Sermon: Luke 21.5-19/Is. 65.17-25

The following sermon was preached in the Chapel of the Good Shepherd as part of Preaching 1 on November 10, 2010.  

Joseph P. Mathews

10 November 2010

PR1

Luke 21.5-19/ Is. 65.17-25

In the name of the God who was and is and is to come.  Amen.

Can you feel it?  Do you feel the tension mounting?  Do you feel the beginning of the end?  If you’re feeling anything like me you’re definitely feeling the tension of the end of the semester creeping up on you.  That systematics paper is due, the liturgics paper is due, and unless you turned it in today you’ll have a church history paper due.  And two extemporaneous sermons yet to do in this class.  And then another liturgics paper and a church history final.

But that’s not the ending that I’m asking if you’re starting to feel.  No, I’m talking about the end of the world -- and the end of the church year.  We’re in a liminal space right now and the designers of the lectionary know that.  We’re moving.  On Sunday we remembered those saints who have gone before us, those whose temporal lives have ended.  Parishes all over the Church baptized people, and part of their lives ended as they were born anew in water and the Spirit, and now they are between the Font and the grave.

All Saints’ is a sign to me that we’re winding down a church year, that Advent is just around the corner.  We’re in between extremes right now: the days are getting shorter, and the temperatures are getting cooler.  All Saints’ has passed.  Summer has ended but winter is not yet here.  In my mind, with Advent comes the cold.  With Advent comes the dark.  With Advent comes the end of the world.  And with Advent comes a new reign and ordering of the world.  But we’re not yet to Advent.  We’re in an in between space that gives us foreshadowing of that season yet to come.

In our Gospel passage today Jesus tells his followers that the temple would be destroyed and that the end was coming.  With what had to be startled alarm, they ask Jesus when it will be and how they’ll know it’s coming.  Rather than saying “Y2K will be the end of the world,” Jesus tells them not to be led astray.  Led astray?  The want a date.  And he says that people will claim to be him and will tell people the the end is just around the corner, maybe even with a specific date!

Whenever I read apocalyptic material, I think about these people who know the date of the end of the world.  I don’t mean the people who have calculated it based on the Myan calendar, but those people who have cracked the Bible code and know just the year, the month, the day, the hour, the minute, the second that Jesus will return.  And I think “Have you not read the Bible that you claim to take so seriously?!  We aren’t supposed to focus all our energy (if any!) on the end of the world.  Don’t you remember what Jesus told his followers?”

I also think about a Southern Gospel song based on the apocalypse in Matthew It was sometimes sung my traveling quartets in my childhood church, and the refrain says, “We are living surely living in the days he speaks about/all these things we now are having every day/Let’s be ready for his coming let us meet him with a shout/for he tells us in his word to watch and pray.”  The third verse talks about “all these things he speaks about” “Many wars shall come upon us when the end of time is near/ Many earthquakes will be numerous in those days/All of these today we're having and in Matthew it appears/We should live our life for Him and sing his praise.”

Yes, Jesus does talk about wars and earthquakes.  But in Luke’s version he’s pretty clear that, well, they don’t mean much...neither do the famine and plague all over the world or Comet Halebop.  All the stuff that Jesus lists wasn’t all that new.  One of the things that differentiated Jesus from the other messiahs running around first century Palestine was that he didn’t lead an insurrection against the empire.  But in all of those things, we won’t yet be to the end of the world...and we won’t yet be to Christ’s reign.  Before those things come to be lie challenges that many of us in the United States will never face: persecution by civil authorities for taking the name of Christ and following him on the Way.  We are blessed in this country to have the freedom to gather and worship whatever we choose.  This hasn’t always been the case, as St. Lawrence -- roasted alive on a grid iron -- St. Perpetua -- mauled by a wild cow in the arena and then beaten -- and all those saints in Fox’s Book of Martyrs will tell you.  But the point of Jesus’ talk about the end times isn’t about being martyred.  No, the point of his talking about the end times is that he wants people to follow him and trust him.

In the midst of adversity and persecution Christ’s followers are given the opportunity to testify.  When non-believers say, “Okay Christian” or “Okay chaplain,” or “Okay priest, what do you have to say for your God now?” Jesus’ followers are given the opportunity to tell their truth of the Good News.  And how does he want them to testify?  Not by rehearsing elaborate speeches to share or trying to think of every possible situation and how to answer it.  Not by giving them easy answers.  No, Christ wants his followers to trust him for the words to say.  

I don’t know how many times in the hospital this summer that’s all I could do.  Pray before going into a room when I knew it was going to be rough, listen, and keep praying.  We’ve all done a unit or two of CPE.  Take a minute to think about those experiences where there was nothing that you could say, where no amount of role play during orientation would have helped you know exactly what to do when a social worker invites you to be a part of a care conference before the decision to withdraw life sustaining care from the ninety year old -- or the four year old is made.  What defense could you prepare to give to those survivors whose world as they knew it was ending?

When I think about those times, if I said anything at all, I often don’t remember what I said.  What I remember is faces being in pain and looking for peace.  What I remember is Christ being present in the space between us.  What I remember are holy moments that I didn’t make, moments where Christ guided me.  And I remember feeling like I’d made something of a mess when I tried to go it on my own.  At the end of the world -- as we know it and live it or temporally as governments grow more and more oppressive -- this is what will be expected of Christ’s followers.  But we’re not there yet.

And how different that is from what comes after the end, that new heaven and new earth that Isaiah writes about where no more shall the sound of weeping be heard or the cry of distress.  Where no more shall there be in it an infant that lives but a few days, or an old person who does not live out a lifetime, where one who dies at a hundred shall be considered a youth.  In Christ’s reign, which we’ll celebrate next week, violence is no more.  The wolf and lamb eat together, and the lion no longer attacks another creature as prey, but eats grass with the ox.  Society is just: those who build their houses don’t have them taken away by people with more money.  Those who tend the fields are not the slaves of oppressive systems.  But we’re not there yet.

We’re in an in between space.  We’re between the saints who’ve gone before us, and we’re moving toward the Reign of Christ and the end of the world.  And in this in between space we have to remember that we’re not the ones in charge of anything.  We look to that day when in the fullness of time all things will be put in subjection under Christ and made well.  But we’re not there yet.  Right now we’re in a place of looking to the Christ who loves us and died for us, who conquered death and the grave, showing our feet the way.  

Jesus tells us to not prepare our defenses in advance, though he doesn’t say anything about not preparing sermons or classwork in advance.  In telling us this, he’s inviting us to trust, listen, and follow him.  We follow him when we answer the call to different types of ministry.  And we follow him when we do acts of service for the poor in field ed.  We follow him when we take up our crosses and give of ourselves to others.  And we hope that we’ll follow him in the resurrection to his New Reign.  But we’re not there yet.

Sermon: Luke 17.11-19

This sermon was preached in the Chapel of the Good Shepherd on October 6, 2010 as part of Preaching 1.  It was modified and delivered twice at St. Paul's Chapel the following Sunday, October 10.

Joseph P. Mathews

PR1  - Lab C

Mo. Mitties

Luke 17.11-19

Proper 23

In the name of the Holy and Undivided Trinity, who creates, redeems, and sustains us.  Amen. 

When I first looked at this passage I was excited!  A plain reading of our text today about the ten lepers being healed but only one of them coming to Jesus to thank him is where I wanted to go.  I wanted to talk about how it is right and a good and joyful thing always and everywhere to give thanks to Almighty God, creator of heaven and earth.  I wanted to preach about the joy of gratitude.

And then I did a little homework to get some background information on the text.  

An online commentary I regularly consult starts off this way, “The temptation to moralism with this story of ‘ungrateful lepers’ is very strong...we all should do better expressing thanks to God.  But this text isn’t about moralism.”

 Moralism?  I didn’t want to preach about moralism, I wanted to be joyful.  Good news in gratitude.  The author of the commentary said, “It’s almost always okay to preach about gratitude...but this text isn’t the best support for it!”

So I sat and read and listened to the Spirit.  And this text isn’t about moralism, but rather ritual cleanliness and priestly work.  The ten lepers in our story today were ritually unclean in addition to being sick.  This ritual uncleanliness had bonded together an interesting group of people: nine Judeans and a Samaritan, who otherwise would not have been hanging out together.  Ethnicity didn’t matter at this point.  They were all on the margins, and they were in community with one another.

But they longed to be in their greater communities, the way one feels when moving to seminary from her sponsoring congregation...or New York in general when moving away from all family and friends.  This group of ten was on the outside, and they cried out to Jesus for healing.  The way these people could come back into their communities, however, was not for Jesus to simply heal them and send them on their way.

No, a priest had to examine them and declare them clean, and here’s the crux of our story.  The nine Judeans do what Jesus says to do not because they’re ungrateful, but because they have to.  He sends them to a priest, and as they go they realize they’ve been healed and can thus show themselves to the priest.  They aren’t being ungrateful, they’re following directions.  In their cultural context they would not have thanked Jesus anyway; they weren’t longing to just be healed, but to be welcomed back into the communities.  That required a Judean priest declaring them clean, not an itinerant rabbi healing their physical illness.  Gratitude would be shown to the person who made the declaration of cleanliness.  

The nine Judeans do what they’re told to do.  The Samaritan man, though doesn’t.  When he realizes he’s been healed he turns around and thanks Jesus.  And here’s the turning point.  Rather than going to a samaritan priest, this man comes to Jesus and thanks him.  Jesus tells him that his faith has made him well and doesn’t send him back to a priest but sends him on his way.   In this Samaritan’s act of thanksgiving the Samaritan man says, “You’re the priest I need.”  Jesus’s declaration of cleanliness Jesus is his assent to being the priest for the outsider, the marginalized, the one who slips through the cracks.  

Jesus is not just the healer, but the one who reconciles outcasts to broader communities and integrates them into societal life.  Jesus taught his ragtag band of followers that because of their faith in him, they could also be reconcilers, welcoming the people around them who were physically or ritually “unclean” back into community.  And guess what?  We’re Jesus’s ragtag band of followers now.  This event with the Samaritan leper might as well have been Jesus writing the mission of the church as The Episcopal Church understands it.

Our catechism says, “The mission of the Church is to restore all people unity with God and each other in Christ.  The church pursues its mission as its prays and worships, proclaims the gospel, and promotes justice, peace, and love.”  Our mission is to reconcile each other to one another and to God.  Our mission is to love and do acts of service to all people, especially for those on the margins.  

Think about times that you’ve done this kind of work.  Do you do it for the thanks you get?  When you open the shelter is that because you want the women to thank you?  Or what about when you work at St. Martin’s?  Mission trips around the country and around the world?...the work that you plan on doing as priests ordained in this church?  Do you do any of that because you want thanks?

Or do you do it not just because you have to, but because of the value you place on that role.  I shouldn’t project.  When I’ve done these types of things it’s not because I want someone to thank me.  When I worked in Alabama one summer leading youth groups in repairing roofs and doing other home repair projects, it wasn’t because I wanted people to thank me.  It was because I had been given good news of Jesus’s works of reconciliation that I wanted to share.  I wanted to help these people who felt outcast and downtrodden know that they were loved by their sibling travelers on the way and by the God who created them.

And I made promises at my confirmation, when I reaffirmed my baptism, to proclaim by word and example the good news of God in Christ and to strive for justice and peace among all people, and to respect the dignity of every human being.  In water and the spirit we are baptized into Christ and all of God’s acts of redemption.  In our Gospel passage today Jesus says non-verbally, “Here I am, the one who serves as the priest to the outsider, bringing them back into community with the human family.”  We have been joined to that example and witness and given a task of reconciliation, outreach, and love.

At the table we’re strengthened for our journey and continually reconciled to God and one another.  Because there is one loaf we who are many are one body.  Let’s be about God’s business of reconciliation and welcoming the stranger into the body.  Amen.

Harry Potter Day 2010

The Harry Potter release is tonight, and I'm not really aware of that yet.  I have my tickets but the reality of it hasn't it and likely won't until I go to class tonight.  As I've been counting up to this night through the week, though, I've been thinking about the last releases that I've been to, where they've been, and what they've been like.

The last release was a movie release, and it was during General Convention.  I wore my robe for most of the day, including into the house of bishops.  I think I'll dress up tonight in my usual costume: grey slacks, black pants, one of my favorite bow ties, and my Wizengamot robe.  Last release was in LA with ECGC.  Before that I think was the book release when I was in South Carolina.  There was also a movie release that summer, and I made the costume for both, I think.  I was with Beth Ann for the book release.  I have been to book releases in Panama City, FL and Columbus, GA.  I've gotten a book the day after the release because I couldn't drive or stay out that late alone and we didn't live near enough.  I cannot for the life of me remember the Goblet of Fire movie release.  Can someone I was with help me out there?

So I haven't blogged a lot lately.  I'm trying to blog without obligation.  I have some entries rolling around in my head about liturgy and common prayer and community.  I might have something to say about singing, too.  I'm not sure yet.  I've got two sermons that I will try to put up tomorrow afternoon.  Maybe one tomorrow and one Saturday since that might generate more traffic.  I think I may break down and buy MarsEdit as well unless I find a comparable program; I post so much on Facebook because it's so easy and it doesn't make its way over here.  As I've said before, I'll try to make a conscious effort of posting stuff.

Also maybe coming: stuff on Three Simple Rules particularly about doing harm.  I'm having some thoughts lately...as I realize that I'm doing harm.  I might blog a paper in five parts.  I might post some paragraphs from The Virginia Report that I think that Anglicanism needs to reread.  I'll do those one at a time, I think.  Work is good.  School is good.  Field ed is good.  Life is good.  All busy, but all good.  I'll write about that some, too.

Tidy Vestments

Make the choirs of angels sing. The Power Ranger blue set is only considered cool by teenager Jesus. The Baby Jesus doesn't like it.




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Benedict and the Board

There are two things in the front of my mind right now, Holy Week aside. These are two things in the forefront of my mind, things that both direct me directly or indirectly. These two things are both in the news, although one is limited to the Episcopal News Service kind of news while the other is really dominant in international news right now, including lots of space in the New York Times. (There are even people taking ads out in the Times in response to articles)!

The first thing in the front of my mind is my school. General Seminary's board met on Monday to talk about what to do and where to go from here. And it's promising. There are some issues, but everything is looking up. We've found the issues, and we're working to correct them. We might be partnering in some neat ways with other institutions to not just work for General's future, but also the future of theological education and the future of The Episcopal Church. I have a very positive outlook here. We're getting things done and planning on ways to keep from getting right back where we are.

The other thing in the front of my mind, in large part because Andrew Sullivan won't let up. He keeps quoting things, talking, posting readers remarks, and making me think. He has a great piece called "Sin or Crime?" that is well worth the read. He posts a lot of other stuff, but doesn't use labels that I can tell, so you can't just click a link and get all his coverage (which is a lot of linking to other stories) about this issue. It makes me hurt for the Church for a lot of reasons. I certainly hurt for victims, too and am not defending the Church. But I hurt for the damage it has done to its moral authority.

How do these two things affect me you might ask? Well, one of them is my school, my future. Like I said, things are looking up! The sex abuse scandal doesn't directly affect me. The critiques and criticisms are mostly directed at the Roman Church and its hierarchy. But in all honesty that affects how people perceive our men and women in collars, too. And as someone being trained to be a leader in the faith, it affects the kinds of conversations I have with people when I say, "I'm in training to be a priest." (This was one of the drunken conversations at the piano bar in Vegas.) It may be tempting to say to the general public, "Well, we're more transparent, our laity have voice in how our bishops are chosen, blah blah blah blah blah," but I don't think that's appropriate. People are hurting; they don't need to be recruited into another system as their reeling from the Church that they potentially love and may have been their home their entire life.

These two things are teaching me something, and I got to put it into practice yesterday. When mistakes are made, intentionally or unintentionally, the people affected like for someone to step up to the plate and say, "I messed up." Andrew Sullivan points out that most of the reaction from the Vatican and American bishops has been either denial or to attack those who are critical, often by calling names. This is denial after decades (centuries) of this being not talked about and not dealt with. And now we have more people saying "I didn't know," "It wasn't my fault," and that they won't "be intimidated by the petty gossip of dominant opinion."

As has been discussed a lot around the Close, in times of crisis or impending crisis or pseudo-crisis, people may be quick to assign blame, or not assign it and just want someone to point a finger of blame at. It's probably true that that often happens. I think there are times when people just want those who bore responsibility to own that responsibility. Not to have closed door meetings and be less than forthcoming about what is actually going on, but to include the people who have been, are being, and will be affected in the process of determining next steps, for justice or for institutional advancement.

People might want a heartfelt apology so that they can move on with what's going on in their lives. If things are on the up, that's great! But people might want to know what happened for an institution to get where it is. In the case of the Vatican, it's been years of covering up to protect the image of the Church. At school, I don't know what happened. But I feel like cash flow problems of this magnitude don't come out of nowhere. And no one's taking responsibility (at any level) engenders some anxiety. Yes, we might be staying open for a good, long while. But what are we doing to keep us from coming back to this place? If we haven't been told what/where the systemic issues were/are, why should we think that the system has addressed those issues?

I don't write from a place of anger or anxiety, I really don't. I don't have anyone in my head to blame, nor do I have any ideas about where I'd start if I wanted to point fingers. I'm going to keep doing the work I've been given to do, saying my prayers, doing my homework, and going to chapel and class. Apparently at the meeting someone did offer an apology that helped the situation. As I said on Episcopal Café, I was in class, so I didn't get to go to the meeting. However a little more clarity about what's been going on, I think, is far more helpful than reading "I think they're a little over-anxious. The chair tried to assure them that we will be here," on The Lead (where I also saw a press release about the meeting before I got any kind of official summary of the meeting from within the community).

It looks like there's going to be more clear communication with students, faculty, and staff as things keep going. But I think our anxieties over a vast array of issues that are being discussed in groups of students, faculty, and staff and being communicated to the board, are well grounded. Nothing is encouraging beforehand about an emergency board meeting being called, ya know? ;) This whole post -- from Benedict to the Board -- is to say....when your boss asks you how something you're supposed to be doing is going and you haven't been doing it for about a month, it's okay to say so. And say that you'll get back on it. Have an intention to amend your behavior. And in a larger theme of life, when you mess up be forthright about it. Don't wait until you're about to go to jail, or you have the New York Times and any other number of media outlets blasting you, or the community over which you're in charge is having a prayer vigil.

It might have been a failure in leadership. But denying that, on any level about anything, doesn't make it any less a failure of leadership.

Flashback!

I just had a flashback although it was really more deja vu, except I REALLY have done this before, countless times. It makes me miss one of my passions through high school. I'm sitting on my bed, crossed legged with my computer in front of me. I'm barefooted wearing a t-shirt and black shorts. I push my computer away, grab my socks in my left hand to sort them out.

Blam! "You haven't done this in over a year. It's really familiar though." It probably has been a year since I refereed my last game. (That reminds me, I need to get a whistle out.) I'm not reffing today. I'm coaching the General Seminary soccer team. First practice is today, and this is a whole new angle to the beautiful game. I think I'm horribly unprepared, but when that's the case in soccer, you just run. :)

I'm looking up coaching aids right now. I don't really know what I need to be doing this time around, but it's supposed to last for two hours. Oy! I haven't played since the 8th grade. The only soccer shorts I own are referee shorts. I don't have cleats in New York. I'm about to don my black socks with three white stripes at the top. It feels weird not being headed to a complex. My USSF certification expired on 31 DEC. I'll reactivate for the 2011 calendar year.

I miss refereeing. I miss soccer.

On Brainwashing

Apparently I've been brainwashed, by the "Jewish lobby" no less, because I prefer to date things CE and BCE. My objection is not to the Church dating things AD (certificates of ordination, letters from people, etc.), but I really don't think that objective historians )or people from other religions for that matter) should be dating things from an exclusively Christian perspective...unless, of course, they want to.

The Story of How I Became a Postulant

I started this entry on 5 November 2008 and left it as a draft for some reason. I guess I just forgot that I'd started it and forgot to finish it. Now I'll post it, though, and I hope y'all are as amused as I am recollecting the ending.

See, wha'ha'happe was this one time I had drove to Pensacola. I had drove after leading a Bible study and then I had got to my aunt's house. She had tried to stay up to wait for me but she couldn't. But my cousin Matthew was up because he had just got home. We had talked for a few minutes and then I had went to bed. I had set my alarm for 8:00, but I wasn't sure that I'd even be able to sleep that long. I woke up at 8:00.

When I had got up all my family had gone but my cousin Seth. He stay with my aunt and uncle but he ain't their kid. He go to school in Pensacola. When I had finished showering and getting ready we had watched Patch Adams together while we had talked about school. We had had to leave at the same time. He had went to classes and I had to go to the bishop's office for my meeting about being a postulant. My directions wasn't too good, so I had got off the interstate and went the wrong direction. It didn't feel right, though, so I had called the office and talked to my friend Sally. She work there and we had went to Cursillo together. I had just passed Sammy's, and she had gave me good directions.

Sorry, I can't do it anymore. I'm too tired.

When I got to the diocesan office I had a seat and then Mary Poss took me to the kitchen where I had a banana and a Diet Coke (Diet Coke, Diet Coke). I waited until I was called in. The bishop was so nice. He asked if my tie was okay. He told me to breathe. Then he told me to go in and have a seat. I did. I met the members of the Commission on Ministry. The bishop started by complimenting my tie and asking me, if he could without being to outrageous, show the commission my socks. They were tan with brown vertical stripes and red horizontal stripes. Where they intersected they made orange squares. They're a pair of my fun socks. I have six now.

So we went through the forty-five minute interview. I was asked about the priesthood. I talked about the Baptismal Covenant as a life of self-marginalization, and that the ordained are called to lead and invite the laity in the self-marginalization to which they've committed. Canon Dunnam asked if people who wear yellow bow ties marginalize themselves from society. I replied that people who wear yellow bow ties might be marginalized from society because they aren't the dominant trend, but that those who have been called to lead in self-marginalization, at least in The Episcopal Church, tend to wear white collars. He replied with, "Touché," and laughed. Two lay people clapped and everyone else at least laughed.

Cn. Dunnam also asked where I'd acquired my proficiency with language. I started by telling him that I'd answered that question in that building before. (Bishop Duncan asked me that when I went to talk to him in February.) I told him that Mom was an English teacher and that Romey had been particular about our speech and interviewing skills. Then he asked how my peers reacted, if at all. I told him for the most part that they don't. My group of friends all have our special areas and we use our terms and teach each other. I told the Commission about nerd hands for when someone does something ridiculously nerdy, and they laughed. I talked about Erin being an English major and Tate saying "amenesis." Then I was done talking to them.

I went to Aunt Terrie's to get lunch and chatted online briefly. I went back to the diocesan office for talks we were going to have about seminary life. Before going in I collected my thoughts since I was a little early. Four clergy people who've graduated from seminary in the last three years. We had conversations for three hours. It wasn't too bad, actually. A number of people called a few times to see if I had news. My phone was on silent. The conversations consisted of the four clergy people and all the people who'd been interviewed about postulancy, so we all got to meet one another, too. The talks were very good. They were informal and not stressful.

Then came the time for announcements. This is where the entry is picking up over a year later. We all waited in the diocesan office's lobby as we were called in one at a time. I got my announcement, and as we know by now, I became a postulant. However, there's more to that story. After the announcement, as I'm bubbling with excitement (and completely not feeling like it's election day), I went to get in my car. I felt my suit pockets, and what do you know, but my keys weren't in them!

I went around to the passenger's side and low and behold, my keys were in the ignition. I was still driving the Grand Prix at the time, and I had a very set routine for getting out of my car and locking the door. It started with taking the keys out of the ignition as I turned my lights off after I'd put the car in park, then opening the door. I had sat to collect my thoughts, and thus I had thrown off my routine. Door got locked, keys never made it out of the ignition. I was mortified. I told people inside what was going on, I think only the bishop and Mary were left at that point, and it worked out.

The bishop called AAA to open my car, which they did. However, we had to wait for the locksmith to get there. Bishop Duncan and I had pimento cheese sandwiches and Diet Cokes on Sally's desk while we waited for the locksmith to get there. I was so embarrassed. Freshly made postulant locks his keys in his car, and then the bishop has to wait with him before he can leave. Great beginning, you know? The locksmith came and opened the passenger door. We unlocked all the doors from it and Bishop Duncan held it open until I was safely in the driver's seat with the car started. Then I drove back to Troy, excited about being a postulant and about the election that was happening.

Heatwave

It's been in the 40s here. This is what happens:



This was an igloo.

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Surprise Picture

This is an igloo. We built it on Friday night. It started collapsing on itself on Saturday evenin as the temperature started to rise. I had more of an entry about this, but a text message ate it.



This is Bethesda Fountain. When it's cold the fountain is off. When it's snowy, you can walk in the fountain to get a shot this close with your iPhone.




God's gonna trouble the water.

Productive Weekend

I had a very productive weekend. I got up early on Saturday and went to the Park. I could curse for not writing this last night. I have all the pictures on Facebook and would link to them, but no Facebook during the week! Drat! I'll post some from my phone of a few things that I snapped shots of, but I was really preferring the real digital camera for higher resolution. This is stuff I'll probably get prints of sometime.

Then two hours in the Met. That already was productivity: two hours playing in the park, two hours at the museum! I went back to my room and played around on here (blogging and looking at stats), and then I slept for three hours. I got a phone call that woke me up. I was going to go back to sleep, but I couldn't. The longer I stayed awake the hungrier I got, so I stayed awake. I wrote my museum paper and finished my philosophy paper that I had started the night before. Then I went over to Jess's and watched PS I Love You which was really long but was really sweet.

Yesterday I was late for church but I went to the adult forum/new person meeting/confirmation class. I was there a long time, but I met some people and had good conversations. I started to see how St. Mark's, if I'm there, will push me; it won't be a skate for me even though I'll enjoy it. I came back, did Greek, read Old Testament, led music in the Chapel (exciting blog entry forthcoming), and then went to St. Lydia's. Really busy weekend, got all my writing done. No running today, but I did proof my paper that's due today. Midterm (and visitors!) next week.

The View From My Window

It usually looks like this:



Today it looks like this:







It's not even really that cold, just snowy. I don't have the shoes for this. Hello K-Mart in Penn Station when I get my refund check.

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Going Paperless, Chapter 3.5

Tuesday I presented some paperless music to the LT90 class, and we sang. We sang well as a group and I was very pleased. Hopefully that will carry over to the liturgy in 35 minutes. Together we sang "Praise God" that Patrick Evans taught us in San Francisco, "Whoever Eats This Bread", and "Return to God". "Return to God" was rocky because my pitches were off. Today we're singing a song paperless in the liturgy, so we'll see how it goes. I think because there will be people there trusting the decisions of the class and willing to sing that it will go well. And we have some ringers to help me lead, and we've got some practical planning stuff down. The intentionality involved in planning the service was impressive, and I think it shows through in the liturgy in a way that the other services sometimes show a lack of intentionality.

Here's a song that we sang at St. Lydia's on Sunday night.

Going Paperless, Chapter 3

I'm feeling like Wednesdays are the days that I post about the previous Sunday's experience. Maybe I need that much time to process and think, maybe cool down, maybe that's just when I get around to it. Oh well, it's not that important; it's getting posted, and I already have a Chapter 3.5 to post maybe tomorrow or Saturday. Probably not Friday, though. All that was completely arbitrary. It's a short post, but it'll get written when it does. Nothing's ever boring on our Sunday paperless adventures; there's always something!

This week was our third week with paperless music, and I think we had a breakthrough. :) My music stuff got all switched on Saturday and Sunday as I more carefully considered what I wanted us to sing. We came in to "Return, Return to God" (see video below). It went well, and we added an extra phrase, but it worked. It was a very good starting point. It's slow, contemplative, Lenten. Colin and I are very much wanting to not take as many options as we can to make this a kid-friendly service. We want it to be accessible, but we want it to be a full service and a formational experience for the children, and hopefully an experience that seminarians can learn from about leading worship that involves children. As such, we're trying to restore the song of praise after the opening sentence (Collect for Purity being optional). This week we were going to do an English Kyrie that I was essentially going to make up. But it got skipped. It happens.

We were going to sing "Come Light of Lights" as our Gospel acclamation, but I decided to shorten it to just the second phrase. I will keep doing that, I think, even though it was a little rocky. Despite the rockiness, the singing was stronger in general this week. I think three weeks in people are starting to understand a little better or trusting themselves a little more. That our presider sang strongly was very helpful. The sermon was outstanding and I think everyone got something out of it regardless of age. I don't remember us doing the Creed....but we did say the confession, which we've added for Lent. The prayers of the people were good and were bidden. Need to make a mental note about them. During the peace I moved again, which I think works well. There was a slight miscommunication between me and the presider (I didn't hear an offertory sentence), but singing "What We Need Is Here went well. We sang it as we gathered around the table and until we were ready to start giving thanks together, making eucharist.

At someone's suggestion from last week, I stood directly across from the presider, which worked well. We've continued Mark Miller's Sanctus et Benedictus, which is going well. The hosannahs are a little confusing because of the third one the second time through, but it is what it is. During the distribution we had our breakthrough! We were singing, "Whoever Eats this Bread," and we sang and sang and sang. We had strong voices singing, and we were close together and could hear each other. When I received I made eye contact with someone across the table who was comfortable singing and they kept the song going. Then I took it into the round and someone followed me. I think there were just two of us singing the round, but I think that made the first part sing more strongly. On the way out we sang "Jesus Is With Us, Let Us Bless the Lord." Just one part, maybe I'll add harmony myself as Lent progresses.

And this week I had a very formative experience, which I'm realizing Sunday night planning very much is. It's preparation for being in parish ministry. I received some feedback from someone who's attended about the way we're doing music and about variety of musicians. I've heard it and made note, and am going to talk about it with the rest of the team, but I think for now we've made the decision to use paperless music for consistency, which is a key goal of our time planning Sunday nights. I don't want to be the only one leading the songs, but we do want to have a consistent manner of music, if not always the same "style" as it were. (Read: "Guide My Feet" will be used by the end of the year; it'll be paperless, but gospel.)

Next week, all the music is the same. Might toy with some harmony that is pre-written, or might just keep making it up. Going to try to get someone to cantor verses for "Return, Return to God," so that I can drone during petitions to demonstrate droning. I'd love to move to more singing during the Great Thanksgiving so we can drone, but these are pipe dreams. Master singing first, then droning.

Make a good Lent. Return to God.

Going Paperless, Chapter 2

One word summary for 2/14: abnormal. All the music we used was the same, except the Gloria. Since Rick's Gloria was too hard last week we moved to the Peruvian one, like I said we would, and it went well. "Arise, Shine" was better this week since people knew it, and really all the songs were better. But like I said, this week was an abnormal week: we had prospective students on campus and in that service. And they sang. Oh did they sing. It was great. They actually may have been just what we needed in a few ways, and they also made me forget some things, too.

Colin and I have shifted the focus of the service, and now we're in the process of implementing it. It's not a change in the service inasmuch as what we're trying to do and how we're trying to do it. All the prospectives made me forget what we'd discussed but I think it worked out. After the fact, I remembered and will keep it in mind this weekend. So, the Gloria went well. Right now echoing is working very well. "Gather Children" didn't go poorly as we gathered around the table, but it took a few times through, and there were plenty. During the peace I moved from where I was sitting in the frontish of the Chapel to the middle of the Chapel so that I would be behind everyone as we moved forward. I don't know if that helped or not, but I'm going to keep playing with my positioning in the Chapel. This week I'm going to try being directly across from the presider after we've all gathered at the table. Mark Miller's Sanctus was well received, and I have some tweaks I need to make in teaching it. We did "Alleluia, Alleluia, Give Thanks to the Risen Lord" again during the distribution, and that is where we learned a few things.

One, two chalices when there are prospective students! That's what lead to the second revelation. We weren't even thinking that far ahead when we just went with the standard Sunday night one chalice. However, since we did that it was taking awhile, and I thought "I need another song!" So, after a number of times through "Alleluia, Alleluia, Give Thanks to the Risen Lord" I taught "What We Need Is Here." That worked really well, and I'm glad that I taught it. Through Lent that's going to be our offertory/gathering around the Table song. And last Sunday we got a sneak peak at it, and only the people who read my blog will know that's what coming.

So, two weeks down. It got better. It was abnormal. I had a debrief with someone in attendance afterward who raised some things for me to consider, though I've lost in my head what they are. I was just thinking on some of them to include them in my note. Oh, I wanted to say that I've recruited a child to help with the leading, and I'm thinking I'll start incorporating that this week. The Dean contributed a paperless confractorium that he asked if we'd like him to do just before the service. It's already Wednesday and I haven't rehearsed any of the music yet. That is to come...Friday? Saturday? Sunday afternoon?

Next week we're singing: "Wait for the Lord," "Sing Praise to God," "What We Need is Here," "We Have a Hunger Lord," and "Jesus is With us, Let Us Bless the Lord." Stay tuned for more adventures in going paperless.

Going Paperless, Chapter 1

This calendar year (because that's how the Chapel of the Good Shepherd Operates) I have been asked to co-coordinated the Sunday evening community eucharist (about which I blogged a few months ago) with Colin Chapman. One of the things we're trying to do is get attendance up. We're seeking to make it an authentic, intentional worship experience. One of the ways we're trying to do that is with paperless music. In January I went to Music that Makes Community and learned some good pieces, got a confidence boost, got some resources, and made some good networking connections. So from that I've planned music from last Sunday through Easter. Lots of continuity with pieces so that people can get really comfortable with them.

The exception to that, of course, is that very, very soon we're in Lent, so all the music will change for that season. However, we'll get two weeks of these songs (or so I thought) before we moved on to more dreary songs. Not dreary. Just more contemplative and slower, at least off the top of my head I think they'll be slower. I chose the songs for now the same way I usually choose music: what do the words say and how is that related to what we're doing? If I had to use one word to describe how Sunday night went, it would definitely be #fail.

It wasn't really a failure, it was just new. It will get better at it as we go, and even as the service progressed it got better. As Taylor Burton-Edwards (whose wife is a priest) pointed out, I am trying to get a very scripted people to go off-script. Paperless music is new to them, and the musical selections weren't the best they could've been, and I'm making changes as a result. And most of the music was completely new to the people, too. This week I'm thinking about moving my position to somewhere else and hoping to have some ringers in the congregation who've practiced the music and can bolster confidence of the assembly as they sing.

The opening last week was "Arise, Shine," which is in Music by Heart. One of the perks of having evening worship is that songs with light are always applicable, regardless of season. I'm trying to avoid the Phos Hilaron since it's the invitatory at the evening office. That song will continue. One of the things that we're doing is restoring a song of praise separate and distinct from an opening song. This week, since it's the season after Epiphany we attempted a Gloria. This was Rick Fabian's paperless Gloria with congregational refrain and cantored verses. I practiced it all week with the keyboard because I kept getting some intervals off. We didn't make it to the verses because we didn't get comfortable enough with the refrain. Now I know it at least. Next time we're doing the "Peruvian Gloria " that Patrick Evans lead at MMC and can be found in The Faith We Sing and probably other collections. It's much simpler.

For the gospel acclamation we sang the Caribbean Hallelujah that we've used all school year and the people are familiar with. I'll sing it twice through next time versus just the one. That needs to be worked out and communicated with the presider so that they know when they'll be on, and I'll know when I need to stop. That'll clearly change with Lent. For the offertory song, which is also a transition from the choir to the altar we sang "Gather Children, Gather 'Round" which I somewhat altered at the end as that I couldn't entirely remember how I learned it, but I made it work. Then we did the best two of the night: Sanctus and song during communion.

For the Sanctus we did Mark Miller's, also found in The Faith We Sing. I don't have a copy of that, but I remember when we'd do "Singy Communion" at the Wesley. Mark's setting works well to break into phrases to do an echo. During communion we sang "Alleluia, Alleluia, Give Thanks to the Risen Lord," which went well. The people, in large part, knew it. We repeated it a good number of times, and I think we were starting to get some harmony. We sent the altar party out with "God Bless Every Step," and it went well, despite being a newish piece. I think one of the things that helped as we were around the altar was that we were close together, so we could hear each other even if we weren't singing lustily and with good courage.

And that was Chapter 1 in this adventure of turning a service into a service of paperless music. Keep checking in for updates, because I think I'm going to keep blogging them, both for my reflections and in the hope that people can offer suggestions and the hope that people can learn from my mistakes!

#episcopalianbecause Part 2

I thought I'd take a minute to share all the tweets that I've written myself or re-tweeted from others with the #episcopalianbecause hash tag:

I'm an #episcopalian because...

1. question marks are even more welcome than exclamation points.
2. most of our hymns have a verse in praise to the Trinity, which we almost always sing.
3. we pray for those whose faith is known to God alone, not by naming people and things we don't like about them.
4. The Episcopal Church opposes the Death Penalty.
5. we know tectonic plates are to blame for the Eathquake in Haiti, not Voo Doo.
6. if I get tired of anglo-catholic worship in the Twin Cities, I can go to a service in Hmong or other languages .
7. my [future] daughters [will] see women in leadership roles in the church.
8. we don't pretend to believe the same things, but we gather and pray together the same way.
9. from St. Mary the Virgin Times Square to St. Gregory of Nyssa San Francisco, there's a liturgical style for you.
10. Common Prayer is the best way we have to draw the largest number of people possible close to Jesus.
11. we have good news to share and are willing to change certain aspects so that we can get that message out.
12. regular reception of the Eucharist changed me: because it's a God thing not a me thing.
13. even when I don't feel like praying the Daily Office it shapes me and surrounds my day with prayer.
14. we treasure the historic roles of bishop, presbyter, and deacon and value ordination and its preparation.
15. I'd rather revel in the mystery than argue facts.
16. the worship of the church has shaped and formed my life, both from its consistency and its theology.
17. I'm part of a "we" church versus an "I" church. We believe. We celebrate seasons.

Are you an Episcopalian? If so, why?

It's the work of the people: Sunday Nights

I'm sitting here watching Torchwood before I work on a Church Music paper and my final Tutorial Seminary Paper. And Right now they're reading Daniel 12.10 (title of the Episodes is "End of Days"). How appropriate for Advent. This is the first in a three part series that I've promised my senior warden for over a month now, and it was spurred by conversations with Taylor Burton-Edwards and Fr. Malloy. The conversations were about services that I like here at the General Seminary (and those I don't like to some extent), and then we talked about Sunday night, and TBE put it succinctly when I described the service: it's the work of the people.

Sunday night is the family/community Eucharist, and it has some quirks, and I fell in love with it last February when I visited the seminary. It starts with either the opening acclamation or a hymn. Sometimes the processional hymn is the hymn of praise, and sometimes we sing or say the Trisagion or the Kyrie after the opening acclamation. A priest from the community (and believe me, we have plenty) is always the presider, but students are usually the preachers. This is the opportunity for students to preach in the chapel in a service before their senior sermon. This is the most child-friendly of the services.

Children carry the cross and the gospel book, they are usually the oblation bearers. Lately we've had kids that can read reading the first lesson (we only do two) and the prayers of the people. Most of the time the sermon starts with an invitation for all the children regardless of age to join the preacher on the chancel steps. The music is provided by students with musical ability. We've had guitar players, organists, and a vocalist who accompanied herself with a tambourine. And they're all awesome.

Sunday nights is a time when the GTS community comes together (in varied sizes) and brings its gifts to glorify God and enjoy God's goodness in the Eucharist. And we don't tidy up living in community: children scream, they crawl around the chapel (one especially enjoys the altar rail on the dean's side as a destination), they kick the pew wracks in front of them, they babel. Sometimes they cry or meltdown and need to be held. They try too hard to hold infants and toddlers. But they have a part to play and in all their noise and messiness they glorify God and at least remind me (as if I could ever forget!) that honestly living in community is messy because we're broken, messy humans.

And adults I think have a lot to bring and learn. Students preaching often ask questions as part of their sermon, which my elementary school principal mother will tell you may not always be wise; you never know what the answer might be. They have a role to play not just in worshiping, but in formation. There are children who stand with me and the presider (and somtimes others) in the orans. They look on the in the prayer book that I take up with as they learn the memorial acclamations. They are learning now about acolyting, helping the presider set the table, taking directions from sacristans and altar guilds.

And it's not a show. And it's not cold or detached. It's worship. It's the work of the people, and I'm headed there now.

The Magnificat

A classmate's image of singing the Magnificat in the Chapel of the Good Shepherd to the Brian Forbes setting when no women sit on the dean's side:

"On this particular night, I am facing a Dean’s side which the women appear to have stayed home from, and it affords the unique opportunity of hearing burly voiced tenors and basses refer to themselves unblinking as handmaidens of the Lord, a turn of phrase which automatically fills my mind with images of tenors and basses dressed in 19th Century peasant farm girl garb, complete with milk pails. It only seems more ridiculous when I realize that it was not too long ago that it would have only been tenors and basses in this Chapel singing this song of Mary, men who, coming from Anglican influence were likely never among those hungry who had to wait to be filled with good things, whose hearts were almost certianly prone to proud, religious imaginations yet to be scattered by the strains of ordained ministry, and who would never be quick with child. In fact, this would place us in a long tradition of men singing the song of Mary in settings not necessarily always evocative of the lyrics' humble origins. On this particular night, we sing the Song of Mary to a setting by Sebastian Forbes and its the one that I had to try my hardest not to laugh during the first time I heard it. The slow, undulating tones of this Anglican chant always remind me of the Sea, and more specifically of sinking beneath it. Every time I hear it, my minds eye fills the wood planked stone built Chapel with blue water and sea weed, and so now we are 19th Century peasant farm girls singing bass- while we drown."

Consider the Lilies

I grew up with this song on 5th Sundays and have a nostalgic attachment to it. The passage keeps coming up, too. It was good for me to hear Fr. Malloy preach a great sermon on it before orientation started, and then Roxane read it tonight as part of a blessing during our progressive housewarming. I hope y'all enjoy it like I do. (Facebook users, view original post...and I couldn't find the version I was originally going to post...and bear with the first few bars; listen to the vocals/lyrics)