Seersucker and a Collar

The Bark Side

2012-01-19T09:41:00.000-06:00

Oh gracious ...

Sermon: 15 January 2012 (2 Epiphany, Year B)

2012-01-15T13:00:00.000-06:00

Readings: 1 Samuel 3:1-20, Psalm 139:1-5, 12-17, 1 Corinthians 6:12-20, John 1:43-51

Audio: .mp3 | podcast | iTunes

Holy and Loving God, write a message on our hearts. Bless us, direct us, and send us out, living letters of the Word. AMEN.

From today’s Old Testament reading, “Now the boy Samuel was ministering to the LORD under Eli. The word of the LORD was rare in those days; visions were not widespread. At that time Eli, whose eyesight had begun to grow dim so that he could not see, was lying down in his room; the lamp of God had not yet gone out, and Samuel was lying down in the temple of the LORD, where the ark of God was. Then the LORD called.”

I am struck by an image Ellen Roberds used in this pulpit a week ago: the image of the Clergy person who is a central figure in one’s life, the priest or pastor who was present for so many life events that she or he becomes legend in our own minds and souls. Many of us are blessed with that person and for me, that person is Ted Gulick. Ted was my bishop. Ted married Ellen and me, buried my father, and ordained me to the Deaconate and the Priesthood. Ted was not perfect. A few years ago, I planned all of the worship for the national Episcopal Youth Event, an event attended by over a thousand youth and most of the bishops in the Church. And during the opening Eucharist, while all the bishops in their liturgical finery were processing in, Ted passed me. I was a nervous wreck and as he passed, Ted leaned in to whisper something in my ear. I was hoping for some nugget of wisdom, some morsel of solace, but instead he said, “make me look good!” Still, when Ted preached, I thought he was preaching to me and me alone – so much so that I made an utter fool out of myself one Sunday when he was making his official visitation to my first parish and he preached this fantastic sermon and I approached him afterwards, a sniveling wreck and said something like, “thank you SO MUCH for preaching about me today,” and he replied, very deadpan, “I wasn’t preaching about you.” Oops. Perhaps one day I will learn that it isn’t all about me.

At my ordination to the Deaconate he did preach to me, or at least I assume so, and he preached about call. He preached about how God had called my fellow ordinand and I to do good work in the World and accomplish great things in the Church. He recalled the words of the prophet Jeremiah, “Before I formed you in the womb I knew you, and before you were born I consecrated you; I appointed you a prophet to the nations.” He reminded us that we had been called to listen for the Holy Spirit, and to find our voice, and to speak out, for we had been called by God. God calls.

We hear two great stories from the scripture this morning about call. First is the story of call of Samuel, who was sleeping in the Temple next to the Ark of the Covenant (an interesting choice - hasn't he seen Indiana Jones?), and he hears a voice. And he assumes it is his friend and mentor Eli who is old and infirm and he runs to him and says, “Here I am, for you called me.” But Eli had not called out to Samuel and after this happens three times they both realize that God must be calling and so the fourth time, Samuel replies to God and says, “speak, for your servant is listening.”

The second story is from the Gospel. It is a couple days after Jesus’ baptism, as we heard and celebrated last week, and Jesus is in Galilee. He finds Philip and he calls him. He simply says, “follow me.” No great discourse, no miraculously persuasive argument, just drop everything and "follow me." And they do.

Call is a very personal endeavor. God made us in the image of God, God gave each of us particular talents to do good work, so, if we are listening, God inspires us and reminds us to use these gifts. God calls. Sometimes it is difficult to hear God’s call, sometimes it is difficult to understand God’s call, and sometimes there are earthly impediments to respond to God’s call, but God calls. God calls each of us and God calls again and again and again until we answer.

However, with call, as with many things with God, there’s a rub. For God does call you. God calls you to do amazing things. As the song goes, the Lord of sea and sky asks whom shall I send and you are the answer. God calls you, but … but, God’s call isn’t about you. God’s call is not a cosmic pat on the head merely to confirm how special you are. Don’t get me wrong, God loves you. God loves you unconditionally. God knows every nook and cranny of your soul, even the parts you are ashamed or afraid of and God still loves you without exception. And for that cosmic fact I am very thankful. But God’s call is not to merely to sit around and bask in the glory of how wonderful it is to be called. God’s call is about action.

When we are called by God, we are called to do something. We are called to go out into this broken world, a world not unlike the world described in the Old Testament, where word of God is rare, visions is not widespread, and our eyesight has grown dim. [At 9, Please pardon the plug, but one could go to the Great Hall after this service and learn from Katy and Bailey Leopard about some of Calvary’s outreach efforts and how God is calling you to participate.] God made us and God gave us these gifts to do something, to make a difference, to make a difference for someone else who is hurting, who is struggling, who is searching. God calls us to respond.

On this weekend when we remember the life and legacy of the Rev. Dr. Martin Luther King, I am reminded of a passage from his Letter from a Birmingham Jail. He wrote, “There was a time when the church was very powerful … In those days the church was not merely a thermometer that recorded the ideas and principles of popular opinion; it was a thermostat that transformed the mores of society. Whenever the early Christians entered a town, the people in power became disturbed and immediately sought to convict the Christians for being "disturbers of the peace" and "outside agitators." But the Christians pressed on, in the conviction that they were "a colony of heaven," called to obey God rather than man. Small in number, they were big in commitment. They were … God-intoxicated.”

Be disturbers. Be intoxicated. Respond to God’s call. Know that through you great things will happen. Be the embodiment of the Epiphany or our God. And when you respond to God’s call, not only will you see great things, as Jesus said in today’s Gospel. But, as Jesus says later in John’s Gospel, “the one who believes in me will also do the works that I do and, in fact, will do greater works than these.”

God calls and God’s call is good. But, God calls us to do, and that can change the world for good. AMEN.

Lego Star Wars Advent Calendar: Day 24

2011-12-25T00:00:00.000-06:00

As I begin the last post of this series, this seems only appropriate.

And here he is - the last Lego of the series:

Yoda dressed as Santa Claus! How great is that. Yoda is an odd little dude - green, short, hunched, hair in very geriatric locales. But, at the same time, wise and powerful. I remember when I first saw him duel during the prequel trilogy. First, there was a lot of screaming and flipping, which was just strange. Also, I always assumed that he would never need to fight. He was so powerful all he would have to do to an opponent was say, "defeated you are," and s/he was. I guess that would have made for boring filmmaking.

Also, at first, Yoda seems rather grumpy (I would be grumpy too if I had been stuck on a swamp planet for over two decades), but thinking back on the "saga," he possesses a great deal of patience. He is a teacher and he meditates, both disciplines requiring a great deal of patience. Furthermore, his actions speak volumes. A person of his power and wisdom would undoubtedly be tempted to, when confronted with the petty annoyances of life (Sith, bureaucracy, Gungans), take matters into his own hands - but he did not. Plus, anyone with the patience to train a whiny Mark Hamill demands respect.

The Archbishop of Canterbury wrote a beautiful article that was published in The Times today. In it, he related the tragic tale Congolese children abducted by terrorists. He wrote,

"I won't try and make readers wince with the details, though they are the sort of thing that you wish you could forget; the important thing is that they had escaped. They had been brought out of the bush, prised out of the grip of the militias that had captured them and reintroduced to something like normality. At twenty-one or twenty-two, some were completing their secondary school work. All had been assured of a safe place to live if they managed to get away from the militias. Many had been reunited with families. They had advocates and helpers in their communities, people who were willing to stick their necks out to support them when others looked at them with suspicion or even disgust.

How had it happened? They all had one answer. The Church had not given up on them. At great risk, members of local Christian communities had kept contact with them, sometimes literally gone in search of them, helped them escape and organized a return to civilian life. They had prepared congregations to receive them, love them and gradually get them back into ordinary human relationships.

It wasn't just a story of happy endings. The trauma of these experiences doesn't go away overnight. Drug use, conditioned behavior, the deadening of emotions, all these take time and involve a fair number of failures as well as successes. The miracle is that any manage rehabilitation or perhaps the miracle is that anyone believes enough in the possibility of it.
Yet the message was always the same: 'they didn't give up on us'."

I write and preach and blog a lot about Emmanuel, the God with us, the miracle of the Creator of the Universe wanting to know and be with and love each and every one of us. That is an amazing gift and a theological reality that in and of itself is enough to celebrate on this holy night. But God does more.

We continue to reject God, we continue to reject this gift. From the Garden to Gethsemane, we, in our brokenness, in our self-centeredness, try to separate ourselves from God. And yet God, remembering our covenant with God, keeps coming back. God never gives up.

And the ultimate expression of God's not giving up is Jesus. God so loved us that he gave his very self. I am not giving up, he says. No matter what you do, no matter what you try, no matter what you try to pull, I am not giving up.

++Rowan continues,

"'I'm not going away' is one of the most important things we can ever hear, whether we hear it from someone at our bedside in illness or over a shared drink at a time of depression or stress – or at a moment when we wonder what's happening to our neighborhood and our society. This is the heart of what Christmas says about God. And it's the real justification for any local church or any national church being there. When people are pushed by all sorts of destructive forces into seeing themselves as hopeless, as rubbish, so that what they do doesn't matter any more, it's this that will make the change that matters."

As you sip your first cup of coffee tomorrow morning, as you open presents with beloved family or friends, as you shuffle off to church, or as you awake to an empty house, remember this: in the words of C3-PO, "we're doomed." We are doomed to be loved by God, doomed to encounter God in ways we will never anticipate, and doomed to be joined by God on every step of our journey. God is not going to give up - so get used to it!

Yea, Lord, we greet Thee, born this happy morning;

Jesus, to Thee be glory given;

Word of the Father, now in flesh appearing.

Happy Christmas.

Lego Star Wars Advent Calendar: Day 23

2011-12-23T12:35:00.002-06:00

Well, I have to give some dap to our friends at Lego. I was not sure what to expect behind Door 23 this morning. Yesterday afternoon, I indexed in my head all of the previous pieces and I could not identify a glaring omission. I am pretty sure I know what tomorrow's is, but I had no idea what today's might be. Here we go.

A mini Lego Christmas Tree.

How great is that?!?

I love Christmas trees. I also love America, apple pie, and my mother. But seriously folks, there is nothing better than a huge live tree, smack in the middle of the den, lit and full of a hodgepodge of decorations. I certainly understand folks who have "theme" trees with nothing but one color ornament or one type of ornament and they are lovely, but there is something magical and beautiful about that random assortment of gorgeous glass spheres and ceramic pieces coupled with a random assortment of Snoopys, Pooh Bears, college athletics, whomever's first Christmas, and whatever the little darlings made in Sunday School that year - that is a Christmas tree.

And after the Tree is in the stand, watered, lit and decorated, I love to turn out the lights and just sit and look at it. Perhaps with a warm beverage, perhaps with some soft music, but the best is just silence and the tree. Once I have done that, I know Christmas has almost arrived.

Silence is a rare commodity. We go go go and are surrounded by noise noise noise noise. After the kids are in bed and my chores are done, I crave silence (and PTI). As I wrote on Wednesday, "These days resemble that moment in a action movie with the car is jumping over the canyon or the hero is jumping from one building to another. Action is most certainly happening, but the music stops, the sound effects go mute, and all hold their breath," (wow, I just quoted myself, how pretentious).

I am reminded of a poignant moment during college. The fall semester was almost over and exams were in full swing. A fresh snow had fallen the day before and I was walking back from the library to the dorm around midnight. The world looked something like this:

Photo by michell

And the silence was deafening. There was no noise whatsoever, except the crunching of the snow beneath my feet. And yet, there was an energy in the air, a joy, a wonder. All was calm, all was bright. I strolled quietly, feeling the cold, dry air flowing in and out of my nostrils, and gazing at the lit trees and gothic buildings. I had the rare forethought in that moment to press record in my brain and cherish what I knew would be fleeting. The stress of exams, papers, and then the rush home for Christmas soon returned, but that walk was pure enchantment.

Christmas is less that 48 hours away. Don't panic. Don't move. Sit. Sit in the silence. Sit in the darkness. Relish the light and presence of the Spirit in this sacred time. Such meditative time can be difficult to find, but try. One must prepare the soul for the celebration ahead - the tree is a good place to start.

Have a good afternoon. See you tomorrow. Blessed Advent.

And so it begins ...

2011-12-22T13:41:00.000-06:00

A very cool, newly ordained Episcopal clergy person has a new blog. I am fairly confident that it will be more than a little awesome.

And so it begins ...

Lego Star Wars Advent Calendar: Day 22

2011-12-22T11:11:00.000-06:00

Dang it! I miss identified a ship in a previous post (now corrected). I thought a snowspeeder was an A-wing.

Looking at both of them side by side, the identity of both is more than obvious, although I can see how one might mistake one for the other. They are both wedge shaped, right? I'll turn in my fan boy card as soon as possible.

So, to set the record straight, the ship on the left (the Lego for today) is a RZ-1 A-wing interceptor and the ship on the right, previously misidentified as an A-wing, is a T-47 airspeeder (modified by the Rebels on Hoth for the cold climate and henceforth known as a snowspeeder).

According to the EU, the A-wing was created in direct reaction to the dominance of Darth Vader's TIE Advanced fighter during the Battle of Yavin (did I just write that sentence? I am such a nerd). Rebel leaders wanted to create something quick and powerful to match the Advanced. What was created, according to the EU, was essentially a cockpit strapped to two engines that, while effective, was incredibly difficult to maintain.

But, I should note that it was a single A-wing that, suicidally, brought down the Super Star Destroyer Executor during the Battle of Endor.

We never fully realize the impact of our actions. A fictional dude created one spaceship, it was piloted by an incredibly skilled pilot, others decided to created an other ship in reaction to the first ship, and, while that ship was problematic, in the end made an significant impact.

Following the Star reminds us today of Mary's words, "Here am I, the servant of the Lord; let it be with me according to your word," (Luke 1:38, NRSV). The Magnificat suggests that Mary knew the impact of agreeing to the Angel's request and the impact her son would have on the universe, but did she? Could she fully comprehend? Could anyone besides God fully comprehend? It is Mary's humanity that makes her faith so powerful, so her humanity may have deterred her ability to know the power of her actions. She knew her love for her son, and that was more than enough, and she knew that nothing would ever be the same, but there were (and are) impacts of Jesus' ministry that were never anticipated my a mortal soul.

In this season of Advent, consider your actions. Not only charitable gifts or opening the door for that neighbor laden with holiday parcels, but consider how your actions could change the world. Preparing your heart and making room for the Holy Child not only means making room for Jesus, but also making room in your life for the work of Christ. When Christ abides in your heart, Christ also acts through your deeds. And that is what the light of the world is all about - spreading the light, celebrating the light, shining the light in the dark places. You are impactful.

Have a great day. See you tomorrow. Blessed Advent.

Sussex Carol

2011-12-22T10:13:00.002-06:00

And now a brief break to mainline some traditional Anglicanism. This is one of my favorite carols, sung by my favorite religious ensemble. Gorgeous! Enjoy.

Lego Star Wars Advent Calendar: Days 17 and 21

2011-12-21T15:05:00.001-06:00

Oops. I forgot a day. I was so wrapped up in a very busy weekend (daughter's 4th birthday party (and first "friend" party), Lessons and Carols, out of town guests, etc.), a Lego was skipped. Sorry - please see Sunday's post on failure. Good thing too, because here is Saturday's Lego:

What the heck is that?!? I really have no idea. And, since it is December 21, I am going to skip it. Sorry. Sometimes in Advent you need to know when to hold 'em and when to fold 'em. Besides, check out today's Lego:

The Millennium Falcon.

Ben Kenobi, "If it's a fast ship?" Han Solo, "Fast ship? You've never heard of the Millennium Falcon?" Ben, "Should I have? Han, "It's the ship that made the Kessel run in less than twelve parsecs! I've outrun Imperial starships, not the local bulk-cruisers, mind you. I'm talking about the big Corellian ships now. She's fast enough for you, old man."

Too bad the parsec is a unit of distance, not speed, but anyway.

Luke Skywalker, "What a piece of junk!" Han, "She'll make point five beyond the speed of light. She may not look like much, but she's got it where it counts, kid. I've added some special modifications myself. We're a little rushed, so if you'll hurry aboard we'll get out of here."

We're in the home stretch. When we reach the early twenties of December, the pace of life is strange: we move faster, the to do lists get longer (not shorter), and yet we are somewhat numb at the same time. These days resemble that moment in a action movie with the car is jumping over the canyon or the hero is jumping from one building to another. Action is most certainly happening, but the music stops, the sound effects go mute, and all hold their breath.

We can also feel beat up. We have survived the gauntlet of Thanksgiving, travel, cards, parties, school assemblies, visitors, pagenat rehearsals, shopping, mailing, and now we are nearing home. But, we are run down and the beauty of the season is muted. We are not unlike the Millennium Falcon: fast and capable, but damaged and unattractive.

This past Sunday, Calvary celebrated a "family friendly" Lessons & Carols. Only five lessons were read, using the Jesus Storybook and Message translations, and the carols were selections the kids would understand. Then, after the Peace, we invited all of the children to gather around a small altar at the base of the chancel steps and we celebrated the Eucharist together. This was beautiful, especially when we all held hands during the Lord's Prayer, but there was an awkward moment when the ushers had to navigate around several small ones when receiving and returning the alms basins. The aforementioned and wonderful Eyleen Farmer was the Presider and she said, right before launching into the Eucharistic Prayer, "this is a lot like the first Christmas in the stable - you have to watch where you step." The whole congregation laughed heartily, especially the altar party.

When will I get to the point and tie all this together? How about now. While we may feel like the Millenium Falcon (and feel like we look like the Millenium Falcon), we can take solace in the fact that the very first Christmas was celebrated in a not-so-pretty place where you had to watch your step. We have gilded the nativity, but in reality the Messiah was born in a barn. Which means, among many other things, your keeping of Advent and celebration of Christmas don't need to be tidy. Everything does not need to be put away and the dog fur tumbleweeds don't need to entirely eradicated (even if there is one under the wingback chair that is developing a personality). Just be together. Love each other. Celebrate. Know joy. Not perfect joy. Just simple joy. And simple is the best kind.

Have a great evening. See you tomorrow. Blessed Advent.

Lego Star Wars Advent Calendar: Days 19-20

2011-12-20T22:08:00.002-06:00

This guy is almost as cool as I am. Almost. He does provide an excellent segue into yesterday and today's Legos: a TIE fighter and a TIE pilot.

I am glad that two subsequent day's Legos actually go together - makes my job easier, but how that pilot gets into that little TIE fighter is beyond me.

Trivia break: TIE is an acronym. What does it stand for? Say it with me fellow nerds: Twin Ion Engine. For this, I went to seminary.

While this series has been a nerdy, Adventy discipline, I will admit it has strained my fandom a bit. I do love the movies and I will confess to playing a few of the games from time to time, but I have never been very familiar with the EU, the Expanded Universe. The EU is where the back stories and subplots, not written by George Lucas but presumably approved by him, before, during, and after the movies occur, usually found in books and comics. In doing the research for my blogposts, I have encountered the EU almost every day. It is quite impressive and the level of creativity and detail contained therein is a credit to the EU's many authors and creators.

I stumbled across one EU factoid today that floored me: Han Solo used to be a TIE pilot. Apparently, according to his bio, he was an Imperial officer for some time and piloted a TIE fighter, but was dishonorably discharged when he refused to participate in the beating of a certain Wookiee. And the rest is, as they say, history.

Every year, Episcopal priest and artist Jay Sidebotham produces an Advent Calendar. Each day features a sketch and a very brief (one to two sentences) comment for the day. One of my favorite appeared a few years ago - it said something like, "having trouble with someone?" "Pray for them each day in Advent." Pray for "that person?" THAT person! Each of us has THAT person. We may believe we are enlightened, welcoming, progressive types that welcome all people, but a large majority of us have THAT person. S/he could be a colleague, a competitor, a boss, a family member, a client, a parishioner, a leader or member of a political party, or just someone who gets on your nerves or makes your skin crawl.

Why do we dislike THAT person so much? We may have been genuinely wronged, that person might be a bona fide idiot (in your opinion), or the two of you just butt heads. Or maybe that person is a whole lot more like you than you care to admit and that alarms you. And yet, under their exterior, under that poisonous shell you and/or they have created, they are made in the image of God. That might be hard to admit when you want them to shut their mouth, stop sharing their opinion, and take a long walk off a short pier. That also might be hard to admit when you have succumb to the sin of hate. Regardless, that person has just as much right to be as you do. And you never know, underneath that exterior, there could be a Han Solo waiting to blossom.

In this Advent season, pray for THAT person. Really pray for them - empathize, reorient, perhaps even love them. They might be right. They also might be a jerk face. Or a combination of the two. But that is God's job to sort out. Our job is to love all equally. We might disagree. We might vehemently argue. But they are still as worthy as we are.

This isn't merely a reworking of "don't judge a book by its cover." I hope my point is a bit deeper. The Christmas story is about a Holy Child whose birth was announced to kings and shepherds alike. And sometimes one looks like the other.

Have a great evening. See you tomorrow. Blessed advent.

Lego Star Wars Advent Calendar: Day 18

2011-12-18T13:00:00.000-06:00

Failure. Our society is obsessed with failure. Failure is the bread and butter of cable news, gossip blogs, and popular comedians like John Stewart and Stephen Colbert. The very word fail has become an interjection. Why? Pointing out each other's shortcomings is nothing new and quite often we need investigative reporters or satirists to discover or articulate our failures and begin the solution. But, is our public discourse unhealthily saturated with failure?

Perhaps we are subconsciously reacting to the weak economy or the lack of jobs or the disintegration of the societal structures that were so prevalent for so many years (if not generations). Perhaps, because of a new era of transparency and accessibility, those who used to be infallible (politicians, clergy, "stars," etc.) are now very fallible (is our schadenfreude is so insatiable that we want them to fail?). Or perhaps ... perhaps we are so terrified of our own failings that the only way we know how to cope is to voraciously point out the failings of others.

The Y-Wing.

Not a bad ship, per se. According to our friends with the Wookieepedia, they are quite capable craft - workhorses even. But, when I see a Y-Wing, I think of one fact: Y-Wings failed. During the first film, Y-Wings were supposed to destroy the Death Star and X-Wings were support, but after the last Y-Wing was destroyed, X-Wings had to take care of business.

We fear failure, especially our own failure. Not only do we fear failure, but when we do fail, we refuse to process failure. We merely move on, put it behind us, and want to forget about it. I certainly understand - failure is painful and failure can brutalize our self-worth. But failure can be an amazing opportunity for growth and learning. I know I have learned much more about myself and improved as a father, husband, and priest when acknowledging and facing my failures.

Institutions are even worse than people. Businesses, churches, organizations, etc. are failing everyday and yet they refuse to acknowledge their failure and learn and grow from it. Leaders of such institutions may fear that acknowledging failures might insult members or indicate weakness to competitors. The Church, especially the Main Line, could learn volumes from our failures. Our pews are empty, giving and participation is plummeting, our voice, if we have any, is slipping away. But instead of learning and reasserting our relevance, we blame small things or believe one small change can fix it (a new building, a new clergy person, a new ... insert your pet project here). As my friend and colleague Eyleen Farmer often points out, the Church is in the Resurrection business (isn't that why we started in the first place?), so we should preach that Resurrection is happening, even after death, even after failure. Failure is not the end and failure that is healthily processed can lead to greater successes. Success? Ooo ... I like success!

I keep this quote by Henry David Thoreau on my Facebook wall:

"I think that we may safely trust a good deal more than we do. We may waive just so much care of ourselves as we honestly bestow elsewhere. Nature is as well adapted to our weakness as to our strength. The incessant anxiety and strain of some is a well-nigh incurable form of disease. We are made to exaggerate the importance of what work we do; and yet how much is not done by us! or, what if we had been taken sick? How vigilant we are! determined not to live by faith if we can avoid it; all the day long on the alert, at night we unwillingly say our prayers and commit ourselves to uncertainties. So thoroughly and sincerely are we compelled to live, reverencing our life, and denying the possibility of change. This is the only way, we say; but there are as many ways as there can be drawn radii from one centre. All change is a miracle to contemplate; but it is a miracle which is taking place every instant."

In this Advent, may we eschew our fear of failure, and accept the gift that is the Christ Child. That gift assures us that we are loved unconditionally and fully, regardless of success or failure. And the ultimate act of that Child, his death and resurrection, further assures us that despite our success or failure, redemption is assured. Remember that next time you devalue someone else, or even worse yourself, via something as small as a mere failure.

Have a great day. See you Tuesday. Blessed Advent.

Beatbox Nativity

2011-12-17T09:06:00.000-06:00

This is incredibly dorky, and incredibly wonderful. It also won "Nativity Factor."

Lego Star Wars Advent Calendar: Day 16

2011-12-16T09:59:00.000-06:00

Har de har har. I know, it's an ad, but still. Newsflash - Star Wars can be a bit melodramatic. And, it leads us into today's Lego.

A clone trooper. An odd being - both within the story itself and in the larger Star Wars milieu. He is a genetic clone of Jango Fett, a bounty hunter and "father" of Boba Fett, and was created in secret to provide an army for the Sith-imagined empire. He is also the genetic ancestor of the stormtrooper.

The nature and history of the character lead to some larger questions. Was George Lucas trying to make the stormtrooper somewhat sympathetic? When I first saw the first Star Wars, I assumed the stormtroopers were just dudes in suits, similar to any other generic evil soldier in a fantasy tale (orcs, goblins, maître'ds, etc.), but now we've seen his face, we have guilt about his creation, and for a while they worked with the Jedi. I once visited a parishioner in his home and his son had left a clone trooper helmet on the stair. Do the kids who grew up on all six films want to be a trooper, rather than Han Solo or Luke? Hmmm. While I am highly critical of the prequel trilogy, it did hammer home the fact that life is not always black and white.

I also wonder about a clone trooper's inner life. Did he think? Did he ponder the violence he was ordered to execute? Did the different troopers have personalities, variances? I know some of these issues have been explored in the cartoons, comics, books, and other offshoots of the films, but I am not familiar with any of that work. And, I know this could lead to a much more interesting conversation about the psychology of soldiers, but I would not feel qualified to comment and this is not the correct venue. But I do wonder, while they all look, talk, and act alike, what's going on under that helmet?

Let's move on to Advent. I am a bit of an Advent nazi. I HATE IT when stores begin decorating for "the holidays" around Columbus Day (good on Nordstrom, btw). And I get grumbly when folks start decorating their homes before Thanksgiving (sorry AK). Now, I don't mean to be a grinch and my heart is warmed when I see lights going up in late November and on the Friday after Thanksgiving, Christmas music starts in heavy rotation, but "Christmas Creep" is a pet peeve of mine. However, if we want folks to keep Advent rather than jump ahead to Christmas, one must allow for variance in how folks keep Advent. We should not expect ... wait for it ... Advent clones.

There are many ways to keep Advent and it isn't too late to keep Advent even though Christmas is nine days away. Advent wreaths, calendars, and devotionals are traditional ways to keep the season. But dedicated prayer time, commitment to an outreach ministry, giving to charity (or one's parish - yeah, I said it), even Christmas cards, can be disciplines that aid your preparation for Christmas. The important thing is that you keep the season. Don't worry about what everyone else is doing, just do it in your own way. If you do, you have given an invaluable gift to yourself and Christmas will dawn with renewed glory.

Have a great day. See you Sunday. Blessed Advent.

Lego Star Wars Advent Calendar: Day 15

2011-12-15T12:04:00.000-06:00

We are inching closer and closer to the big day. My daughter's school Christmas party is today. On Sunday Calvary is celebrating Lessons & Carols. My inbox is full of messages with "last chance" and "free overnight shipping" in the subject line. You know what that means ... ROAD TRIP!

As we approach the end of Advent and the beginning of Christmas, folks begin to move. Schools and offices are closing and year-end projects are completed, so we begin the journey to Grandma's house or the grandkids' house or the beach or the mountains or the lake or wherever you gather to celebrate. And this travel is not glamorous in any way, shape, or form (what travel is anymore?). Instead we cram ourselves, the kids, the dog, their miscellaneous supplies, gifts in various states of wrap, bizarre cooking implements used once a year for that ancestral dish that it wouldn't be Christmas without, etc. and pray the trunk doesn't burst open. And when we arrive, we are frazzled and tired, and dramatically exhale - we made it. But wait, get off your duff, put on that Christmas sweater I knitted you, its time for Uncle So-and-so's party. No rest for the weary!

Today's Lego is a Low Altitude Assault Transport, used to support infantry units with firepower and additional personnel.

When I travel at this time of year, I often feel like a passenger on some type of troop transport with my own stress personified as the commander - "go, go, go! Let's move, move move!" I also, in a rare moment of peace and enlightenment, think of Mary and Joseph and their journey to Bethlehem. The "stress of holiday travel" is petty, small potatoes (and most definitely a First World Problem) compared to the journey of the Holy Family: Mary very pregnant, riding a donkey, the crush of other folks going to their hometowns to be counted in the census, sleeping in a barn. "The cattle are lowing," sounds idyllic - imagine trying to get a good night's sleep in a flippin' pile of hay! And all of that is small potatoes compared to what Mary and Joseph knew in their souls about what was about to happen: the birth of the Emmanuel, "God with us." Moreover, to some degree, they were probably grieving: knowing their beloved son would not have an easy life serving as the Messiah. Parents want the best for their kids, not the hardest road of all. Stress does not begin to cut it and I can not begin to describe the layers of emotions Mary and Joseph must have been feeling.

Poet Kathleen Henderson Staudt reflected on the Holy Family's journey in her poem, "On the Way to Bethlehem,"

The timing could not be worse
But it’s the law. My husband has to go,
Even though I’m well along.
You are lively within me, moving and kicking me.
Your kicking hurts. It wakes me in the night,
Reminds me, as I walk
More and more laboriously,
You are coming soon.

I suppose we are safe enough
After all, it was an angel who came.
Looking back, I have never doubted that.
My husband has been tender, despite my disgrace.
He is sure, too, about the angel.
So I suppose we have no cause to worry.
It’s only my aching back
The sharp pains from your tiny feet,
The smell and press of crowds, and all the delays.

The only thing that matters now, is bearing you safely
Into this messy world
And now even that I cannot control.
I did what I could do, but it’s all left behind.
At home, we had a place prepared for you.
I longed to see you soon.
Then I hoped you would come later, after our return
But now I know for sure that you will be coming
To a place we did not know.

I catch my breath at a sudden squeeze of pain.
My body recognizes the agony,
Already begun.

As our Advent journey continues - physically, emotionally, temporally, and spiritually - realize that the journey itself is often the richest part of the journey. There we learn so much, there we have the time to ponder and wonder, there God walks with us and is made known to us. Good journey.

Have a great day. See you tomorrow. Blessed Advent.

2011 in Lego

2011-12-15T09:18:00.000-06:00

Let's take a break from our Advent posts and consider the major events of 2011 ... in Lego. Many thanks to my friend Bynum for tweeting this to me.

Lego Star Wars Advent Calendar: Day 14

2011-12-14T10:43:00.003-06:00

I am a proud Dane. My mother is Danish and immigrated to the United States when she married my father. My mother's entire family still lives there and my brother and I visited many times when we were growing up. We still love to visit and reconnect with relatives, reminisce, and just be in a societal atmosphere that is so different than our own. I guess if I ever run for public office, I can truthfully use the evocative phrase, "I am the child of immigrants!" Well, immigrant, technically, but I digress.

When I was in college, I became very interested in the history of Denmark during World War II. I was a history major and the Senior Seminar my senior year was on World War II, so I wrote my final paper on the Danish Resistance and the Rescue of the Danish Jews. Fascinating Stuff. I could go into why, but that would take a whole lot more than a blog post.

A quick summary of some key points. During World War II, Denmark was occupied by Nazi Germany. The occupation of Denmark was not violent at first: the kingdom surrendered with little fight on 9 April 1940 and at first life did not change for the average Dane. Meanwhile, few Jews lived in Denmark, but those who did were entirely integrated into national life, unlike most of Europe. On 1 October 1943, when the Nazi occupiers attempted to "evacuate" the Danish Jews to concentration camps, they discovered empty houses. The gentile population had been tipped off my a sympathetic German official, and mere hours before, approximately 7,200 Danish Jews had been smuggled to unoccupied Sweden.

After that, the iron fist of the embarrassed Nazis tightened around Denmark. In reaction, the resistance grew more active and sabotage and violence against the Nazis grew. Life in Denmark was very, very dark.

Franz Wend, secretary of Föreningen Norden (a NGO that promoted nordic solidarity and cooperation), had an idea: importing St. Lucia's Day (a.k.a. Luciadag or Lucia's Day) from their friends in Sweden. On December 13, the eldest girl in a Scandinavian family wears crown of candles, symbolizing the fire that refused to take the original St. Lucia's life. The celebration continues with processions, cakes, and songs about light overcoming darkness. Wend hope to bring some light and joy in the midst of a dark time.

Now, why the history lesson> I thought this was a silly blog about Star Wars and Legos. It is, so stick with me. Yesterday was St. Lucia's Day and today, this was the figure:

A MSE-6-series repair droid, also known as the mouse droid. It is a very silly little being, famous for beeping and whistling in absolute panic after being growled at by Chewbacca on the Death Star. It plays no role whatsoever in the plot of any of the films, but it is quite memorable and provides a joyous bit of comic relief (one of the few times George Lucas attempted humor and succeeded).

Advent and Christmas occur during a dark time of year. That is compounded by the business of our lives and the business of the season. And, if one is hurting or alone or missing someone beloved, the season can be quite dark indeed. We may not be occupied by a foreign nation, but the season can be welcome nonetheless.

If you are in darkness, remember Isaiah, " I will lead the blind by a road they do not know, by paths they have not known I will guide them. I will turn the darkness before them into light, the rough places into level ground. These are the things I will do, and I will not forsake them." (Isaiah 42:16, NRSV). Remember the lights of St. Lucia and St. Lucia's Day. Remember the small things, like a little robot, or perhaps even a little child, that grow into the very light of the world. The reign of God begins with something small, but will grow and can do more than we can possibly imagine. What is small in your life? What could it become?

Have a good day. See you tomorrow. Blessed Advent.

Lego Star Wars Advent Calendar: Days 12-13

2011-12-13T17:30:00.000-06:00

The well has felt a little dry of late (hence the lateness of this post), so many thanks to Following the Star for some inspiration.

From Sunday's Gospel lection,

"There was a man sent from God, whose name was John. He came as a witness to testify to the light, so that all might believe through him. He himself was not the light, but he came to testify to the light. This is the testimony given by John when the Jews sent priests and Levites from Jerusalem to ask him, 'Who are you?' He confessed and did not deny it, but confessed, 'I am not the Messiah.' And they asked him, 'What then? Are you Elijah?' He said, 'I am not.' 'Are you the prophet?' He answered, 'No.' Then they said to him, 'Who are you? Let us have an answer for those who sent us. What do you say about yourself?' He said, 'I am the voice of one crying out in the wilderness,'"

And, here are yesterday and today's figures,

The ship on the left is a Rebel T-47 airspeeder (a.k.a. snowspeeder). The droid on the right is a R2-Q5. Hmmm. As I consider these figures, while they are super cool, I am immediately reminded of what they are not. An airspeeder is not a landspeeder. And a R2-Q5 is certainly not R2-D2 or even R4.

Humans suffer from many ailments, many of which are the products of our own ego and our own brokenness. This is especially true for folks like me who want for nothing. And because of our comfort, because of the illusion of our own control, and because of the unnecessary business of our lives, we can psychologically and spiritually morph into an idol. This idol is our belief that we are the center of the universe, we deserve the best, and we can accomplish anything. Now, I do not intend to poo poo human ingenuity, creativity, or drive. Because of these we have cures for disease, impactful community institutions, and great works of art, music, and literature. However, these noble qualities can be perverted into the aforementioned idol and at its worst it can replace God. We replace God with our own need for control and our ridiculous belief that we can do anything. Such a substitution is tempting - just ask John. And when those false needs and beliefs fail, our world can fall apart.

In this season of Advent, we are called to put aside our ego, put aside our need for control, and remember who is God and who is not. Such an admission is scary. As weird as it may seem, it is comforting to believe that one is God: if one is God, we'll always have what we need. So, when we confess that we are not God, our world can seem dark, cold, and lonely. This is where Christ comes in. God became incarnate in Jesus Christ to remind us, to express to us in the best way possible, that we are never alone, because God is with us. God became human so he could know us as best as God possibly can. And because of that reality, the admission that we our not God is not frightening, but a comfort and we can heave the stress and worry of this world on God and finally be at peace. Peace on Earth - has a nice ring to it, doesn't it?

Have a great day (evening). See you tomorrow. Blessed Advent.

Mr. Bean's Nativity

2011-12-13T17:00:00.000-06:00

This has nothing to do with anything (besides the "season") and I am not a huge Mr. Bean fan (I much prefer when Rowan Atkinson talks), but this is brilliant. Many thanks to Philip Wiehe for letting me know about it.

Lego Star Wars Advent Calendar: Days 10-11

2011-12-11T10:38:00.007-06:00

Quite a juxtaposition of figures yesterday and today.

The ship on the left is probably a Lambda-class T-4a shuttle, or some variation thereof, and the dude to the right is a OOM pilot battle droid. I have always loved the shuttle. Ever since it so lithely glided onto the screen in Jedi and the wings flipped up and down, I thought it was so cool, so slick. In contrast, in my opinion (using my I statements), battle droids are the Keystone Cops of the "saga," part and parcel of the larger failures of the prequel trilogy. Needless to say, they are idiots (he blogged in love).

I often feel like one of these two beings. Occasionally, I feel like I have it together - in control and in the groove. But most of the time, I am an idiot - I make poor decisions, I say the wrong thing, and forget what is important. I want to be the shuttle, but more often then not I am the droid (roger, roger).

This icon sits on my desk, just to the right of my keyboard, all year (not just in Advent or Christmas).

I hold it very dear. For one, it is beautiful. Second, it depicts the Incarnation, the foundational ingredient in my personal theology. Third, and probably most importantly, it belonged to my Great Grandmother Mary, a woman who is very important to me and with whom I am very close, even though she went to her reward when I was a senior in high school. It is often my silent companion as I write, pray, and think.

As I write, pray, or think, I often ponder the various characters depicted. Since I am a father, I often consider Joseph. Mary receives a lot of attention, especially this time of year (and rightly so), but Joseph and Joseph's decisions are important too. Here is a man of the house of David, upright citizen, and faithful to the Lord who receives the news that his betrothed is pregnant. Matthew informs us that, "Joseph, being a righteous man and unwilling to expose her to public disgrace, planned to dismiss her quietly," (Matthew 1:19, NRSV). Before he can do so, the Angel appears and proclaims, "Look, the virgin shall conceive and bear a son, and they shall name him Emmanuel," (Matthew 1:23, NRSV) which convinces him otherwise.

Joseph listened. If not, he may have put out the mother of God, the very Theotokos herself. Oops. He was trying to do his best, trying to react to the decision in a human but appropriate way, but that would have resulted in a massive mistake. But, he listened. Joseph heard the voice of God and he responded. And look what happened because of it.

In this Advent season, are you open to the voice of God. Are you listening? Are you going so fast, are you so busy, are you so anxious, are you so focused, that the Spirit can't squeeze a word in edgewise. If so, is that the best state of being? Are your best intentions prevented the incarnation of God in you heart? Something to consider. Maybe I should listen more.

Have a great day. See you Tuesday. Blessed Advent.

Lego Star Wars Advent Calendar: Day 9

2011-12-09T10:27:00.005-06:00

The X-Wing Starfighter: one of the most iconic forms in the entire Star Wars universe.

If you were ever swept up in the phenomenon that is Star Wars, you dreamed of piloting an X-Wing. I hate to be a total commercial for Lucasfilm (like I'm not doing that already), but this video (nice hair gents!), produced for the release of the films on Blu-ray, is pretty cool.

That being said, I shudder to use the word iconic. It is so overused today: "iconic pop stars" or "iconic brands." "Iconic" has almost reached the same level of overuse (and misuse) as "literally," "unique," and "seriously" (and "awesome" - mostly by me) (and quotation marks and parenthesis, but I digress). Moreover, the overuse of iconic dilutes the power of actual icons.

Icons in the best Orthodox tradition are powerful tools for prayer and spirituality. I am not an expert on icons, but I am struck and inspired by the prayer that goes into writing (the proper term for creating an icon) an icon and the faithful processes surrounding the use of an icon. Here are a couple of interesting pieces about writing icons:

Writing Icons from Religion & Ethics Newsweekly

Writing a Saint Nicholas Icon by Kate Sterner, Luther Seminary, St. Paul, Minnesota

And here are a couple of interesting articles about icons themselves:

The Icon FAQ

The Functions of Icons

Icons are windows onto a higher plane. In the same way that an X-Wing reminds someone of Star Wars, a real icon's gilded beauty reminds the viewer of things heavenly. Icons invite contemplation of the image itself: Christ, the Trinity, the Virgin, a Saint, a biblical event, etc. And finally, while praying with an icon, hopefully one experiences the presence of God. Some, while praying with an icon, have had potent, personal theophanies. That being said, I can not properly summarize the theology of icons: they are incredibly complex pieces of liturgical art and demand so much more than a few vague sentences on a random blog. But, I do deeply admire them.

We are surrounded by icons, especially this time of year. The music, nativity scenes, lights, bells, stars, greenery, etc. may seem like tacky clutter or attempts by retailers to get consumers in the mood to buy something. But, these objects are rooted in religious imagery (lights = the light of Christ in a dark season, bells = rejoicing at the birth of Jesus, stars = the Star of Bethlehem (duh), greenery = new life in winter) and can be remembered and celebrated as such. As part of our Advent devotions and preparations for Christmas, when we see lights on the neighbor's house or hear the Salvation Army bell, we can treat them as icons and be reminded of the presence of God. This season, instead of being filled with stress and business, can instead be filled with God because the icons of God are all around. Enjoy and pray.

Have a great day. See you Sunday. Blessed Advent.

Dark Lens

2011-12-08T14:06:00.003-06:00

In keeping with our ludicrous Advent theme, I thought folks would enjoy this article from the NYT about a Cédric Delsaux's stunning collection of photographs, "Dark Lens."

An Earth Where the Droids Feel at Home

Be sure to visit Mr. Delsaux's site for the full array of photographs. Wow.

Lego Star Wars Advent Calendar: Day 8

2011-12-08T09:26:00.006-06:00

It's generic Rebel dude in a flight suit!

Who is this? He could be Luke, he could be Wedge, he could be "Good Shot" Janson or Biggs or Larry? Who knows? When one of these guys appeared, you never knew if you would see him again. He is the Star Wars equivalent of a Red Shirt.

I feel like one of these sometimes: a face in the crowd, a cog in the wheel, a veritable nobody in the grand scheme of things. I recently noticed a college acquaintance in a New York Times podcast and I thought, "wow, I'm a loser." My wife recently tracked down an old friend on Facebook and discovered she is in a musical on Broadway and she remarked, "what have I done with my life," (which is totally not true University of Tennessee faculty member, mom of two of the best kids ever, and generally the bomb diggity, but I digress).

Thanks to my friend and colleague Eyleen Farmer, I have been on an Ann Weems kick lately, so pardon me if I repeat poets (but not poems) two days in a row. Ann Weems wrote in her poem, "Sitting on the Hillsides,"

Most of us who gather in Bethlehem on this night
are not the star seekers.
We’ve not traveled our dreams
month after month and year after year,
poring over predictions and promises.
Most of us sit on our hillsides
tending our sheep,
business as usual.
Oh, we heard rumors of stars,
but we don’t really give ourselves to seeking.
After all, there’s more than enough to do
in the daily tending.
We’re simply not on the lookout for stars,
nor expecting any light in our darkness.
I suppose the important thing is,
in the light of the glory of the Lord,
to recognize the voice of an angel
and to get up
and in spite of our sheep
to go even unto Bethlehem
to see this thing that has happened.

The miracle of the incarnation is that God became incarnate for you. Yes you, not the guy sitting behind you, not the gal in the corner office, not the crazy person on the television, but you. For God so loved you that God trusted you with God's child, so that you might know how infinitely you are loved: loved for simply being who you are and nothing else. The creator of the universe wants you, yes you, to get up and go to Bethlehem. For this thing is for you. Other people too, but as much for you as anyone.

And that thing, this child, our Christ, well, he has plans for you. Heh heh heh. So don your flight suit. We have places to soar.

Have a great day. See you tomorrow. Blessed Advent.

Lego Star Wars Advent Calendar: Day 7

2011-12-07T10:11:00.006-06:00

So, I'm not really sure what this (on the right) is ...

It looks like a crossbow next to a barrel containing a hammer and a wrench. Wha? What does that have to do with Star Wars? The crossbow might be a Bowcaster, the Wookiee weapon of choice (hence the inclusion of everyone's favorite walking carpet ), but the barrel with tools is puzzling. Chewie was a mechanic, which could explain the tools, but were there many Coopers in that galaxy far, far away?

The crossbow / Bowcaster does force me to address something. While I love the sci-fi and fantasy genres, they are often violent. Star Wars is a case in point - the word war is in the very title. The "saga" is full of weapons and shooting and battles and death. And while the twelve-year old boy inside of me ingests all of that and screams, "AWESOME!" the grumpy, old priest that sits on my other shoulder demands pause.

Now, I am not a peacenik or a pacifist. I recognize, in our broken world, that war can be justified and sometimes violence is necessary to protect a greater, public good. I have no problems with hunting or weapons, per se, although I would never own a firearm because I don't know how to use one and I live with two small children. I know and love many hunters who hunt in-season, use the products of the animals they kill, and have a great deal of respect (and prayer) for the creation.

That being said, I also pray daily and hope fervently for the Reign of God. And the Reign of God, if I feebly attempt to understand it, is the realization of Isaiah 2,

In days to come
the mountain of the Lord’s house
shall be established as the highest of the mountains,
and shall be raised above the hills;
all the nations shall stream to it.
Many peoples shall come and say,
‘Come, let us go up to the mountain of the Lord,
to the house of the God of Jacob;
that he may teach us his ways
and that we may walk in his paths.’
For out of Zion shall go forth instruction,
and the word of the Lord from Jerusalem.
He shall judge between the nations,
and shall arbitrate for many peoples;
they shall beat their swords into ploughshares,
and their spears into pruning-hooks;
nation shall not lift up sword against nation,
neither shall they learn war any more. (Isaiah 2:2-4, NRSV)

I pray for peace. I crave peace: in my mind, in my life, in my community, in my world. In the current economic climate, we may have abandoned the goal of our children doing financially better than the generation before, but could we replace that benchmark with praying our children will live in a world that is more peaceful than the generation before? I want desperately for my daughter and son to life in a world that is not full of fences and sirens and fear, but community and justice and love. Like every parent, I look into their little faces and I want nothing more than to protect them from the brokenness of this age. I pray for peace.

The season of Advent is a season of preparation for peace. We prepare for the peace that is promised with the Holy Child and for the peace that is assured when that child comes again in glory. Such peace is hard to comprehend - not only is our world full of violence (and the glorification of violence (see above)), but the world that Jesus was born into (inhospitable, occupied) was equally violent. Isn't it amazing that God still has hope for us?

The poet Ann Weems wrote in her poem, "The Cross in the Manger,"

"For if there is no reconciliation,
we cannot call Christ 'Prince of Peace.'

If there is no goodwill towards others,
it can all be packed away in boxes for another year.

If there is no forgiveness in us,
there is no cause for celebration.

If we cannot go even now unto Golgotha,
there is no Christmas in us.

If Christmas is not now,
If Christ is not born into the everyday present,
then what is all the noise about?"

In this season of Advent, prepare for peace and make peace a reality in your world. To paraphrase the Byrds, Advent is, "a time for peace, I swear it's not too late."

Have a great day. See you tomorrow. Blessed Advent.

Lego Star Wars Advent Calendar: Days 5-6

2011-12-06T13:26:00.008-06:00

So, I open Monday's Lego and it is Slave I, Boba Fett's ship from "Attack of the Clones" and "Emipre Strikes Back".

Cool! A powerful vessel and great design for a really bad a#& character. Could lead to some intriguing reflections. But then, I opened today's Lego.

Oh yeah, gents and droids, it's Chewbacca.

What a Wookiee. Chewbacca got a bit of a bad rap after the first (a.k.a. "A New Hope") film, especially after Han Solo's line, "droids don't pull people's arms out of their sockets when they lose. Wookiees are known to do that." As the films progressed, Chewbacca was revealed to be a skilled pilot and mechanic, a moral compass for his Captain, a dynamic leader, and most importantly a loyal friend (just ask Lando Calrissian).

I find the value of friendship exponentially increasing. The traditional sinews of society - family, business, neighborhood, congregation(?) - are slowly but surely breaking down , or at least their role as the foundation of people's lives is lessening . Divorce, mobility, employment patterns, the Internet, and many, many other factors have heralded the end of the 1950's Leave It To Beaver model of life. Most folks, unfortunately, do not stay married to the same person, live in the same town, and/or work the same job, for the entirety of their adult lives. I certainly plan on being with my lovely bride until the end of my days, but before the age of 40, I have lived in four major metropolitan areas and held six different jobs since graduating from college. Life in the 21st century is frenetic at best, unfounded and uncertain at worst.

But friends, friends are the constant. Life may change, for good or for ill, radically or slightly, but friends remain. I pray you have "that" friend or those groups of friends. The girl you met in four-year old kindergarten and have talked to every day since. The fraternity brother that knows a bit too much but keeps quiet because you know too much about him. The roommate with whom you develop your own language of grunts, grins, and movie quotes. The buddy who might live hours away but you still watch the game together via text message. The soul sister that lives half-way across the world and with whom you have not spoken in months, but if something happened, there is no question that you would be on a plane tomorrow. Chewbacca is one of "those" friends.

In Advent, the season in which we prepare for the incarnation of Christ, the ultimate act of God's love for creation, it would behoove us to take stock of those we love. Cherish the family you do have, hug and kiss your children, simply be with your spouse, and, in honor of the Wook, name those friends who are "those" friends. Perhaps even call them up and tell them so.

Jesus said, "This is my commandment, that you love one another as I have loved you. No one has greater love than this, to lay down one’s life for one’s friends. You are my friends if you do what I command you. I do not call you servants any longer, because the servant does not know what the master is doing; but I have called you friends, because I have made known to you everything that I have heard from my Father. You did not choose me but I chose you. And I appointed you to go and bear fruit, fruit that will last, so that the Father will give you whatever you ask him in my name. I am giving you these commands so that you may love one another," (John 15:12-17, NRSV). Love your friends. They love you. Be a Wookie.

Have a great day. See you tomorrow. Blessed Advent.

Advent message from ++Rowan

2011-12-05T09:56:00.001-06:00

Good morning friends. We take a break from Star Wars for this lovely Advent video message from the Archbishop of Canterbury.

Blessed Advent.

Lego Star Wars Advent Calendar: Days 3-4

2011-12-04T14:03:00.001-06:00

Well, I figured it would happen eventually. On the first two days the thoughts and words flowed freely, but yesterday and today:

So ... inspiring. Two random robots (yet again from the first movie). Not very exciting. I believe the dude on the left is a OG-9 homing spider droid and the dude on the right is a Droideka. Again, so very inspiring on this rainy Second Sunday of Advent afternoon.

One of my favorite Advent poems is "Watchman! What of the Night?" by John Bowring. The first verse is:

Watchman! tell us of the night,

What its signs of promise are:

Traveller! o'er yon mountain's height

See that glory-beaming star!

Watchman! doth its beauteous ray

Aught of hope or joy foretell?

Traveller! yes! it brings the day,

Promised day of Israel.

I certainly enjoy Bowring's language and tone, the joyous imaginings of the arrival of the Savior, and the use of journey as a metaphor, a metaphor that has always spoken to me. But what I love the most is the image of the watchman. We hear the word watchman and we think of Francisco and Bernardo on the battlements of Elsinore or a security guard outside a business or office building. However, many of us keep the watch in a variety of ways. We keep the watch waiting for an expected and beloved someone to come home. We keep the watch waiting for (or dreading) a milestone in one's life. We keep the watch by the bedside as someone approaches the border of heaven.

Many of us keep the watch, but keeping the watch can be tiring. We want to get on with it, get to the good part, or know when the end will come. And such frustrations can lead to temptations, to end the watch or skip it and move right to the end. That temptation is profoundly present in December, when we are told to keep Advent while the rest of the world jumps to Christmas. Christmas is so fun and festive - staying in Advent can be hard.

But, I believe that in keeping the watch, we learn more about ourselves. For keeping the watch is a fast, an exercise in self-denial, in a way, by not feasting on the celebration of Christmas before it is ready. In the watch, we hear our heart hunger for our hopes and dreams. Moreover, we may discern the root of those hopes and learn how truly important (or not so important) they are. By keeping the Advent watch, we make space for the Holy Child of Christmas to abide when he arrives in his own good time.

I may want to skip the friends above, but they are part of keeping the watch. I pray you will keep the watch too.

Have a great day. See you Tuesday (day off tomorrow). Blessed Advent.

Anxiety

2011-12-02T13:26:00.001-06:00

We take a break from our Star Wars obsession to pass along the following blog post. If you are constantly beset by anxiety (like me), I hope you find some comfort in Michael's words. Plus, there's an awesome LOTR reference.

Anxiety as Abuse of Imagination

If you do not know the reference, here is the scene from the movie.

Lego Star Wars Advent Calendar: Day 2

2011-12-02T09:55:00.001-06:00

Cue Andy Williams. "It's the most wonderful time of the year, with the kids jingle belling, and everyone telling you, 'Be of good cheer,'" ... yikes! Who is that guy?

I believe that is Nute Gunray, a Neimoidian, Viceroy of the Trade Federation, and head of the Separatist Council. What an ugly little dude! While I try to block my memory of most of the "prequel trilogy," I remember this guy and some of his contemporaries being pretty miserable: afraid, nervous, and generally sniveling. Yay. Happy December 2nd.

However, the body of Christ should remember that not everyone is enjoying the "most wonderful time of the year." While we may look chipper, our soul may look like Mr. Gunray. We may L-O-V-E love the holidays, but for some this is the first December after the divorce or diagnosis. For some, this is the first December without a spouse or, heaven forbid, a child. For some, this is when business is crazy busy - which can be good, but also stressful. For some, December is when he drinks even more. I hate to be a Viceroy Downer, but for some, "the holidays" is the worst time of year.

Be aware of those around you: family, friends, co-workers, the gal behind the counter at the FedEx store, etc. Try to remember if a tragedy might have occurred in the past year and if this might be one of those first Decembers with or without. Acknowledge this reality. There is no "right thing" to say, but just saying something or exercising the ministry of presence will mean more than you know. For someone engulfed in darkness, you might be the light - the reflection of the Star of Bethlehem itself - that brings them home.

To further acknowledge this reality (please pardon the plug), Calvary will be offering a "Blue Christmas" service on Sunday, 18 December at 5p. The service will be quiet and meditative with beautiful Celtic harp music, prayers for hope and healing, a reflection and Eucharist. We pray that this might offer some solace and space for those who struggle in Advent. If you are not in Memphis but would like more info about Blue Christmas liturgies, read this article from Episcopal Cafe.

In that article, I found this prayer. I like it a lot.

O God of all seasons and senses, grant us the sense of your timing to submit gracefully and rejoice quietly in the turn of the seasons.

In this season of short days and long nights,

of grey and white and cold,

teach us the lessons of endings;

children growing, friends leaving, loved ones dying,

grieving over,

grudges over,

blaming over,

excuses over.

O God, grant us a sense of your timing.

In this season of short days and long nights,

of grey and white and cold,

teach us the lessons of beginnings;

that such waitings and endings may be the starting place,

a planting of seeds which bring to birth what is ready to be born—

something right and just and different,

a new song, a deeper relationship, a fuller love—

in the fullness of your time.

O God, grant us the sense of your timing.

Have a great day. See you Sunday (day off tomorrow). Blessed Advent.

Lego Star Wars Advent Calendar: Day 1

2011-12-01T09:53:00.001-06:00

My mother gave me the most awesome gift several weeks ago: a Lego Star Wars Advent Calendar.

How great is that! The combination of three wonderful things: Lego, Star Wars, and the season of Advent. So, as an Advent discipline (and to get my behind in gear about posting more often on this blog), I am going to post a picture each work day (Sunday, Tuesday-Friday) of the day's Lego and a brief reflection. The calendar is secular, so it starts with 1 December. It will be nerdy, it will be "adventy" - I hope my two readers will enjoy it.

By the way, if you are looking for a more involved, deeper series of Advent reflections, I would recommend the following:

Following the Star

The Merton Institute for Contemplative Living's Daily Advent Reflection

Christ Church Cathedral, Louisville's Young Adult Advent Devotional

Trinity Cathedral, Cleveland's Advent Meditations

Now, Day 1:

I believe this is a Consular-class cruiser, the ship Qui-Gon Jinn and Obi-Wan Kenobi use at the very beginning of Phantom Menace. The ship is promptly destroyed. Apropos, huh? We begin a journey - a mundane journey, a journey with an expected outcome, a well-meaning journey - and everything blows up - you're delayed, you're sidetracked, the reason for the journey evaporates before your very eyes. Advent can feel that way sometimes. We begin the season filled with excitement and hope, excited about the coming of Christmas yet again and hopeful for the joy of the season. I am often hopeful for a meaningful Advent, a time of prayer, silence, reflection, austerity, temperance, and re-focus on what is truly important. Does that often happen? No. Life, especially with a beloved wife, two small children (one of which has a birthday in December), family and friends come callin', a busy and satisfying job, a wife with a busy and satisfying job, etc., etc., gets in the way and the season is gone before you know it.

Stop. Seriously, stop. Consider Advent. Consider the momentous occasion that is before you: the incarnation of God. It is quite literally one of the four (the other three being the creation, the crucifixion, and the resurrection) most momentous moments in the history of the universe. And you have the opportunity to reflect on it and celebrate it. Be part of the preparation, be part of the God breaking into our lives, be part of the joy. Don't let it all blow up before you know it.

Here is a wonderful prayer I found on Following the Star the other day. Seems appropriate for Day 1.

Let us begin Advent, waiting.

Not the “going back to sleep” kind of waiting.

Not the impatient pacing, or the wasted anxiety of waiting.

Not even the passive-aggressive waiting that says, “Really? We’ll see.”

Let us begin Advent, waiting.

Getting up and joining the adventure,

Even when we don’t know where it will take us.

Shifting the impatient waiting to expectant living.

Boldly claiming the Good News that we know will come.

Waiting with joy as we reach out with the grace of God that is so much more than amazing.

Let us begin Advent.

Have a great day. See you tomorrow. Blessed Advent.

What is Advent?

2011-11-27T12:59:00.000-06:00

Happy Advent! Today is the first day of my favorite season of the year. Want to know what Advent is all about? Is Advent merely the four excruciating weeks before Christmas? No, not exactly. These two videos explain the season a whole better that I ever could.

Sermon: 23 October 2011 (Creation 4)

2011-10-23T15:30:00.000-05:00

Readings: Job 38:1-18, Psalm 104:1-9, 24-26, Ephesians 1:3-10, Luke 5:1-11

Audio: .mp3 | podcast | iTunes

Holy and Loving God, write a message on our hearts. Bless us, direct us, and send us out, living letters of the Word. AMEN.

I never thought of myself as a “beach person.” My family never went to the beach for vacation because, growing up fairly far inland and being descended from Scots and Danes, we are a fairly translucent bunch and the mere mention of the sun and its scorching rays causes immediate and very painful burning. Even if we apply SPF 2 billion, the burn is unavoidable. The beach also often involves the tasteful display of one’s physique, and I am case and point that some things should remain hidden. It is also very hot at the beach, and, well, Father does not like to be hot. Furthermore there is all that pesky sand at the beach that gets in your clothes and in your shoes. Sand has the amazing capacity to cling to your skin and remain at the bottom of your suitcase for months after you have returned from the beach. And then, worse of all, there is the ocean. Swim? In the ocean? Did you not read the psalm? There are Leviathans out there! Not a clean, tame, chlorinated pool, but that very wild and chaotic medium filled with far too many slimy and slippery unknown beings that you inadvertently step on or could bite or sting. I am pathetic chicken, and the beach further clarifies that fact.

But then, a certain person came into my life who will remain nameless, who is as much of a beach person as I am not a beach person, and it became abundantly clear that I would have to face my fear and discomfort and go to the beach and, yes, even swim in the ocean. I psyched myself up for months. I bought a new swimsuit and a pair of goggles. I cleaned the Walgreens out of every kind of sunscreen imaginable. I think I would have worn a wetsuit and scuba gear if they would have let me, but there would have been far too much pointing and laughing. And then one day in August, I entered the ocean.

At first, it was all that I feared, cold and slimy and mysterious. And then my eyes began to sting uncontrollably because, in my vigor to cover every exposed part of my person with SPF gazillion, I had put sunscreen on my eyelids which was washing off into my eyes. But that wore off after a few minutes (and more pointing and laughing). So I sat there – here I am, in the ocean, wet and gross, now what? I was a bemused, pasty buoy, warning of nothing besides my own lameness. Yet, something very strange happened. As I bobbed up and down, allowing some of the waves carry me, and others to break over me and wash my head with salt and sea, I became strangely peaceful. I floated in the surf and gazed off into the horizon. The sensation is difficult to describe without sounding hokey or trite. But I felt part of something larger, something ancient, something living, something powerful, something holy. The world became muted, I let go, and let the ocean carry the weight for a while. And just like that my fears were cracked, the salt water seeped into my very bones, and I knew this was a place, a medium, I would return to for the rest of my life.

Our Creation Season continues this morning and our theme today, in case you have not already guessed, is water. Scripture and the Church have used water as a metaphor and a liturgical tool since the very beginning. We welcome with water at the font, where we are reminded of our cleansing from sin, as well as our admission to a community of faith and our responsibilities as Christians. We cut the wine with water at the Eucharist as a symbol of our union with Christ, Christ being the wine and the people being the water. We sprinkle one another on feast days or when we ask for God’s blessing on new things. Calvary celebrated a wedding yesterday and the couple selected an additional reading from Kahill Gibran’s The Prophet which uses water as a symbol for love, “Let it ... be a moving sea between the shores of your souls.” And Jesus used water as a metaphor for new life, for he said to the woman at the well, “everyone who drinks of this water will be thirsty again, but those who drink of the water that I will give them will never be thirsty. The water that I will give will become in them a spring of water gushing up to eternal life.”

But why, why this obsession with water? Not only does the Church use water, but it seems like water is everywhere these days. The Altar Guild is very kind and gracious to provide the preacher with a glass of water every Sunday. The Kroger has a aisle that is practically all water – big bottles, little bottles, flavored water, plain water, spring water, filtered water. I once saw caffeinated water, to which my warped mind immediately thought, “ooo, could I make coffee with that?”

Our obsession with water has a spiritual root. We use water as a metaphor for various theological dictums: salvation, responsibility, love, life. But deeper than that we see God God’s self in the great bodies of water that surround us. We see the ocean and we see the might of God and the chaos from which the earth was formed.

We see the sailboats playing on the waves or the great container ships on the horizon and these are our joyous and meaningful journey with God. We witness the complexity of life teeming in the deep and we know the immense variety of God. We see the river, twisting and turning, not unlike the God who is woven into every aspect of our lives.

But how do we react? Do we react in celebration or in fear? Far too often when we encounter the holy, even before we consciously recognize that it is holy, we fear. We run, we hide, like Adam and Eve aware of their nakedness. The consequences of interfacing with something so great are so daunting, we instead react like Peter in the Gospel, “go away from me, Lord, for I am sinful.” Go away from me Lord, as if we could get away from God. Our fear can even turn to violence and pollution. If water is a metaphor for God then our reaction can too be a metaphor for our relationship with God, and far too often that relationship is fraught and broken.

I will always remember the first time we took Anna to the beach. Thankfully she did not inherit her father’s neurosis, but she was timid about the ocean at first, insisting on being held by Ellen or I before approaching the waves. But mere days later on that same trip, Anna took to marching right up to the edge, plopping herself down in the middle of the sand and foam, and ordering the ocean around as only a toddler can. “Ocean! Come!” she would yell. “Ocean! Come!” I doubt a healthy relationship with God involves screaming instructions, but is there not greater truth in Anna’s impudence than our fear. The ocean, the lake, the river are icons of the grandeur of God, but they are also invitations, invitations to enter into and be enveloped by the life of God.

In this Creation season, I pray we celebrate this beautiful world God made and made good. I pray we witness God’s might and God’s beauty in the complexity of the universe. And as we approach the sea, may we drink in the grandeur, the solace, the life contained therein. Let us go to the water, for there we shall see God. AMEN.

Sermon: 25 September 2011 (Year A, Proper 21)

2011-09-25T15:00:00.000-05:00

Readings: Exodus 17:1-7, Psalm 78:1-4, 12-16, Philippians 2:1-13, Matthew 21:23-32

Audio: .mp3 | podcast | iTunes

Holy and Loving God, write a message on our hearts. Bless us, direct us, and send us out, living letters of the Word. AMEN.

When I was in my second year of seminary, my theology professor began class one day with a simple question: describe God in one word. Describe God in one word. Not a sentence, not a mission statement, not a phrase, but a single, solitary word. Our brains went into overdrive, our collective people-pleasing, brown-nosing, call-justifying selves regurgitating every mighty or mellifluous term we could muster, but no one felt right and no one satiated our teacher. The priest smiled, turned, and wrote his word on the blackboard: relationship. Not holy, not creator, not judge, merciful, not love, but relationship. Then he elaborated, from a very Trinitarian perspective, reflecting on the eternal and loving relationship between the Creator, the Incarnate, and the Spirit, and how that relationship spills out across the universe, drawing all of the creation into relationship with God. God wants nothing more than to be in relationship with us and for that relationship to shape our relationships with one another. While my mind usually operates like a steel sieve, I still remember that lecture and that word has sculpted my theology every since.

Jesus shares an odd little parable with us this morning about relationship, the story of the Two Sons. Not the two sons from the beautiful parable of the Prodigal Son – no, that would have been easy to preach on – but two other sons who are asked by their father to do some work in his vineyard. The first petulantly says, “I will not.” Now I don’t know about you and your father, but if I had ever spoken to my father like that … well, that would have been a poor choice. However, after some time, the first son reconsiders and works. The second son immediately replies, “I go, sir,” – the Greek word translated as sir, kyrios, can also be translated as Lord. Who calls their dad “Lord”? So, this kid was an obnoxious little brown-noser. But, our biblical Eddie Haskel reneges and does no work in his father’s vineyard that day. Jesus concludes by turning to his audience and asking, “which of the two did the will of his father,” and someone gives the correct answer that it was the first, the one who first said no but worked anyway. And finally Jesus, turning to the chief priests and the elders and not the unnamed person who answered the question correctly (that can be a little confusing), makes the point that the chief priests and the elders are more like the second son – saying that they do God’s will but not actually doing it – Jesus says that the tax collectors and the prostitutes – sinners who have actually changed their lives and acted on Jesus’ teachings – are like the first and they will inherit the Kingdom of God.

But, in this context, what does it mean to do God’s will? How do we discover and discern God’s will? And how do continue to do God’s will instead of merely paying lip service to God’s in the manner of the second son. Well, I believe we can find the answers to these questions in the larger context of the Gospel of Matthew.

These parables were not told in a vacuum. Jesus taught and shared and preached in a specific place and in a specific time and in a specific context. And scholars believe that this parable of the Two Sons, recorded in the twenty-first chapter of Matthew, was told, not on some ordinary day, but on the very Monday of Holy Week itself. The day before, Jesus entered Jerusalem on a donkey while his disciples spread cloaks before him, waved palm branches, and shouted, “Hosanna! Hosanna in the highest heaven!” And then, if that were not enough, later in the day he enters the Temple and, “[drives] out all who were selling and buying in the temple, and he [overturns] the tables of the money-changers,” declaring, “My house shall be called a house of prayer”; but you are making it a den of robbers.” Kind of a big day. And it is in the context of that big day, especially the cleansing of the Temple, that we can fully unlock the parable of the Two Sons and Jesus’ understanding of doing God’s will.

For those merchants that Jesus threw out of the Temple, they had been installed there by the religious authorities to sell animals for sacrifice. Instead of bringing one’s own animal, one could merely walk into the Temple, throw down some cash, buy a dove or some other beast, and fulfill one’s duty to make a sacrifice in worship to the Lord. Quick. Easy. Painless. And without real sacrifice. In other words, by installing these merchants, the Temple had become a holy vending machine. Insert coin here, receive grace down here. Hopefully your grace did not get caught in one of those revolving coils and then get agonizingly stuck against the window of the machine. However, as in most sacramental acts, true sacrifice was a lot more than the act itself – sacrifice had its roots in the nomadic culture of the desert.

Desert nomads were not wealthy people. And when they met someone new or wanted to maintain a relationship with someone, they would share a meal. Instead of sending a letter or giving some elaborate gift, they would break bread with one another and the relationship would grow or grow stronger in the sharing. And it was in the vein of that tradition of giving and sharing in the context of a meal that people began offering food to God – not in an attempt to appease an angry deity or earn part of one’s salvation – but an attempt, symbolic obviously, but a sincere and profound attempt to share something with God, to grow closer with God, and to begin, maintain, and strengthen a relationship with God. And that kind of real relationship takes a real sacrifice of the self, not a cheap, vending machine sacrifice, but a real sacrifice that involves risk and vulnerability and giving of one’s self.

And so, it was in this mindset of real sacrifice vs. meaningless sacrifice that Jesus’ cleansed the Temple and kicked out the money changers. Those money changers were eliminating the real sacrifice of self – the real communion with God – involved in offering an animal to God and turning the Temple into the one-armed bandit of worship.

And it is in that context, the day after the cleansing, that Jesus tells the parable of the Two Sons. The second son, the son who says he will work in the vineyard but does not do any actual work, has that vending machine mentality like the chief priests. They say they worship God, but are they only going through the motions and not entering into a real relationship with God. But the first son, while he says no at first, the first son does the actual work, gives and makes a sacrifice of himself, and that sacrifice is commensurate with a real, meaningful, and personal relationship with God.

May our relationship with God always be genuine and honest and rich and when we shy away from that relationship, may we remember that God continues to reach out to us and that the relationship can be renewed. And just as they did thousands of years ago, we can celebrate that relationship with a meal. Hey – we have some bread and some wine right here. AMEN.

Rollin'

2011-09-22T10:28:00.000-05:00

I am currently composing some thoughts about the break-up of R.E.M., but until then my friend Emily shared this on her Facebook page. A beautiful and fun story from my home.

Spiritual but Not Religious: The Article - Pietism or Community

2011-09-14T19:04:00.000-05:00

I recently posted on my Facebook page an article by the Rev. Lillian Daniel, a UCC minister, titled, "Spiritual but Not Religious? Please Stop Boring Me." The piece explores the popular turn of phrase "Spiritual but not religious." It is is often used by "naturalistic deists" (my term) who don't belong to a faith community but experience God by themselves, often in a natural setting: on a beach, under a tree, in the mountains, etc. Daniel quite aggressively counters this prevalent nugget of pop theology with a short list of reasons why one might benefit from being part of a religious community. "Aggressively counters" puts it mildly - her diatribe is more of a dope slap! My only comment was, "dang." I received several "dangs" in reply and other positive responses, but two comments from two unrelated friends, both of whom will remain nameless, both of whom I respect, love, and trust, have been burrs in my saddle.

One said, "Thank you for sharing, religious but still likes sunsets person. You are now comfortably in the norm for self-centered American church-going folk, right smack in the bland majority of people who think their place in a pew makes them a sheep and not a goat." Funny! The other said, "I think she's a narrow-minded pious person who clearly needs to work through her own issues. Of course, I'm one of the spiritual, non-religious types for whom she has such contempt." Again, dang!

However, these responses are signposts pointing to a larger issue the Church needs to address. The Church, especially progressive-leaning mainline traditions, such as The Episcopal Church, UCC, PC (USA), etc., needs to counter the stereotype that church-going Christians are merely self-centered, piety snobs who are close-minded, unwelcoming, and only interested in their own salvation. Now, some of us may be self-centered, piety snobs and if so ... well, that is another post all together. But articulating the merits of belonging to an healthy, active, and dynamic congregation is important. Such a conversation is especially important as the mainline continues a steady decline.

Daniel writes, "Being privately spiritual but not religious just doesn't interest me. There is nothing challenging about having deep thoughts all by oneself." One could argue that the piety snob and the spiritual but not religious are fundamentally similar from a theological standpoint, both only "having deep thoughts" in a vacuum.

Daniel continues, and this sequence is why I posted the piece, "What is interesting is doing this work in community, where other people might call you on stuff, or heaven forbid, disagree with you. Where life with God gets rich and provocative is when you dig deeply into a tradition that you did not invent all for yourself." Healthy religious communities are not singularly about teaching piety. Moral piety is important, but that is coupled with fellowship, education, service, celebration in times of celebration, and support in times of support. Moreover, community challenges one to grow. True community affirms the fact that not everyone agrees with you, that is OK, and both of you are still vital parts of the whole. Community might also introduce you to something you never conceived or dreamed of and that thing might bring you ... *gasp* ... closer to God.

My first call out of seminary was Assistant Rector with St. Matthew's Episcopal Church, Louisville. A lovely community filled with great people. The building and worship space are very contemporary. I believe the architect was quoted as saying his inspiration was a, "tent for the wandering people of God." The altar and sanctuary are in the center of the worship space with a circular Communion rail. So, when one approaches to receive, the eye does not focus on some beautiful stained glass window above the altar, but one's fellow parishioner kneeling across from you. Legend has it that someone once complained about the lack of a traditional focal point, but someone else countered, "is there a better image of God than our fellow members of the body of Christ?"

Our fellows, men and women walking the journey with us, are the best image of God. A sunset, a great tree, what have you, are all lovely and speak to God's artistry and beauty. But the depth of God's love, the power of God's mission, the singularity of God's hope, is best seen, is most fully seen, in the other. But the only place to see, be seen, and be transformed by this God is in community. I hope and pray our communities can welcome those who seek the spiritual but shun the religious, those who desire a connection with God. They may fear they will be judged, shunned, or disparaged for who they are, what they believe, what questions they have, or what they have done. Instead, we should throw our arms open, receive a fellow creature made in the image of God, value them, and allow ourselves to be transformed by them. By doing so, we will do nothing less than widen the great circle of God.

More Thoughts on 11 September

2011-09-13T09:53:00.000-05:00

My dear friend and colleague, the Rev. Michael Pipkin, wrote a wonderful reflection about the 11 September attacks and his personal experiences at the Pentagon. Read it.

Thoughts on 11 September

2011-09-11T20:21:00.000-05:00

IMAGE: 9/11 Memorial Stained Glass Window at Corr Chapel, Villanova University

Much has been said, sung, and written on this 10th anniversary of the 11 September 2001 attacks. The special coverage from the New York Times is voluminous and monumental. My friend and colleague Jeanne Finan's sermon from this morning is faithful and soaring. The National Anthem before the Chicago Bears' game at Soldier Field was rousing and fiesty.

At Calvary this morning, in lieu of the Prayers of the People, we prayed a special litany by Rev. Eileen W. Lindner and Rev. Marcel A. Welty of the National Council of Churches. As Kell led us in prayer, the images of that terrible day flooded my mind: the Towers, the Pentagon, the planes, the fireball, the collapse, the people covered in ash. I remembered the significant communications of the day: a call to my beloved wife whose first day of teaching was that very day, an Instant Message to a college acquaintance who lived in New York City inquiring if she was OK, a chilling e-mail from a fraternity brother, sent to every address on his machine, with one line, "has anyone seen my dad?" He worked in the World Trade Center.

As the litany concluded, my mind settled on one image: a face, a face of a widower. In September 2001, I was in my second year at Virginia Theological Seminary and beginning my Field Education assignment at St. Columba's Episcopal Church, a truly awesome parish in northwest Washington, D.C. And my first service - the very first service I vested and processed as a seminarian - was the funeral of a passenger on American Airlines Flight 77, the plane that hit the Pentagon. She had been married for less than a year and her husband sat alone in the front row. The look on his face is seared in my memory: absolute shock. Not wet with tears, not clenched in anger, not writhing in pain, but absolute shock. Unmoving, almost unbelieving, shock. And the shock did not end that day. The widower attended worship regularly and in the months that followed his wife's funeral his visage always remained unchanged.

We never know how we will react to death, especially a sudden, horrible death. When grandma dies after a long battle with cancer, we know how to morn. But something as shocking, almost surreal, as airplanes used as weapons to topple buildings, we struggle to wrap our mind around such a death. And that circumstance coupled with a new marriage cut cruelly short, shock is all we might be able to muster save complete collapse.

On National Public Radio on Friday, 9 September 2011, nine people spoke about what they were doing on 10 September 2011. The remembrances were almost nostalgic: a blissful visit to the final hours of the pre-9/11 world. And one of the speakers was the Rev. Janet Vincent, the current Rector of St. Columba's and then Rector of Grace Church, White Plains. She spoke about taking her five year old nephew to a baseball game that was called due to thunderstorms. As they were leaving, her nephew turned to her and said, "I don't understand. What does this mean?" I don't understand. What does this mean. Prophetic words.

Wiser folks than I have offered many reflections on 11 September. The Bishop for Federal Ministries, +Jay Magness, wrote a lovely and honest piece in the Huffington Post. The Archbishop of Canterbury, ++Rowan Williams, even wrote a book about it, Writing in the Dust. But I believe the most honest response is, "I don't understand." We are, each and every one of us, intrinsically, good and made in the image of God. And while all of us sin and separate ourselves from God, in our hearts, when faced with something as horrible as 9/11, we respond with shock and an inability to understand. We try, we yearn to figure it out, but we can't. The evil is that suffocating and the shock is that immobilizing.

Will we ever understand? Perhaps when we are reunited with God. Are there opportunities for justice and unity and understanding that rise from the dust? Most definitely. But at my core, on this terrible day, I am still in shock. All I can do is turn to God in silence and in prayer and confess how afraid I really am. ++Rowan touched on similar themes in a remembrance a couple of years ago.

Remember the dead. Give thanks for heros. Reach out to those you might not understand. And realize that understanding is probably an unattainable goal, but with humility and peace, the God of love and life will give shelter.

Blog 2.0

2011-09-09T11:08:00.001-05:00

Well, why don't we try this again.

Back in 2006 I started this blog because my then parish, All Saints', Gastonia, had a very limited website and I needed a quick way to post sermons, news, and other miscellany. I am not sure who read the blog, besides my mother, but I had fun doing it. However, now that I have joyously received a new call and Calvary has quite a website, this blog has remained fallow / untouched for some time.

Here is an "interesting" article from the Gaston Gazette about the beginning of this blog.

Now I think it is time to start blogging again. Why? I am not really sure. "The idea popped into my head yesterday afternoon," might be the the most honest answer. My plan is to post thoughts, reflections, sermon texts, links, Calvary- and Memphis-related promotions, and other bits and pieces that strike my fancy. Hopefully enlightening, hopefully entertaining, three to four times a week. I look forward to receiving comments, suggestions, etc. What would you like to see here?

Thanks for coming back. Now, let's get to work.