Practice Resurrection

This week's lectionary readings reminded me of one of my favorite poems, Wendell Berry's The Mad Farmer Liberation Front. Berry begins by describing how we live when we function out of our fear and anxiety rather than embracing God's promise that our needs are known and will be provided for and realized as we strive first for God's justice, peace, and joy.

Be afraid to know your neighbors and to die.
When they want you to buy something they will call you.

Berry spends the rest of the poem outlining how we might try to not worry about our life.

So, friends, every day do something that won't compute.
Love the Lord. Love the world.
Work for nothing. Take all that you have and be poor. Love someone who does not deserve it.

The reading from Isaiah describes how God cares for us even more than a mother for her child, asking:
Can a woman forget her nursing child, or show no compassion for the child of her womb?
Berry echoes:

Ask yourself: Will this satisfy a woman satisfied to bear a child? Will this disturb the sleep of a woman near to giving birth?

In the final stanza, the poet suggests that we might be like the fox who makes more tracks than necessary, some in the wrong direction.
Berry concludes by naming what it would mean for us to live out of hope rather than fear:

Practice resurrection.

Amen. Read the whole poem here.

Now showing: Julian of Norwich

Today is the feast day of Julian of Norwich. She's a favorite English saint who experienced visions of Christ during a severe illness. Many believe her written account of these 'showings' to be the first book written by a woman in the English language.

While she's famous for her "all shall be well, all shall be well, all manner of thing shall be well," Julian also offers profound articulations of the meaning of human suffering, the life of the trinity, and the reach of salvation. She has beautiful language describing Jesus as mother which the Episcopal Church includes as two of the canticles contained in Enriching Our Worship. Below is the text of the Song of our True Nature; singing it is one of the things I still miss from evensong at GTS:

Christ revealed our frailty and our falling, *

our trespasses and our humiliations.

Christ also revealed his blessed power, *

his blessed wisdom and love.

He protects us as tenderly and as sweetly when we are in greatest need; *

he raises us in spirit

and turns everything to glory and joy without ending.

God is the ground and the substance, the very essence of nature; *

God is the true father and mother of natures.

We are all bound to God by nature, *

and we are all bound to God by grace.

And this grace is for all the world, *

because it is our precious mother, Christ.

For this fair nature was prepared by Christ

for the honor and nobility of all, *

and for the joy and bliss of salvation.

Thinking about her reminds me of the 'religious views' on the facebook page of one of the students in my campus ministry: there was love, there is love, there will always be love. Maybe he's been reading Julian...

Ask The Priest post on the Feast of Julian

Grant me understanding, that I may live.

The psalm for evening prayer is a portion of 119.  I love Psalm 119.  First, it is ridiculously long.  Second, it is an extaordinary piece of poetry (I open my mouth and pant; I long for your commandments).  Third, it's a word puzzle.  See, God loves geeks.  Derek Olsen writes about even more reasons if you need some.

For tonight, I'm suggesting that we replace the appendix to the proposed Anglican Covenant, which describes how we might resolve disputes, with this simple directive:  Join together in reciting Psalm 119.  Repeat as necessary.  Do it.  Do it. 

He ascended into heaven.

While he was blessing them, he withdrew from them and was carried up into heaven. And they worshiped him, and returned to Jerusalem with great joy; and they were continually in the temple blessing God. Luke 24:51-53

From the Painted Prayerbook on Ascension Day:

In depicting Jesus’ ascension, medieval artists often painted Jesus with only his feet showing (one can almost see his toes wiggling), just barely visible as he departs, as in this thirteenth-century German Psalter or the St Albans Psalter. They wanted to emphasize his bodily departure from the earth. Yet, as Gail Ramshaw points out in Treasures Old and New, such a depiction does not suggest that “Christ has gone away from the church. The church fathers,” she goes on to write, “taught just the opposite: that as Christ went to God, his body became available to all the church.” And not only available to the church, but also enfleshed within it and by it, a point these same medieval artists emphasize by their attention to those who remain as Jesus leaves. Though Jesus’ departure poses the risk of profound disruption among his followers, his ascension becomes an opportunity for the community not only to reorganize and refashion itself but to become the very body of Christ in the world.

It's part of an interesting reflection on the meaning of the Ascension for communities dealing with loss.

I usually read the Ascension through my ecumenical lens--'Ascensiontide' as a time of preparation for when the followers of Christ will be gathered to re-member the body of Christ at Pentecost. A time for us to prepare to enflesh God's power so that we might be co-operators in the mission of reconciliaiton. Sadly, we are not there yet. As one blogger pointed out, we can't even agree on a time for the Week of Prayer for Christian Unity (in the southern hemisphere, it's this week; in the north, it falls in January). Certainly, my own communion is not currently able to gather joyfully with each other under the Lordship of Christ. Yet, Christ's promise is given to us, his Body made available to us. We continue to try to gather in the midst of his blessing and staring up at his dangling feet. God continually and mysteriously sends the Holy Spirit to unite us as Christ's body in the world. We beg for it in the Eucharist, but do we really mean it?

On the road again

I'll be gone for a bit in April.

First, continuing ed at the Anglican Covenant Conference at the Tutu Center at General Seminary. I always love being back at General and I'm looking forward to staying in the 'new' building, though I still feel a little bad for William Eigenbrodt, who no longer has a building named after him. My blog collecting resources for studying the covenant is here.

Second, to the National Workshop on Christian Unity/Episcopal Diocesan Ecumenical & Irreligious Officers Meeting (see why we love jargon? so much easier to say 'NWCU/EDEIO' meeting. wait, not really.) That's part of my job as ecumenical officer for the diocese.

Third, to a board meeting of Episcopal Peace Fellowship. That's because I believe Christians are to strive for justice and peace. You can become a Peace Partner today. Right now.

Hi-lair-i-tair

Happy Easter!

The whole bright world rejoices now, Hilariter, hilariter!
The birds do sing on every bough, Alleluia, alleluia!

Then shout beneath the racing skies, Hilariter, hilariter!
To him who rose that we might rise, Alleluia, alleluia!

And all you living things make praise, Hilariter, hilariter!
He guideth you on all your ways, Alleluia, alleluia!

To Father, Son, and Holy Ghost Hilariter, hilariter!
Our God most high, our joy and boast. Allelluia, alleluia!

Listen to a recording from St. John's Ottawa:



Hilariter is latin for joyfully and is pronounced "hi-lair-i-tair."
It is Hymn 211 in the Hymnal 1982.

Sermon: I love you anyway. Any way.

My Good Friday sermon was just a retelling of one of Jim Quigley's passionate reflections. You can watch his version of the story from the St. Mark's August 2006 U2charist.

The more things change.

Easter, 1914.
Charles Gore,
via Project Canterbury.

"I cannot resist the impression that the Church of England, in particular, has a bad time ahead of it. I think its perils are largely due to its refusal of recent years--a refusal manifested in all classes, movements, and grades of office amongst us--to think clearly about principles. As you know, I have grieved almost all of you by refusing to join in the opposition to Disestablishment, whether in Wales or England. I think that Disestablishment, more than anything else, would throw us upon our principles. I doubt whether anything else will do so effectively. But I should hope that those who do not agree with me about this will agree with me on the necessity, which is urgent in other fields than those which I have been treating above--in the region, for example, of the marriage question--that we should reflect upon and stand by and insist upon those fundamentals of faith and practice by which alone we can hope to hold together, and within those limits exercise the largest toleration of one another, "endeavouring to keep the unity of the Spirit in the bond of peace," and believing that, through whatever purging trials, our part of the Church has its special vocation for the future and in the whole world."

Sound familiar? You'd think we'd be better at this stuff by now.

PS, Remember how you always wondered what antidisestablishmentarianism meant? Please see above.
And, there's still a row about it.
My brother and I always preferred floccinaucinihilipilification.

Shining Like the Sun

Today marks the 5oth anniversary of Thomas Merton's epiphany on the corner of 4th & Walnut:

"In Louisville, at the corner of Fourth and Walnut, in the center of the shopping district, I was suddenly overwhelmed with the realization that I loved all those people, that they were mine and I theirs, that we could not be alien to one another even though we were total strangers. It is a glorious destiny to be a member of the human race … there is no way of telling people that they are all walking around shining like the sun."

"I suddenly saw the secret beauty of their hearts, the depths of their hearts where neither sin nor desire nor self-knowledge can reach, the core of their reality, the person that each one is in God's eyes. If only they could all see themselves as they really are. If only we could see each other that way all of the time. There would be no more war, no more hatred, no more cruelty, no more greed..."

Mosquitos Coughing

Harvard's Krister Stendahl on how he came to love the Bible.

Queen of Heaven

I keep thinking about this photograph of the moon at the south pole, which made me think of this Durer print, which made me think of the Madonna chapel at St. Sulpice.

The Would-Be Feast of the Wesleys

#8 in John Wesley's "Reasons Against the Separation from the Church of England (1758)":

"Because to form the Plan of a New Church would require infinite Time and Care, (which might be far more profitably bestowed) with much more Wisdom and greater Depth and Extensiveness of Thought, than any of us are Masters of."

Emphasis mine.

"The Unity Declaration"

Project Canterbury offers this sermon (1894) by the Rt. Rev. Thomas Underwood Dudley, 2nd bishop of the Diocese of Kentucky.

"Adaptation there must be, and adaptation there can be, because adaptation there has been. Sometimes in visions of the night, to the soul weary with the din of controversy--controversy in general about matters of mere opinion--weary with the thought of disaster caused by division, of the slow progress of the Kingdom because of the lack of unity of movement, of the waste and weakness in the administration of Christian truth by reason of the jealous maintenance of opinions as principles, of practices and methods as the very essentials of the Gospel--to such a soul comes the vision of reunion, even here in America, of different administrations by the same Spirit, and in one Body."

Sermon: Lent 4A, Playing with dirt.

My sermon today recounted the incredible story of the Hughes family, whose son was born without eyes or the ability to extend his arms and legs. At his birth, his parents lamented that he'd never be able to do all the things they'd hoped for. They cried out to God 'what did we do to deserve this?' That's what the blind beggar's parents would've asked, too. What sin had they committed? What was he being punished for? The Hughes' quickly found, however, that while Patrick might never play football, he had remarkable, unexpected musical abilities. 20 years later, Patrick's exceptional musical talents are fully honed. With the deeply sacrificial help of his father, Patrick now plays in the University of Louisville marching band and says things like 'so God made me blind and unable to walk--big deal?'. Patrick's parents say they still cry out to God, 'what did we do to deserve this?' but now with a different perspective: 'what did we do to deserve this--what did we do to deserve such an amazing son?'. Their response is 'how can I help the world experience Patrick's gifts?'. So, Mr. Hughes wheels his son around campus, helps him in class, pushes him through the marching band formation. Then he works the graveyard shift at UPS and goes home to take care of his other two sons. Through his father's sacrifice, this blind young man can 'see.'

Along with the story of the blind beggar, today we read one of the most beloved pieces of scripture: Psalm 23. We love its gentle tones; we love to take comfort in its pastoral imagery. Many of us have it memorized to calm us during times of strife. But is that really what it describes? Does it really offer a way for us to escape life's places of pain? Psalm 23 was in the lectionary for one of my first sermons and, feeling anxious, I went to meditate on its words in Cherokee park. I laid down in the grass that early spring morning. He makes me to lie down in green pastures, I thought. How lovely. Over to the side was a small creek, and I thought, he leads me beside still waters. And for a while it was nice. Quiet, cool, easy, enjoyable. But, then... the damp ground began to seep into my clothes. My allergies started to react to the grass and pollen, my lungs started to tighten. I had to shoo bugs away. That rock under my hip really started to become uncomfortable. There was trash collecting along the banks of that stream: a coke can here, an old shoe there. I remembered how we get those warnings to rid our yards of standing water--still water--so that they don't become infested with mosquitoes. And then I thought, do I really want a table prepared for me in the presence of my enemies after coming home sneezy, wet, and mosquito bitten? I'd really rather relax with some friends, with people I like.

Yes, God grants us times of refreshment (see commandment #4*. When was the last time you took advantage of that?) but God also calls us into sacrificial love and service. Patrick Henry Hughes could not have lived into God's gifts to him if his family had not turned their lives upside down to serve him. If the band director and members had not been willing to risk thinking creatively and doing some real problem solving and cultural stretching, Patrick's gifts would have been suppressed. If Jesus had not wanted to stick his hands in the mud, the beggar would still be blind. Our living, incarnate God is all wrapped up in the messiness of human existence. He makes us lie down in green pastures. He sits us at tables with our enemies. He takes our lives and says stop, be human, feel what its like to touch creation. Roll around in it. Look for what I'm trying to do in the world, and be ready to sacrifice to make it happen. Get your hands dirty, eat a meal with someone different than you. Stick your fingers in the mud. And behold, the blind can see.

*For Catholics and some Lutheran it's commandment #3. Only one of the problems with state-sponsored displays of the commandments is figuring out which version to use.

General Convention Resources

Executive Offices of the General Convention
Louie Crew's Unofficial Pages
What to bring to General Convention

Anglican Covenant Conference

More resources on my covenant page.

Paying Attention

Kathy Grieb preached at our diocesan convention. She quoted one of my favorite poems from Mary Oliver, The Summer Day. An excerpt here:

I don't know exactly what a prayer is.
I do know how to pay attention, how to fall down
into the grass, how to kneel down in the grass,
how to be idle and blessed, how to stroll through the fields,
which is what I have been doing all day.

[Update 3/2]: She must've been trying out Psalm 23.

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