anger and cataclysm, or the ending of all things. For the lesson that we really need to learn is about having patience. For waiting upon God requires that commodity which few, if any of us have—a patient heart, a patient spirit.

Faithfully,

Canon Greg+

Somehow, they’re different . . .

Although there have been inroads into what is called bullying these days, when you and I were in school, we all knew the kid that was different, who just did not see the world quite in the way that everyone else saw it, the one who did not ever quite fit in, who seemed that he/or she did not quite belong. Maybe some of us here were that child. Although I was never quite that child, I most assuredly was never one of the cool kids either. But I remember from days in grade school and high school those who always seemed to have a different view, as though they lived in el otro mundo, another world. So there was always the boy who was a little too shy, there was always the girl that was always a little more clumsy; whatever the characteristic that distinguished them, the whole school seemed to pick up on it, and generally picked on them for it.

As we come to this festival of All Saints this year, I could not help but think about children in the school yard. Have you ever wondered what makes a Saint?

Well, they seem to be somehow different from the rest of us. Maybe it is the hours that they spend in prayer. Maybe it is the strange point of view that often runs counter to the prevailing point of view. Not all of us share the same point of view, for example as Saint Ignatius, martyr of Antioch who wrote how he could hardly wait to be fed to the lions. Not all of us share the point of view of Saint Francis of Assisi who was willing to give away all that he had to become poor for the sake of Jesus. Not all of us would have the courage to go work in a leper colony, or to arrange for the adoption of children of leprous parents as did Sister Gladys Gertrude Spencer. Not all of us could muster insufferable patience to work with the ill, those in poverty, such as did Mother Theresa.

John Henry Hopkins, not the same as the one who wrote “We Three Kings of Orient Are..” was the author of a quaint hymn which is number 293 in our hymnal, “I sing a song of the saints of God,” which reminds us that the saints of God did not just live long ago, but they are very much among us now. “You can meet them at school, or in lanes, or at sea, in church or in trains, or in shops or at tea, for the saints of God are folks just like me, and I mean to be one too.

Like that strange child in the school yard, the saints do not necessarily have the same world view that most of us share. And that makes them different.

In the classic definition of what it is to live by faith, the author of the Epistle to the Hebrews reminds us in chapter 11.1 that faith is the assurance of things hoped for, the conviction of things not seen. What’s being said here is that faith is based on a hopeful expectation that God will bring something to pass. And it is being said that there is an assurance, a certainty that brings hope in the present circumstances, even when the evidence of that hoped for thing is not evident. That assurance brings comfort to the Saint. Where we have the invitation to discouragement and despair; where we have the worry over things that are not; where we fret and fritter away in fear and anxiety over what may be, the saint has the comfort and the consolation and the certainty and the assurance that God will triumph.

Apparently, it was this sense of faith and assurance that brought the saints such confidence that they were able to face great difficulties and hardships. The author of the Epistle to the Hebrews reminds us (11.35-38)
Some were tortured, refusing to accept release, that they might rise again to a better life. Others suffered mocking and scourging, and even chains and imprisonment.
They were stoned, they were sawn in two, they were killed with the sword; they went about in skins of sheep and goats, destitute, afflicted, ill-treated — of whom the world was not worthy — wandering over deserts and mountains, and in dens and caves of the earth.

While we may not be quite ready to sign up for the same hardships and difficulties that they faced, part of what we get through our acts of regular worship is the reminder that we human beings function best when we are called to live by faith, and not by despair. Saints attest to the importance of just how much we need to have that reminder in our lives.

The second thing that makes the saint different from the rest of us is the ability to have vision. Where we see only what may be expected of us next week, or the thing that we have to accomplish in the coming days, and the demands of what we call exigent necessities—those things that we must do and accomplish, the Saints are those who dare to have a vision. Most of us, bombarded as we are by various sorts of media: the internet, the TV, the, mail, email, print media, culture are left fairly visionless.

To be as saint is to have the vision of the kingdom of God: it is to hear the beatitudes of Jesus and to respond with the conviction that the beatitudes of Jesus portray a potential, inevitable reality for the coming kingdom of God; to be a saint is to hear the call as did Peter, James, John, and Matthew; and to say that we are willing to work for the kingdom even if we do not fully see it here and now.

Faithfully,

Canon Greg+

You shall not appear before the Lord empty . . .

What I like about stewardship:

Stewardship is the invitation every year to pause, count our blessings and give thanks to God for the blessings that we have received. Without the necessity of the call to stewardship, what is the likelihood that we would pause, even once a year to think about the blessings that we have received during the past year? Human nature’s tendency is to be discontented with what we have and forgetful of our blessings. A gift of stewardship is that we are asked to be mindful of what there is for which each of us gives thanks.
Stewardship gives us the opportunity to realize that God needs our generosity to provide for the temporal wellbeing of His Church. Most of us wouldn’t put up with crumbling plaster or old furniture at our homes, and stewardship helps us to realize that we have a responsibility towards providing for God’s house and the place wherein we worship. It is our chance to be gracious towards the altar and the temple at which we receive grace.

Stewardship highlights for us the ways in which we are heirs of the kingdom. When we give, we do not give only to the temporal well being of the Church. We are giving to the wide variety of ministries that take place here which include, but are not limited to: ministry to the homeless, the destitute, those in hunger, the ill, those who are shut in; we contribute to the extension of the kingdom of God by the teaching, preaching, education, all of which take place at Saint Paul’s; we contribute directly to art accessible to our community by supporting programs of music and the choir; we contribute to the well being of our community by providing for pastoral care for those in need. Stewardship exalts us to appreciate the ways in which we are the voice, the hands, feet and embracing arms of Jesus in our community.

Our stewardship makes a statement about the real importance of the Lord in our lives, for He reminds us that where your treasure is, there shall be your heart also. If the parish had a printing press in the basement, a huge endowment, and a vault akin to Fort Knox, (which we do not) we would still not be excused from the necessity of stewardship because it is our response to the Gospel of Jesus no less important than baptism. Stewardship is the logical consequence of our promise of discipleship to the Lord.

This year’s theme is from Deuteronomy and it sums up all the above: You shall not appear before the Lord empty, you shall give as you are able, according to the blessings of the Lord your God which he has given you. (Deuteronomy 16:16-17). It is a short hand way of remembering why stewardship is important and why we should be grateful that we are able to demonstrate our love of Jesus by giving for the wellbeing of his Church and for the spread of his kingdom.

Faithfully,

Canon Greg+

Thoughts on the tenth anniveresary of 9-11

Most of us find it challenging to remember what we had for dinner on a Tuesday evening a mere week ago; few of us will be apt to forget in our lifetimes what we were doing when we learned about the attack on the United States on September11, 2001. The world as we knew it changed on nine eleven, 911. Although there were other targets, the horrific sight of things that ought not to be–of airplanes crashing into the Twin Towers of the World Trade Center in Manhattan, will forever be etched into each individual memory and will be etched into the collective memory of the American people. I remember people describing another day of infamy, December 7, 1941, Pearl Harbor Day. But somehow 911 was different. Perhaps it was because of the immediacy of the event replayed over and over again on television, or perhaps it was because it was an attack on a major city involving so great a loss of civilian life. One thing was made clear to us all. The world had changed. There is no longer one place in the world or any person in the world who is safe from terrorists.

As we gather this weekend on the 10th anniversary of 911, we especially pray for those who were most immediately affected by the terrorist attacks: Families who lost loved ones; children whose mommies and daddies when to work on a Monday who never came home again; first responders such as were the firefighters and the police, ambulance drivers, medics, doctors, emergency responders; suffers of post-traumatic stress syndrome; those who suffer health issues as a consequence of their willingness to respond.

But I wonder this: While we may recognize that there are many who should be recognized for their deeds of valor and yet many more who stand in need of God’s healing grace in the aftermath of 9-11, do we also realize that we, ourselves, stand in need healing grace?

For all of us were affected, if in no other way that the events of that day drove home to us all the reality of globalization—that we live in a shrinking world in which choices and decisions that are made have an effect on every person alive on this planet.

Some have called this the butterfly effect. That’s to say that the butterfly that flutters its wings in one part of the world effects the world continents away. One of the hard realities of 9-11 is that we have driven into our awareness that there is no such a thing, (if ever there were) as splendid isolation. For just as a fish cannot say “I am not a part of the ocean,” neither have we the luxury of saying that we, living in the new world, in these United States, are somehow splendidly apart or aloof from the human condition of the rest of the world.

So we gather to remember. Remembering is the first step in the act of healing. In the language of the New Testament, that remembering is called anamnesis. Anamnesis is specifically the remembering of the Lord Jesus’ sacrifice on the cross, his death, and his rising again as a means by which we know the power and the presence of God.

But in a way, what we are doing here is no less than anamnesis. For we remember, not to increase animosity; we MUST remember that we do not remember to foster hatred; for the world has enough of that already.

But we remember the events of that fateful beautiful autumn morning turned ugly so that we may recall the importance of seeking God’s redeeming grace in all that we do. That we might note that the ways of God are more life giving than the ways of the world.

And, we are reminded from the events of that day, together with the reading of this morning’s gospel of the hard reality of life: that violence only serves to beget violence; that hatred only breeds the excuse for more hate. Difficult as it might be for us, in our more immediate inclination, it is our Lord Jesus who asks of us not to render evil for evil but to pray for those who persecute us.

Faithfully,

Canon Greg+

Hurricane Lee

For most of us here in Wellsboro, the event last week known as hurricane Lee was a day or so of heavy rain. We are apt to forget the number of communities that were affected by the ensuing flooding. Yet it was estimated that up to 100,000 people were affected by the storm. People were evacuated from places in Waverly, Sayre, Danville and Bloomsburg. Portions of Route 83 and the Pennsylvania Turnpike were closed. City Island, Harrisburg was under water. Our diocesan house was even affected—it is my understanding that there is presently a sink hole that poses a threat to the cellar wall at 101 Pine Street.

The reality is that Pennsylvania is highly prone to flooding. Tioga County is most certainly not immune. According to the information at the Pennsylvania State University site, during the years from 1950 to 2000 there were 39 flood events. Many of us, of course recall the times that 287 has been closed in the vicinity of Middlebury Center. Many of us recall the destruction of hurricane Agnes in 1972 and Katrina and Ike in more recent memory.

I like to bicycle in the Lambs creek area which is ordinarily a beautiful spot, but is also provides our communities of the Northern Tier with practical help. It may be a recreation area, but its primary purpose is flood control and water retention. Sometimes after a storm I have gone to cycle after the waters have receded, to note how far the water line was above my head.

My point is that but for the grace of God, it could have been you and I affected by this storm more directly than a day or so of heavy rain, a leaky bit of flashing in our parish kitchen and the usual 6 inches of water in my cellar. If it is in your heart to give to the relief of our neighbors, we may do so via Episcopal Relief and Development—you may put your donation in this week’s offering plate, clearly marked and we will forward it to the assistance and relief of those in need.

Faithfully,

Canon Greg+

Resources to develop your prayer life

Many of us use Forward Day by Day as a foundation for our daily reading and meditation time. If you have not tried this devotion, I heartily recommend it. Easily carried as a pocket booklet, Forward includes a daily reading, recommended Bible readings that can be done additionally, and prayers on the inside covers, front and back.

There are a wide variety of ways to use Forward Day by Day. One can use just the reading for the day; one might look up one or more of the Bible Readings, one might carry the booklet along through the day and review the meditation at lunch or dinner time. Meditations in Forward are based on the Lectionaries of the Episcopal Church and the days of observation in the calendar of the Church Year.

There are other devotional readings one might use instead of Forward Day by Day. One that I periodically enjoy is My Utmost for His Highest, by Oswald Chambers. Although affiliated with the Pentecostal League of Prayer during his lifetime, Chambers’ work, My Utmost for His Highest remains a timeless classic of Christian Literature.

Originally it was published in 1927, some ten years after Chambers’ death. This book has stood the test of time. Transcending the limits of bias, it is a popular devotional and worthwhile resource, which I would heartily commend for you to explore, particularly if your enthusiasm for Forward Day by Day has diminished over the years. My Utmost for His Highest is available in book and electronic formats. If portability is an issue, it could be downloaded to an iphone—the book itself is not exactly pocket size.

Daily prayer and devotional reading make up the “meat and potatoes” of your spiritual life. Daily devotionals are wonderful, and in some ways intrinsic to the Christian life.

Yes, I am well aware how time presses upon us all, including me. In practical terms that means there are some days I miss the reading, or the prayer time. I’ve learned that one can either become very frustrated with one’s self, or one can simply and humbly move forward, trusting that there will come a day and a year when one will in fact come back to those readings. The life of prayer is one of great adventure, a source of strength and renewal. Take the time to explore it!

Faithfully,

Canon Greg+

Why do you need an altar?

Why do you need an altar? There are plenty of people who would say that you don’t. Even some groups of Christians would question the validity of any worship that centered on other than the Bible.

Yet, in the Daily Office this week, there was the touching testimony of 2 Chronicles 6.32 which is the compelling description of the dedication of the altar. “May, your eyes be open day and night O Lord, towards this house, the place where you have promised to set your name, and may you heed the prayer that your servant makes in this place. And, hear the prayer of your people when they pray; may you hear from heaven, your dwelling place; hear and forgive.”

Solomon’s prayer reminded me of the classic, now out of print book “The Priest and His Interior Life.” Therein is set the real work of the priesthood. Do you really know what is the real work of the priesthood? That real work of the priesthood has little to do with chairing of commissions, administering the office and the parish, being the CEO and the like.

The real work of the priesthood is prayer. The focus of that prayer is the altar—that place where heaven and earth meet—that place where the grace of God touches the urgency of human need—that place where your tears and comingled with the divine tears of your Lord and Savior.
Ascending the several steps of Saint Paul’s altar, I am conscious that I am carrying the hopes, the fears, the dreams, the aspirations, the tears of many. They are not only those on our parish intercession list. They include those on that list but also are often well beyond the scope of this parish; well beyond what may be shared with others. The altar is the place where our griefs meet the grace of God.

Altars are things that most in our times consider unnecessary; even those among us who have the idea that they are important tend to rather much take them for granted. Like the PFD (personal flotation device) in the boat, you never really appreciate their importance right up until that moment that you really need them.

Faithfully,

Father Greg+

What seed are you putting out there?

In many areas of life, if you are to retain a skill, it is generally a good idea to return to that which is foundational. We usually call it getting back to basics.

Such is the case in the Gospel readings over the next several weeks. Our attention is directed towards the parables of Jesus. While these are all familiar lessons that most of us have heard before, yet there is something foundational about them. If we truly love the Lord, then we will value his teaching about the kingdom. One of the ways in which he taught comprehensively about the kingdom was through the use of these stories that we have come to know as parables. “Earthly stories that have a heavenly meaning,” is what my dad used to teach as the definition of parables during my youth, at which time he served as a Sunday School teacher in our neighborhood parish.

Though our communities of Tioga County are changing with the influx of the gas drillers, yet we may still readily appreciate the parable of the seed and the sower. Most of us have gardens of one sort or another. Many of us can hardly wait for mid May so that we can get our hands in the soil after a long, winter. It feels good and it brings us joy to work the soil, to plant the seeds.

What we may not always appreciate is that we plant seeds in other areas of our lives as well. For some they may be seeds of joy and happiness. For others, those seeds may be the incessant complaint of hopes unrealized. For some they may be seeds in the spirit of Charles Baudelaire, “les fleurs de mal” flowers of evil. But in Christ we are called to sow seeds of hope, seeds of joy, seeds of the kingdom. Revisiting the parable of the sower and the seed provides the occasion for us to examine what’s in our garden, what we have planted, and what we need to weed. For we would neither wish to present to others or to the Lord Jesus a garden of burdock, nettles, and thistles.

For me, the parable of the seed and the sower is a powerful reminder that it is never enough for us to go about being kind, gentle, and relatively harmlessly non-malicious.

We are called to be proactively good, to seek not only that which is good but that which is worthy of Jesus’ vision of the kingdom of God.

Faithfully,

Canon Greg+

Whence freedom without responsibility?

On this, the two hundred thirty-fifth anniversary of the founding of our country, these United States, as we gather in celebration, would that we think of the ways in which there two categories are always intertwined. For while there may be such a thing as responsibility without freedom, there is no such a thing as freedom without responsibility. Nor is there such a state of utopia highly desired among many because in human life there is no such a thing as freedom from responsibility.

At this intersection, both Saint Paul and the framers of our constitution connect. Paul taught that in Christ we are set free, and yet we are not at liberty to use those freedoms as license for self-indulgence. Any of his epistles stand as the stirring reminder of this reality. While we may be set free in Christ, yet we bear the mantle of responsibility towards the Body of Christ, that is to say Jesus’ Church, and we have the responsibility to live in the power of the Holy Spirit as citizens of that kingdom of God in Jesus Christ. I do not believe that I shall have to cite chapter and verse . . .

In the same vein, the founders of our country remind us that while we may be given the unalienable right of life, liberty, and the pursuit of happiness, yet there remains a social dimension. Whether we like it or not, the rights of the individual, while protected, are held in check and balance by the necessity of the greater good. Was it not chief justice Oliver Wendell Holmes who made the observation that an individual may posess freedom of speech, yet the right of the individual to use free speech carries weight of responsibility to the whole?

Freedom of speech does not give a person the right, Holmes observed, to cry “fire” in a crowded theater.

As adolescents hopefully discover in short order, having the keys to the family car is not absolution from responsibility. It is actually the invitation to greater and higher responsibility. For in accepting the freedom of being able to drive, there comes increased responsibility towards family, those who may be passenger in the car, and the other drivers and pedestrians on the road.

The ironic reality is that freedom has a price tag. While the price tag may be different amongst them, whether the venue is driving, or civic participation, or religious moral and ethical areas, yet there remains a common denominator. That denominator is responsibility.

When I celebrate the 4th of July, I always remember to pray for the men and the women of our armed forces. They are the ones whose sacrifices pay the price for the freedom that you enjoy today.

Faithfully,

Canon Greg+

Athanasius and his Creed?

Recently I was asked a really good question. What do we know about the creed of Saint Athanasius? Where is it to be found? What’s its origin?

Like most things in life, what seems like a fairly straightforward question actually has a rather complex answer.

First, there are three creeds of the Church. They are the Apostle’s Creed, the Nicene Creed, and the Creed commonly called the Creed of Saint Athanasius. All three are found in the Book of Common Prayer. The early use of the Apostle’s Creed was in the Baptismal Liturgy. You will find that on page 304 of the BCP. The Apostle’s Creed is also used during the Daily Office, as a reminder of our belief, but also that you and I are baptized into the resurrected life of our Lord Jesus Christ.

The Nicene Creed is also familiar, as it is typically used on Sundays. Most presume that it originated at the Council of Nicea in 325 AD, yet it is known more properly as the Nicea-Constantinepolitan creed. The early Fathers called it the Nicene Creed for shorthand. What they intended to convey was how this Creed was the reaffirmation of the faith expressed in the Council of Nicea and also affirmed in the Council of Constantinople (381) and ratified at the Council of Chalcedon in the year 451 AD.

We tend to forget that the Creed evolved over time, just as certain issues such as the ordination of women have evolved in our own time. And what of Athanasius?

Well, the creed we know as Athanasius’ more properly is referred to as the Quicunque Vult, after the first two Latin words, “Whoever desires to be saved,” Whether Athanasius wrote this creed may be debated, but it is generally held that the creed made its appearance between 381, perhaps as late as 428. The Quicunque Vult differs from the other creeds in that it has a certain number of damnatory clauses, or anathema clauses in the latter half. Seldom is the use of this creed, but in some places it has occasionally been used in the worship of Trinity Sunday.

Creeds are symbols, snapshots of the Christian Faith. Dismissed by many as a dull recitation of doctrine but poorly understood, I would submit that they are dynamic statements of things for which we would do well to be thankful to Almighty God, a recounting of blessings given generously and freely to us.

Faithfully,

Canon Greg+

Trinity is confusing, ’cause God is a mystery, duh!

Yes, the God whom we worship, we worship as a Trinity. We worship the one God as the Father, Son, and Holy Spirit, because that is how God has chosen to reveal himself to us. For those of us who have the need to know and explain this is a difficult thing. Because ultimately we cannot explain God.

Ultimately we come to the point wherein we have to acknowledge that God is a mystery to us—a mystery that we can only understand to the extent that He chooses to reveal himself to us.

And, yes, in writing this, I am quite mindful that there are some among us who may well take umbrage with my use of the masculine pronoun. To be sure, God is a spirit. Therefore God is sexless. But God invented sex, and he invented us as beings who are conscious of masculine and feminine pronouns. English, as best as I know it has not evolved to such an extent as to include a suitable neuter pronoun that conveys personhood.

What should I write? God is a mystery that we can only understand to the extent that it reveals itself to us? Well, what that conveys is the depersonalization of God. My computer is an it—and I most assuredly don’t worship it.

God is a mystery that we cannot explain. If we could explain God, then God would not be worthy of worship. Humans do not worship that which can be explained in human terms. So maybe it is a valuable lesson for us here, that once a year we stumble around this challenging and incomprehensible language about God. It forces us to recognize and allow for the reality of mystery in life. And in the times in which we live, that is not altogether bad.

Faithfully,
Canon Greg+

Pentecost overcomes divisions

The sound of a mighty rushing wind that filled the house, the descent of the tongues as it were of flame, as yet unextinguished by the wind, the message of Pentecost is the message of power falling upon the disciples. And what was the miracle? Was it that the various nationalities mentioned in Acts 2 heard in their own language?

Or—was it as I prefer to think sometimes that they shut up and listened for once. Was it that the various races of people laid aside their mutual hatred one for another? For there was no love between the Parthians and Medes, Elamites and who ever else’s nationality represented there.

Was the real miracle of Pentecost that the Holy Spirit of God overcame the bondage of racism that has forever been a part of the human race, knitting and binding us into one, in unity in the family of God?

And, were that true, why then do we remain so exclusively suspicious of those who differ from us in culture and race? Why persist in pouring out all that energy assuring us that there are most assuredly those who shall not, under any circumstance ever enter the Kingdom. Why do we not instead look for the opportunities to respect the dignity of every human being, seeking and serving Christ in them, as he has loved us?

The gift of Pentecost, this Whitsunday, is not the gift to rant. Nor is it license to spew forth the rattlesnake’s venom towards those who differ from us religiously, politically, culturally. It is the gift to have courage, the courage to sit at table with those who are dissimilar, those whom we may not like. It is the courage at that table to break bread with them in Jesus’ name and for his sake. That power of God transformed the very world of the apostolic age; that power may yet transform the brokenness, the pain and animosity of this present time.

Faithfully,

Father Greg+

He Is Real

To the two men walking along the road on the way to Emmaus, to the eleven in an upper room, to the disciples on the sea shore, the early Christians had the experience of the resurrected Lord Jesus Christ. To them, He appeared, and they knew him as a living being, a real entity. They knew him in the breaking of the bread and the eating of fish along the sea side. This resurrected Jesus they knew was an extension of the human life of the one whom they called teacher during his earthly life. For them, the resurrection of Jesus was no abstract concept. It was a living reality that colored all aspects of their daily life.

But why do we act as though the presence of the Lord Jesus is an abstract concept? As though he were more an idea than a person? For where those early disciples struggled with the idea of Jesus’ divinity, we seem by contrast to struggle with his humanity. And when we lose sight of our Lord’s humanity, we also lose sight of his compassion for us and for our estate.
We do not know him as he was in his earthly life. Yet, we do know him through the breaking of the bread. We do not know him in those physical attributes of being a person in the world, and yet, we know him as cosmic Lord and Savior. We may not be able to sit and have a conversation with our Lord over coffee at Dunkin Donuts, yet we do know him through the practice of prayer. And, if we pray and worship rightly, then we will indeed know him a real person, not just abstraction from history’s dusty and remote corridors.

We do not know the corporal, that is to say the bodily presence of the Lord Jesus as he appeared to his disciples in the post-Easter season. While we may lament that it is so, the New Testament makes it very clear, and the tradition makes it very clear through the Ascension of Jesus. The Ascension of Jesus marks the ending of that season of Eastertide appearances so as to usher in the next phase of God’s plan of salvation—that is the outpouring of his Spirit upon all flesh, that day we know and celebrate as the Pentecost or Whitsunday.

Faithfully,

Canon Greg+

Quest for the High Test: The Treasure Beyond Compare

Though we may not know it, you and I are sitting on a priceless treasure. That treasure is worship as you and I have come to know it, and the way it shapes us in the grace and the love of God in Jesus Christ.

Of course, to us it is fairly familiar. We come to pray this liturgy and celebrate this Eucharistic feast week by week.

So, because of its familiarity to us, we have the tendency to take it for granted. Kind of like the familiar old shoes we love to wear to which we have become accustomed. They fit well, and you forget that you have shoes on your feet—at least until you have to get new shoes. And then, as we all know there is that painful period of breaking in the new shoes and getting them to be comfortable. And, as those of us who have had foot problems know, new shoes day is not a positive thing.

But that liturgy with which we have become so comfortable and that book of common prayer, almost accepted now, but forged in controversy three decades ago, are actually priceless treasures.

And the reason they are priceless treasures has to do with the direction of contemporary Christianity. The direction towards which contemporary Christianity has tended in our lifetimes has been in the direction of that type of worship popularized by the growth of mega Churches. While there were only 50 such Churches in the United States during the 1970’s, today there are approximately 1300 such congregations.

The impact of those congregations and their apparent success has affected the face of Christianity as the world sees and understands it. One of the great principles of that popular type of worship has been that worship is essentially entertainment. Big rock bands, blaring music, pyro-technic shows, screens projecting the lyrics of hymns where the singer can follow the bouncing ball in the manner of Mitch Miller, all of this has trickled down to impinge upon the worship style of many congregations.

And, by contrast, we gather at this altar, as centuries of saints have done before us to say our prayers, to meet our Lord and Savior Jesus, to pray for His grace in our lives, and to receive his sacramental presence to strengthen us for the journey. We have no bouncing balls, we have no pyrotechnics, (except the occasional uses of incense); we didn’t even follow the latest trend in liturgical revision by pulling the altar away from the east facing wall. But the priceless treasure that we have is precisely this: the faith once delivered to the saints.

But there has been a shift. The new trend in Christianity has been a discovery. What people are noticing is that much of what passes as the contemporary face of Christianity these days has not filled people, but has left them instead with a deep spiritual hunger for something that is meaningful. There is a sense that they have been fed on the bread of emptiness long enough, and what they are seeking—in the imagery of the Epistle is the pure spiritual milk, the high test stuff. The stuff that may not always provide entertainment, but helps you grow into the fullness of salvation.

That is the treasure that we hold. Our manner of worship, our book of common prayer is designed to help people grow substantively in the life of grace, through prayer and worship. And it may be high time that we quit acting apologetic about it. It might be high time that we quit acting as though we know little about the Bible just because we can’t cough out chapter and verse numbers—when our prayer book offers us the synthesis of the Bible applied to life. It is high time that we quit being apologetic for having a sense of liturgical worship because all that is associated with liturgical worship speaks of the wonder and the mystery of God.

People may or may not come to the Lord by a variety of means. But what we have been given as a priceless treasure as Episcopalians is the means of sustaining people in the Lord for the long haul, for a lifetime. Because after the glitz fades, after the pyrotechnics cease, after the last speaker has been blown on the last bass cab, we have the thing for which people hunger. And that thing is substance.

The Prince of Peace and His Message: Reconciliation

Alleluia. Christ is risen.
The Lord is Risen Indeed. Alleluia.

Grace and Peace to you from God our Father and the Lord Jesus Christ. Amen.

By now, most of us have heard the news that Osama bin Laden is dead. And, for most of us this is a significant event, an event of National importance, for a great deal of resource has been expended in searching for him since the destruction of the twin towers of the World Trade Center on September 11th, 2001. During this past week, many have expressed a sense of thankful joy at his demise. One news commentator was even quoted as saying that the world was somehow a safer place since bin Laden’s death. But perhaps such is not the case. For as in a garden, when once an evil and noxious weed has been removed, there generally arises two or three others to take its place.

Whether that may or may not be so, that the world is a safer place, in some ways there is little sense of satisfaction for the death of one man who caused the death of so many. Bin Laden’s death may be seen by some as justice, but it certainly is not restitution for the consequence of his message of hate.

Please understand that my remarks are not intended to denigrate the service of the men and women of our armed forces in this war against terrorism. Often I have spoken with gratitude for their service and sacrifice which insures the freedoms that you and I enjoy. I remain profoundly thankful for them and for their service and self-sacrifice.

The memory of that day, 9-11-01, will forever remain etched in our national collective awareness and the death of one, even one so personified as the very presence of evil does little to mitigate against the loss of life destruction, and the pain caused to many that day.

Now, we live, as we well know, in a period of time which is known more for its polarization rather than its tolerance. Every night we have it brought into our consciousness how there are red states and blue states. Every night we have brought before us the various ways in which people on opposing sides of the aisle differ from one another.

In this era of intemperance there is the tendency to circle the wagons and to demonize those who are not within the circle. So, even if we know better, as I’m sure that most of us do, still I find incumbent to stand before you today and remind you that not all Muslims are supporters of bin Laden and his ilk.

But the sad reality is that there are whack-jobs and extremists in the Muslim world just as there are whack-jobs and extremists within Christianity. Just as it would not be a fair assessment of Christianity to characterize it by the likes of Jim Jones, who was the cult leader who led his people to mass death at Jonestown in Guyana in 1978, so too it is not a fair assessment of Islam to characterize it by the likes of bin Laden and the others of his ilk. While masking under the guise of religious fervor, the real agenda of these extremists is not the furtherance of religious life, but the promotion of hatred, and suspicion, murder and death under the guise of religious life.

It is probably not the popular message to proclaim this Mother’s Day, as we gather for worship. Certainly it is not the popular message in the world. But we would do well to be reminded that He whose resurrection we celebrate is the prince of peace. In Christ, God was reconciling the world to God, making peace through the blood of his cross. Those, of course, are not my words. They are Saint Paul’s from Colossians 1.20f. We celebrate in this Easter season that we are called to be ambassadors for Christ, and, as such we are called to give ourselves to the work of reconciliation.

Now, I know that reconciliation is a messy, difficult task. And I know that at best it is hard, uphill work. And that mostly our human attempts at reconciliation end up being botched, messed up, broken, causing more division in the world rather than healing—because it takes the grace of Jesus to bring healing, peace and reconciliation.

We can hardly effect reconciliation among friends and families—for if we could, there would not be so many broken relationships in the world.

Well you may ask, if we cannot heal the broken relationships among families, how indeed could we do such a thing between disparate sides of the aisle? How can we transcend the partisan nature of politics on even the smallest of issues, let alone the big ones? How can we be agents of reconciliation in the face of irreconcilable differences?

Maybe we cannot; most certainly we cannot of our own accord. But we are challenged to try in the name of Jesus. For me, the reminder of how we are supposed to try to be ambassadors of the healing love of Jesus is found in the collect for mission at Morning Prayer in the Book of Common Prayer, page 100.

” O God, you have made of one blood all the people of the earth, and you sent your blessed son to preach peace to those who are far off and those who are near. Grant that people everywhere may seek after you and find you; bring the nations into your fold; pour out your Spirit upon all flesh, and hasten the coming of your Kingdom. Amen.”

Easter: connecting the Passion and the Resurrection

To appreciate the meaning of the Resurrection more fully, we would have to look with greater intentionality at our Lord’s death and passion. Specifically we would have to come to appreciate the way in which the earthly dying of the Lord Jesus communicates to us about the Christological work of Jesus as the redeemer.

As I pointed out two weeks ago, this is not exactly a new concept. The Cappadocian Fathers, Saints Basil the Great, Gregory of Nyssa his brother, and Gregory Nazianzus, highlighted this very aspect of our Lord’s work during the height of the controversy at the council of Nicea around the year 325 AD. During that time, they taught concerning the humanity and the divinity of Jesus, “that which he has not taken upon himself, he has not redeemed.”

When we have separated, as most do these days, the passion of the earthly Jesus from his resurrection, we have effectively reduced the good news of the proclamation of Easter into the realm of speculative fairy tale. We reduce the matter to our own subjective belief as though belief in the resurrection of Jesus was a question of debate, like “do you believe or do you not believe in the Easter bunny?”

But when we look at the whole business about the suffering, death, and resurrection of Jesus we have a powerful message about what God does about the human condition.

For those of us who have had the experience of the living Christ in our lives, the proclamation of the resurrection is not speculation, it is a matter of joyously proclaiming that God has done something about the human condition by embracing us in his love and his grace.

When we proclaim “Alleluia! Christ is risen!” we are proclaiming the passion (the suffering) and the compassion (his suffering with and for us in love) of the Lord Jesus. We are proclaiming that God cares about us and the human condition. We are proclaiming that He does something that we cannot do—that is to address the brokenness, the hurt and the scope of tragedy in this world.

Faithfully,

Canon Greg+

Why did Jesus have to suffer?

Easter Sunday is just a little more than a week from now.

There’s something that ought to be disturbing about Easter Sunday. The message of Easter is not about bunnies lopping through the lawns, or dyed eggs and candy, or the abundance of those pastel colored chick shaped peeps whose heads the children love to bite off. The message of Easter is far more wonderful than the occasion of self-indulgence to which it has been recently reduced.

The message of Easter is about life and the quality of life. That message includes that the way to find the abundance of life comes from walking in the way of the cross and accepting all that walking in the way of the cross entails. The hard reality of Easter is that to get to the joy of the resurrection, we have to consider some things that we had rather not. Those include Jesus’ suffering and pain. But they also include betrayal, denial, hatred, mockery, cruelty and shame.

When my daughter was little, she used to like to watch horror movies, especially around Halloween. At certain points in the movie she would cover her eyes with her hands, claiming that she didn’t really want to see what was going to happen next, but all the while she was peering through her fingertips and watching. I think that is how most of us approach Jesus’ crucifixion. We don’t really want to see.

Yet, only to the degree that we appreciate the meaning of his crucifixion can we ultimately see the power of his resurrection. Eventually we must come to look at our Lord’s dying if we are to understand something about the mystery of living.

So why did Jesus have to walk in the way of the cross? The answer usually given in fairly worn out theology by cliché is that he had to die to take away our sins. That’s the way it has been preached and taught for many years. It was not even unique to the evangelical movement; Saint Anselm, considered to be the father of scholasticism, taught about the theory penal substitution in the 11th century. His treatise on the subject is a classic “Cur Deus Homo” “Why the God-Man.”

But times and the centuries have changed, and I am not so certain that the message of so brutal a punishment resonates in today’s time and culture.

So, perhaps for us, a more meaningful way to look at Jesus’ suffering, death and passion might focus on His work as the redeemer. Jesus had to walk in the way of the cross because we walk in the way of the cross. If he were to redeem our experience of life, he would have to do that by sharing in our dying.

When we focus on the work of Jesus as redeemer, then our attention is directed towards the real message of Good Friday: and that message is God’s love, and in response your gratitude.

Faithfully.

Canon Greg+

Suffering Redeemed

In these few short paragraphs, I cannot explain the necessity of the suffering of our Lord Jesus Christ. I can point out that the suffering of our Lord is tied to the mystery of redemption.

Redemption is found in the midst of suffering. Were there no suffering, neither would there be the opportunity to know, long for, or to hope for redemption. Think about it long enough and you will come to see: you can’t very well celebrate redemption if there is nothing from which to be redeemed.

Unfortunately the way in which the passion of Jesus is taught these days focuses on the point of view that it is all about ME ME ME. Jesus died to forgive MY sins. That is, whatever few there are to be forgiven. But MY sins are not many, since I already am perfect in every way. And since I can justify why I did those things, they really aren’t really sins, now, are they?

So we tell ourselves this: I’m not a sinner, I’m just misunderstood by those around me who fail to see true genius, purity, and sincerity of heart. I always mean well, even if things don’t turn out well. So wasn’t it awfully nice of that Jesus fellow to die for my sins, but since there’s so little to be forgiven, he didn’t really have to do that, did he?

Well before you think that is all farfetched, it is a composite of things that I actually hear. And hear frequently.

Preoccupation with self. It is why we do not really understand about the necessity of Jesus’ suffering. We focus on ourselves and how our sins are so much less worse than others we know. As a consequence, we lose sight of the mystery of redemption, and I suppose that most folk really don’t actually believe that such a thing as redemption is possible.

Yet the work of the redeemer is to wallow in the brokenness. The Cappadocian Fathers understood far better than we, they taught, “That which he (Jesus) has not taken upon himself (about our nature) he has not redeemed.”

Well, it isn’t rocket science to notice that the world is presently in a mess. I don’t think it would help any to go to tell the people of Fukushima or Libya, or anywhere else that the world is a mess because they’re a bunch of sinners. But I rather expect that they would resonate with the idea that there’s room for redemption.

Jesus did not die because God the Father is a miserable so and so who had to punish someone for the sins of the world. He died to give us the sign that redemption is possible, even at the cross, even at the moment of death itself. He did not die to just forgive your sins. He died to give you hope.

Faithfully,

Canon Greg+

Walking in the Way of the Cross

Thanksgiving is your Lenten spiritual discipline. Indeed, it is your discipline in all times and places. We regularly acclaim in our prayers that it is “meet, right and our bounden duty at all times and in all places to give thanks to Almighty God, our Heavenly Father.
That’s what I find in praying the Stations of the Cross, which we have here at Saint Paul’s on Tuesdays at Noon during Lent. This I’m sure may seem strange to most of you.
Now, one who is a beginner in prayer, new to the Stations, hears only the theme of the suffering of the Lord Jesus. For such a person all they can dwell upon is the physical distress that our Lord endured. They recoil at the horrible dimension of his suffering. Finding it repugnant that human beings are capable of such hatred towards another, the tendency is to react with either disgust at the physical attributes of crucifixion endured by our Lord, or disgust at those who plotted for and carried out that sentence of death.

If such a novice thinks at all about his/her connection to the crucifixion, it is apt to be the reaction of guilt, as though he/she were the causative party of our Lord’s suffering.
But the person who has often turned to the Stations of the Cross as a means of prayer eventually moves to a more complex contemplation. Because that person is aware of how there is such a scope of tragic suffering in the world, there comes a greater appreciation for what Jesus suffered. Jesus’ suffering is no longer about ME ME ME. At the very least is becomes about US, US, US.

But more than that, to walk in the way of the cross with Jesus is to engage in intercessory prayer—prayer for others. If one is aware of what others around are enduring, bearing, suffering, then to walk in the way of the cross is to plea the sacrifice of Jesus in a particular way for the particular persons one knows who are also bearing their crosses in this present moment.
Eventually, one is moved to another contemplation. This comes only after praying and walking in the way of the cross for many years. What comes is not a diminished awareness of the suffering of our Lord, nor is there a lessening of the concerns for others. But in addition there comes profound thanksgiving for what our Lord has endured, not just for me, but for the whole of the human condition. For there comes the awareness that to be human is to walk in the way of the cross and that we are appreciate how we are given a choice in life—we can either embrace the way of the cross as the way to greater life, or else you are left with no other choice other than to embrace the hopelessness of the human condition. One comes to embrace that prayer of Saint Richard of Chichester:
Thanks be to thee, O Lord Jesus Christ, for all the cruel pains and insults thou hast borne for me; for all the many blessings that has won for me. O Holy Jesus, most merciful Redeemer, Friend and Brother; May I know thee more clearly, love thee more dearly, and follow thee more nearly. Amen.
Faithfully,
Canon Greg+

Lent, 2011

Thanksgiving: Your Lenten Spiritual Discipline

When it comes to Lent, it is clear that most people regard the season’s focus on penitence, sorrow for their sins, sorrow for the human condition, guilt for things that they have done and left undone. Some regard it as a time of giving up some enjoyed pleasure such as chocolate, or struggling with some vice such as cigarettes and booze. To the wider world, which generally thinks of Christians as people who have no fun in life, it seems that Lent is the season that Christians particularly revel in making themselves miserable.
I would like to set the record straight.
Thanksgiving forms the basis of our Lenten Discipline. It is meet, right and your bounden duty at all times and in all places to give thanks to God for all the blessings that you have received at his hands. More particularly, if you took at all seriously the message of the gospel, your life would be overflowing with a sense of gratitude and love for God.
And why would that be? It would be that way because you have been given the gift of salvation. It would be because you would come to fully appreciate that you live even now in that quality of life in the fullness of the spirit, participating in the gift of eternal life. As Saint Paul reminds you in Romans chapter 8, you would realize that there is nothing that separates you ever from the love of God in Jesus Christ, our Lord. So, if those words from scripture mean anything in Jesus Christ, our Lord, would they not show up in your profound sense of thankfulness? Or have you heard it so often that you have become an ingrate?
In all classical teachings about prayer, it is made clear that the beginning point of prayer is the recognition of our profound need of the grace of God. The beginning point is self-examination and confession. That is true in the writings of Thomas a Kempis in the Imitation of Christ, in Francis De Sales’ Introduction to the Devout Life, the Salesian and Ignatian methods of meditation; it is true in the teachings on prayer by the early Fathers from the Philokalia.
But what all those sources make clear is that the point of such penitence is not all about you. It is not all about your sinfulness, your unworthiness, your brokenness. It is actually about God: his love, his grace, his forgiveness. In all those sources about prayer, all the writers make it clear that you are to move from confession and penitence immediately to thanksgiving and the contemplation of God’s grace and love for you. You are not called to be obsessed with sin; you are called to be obsessed with grace. Awareness of sin is pointless if you do not use that opportunity to turn our lives in the direction of grace and be filled with overflowing gratitude to God for his gift of love, grace and salvation given freely to you.
Frankly if you do not make the transition in your own spiritual life to thanksgiving, then you have fundamentally set at naught the sacrifice of Jesus on the cross for your benefit.
Your Lenten Discipline is therefore to be thankful, fully aware of the ways in which the love and grace of God are made available to you.
Faithfully,
Canon Greg+

Without Love, Our Works are Worth Nothing

Another foot of fallen snow created havoc yet again.  That dayI  I spent four hours cleaning my own driveway; it couldn’t exactly be called a day off. We’ve certainly had our share of weather interruptions this winter. What would be the condition of our walks around the Church on Tuesday Morning as I came to the Church? The walks were all cleared, and the steps were all shoveled.

I could tell from the markings of the snow that this was the work of human activity, for there were marks in the snow that suggested that a snow blower was used—God in His infinite wisdom did not cause the snow not to fall on Saint Paul’s walks and steps.

I breathed a prayer of great thanksgiving as I came into the office. But then I thought of my message to the parish at the annual meeting about the ways in which it seems that Saint Paul’s always steps up through the mission and the ministry of its members.

I was grateful for the ways in which the walks were shoveled, but more than that, I’m grateful for the ways in which we all have laid to heart the essence of the Gospel of Jesus Christ. Was it not just this past Sunday that we read about the ethic of love in Matthew’s Gospel? Had we not been reminded of those sayings of our Lord that remind us to strive to go the extra mile, to take on the thing that is challenging because of our love of Jesus?

The words the Collect for 7 Epiphany always strike me of the importance of love in the Christian life, as we pray “You have taught us that without love all our works are worth nothing, and without love, whoever lives is accounted as dead before You.”

I give thanks that we are a community where the love of God is translated into a sense of mission and ministry.That’s not only shown in getting our sidewalks cleared. It is shown:

• in our stepping up with the Loving Spoonful meal program.
• in our taking on the Relay for Life and raising funds for our team with the Sweetheart Dinner Dance.
• by the way our various and sundry committees of the vestry are really expressions of member’s sense of mission and ministry in our Lord’ s Name.

Thanks be to God for all that we do together in the love of our Lord Jesus!

Faithfully,

Canon Greg+