This will be my last entry in the blog, "St. Mark's Vineyard", as I leave St. Mark's so that someone else to take up the challenge of cultivating the fruit of the Spirit in what is St. Mark's parish community.

For five years, we have labored together in this vineyard. In many ways, the fruit has been harvested and new vines planted. But like any vineyard, to produce good fruit, it must always be well tended - and remain connected to our Lord Christ, the True Vine. We, indeed, are but branches of his divine life as it flows into the fruit we bear for the world.

In these years we have done much.

• We have re-visioned our call to ministry around that great jewel which is the Jubilee Ministry Center at St. Mark's. It was a grand undertaking and itself has borne much fruit. Mother Hubbard's Cupboard serves more people than it ever did. Parishioners' Outreach continues to meet needs no one else will tend to and shows special kindnesses such as the Bach-to-School efforts soon to be celebrated with "Backpack Sunday." Folks of a Seasoned Age continues to offer and to explore new ways of helping the "AARP Crowd" in our community find meaningful activity, whether socially, educationally, or spiritually. Breaking Bread Together remains a much looked forward-to event by members of the community as it provides a great meal, but more importantly, fellowship and an experience of intentional hospitality that is consistent with the promise of our baptismal covenant to "seek and serve Christ in all persons, loving your neighbor as yourself." Environmental Stewardship reminds us almost daily that stewardship is about ALL of God's gifts to us, not only about church finances -- especially the beauty of creation that we so easily access in our dear Juniata Valley.
• We have entered a period of preparation "Toward A Third Century of Ministry" by looking at the legacy we received from prior generations and preparing it for future disciples who will worship, work, and play within these walls. The Church and the parish hall have both been patched and painted. Natural means of ventilation have been restored and enhanced by using their original design and adding new technologies where available. The public areas of the parish house have been cleaned and painted, flooring repair or replaced and more -- to be sure our environment is at once secure and inviting. 
• Not all of those preparations were physical, though. We also created the means by which pastoral care will be exercise whether or not there is a clergy person available -- and when there is, the level of care will be deepened and broadened. By establishing the beginnings of a Pastoral Care Team (with its own coordinator) and enrolling the parish in The Stephen Ministries (a nationally recognized training and resource center for pastoral care), we have assured that the healing touch of Christ will continue to be offered in season and out to all who are in pastoral need. 
• And all of this was tended while seeking to develop a deeper understanding and appreciation for the Word of God through bible study, Church School, special seasonal programming, and our worship. Personal and communal prayer has deepened and helped us to grow deep roots in the life of Christ. 

There is much, much more. Vestry received an extensive report at their last meeting. And part of that report was a reminder that although we may have moved forward on a great number of things, there still remains much to be accomplished. As it is, the work of the kingdom is never complete (or at least until we see our Lord Christ at the end of time). That work continues unabated and cannot rely on one or another person. It is in that spirit that I write this last installment concerning the work of the vineyard at St. Mark's. After each harvest, vines need to be pruned and dressed for the next crop. I pray that you will rise to the occasion - to become workers in bringing the next harvest into the Lord's winepress. 

My prayer for you now is simple. It is a prayer that I heard at my ordination and was used again when Bishop Baxter installed me as your Rector in 2010. It is adapted from St. Paul's Letter to the Philippians: “May God who has begun this good work in you bring it to fulfillment.”

Signing off in the love of the heart of Christ,

Father David

In the end, it isn’t about winners or losers

Well, it’s done. The Supreme Court has ruled that same-sex couples have the same right to marry as opposite-sex couples and The Episcopal Church has moved to allow the celebration of the marriages of same-sex couples in its parishes. One thing to note, however, is that although the timing is merely coincidental (TEC has been considering this in one way or another through several triennia) the decisions are not unrelated.

Commentators have focused often on the sea change in attitudes represented in polls taken over the last ten years or so – ever since Massachusetts moved to make same-sex marriage legal in its jurisdiction. That change may have occurred in part because of the willingness of more and more self-identified homosexual people to emerge from “the closet” and show themselves to the world often as good citizens, hard-working contributors to the economy, and even model members of their local communities. This same “coming out” also forced many of their families and friends to recognize that they had good and healthy relationships with someone who is “other” than they – even if they did not like the fact that their son/daughter/friend was gay. As often happens when individuals consider societal “others,” the distinction and prejudices begin to diminish when they are enfleshed and made real in the person of someone we know and love.

The legal arguments – both civil and canonical – may have focused on the justice issues involved. Nonetheless the real driving force behind attitudinal change represented by these decisions is the incarnation or enfleshment of an idea in real people. When we look into the eyes of an anguished young person who has been marginalized by bullies because they seem “different,” when we seek to comfort someone who has lost the most significant person in his or her life but is not allowed to make the final arrangements they discussed in the intimacy of their home, when we consider the economic disadvantage wrought by a tax code that would not recognize the joining of fiscal and financial resources over a long period of years for no other reason than the law forbade it – then we begin to understand the impact of inequality in this regard. This is at the heart of the Supreme Court’s reasoning.

In our Church communities, when we see two people exercise deep care and concern for one another “in good times and in bad, in sickness and in health, in richness and in poverty” but refuse to acknowledge that they have joined themselves for the present and for the future in a covenant not unlike others except for their gender, we cut ourselves off form the representation of God’s deep and abiding love for us that comes in the recognition of their mutual “joy and affection.” This is at the heart of TEC’s decision to allow the “sacramentalization,” that is, the recognition, of God’s work in the lives of deeply committed and covenanted couples.

So how should we, and the Christian community as a whole, respond to these actions? We could begin by talking about what marriage means to us, and to reflect on Justice Anthony Kennedy's statement in the court's majority opinion that “It would misunderstand these men and women to say they disrespect the idea of marriage. Their plea is that they do respect it, respect it so deeply that they seek to find its fulfillment for themselves." We can talk about the dignity of same-sex couples and how we can treat them with respect. We can talk about how we may move forward as a church and society by respecting the laws of the land and the different viewpoints of people in our communities and in our own church, always exercising the principles enshrined in our baptismal covenant “to strive for justice and peace among all people, and respect the dignity of every human being” even when we disagree. To those who do disagree with the Court and with TEC, I simply offer the counsel of Gameliel: “If this . . . undertaking is of human origin, it will fail; but if it is of God, you will not be able to overthrow them—in that case you may even be found fighting against God.”

In the end, it isn’t about winners or losers. It is about finding the will of God and following it to the best of our ability.

Why me? Why Sunday?

When I was a kid, I was taught that we had to go to church was because God said so: “Keep holy the Sabbath.” That kind of reasoning works well with children. However, once we mature, we move beyond mere “rule keeping” to a point where we decide to act according to “higher values.”  When it came to keeping Sabbath, I realized that its purpose was not to please God – God didn't need my prayers or my worship – but what Jesus taught: that Sabbath practices were made for our good. With that in mind, I thought I would share with you some thoughts about why we gather as a Church community on "the Lord's Day," and how we might better fulfill God's purposes in this great gift.

"Back in the day" society reinforced Sabbath keeping by things like "blue laws," which forbade general commerce. Most stores were closed and business was generally not conducted. Slowly, these restrictions were relaxed, especially in the area of retail sales.  About the only remaining restriction in Pennsylvania is in auto sales! (Why this remains a restriction baffles me, to be sure!) This came about, in part, because, in our increasingly diverse society, not everyone's Sabbath observance was Sunday. Jewish people observe Saturday. Muslims observe Friday. And some religious traditions don't have a formal Sabbath at all.

To be sure that we did not favor one religion over another (the heart of our First Amendment religious freedoms), we began to take a more secular approach. Even so, Sunday remains for many people a day off from work. However, because of the availability of so many more activities, it has also become a day for doing many things we can't do during our regular work week. Its specialness has eroded into a day of convenience for errands and other things we can't fit to in our busy lives.   

But this is where we have run into a bit of trouble: the notion of a Sabbath day - a day set aside for family, for friends, for God -- has transformed into a day of unscheduled activity.

Regrettably, too often family and friends have given way to lawns and sports. And God? For many people, well, "God will understand how busy we are."

Actually God DOES understand - that's exactly why he gave us the opportunity for Sabbath-keeping. As Genesis puts it, "then God blessed the seventh day and made it holy, because on it he rested from all the work of creating that he had done."

By now, we all understand that God doesn't "get tired" or "need" to take a nap. What the Genesis story is telling us is that we do! Scripture recounts how God rested to teach us that a time to rest from the busy work of acting as God’s partners in creating God’s kingdom is a good thing. That brings us to the present matter.

Over the last several months, attendance at Sunday common worship has been declining in our parish. This has become a great concern of mine. The concern grows out of a deep conviction that this may be a symptom of a spiritual malaise that might be settling on our parish family.

"But with all this talk of Sabbath rest, Father, why would you think to discuss yet one more activity for us to consider?" Good question. But I believe there is a good answer that is thoroughly consistent with and deeply rooted in this notion of Sabbath rest. In fact, I believe there are five good reasons to make worship in common a part of our Sabbath observance. Let’s call them the Five A’s of Sabbath-Keeping:  

Awakening

During the rough and tumble of the week, the hard knocks of life in our broken world can disorient us about what’s truly important. We need our common prayer and worship to clear our head, to recalibrate our spirit, and to jumpstart our weary heart.

Assurance

A second reason is the dynamic of community — which can provide us with assurance of the love and support of others in our daily lives. The heroes we encounter in life became heroes in part because they participated in faithful communities that fostered and strengthened their values and beliefs. As humans, we were not made to stand solo with no fellows. God made us for community – for one another. Remember that it was God who said that it is not good for us to be alone (Genesis 2) and Jesus showed us that the best way to remain connected to him was to be connected to one another (John 15). It is when we join together to hear and reflect on God's word and to share at the Lord's Table that we make sure we follow this wisdom.

Advance

Common prayer plays an indispensable part in our sanctification — that is, our progressive growth in conforming ourselves to the image of Christ (Romans 8). Common prayer is not only for our “upbuilding and encouragement and consolation” (1 Corinthians 14), but also for us to behold Jesus together, as “we all . . . are being transformed into the same image from one degree of glory to another” (2 Corinthians 3). There are times — and we may already have experienced them — when the Holy Spirit takes the Scripture read, the prayer spoken, the chorus sung, or the truth preached and presses it right to the point of our need in a way that not merely informs our Christian walk, but heals our flagging spirits.

 Accepting Another’s Leading

One important distinction between common and private prayer is the place of our initiative. Common worship reminds us that our faith is fundamentally a grace, that it is received, not taken to ourselves on our own initiative. In private devotions, we lead ourselves. In common worship, we’re made to receive the leading of others. In private prayer, we’re in the driver’s seat: we decide what passage to read, when to pray, what to pray, how long to linger and meditate, what songs to listen to or sing, and what applications to consider. But in common prayer, we’re led to respond. Others preach and pray and select the songs and choose how long to linger in each element. By positioning ourselves to receive – we open ourselves to the Spirit's leading. And where the Spirit may lead, we never really know until it happens (John 3).

 Accentuated Joy

Last, but not least, is the heightened experience of worship in the presence of others. Our own awe is accentuated, our own adoration increased, and our own joy doubled when we worship God together. A Swedish proverb says, “A shared joy is a double joy.” Like when we take delight in expanding our circle of friends, in common worship the joy of deeper, richer and greater adoration and awe expands as we glorify God together with others. Thus, the secret of our joy in common prayer and worship is not only a preoccupation with God and God’s glory but also the happy awareness that we are not alone in having our souls enriched in God’s life.

I hope these reflections provide you with some food for thought. If you are regularly meeting with us for common prayer and worship, I pray that these thoughts will deepen your commitment. If you have not been with us on a regular basis, I pray that these thoughts may have sparked a new insight that would move you to join with us again. In any event, know that I continue to pray for you and for each and every member of our parish family - and that my love for you is the love of Christ that abides in us all.

Are we not called to do the same?

As our attention in our Lenten journey begins its sweeping turn toward consideration of the passion and death of our Lord, I have turned to the crucifix that hangs in my room as a point of concentration. It was given to me in a joyful moment, my installation as rector/pastor at St. Mark's, by people whom I love, my in-laws (yes, I love my in-laws!). 

The question arose within me this morning about what I "do" for Christ in light of what Christ "has done" for me. How much of what I "do for Christ" do I, in reality, do for myself? I spend many, many hours in the various tasks of ministry - everything from writing sermons to pondering over finances. But how much of it do I really do for Christ? And how much do I really "do" for myself?

How much of all that I do would I do if I were not paid to do it? How much of it would I do if no one would notice that it was done, in other words, how much do I do to find a sense of affirmation whether from self or from others? I am not sharing the answers to these questions with you here. The answers are the stuff of my private conversation with God in these Lenten days. However, I share the questions because I think they are questions that we all need to ask of ourselves from time to time.

As I continue to ponder them, the answer is colored by this consideration: how much of my time and energy is spent seeking to avoid the pains and sufferings of my life that actually cannot be avoided, much less, taking on the pain and sufferings of others that I encounter in the world? The crucifix on my wall elicits that query. Jesus, after all, did just that. He took on himself the "sins of the world." Am I not called, especially as a priest, to do the same? 

Each week, I lay hands upon the sick. Often I am deeply aware of the specific malady afflicting those seeking healing. As I do so, I consider whether I am willing to take malady on myself so that the one seeking healing may be relieved. Jesus, after all, did just that. He took on himself the "sins of the world." Am I not called, especially as a priest, to do the same? 

Every day people come to the parish seeking relief from poverty in various forms. Rather than just giving them "a little to help them get by" am I willing to give up what I have so that they can have enough? Jesus, after all, did just that. He took on himself the "sins of the world." Am I not called, especially as a priest, to do the same? 

So, as I focus on the crucifix on my wall, what exactly has Jesus done for me? For us? Are we not called to do the same?

Living beyond the rules

We know that Joseph was more than a bit concerned about his future with Mary. We know that when she was conceived they were not yet married -- and that the baby wasn't his. We know from the gospel narratives that he considered divorcing her, as was his right under Jewish law. It is immediately clear from these circumstances, that Jesus began his life - even in Mary's womb, in difficult and dangerous circumstances.

Perhaps, this is one of the most important lessons we can learn from our retelling of the stories surrounding the birth of the Messiah. Not only in his teaching, but even in the pattern of his birth, Jesus showed us that life is often difficult and fraught with danger. It may even collide with the conventions of polite society. One thing that characterized the life and teachings of Jesus from the very beginning is that simply following the rules never leads to true righteousness.  Throughout the gospels we often find Jesus on the "other side" of the rules.

We might want to object to this idea. We may say that the Holy Family was special because of their special mission and vocation-- and that the rules don't apply to them -- that their case was miraculous and so does not compare with our own. And so it was. BUT the purpose of God's miracles in our midst is always to show us something about the way God works in the world. None of us is the blessed Mary nor the righteous Joseph. But by showing us these people in the proper context of their world, a difficult one as ours is in its own way, holy scripture challenges us to live up to the miracles that we see in their pages. This is how the "spirit" of Christmas becomes real.

Greetings and Change

The Christmas cards have started to arrive en masse. Many of them are beautiful religious scenes, often copies of great works of art, medieval illuminations, and, of course, stained glass. Some are depictions of those ideal Christmases of Victorian times -- sleighs in the woods, gas lamps, carolers. Almost all of them hearken back to an earlier time when things were "simpler," "more pure," "less complicated."

Yet, all we need to remember is that "A Christmas Carol" (the classic short story by Charles Dickens, describes Christmas in less naive ways: workhouses, families stricken by poverty and disease) reminds us that it was never really simpler, more pure, or less complicated.

Our longing for "back in the day" is, in some ways, an escape from the present difficulty. No matter how much we dress them up in bows and glitter, the institutions (ways of life) for which we long will not magically transport us from those difficulties. We deceive ourselves for a few moments but ultimately have to return to the fact that we still face disease, poverty, inequality, racism, unconscious bias, reliance on force and fear. This story is as old as the original Christmas story itself.

Jesus came into a world plagued with poverty, inequality, and disease. The story of his birth makes no mistake about that . . . and his ministry focused precisely in these elements of the human condition. He came to proclaim that the world into which he was born need not be a place filled with unnecessary human suffering. What we need to do is to trust in God and God's loving plan for humanity.

This trust cannot be based on naive yearnings, however. That is clearly the message of John the Baptizer. That trust is born of true repentance, metanoia, a change in direction that can occur only with a deep change of heart.

And so we come full circle to the pile of seasons greetings on our sideboard. Each one of these actually represents the potential for an incremental move toward that kingdom Jesus came to proclaim. If we send those greetings in sincerity and truth and not out of mere habit, tradition, or worse, obligation, then each one represents on opportunity to realize the change of heart required for the kingdom of God to take root.

That was the transformation wrought in Dickens' tale. The greetings that were given in earnest by passersby and by family and friends to old Scrooge were finally heeded . . . and a heart was changed . . a metanoia occurred . . . a heart hardened against the grace of God melted in love and became human again -- just as human as the Christ Child.

Thank God for Differentness

"O Loving God, whose will it is that everyone should come to you and be saved: We bless your holy Name for your servants Thomas Gallaudet and Henry Winter Syle whose labors with and for those who are deaf we commemorate today, and we pray that you will continually move your Church to respond in love to the needs of all people; through Jesus Christ, who opened the ears of the deaf, and who lives and reigns with you and the Holy Spirit, one God, now and for ever. Amen."

O happy day! it is a day for rejoicing and thanksgiving in my family as the Church celebrates Thomas Gallaudet and Henry Sile. You see, my husband's niece, Danielle, has been deaf since infancy. She is now a young professional woman living and teaching in Austin, Texas. She entered higher education and completed her B.A. at Gallaudet University, the first in her immediate family to earn a college degree. We are all so proud.

And we are thankful. Thankful for the insight of Gallaudet and Syle, both priests of the Episcopal Church, who understood that what was seen in their day as an obstacle to full participation in church and society was not designed by God as an obstacle but as a blessing. Syle, a protege of Gallaudet, was nearly denied admission to holy orders because of this prejudice. The late 19th century was not a friendly place to people with "disabilities" or "handicaps." Individuals that exhibited these kinds of "differentness" were thought to be less than others. It was only because of a deep spiritual conviction of people like Gallaudet and Syle that Christ lives fully in all persons that our society finally began to see differentness as "other giftedness."

Some might say that it's all about being P.C. Well, it's not. Gallaudet and Syle understood that both from their personal experience and from their zealous pursuit of the respect and dignity owed to every human being (see the Baptismal Covenant, BCP 305). Creating safe spaces for education and personal and spiritual development was their passion and their life's work. And I, for one, rejoice deeply in it and give thanks for their giftedness.

Fan or Follower?

Fans can be loyal. I know. I am a native of Western New York where loyalty to the Buffalo Bills is a badge of honor to many. T-shirts and sweatshirts can be found in every department store from August through January. Team logos adorn doors, lawns, autos and even heads, especially in the Southtowns, the southern suburbs that are home to the Bills' stadium. 

Even though fans can be loyal, they can also be fickle. When the Bills were riding high in the mid-90s and won four consecutive American Conference Championships and a spot in the Super Bowl, everyone was a fan. But when things took a downturn, shirt and fan paraphernalia sales dropped considerably. Fans are ready to pounce on any general manager or coach who, in their estimation, trades players unwisely or picks the wrong game strategy. 

Back home you will notice that since they've had several losing or mediocre seasons in a row, only the most loyal still wear their logos with pride and with hope that this year will be better. These latter are not fans. They are followers.

Jesus had fans, too. In the gospel stories, crowds gather to hear him speak and watch in amazement as he works his miracles.  Jerusalem gave him a hero's welcome when he arrived only a few days before Passover. But like fair weather fans in many major league cities, their loyalty went only so far.

Jesus' fans found him to be an attractive personality and an engaging speaker. He had a way of confounding his opponents that delighted audiences. He spoke in a way that touched minds and hearts as no one else had. There was a growing conviction that this son of a day worker might be just what they needed to throw off the oppression of the Romans. 

But his fans were loyal only to a point. In Luke 4:22, for example, they marveled "at the words that came from his mouth." But when he proclaimed himself to be the Messiah and told the people the truth about themselves, they turned on him. Many found him "too much for them." They left Jesus and returned to their former way of life. In the end, after the hero's welcome in Jerusalem, the same crowds called for his death on the cross. 

Some of his fans got it, though. They, too, we're attracted by Jesus -- by what he said and did. And they didn't really understand his mission. But as they listened more closely and struggled to understand more intensely, when Jesus' gaze of love touched them at a deeper level, they left everything and followed him. Yes, most deserted him for a while in those dark days . . . But they returned and were rewarded not only with sight of him risen from the death but were blessed with the gift of the Holy Spirit.

We need to ask ourselves: "Are we fans or followers?" 

If we regard Jesus as an attractive leader who offered sound teaching and not much more, then we are still only fans. And we are fickle fans when we desert the faith and the Church (Christ's Body) when it is in crisis or when it's leadership makes an unpopular decision. Still more so if we simply pick and choose from among the Lord's teachings those that happen to suit us. 

Yet we become followers, disciple, when we listen to and embrace the Gospel: Christ is the testimony that God loves the world and will give anything to save it. That same Christ lives and is at our side every day to enlighten, to strengthen, and to set us free.

The spiritual life - hard and boring

Growing in the spiritual life is hard work. It is so much easier to find something else to do in place of the things that this undertaking requires. In a time when instant gratification or quick results are highly valued, the long, slow process of growth fails to impress those of us who have grown increasingly impatient.

Who among us finds that our year old computer or smart phone is suddenly inadequate to the task because it doesn't respond to our command instantaneously (as it once did). When we think about it, the things with which we have grown impatient used to take a very long time, even in our own experience -- we have just gotten used to more and more immediate results.

Regrettably, the growth process cannot be rushed. Just try tugging on a sapling to make it grow faster -- it just does't work. The reality is that growth is dull . . . and the work involved can sometimes be boring. There is always some overwhelming fatigue to be dealt with, always some excuse for not stretching our souls with new ideas and insights.

On the other hand, spiritual growth simply does not happen. The ground needs to be tilled, the seed planted, the seedling fertilized. But it all takes time.

QUIET! - The Swan Library

Every now and again, I treat myself to a bit of nostalgia, that sentimental yearning for a happier state of affairs in the past. Today's treat focuses on The Swan Library -- the public library located in my hometown of Albion. It used to be housed in an old house - a mansion by my humble standards -- with creaky wood floors, filled cheek-by-jowl with cases loaded with books categorized according to the Dewey Decimal System. The "reading room" was adjacent to the librarians desk and comprised what used to be the house's parlor and dining rooms, the separating wall having been removed.

I don't recall if there was a sign with the word QUIET! emblazoned above the librarian's desk, although there could be since that was the overwhelming memory of that place -- it's quietness even though the silence was often interrupted by the squeaking floors and people moved through. There was a distinction between silence (the absence of sound) and quiet (the state of being calm).

Silence and calm are clearly related. Without a modicum of silence it becomes difficult if not impossible to experience quiet or calm. That's where the nostalgia comes in.

In today's libraries, there is programming, not just reading, leading to activity and chatter. Readers, especially younger students, glean their texts while attached to headphones in turn attached to iPods (you can always hear what they are listening to). And computer stations for public use -- necessary and valuable -- but a constant source of distraction.

The experience of silence that leads to the experience of calm and then to quiet is missing in so much of our lives. It seems an insatiable need to be connected, with the latest news, information, and sports, to be entertained, or simply to chat/text leaves us with little real space for silence. And without that space, the quiet we need to hear and to heed the voice of the divine deep within us slowly disappears.

We live with what a kind of "noise pollution" that makes finding real silence a great burden. Many say that we do not have the time we need to think or to pray but actually what we lack is the quiet we need to go about our thinking. Until we can carve out a little bit of silence for ourselves, both outwardly and inwardly, we will find it increasingly difficult either to know God or ourselves very well.

Short of returning to the days of The Swan Library, each of us needs to disconnect, tune out, and turn off just a bit each day, so that the voice of the divine within us can manifest itself in the "still small voice," which is the voice of God.

What seed will you sow, today?

It looks simply like a bunch of fresh garden lettuce . . . but it is so much more.

This bunch of lettuce was delivered to Mother Hubbard's Cupboard (the food outreach ministry of the Jubilee Center at St. Mark's) by a kind woman who wanted to share some of the bounty of her garden with those who benefit from The Cupboard's work.

The back story is what is important though. This lettuce grew from seed planted by this generous woman in her backyard garden. The seed grew and grew and yielded a bountiful harvest, which now she wants to share with others. All because when she was down and out and didn't know where else to turn, St. Mark's was able to help her with food.

She was fed then, she said, not so much by the actual food packets she received but by the humaneness and generosity of spirit of the volunteers who care for her. Additionally, the volunteers who listened to her story were able to put her in touch with other service providers to help her with her many other needs at the time. Her visit with Mother Hubbard's Cupboard empowered her not only to get by but to move forward.

"He set another parable before them, saying, 'The Kingdom of Heaven is like a grain of mustard seed, which a man took, and sowed in his field; which indeed is smaller than all seeds. But when it is grown, it is greater than the herbs, and becomes a tree, so that the birds of the air come and lidge in its branches.'" (Matthew 13: 31-32)

A seed was planted and now we have the harvest. Not simply the seed of a lettuce plant but the seed of God's generous love has born its fruit in the generous self-giving of someone who once was without.

The Supreme Law . . .

When I studied canon law both in seminary and in graduate school, I was always intrigued by the section of the Code of Canon Law entitled “Sanctions” or more commonly, “Penalties.” What place did a list of penalties for “offenses” have within a community that professed the forgiving love of Christ?

Didn’t Christ die to forgive our sins? If God forgive so readily, shouldn’t we do as much? Why do we have to have a list of penalties?
Perhaps the answer lies in the underlying value of that section of the law. The principle is best summarized at the end of the 1917 Code of Canon Law in a phrase that ends the entire code: “salus animarum, suprema lex” – the supreme law is the salvation of souls. St. Paul understood this in his letter to the Romans: “So what are we going to say? That the Law is sin? Absolutely not! But I wouldn’t have known sin except through the Law.  (Rom 7:7, CEB)

Perhaps we have become a bit too permissive with the gracious forgiveness of God. Plenty for all – no sin too great etc. etc. etc. Perhaps it has led not so much to actual permissiveness but a willingness to accept an abdication of responsibility for our actions. After all, no rational being commits a truly evil act – or so we seem now to believe. There is a true distinction between right and wrong, between good and evil. This is the plain teaching of Scripture and, indeed , is the focus of Paul’s discourse in Romans. It is the law that teaches us this distinction. It draws the line over which we transgress, and when we transgress, it dictates the consequences for all to know. The trick is to learn about “the line” and to begin to understand when we have, in fact, crossed over.


The law, however, in any forum, is not to be applied indiscriminately. If the salvation of souls is indeed the supreme law, it is incumbent upon those who exercise authority to do everything in their power to bring individuals and communities into that spiritual maturity wherein the law no longer has great purpose. Penalties can never be seen as ends in and of themselves. They are serious tools that are meant to move us toward health (salus). They are never meant in the divine plan as a means to destroy. We need the law – not as a raison d’etre but as a means to learn the ways of God.  

This, in turn, should lead us to ask some fairly weighty questions about things like mandatory sentencing guidelines, treatment of minors as adults, capital punishment and the like. Mind you, I am simply saying we need to ask some questions -- and hash out some answers in light of the Gospel. 

With singleness of heart as thy servants and for the common good . . .

That it may please thee the inspire is, in our several callings, to do thy work which thou givest us to do with singleness of heart as thy servants, and for the common good  . . . (The Great Litany, BCP p. 151)

On November 5, 2009, a mass murder took place at For Hood, near Killeen, Texas. Nidal Malik Hasan, a U.S. Army major and psychiatrist, fatally shot 13 people and injured more than 30 others.

Since that dark November day, so many other acts of violence have plagued our land, Sandy Hook, the Navy Yard, school killings too numerous to mention here.

But the 2009 Fort Hood shootings have a particularly cruel irony: a man sworn to do no harm as a physician became a mass murderer.  I wonder if this doctor, whose calling went so terribly astray might himself have been saved – along with the many that were killed and maimed – if he had found the blessing of supportive and honest friends, who could have helped him see the truth, rather than the ideological fanatics by whom he was so deeply influenced, people who located all evil in their common enemy. How things might have been different if he had somehow gained a sense of himself as an individual, apart from this group and its expectations.  I wish that it had been so. I with a heart that passionate and devoted could have spent itself into old age, serving Allah in peace, with the education and skill that were God’s gracious gifts to him, instead of bringing premature death on innocent people through a murderous blaze of hatred and death.

So many of the other perpetrators are, after the fact, described as loners, as people who cut themselves off from others. These are at the extremes, but I wish that all of us had the support we need, the blunt honesty of a caring friend when we need it, the private space for the family and marital and personal intimacies we need. I pray for this, for you and for me. I work for it in my life, and hope that you will, too.  

The Rector's Easter Message

Many years ago, I was engaged in a program that taught catechists (Sunday school teachers) how best to understand how and what they taught their students. In the course of one class discussion, Tom, a middle-aged gentleman, lamented that catechism classes used to be simple. Students memorized the answers to various questions so that when queried by the bishop at their confirmation, they would know the accepted answer.  Familiar with this complaint, I asked the class of adults a simple question: “What is a sacrament?” They looked sheepish and puzzled wondering what answer would be acceptable to me, their mentor. Finally, I said to them, “C’mon! You know the answer . . . a sacrament is an outward sign instituted by Christ . . . .” They all smiled, breathed a sigh of relief, and felt vindicated in their complaint. But then, I asked another question, “All right, now what does that mean?”

Therein is the tough thing about Easter. When asked about Easter, we are eager to repeat what we may have learned: it is the day when we celebrate Christ’s rising from the dead.  Yet the challenge for us is always the next question, “But what does that mean?”

How would you describe the meaning of Easter to a group of young and eager faces? To questioning teens? To adults for which memorized answers no longer suffice?

I think we all approach Easter like the first disciples, in a spirit of confusion and near disbelief.  At first, those who were closest to Jesus failed to understand the meaning behind this glorious miracle. Only later, with the coming of the Spirit of Wisdom and Knowledge, the Spirit of Understanding and Fear of the Lord, did they begin truly to piece it all together.  So, too, we need to piece things together anew – to discover the power and impact of the Resurrection in our individual and communal lives all over again.

So . . . what does it mean for you to share in the risen life of our Savior? What did Christ’s triumph over sin and death do for us here and now? No complex theological answers allowed! Take some time this Eastertide to look at our lives and discover what is different about us because we have been redeemed “by the blood of the Lamb” and invited to share the life of the Risen One.

A tall order, this. For now, though, let us simply bask in the light and rest in the joy that comes to us because of Easter. Let us rejoice in the message that “He is risen. He is risen, indeed!” 

“Be not afraid, the one for whom you look is not here. He is risen and has gone ahead of you . . . “

Let us rise and go to find him with open and joyful hearts.

With every wish for a truly joyous Easter, I remain

David+

The Rev’d Dr. David Alan Zwifka

Rector

The best way out is always through

"The best way out is always through."
                                       -- Robert Frost

While the quote is Robert Frost, the focus is on Christ. Recall the garden of Gethsemane. "Father, if it be possible, let this cup pass from me." We can relate. A long, difficult road may lay before us -- a relationship that is breaking down -- a diagnosis of dementia in a loved one -- a terminal disease -- loss of a career because of "down-sizing". All of it is somehow connected with dread expressed by Jesus as he clearly saw his fate that Thursday evening so long ago.

We can pray earnestly with him, "Let this cup pass from me." Yet, our entreaties seem unanswered . . . or are they. 

Perhaps the answer isn't one we really want to here. We would prefer to hear, "OK. Forget about it," but it seldom if ever happens that way. Rather the dread deepens, the difficulties, struggles, and suffering become more poignant to the point when we think we, like Jesus, are sweating blood. Yet, even as the situation progresses, are prayers are being answered. 

"The best way out is always through."

If the cup of suffering had passed from Jesus, there would have been no resurrection, no definitive event to mark God's ultimate triumph over sin and death. 

"The best way out is always through."

Each time we face extraordinary difficulties, we are challenged in a way similar to Jesus in the garden. We are tempted to beg God to take away the difficulty, make it easier, lighter, or non-existent. But if our prayers were answered, we would not find out how strong we are in God's grace. We would not discover the spirit at work in the healing of our hearts. We would not discover the immense support of family and friends when time are hard. 

Jesus' dread was deep and complete. It was about giving up his life. He understands fully the suffering and dread of human beings. Confident of that understanding, we face our suffering knowing full well that we have an Advocate that is always near us to give us strength and lead us to peace. 

Hosanna! Son of David

Palm Sunday is quick upon us. In many churches worship begins with a retelling of the entrance of Jesus into the holy city of Jerusalem. In this “triumphal” procession he is acclaimed as the Son of David, a term that clearly means, King of the Jews.

The liturgy of the day, however, quickly turns its attention away from such effusive affirmations and toward the rather somber remembrance of the Lord’s passion and death. Was Jesus still a king? That’s a question only we can answer.

What kind of king are you looking for?

Traditionally, kings were seen as an embodiment of the people over which they ruled. Thus, an attack on the king was an attack on the people. In the Scriptural portrayal, this embodiment is a two way street: when the king turns from God, the people often pay the price, and, when the people turn from God, their king suffers.

In Jesus day, the title, Son of David, clearly aligned Jesus with the first dynastic king of Israel. David, the mythic king, was far from perfect but was always seen as favored of God. Thus, someone truly of David’s line, would bring prosperity and victory over oppressors. Perhaps this is the kind of king the folk of Jerusalem saw riding in on an ass. However, circumstances proved otherwise. Jesus was the king who suffered not because of his own wrongdoing but because of the waywardness of God’s people – a people who valued power and wealth and political freedom over matters of the heart and matters of true justice.

The year of Jubilee proclaimed by Jesus at the beginning of his ministry fell woefully short of its promise at the end. For all of his work and teaching, society remained much unchanged and, perhaps, even more recalcitrant than when he started. He proved not to be the king of “power and might” as was his father David, but the king of inward change . . . a king of hearts and minds.

What kind of king are you looking for?

Is the king we look for the one who will vindicate us or is the king we look for the servant king that accomplishes change by the sheer force of example? Is the king we search for one that will bring us prosperity or is this king a king of service and justice?

What kind of king are you looking for?

How shall we answer as our Holy Week begins?

Worship - A Life or Death Matter

As part of our Lenten program, I have the good fortune to host a Bible study series using the Morehouse “Embracing series”. This program features renowned Scripture scholar and preacher, Walter Bruggemann and focuses on the prophets and contemporary culture.

In the first segment, Bruggemann states that for the prophets, worship is a life or death matter. He observes that through the centuries, we have “narcoticized” our liturgies removing any sense of provocation.

“Life or death matter.” What would happen in our congregations if we actually treated our worship in that way. Not in the sense that every rubric must be followed precisely (although that’s not a bad idea) but that we begin to worship like there is something genuinely at stake. The way most Chrsitan churches worship today, observers may experience our worship and quickly conclude, “There’s nothing important going on here. We’ll just go through the motions one more time.”

To worship in this manner requires us to realize that we are as much enslaved to the culture in which we live as the Israelites were enslave to Pharaoh. What is at stake in our worship is the liberation of a people. God calls us to a continuing critique of our lives, the culture in which we live them, and our response to the transformative love of Christ.

“What difference does it make?” Is our worship like being on narcotics or, as Annie Dillard says, a true understanding of Christian worship would urge us to wear crash helmets!

Sometimes Life Just Sucks

. . . and we have to deal with it.  That may have been something the prophet Jeremiah said. Jeremiah truly had a hard time of it. 

Jeremiah, son of Hilkiah the priest, most likely had a fairly happy childhood. As part of a respected family, he probably experienced deference and a comfortable living. However, as he grew and came to experience a prophetic call, this life would become a fond memory, worth of nostalgic longing.  Perhaps, it was because he had this positive experience and lost it in the course of his faithful ministry, his lamentations over the decline and defeat of Israel became even more profound. His diatribes against the infidelity of Judah as they turned once again to the worship of idols are strong and clearly stinging indictments. In fact, they may seem at times to be downright vitriolic. This brought many of the naysayers among his listeners to plot against him and even to bring physical harm and maybe even death. Even his priestly kin were drawn in. And when God assures Jeremiah that he will be protected, God tells him in essence, "If you think it's bad now, just wait!"

When you’re feeling like Jeremiah, you might have the urge to lash out at someone, even if they had nothing to do with your feelings. Here are some ideas that might stop you from blowing up and help you get to a happier place.

• Get informed. Once you figure out what might be causing you to feel badly, you can do something about it. Many resources exist to help you find information on tons of different issues, including depression, family and relationships. Look for suggestions on how to manage your feelings and where you can get help.
• Talk to someone. Talking to someone you feel comfortable with, like a friend, teacher, parent or counselor, can be a great way of expressing your feelings. These people might also be able to help you identify why you are feeling bad and work out strategies for dealing with it.
• Chill out. Sometimes getting some space away from what is making you feel this way or a change of scenery can be helpful. This might include going for a walk or listening to your favorite music, reading a book, going to the movies, or whatever works for you.
• Express your feelings. Writing down your feelings or keeping a journal can be a great way of understanding your current emotions in a particular situation. It can also help you come up with alternative solutions to problems. Express your feelings in a way that won’t cause bodily damage to yourself or another person.  Try yelling or crying into a pillow, dancing around the room to loud music or punching a pillow. I often turn on some dramatic classical music and conduct the orchestra with all the might I can muster.
• Get creative. Find things to do to distract yourself from feeling bad and that get you thinking creatively. This can include drawing a picture, writing a poem, or playing a game. Even though you might not feel like it at first, even a little creativity might be enough to shift your mood.
• Take care of yourself. Feeling bad may be your body telling you it needs to take time out, and pushing yourself physically might just make things worse. Take time out to spoil yourself by doing something that you usually enjoy. Even though you might not feel like it, exercising and eating well can help. Getting plenty of sleep is important, too.
• Reconnect with God. More often than not, we find that these bad feelings can get overwhelming when we drift away from our relationship with God. As bad as things got for Jeremiah, his connection to God was the means by which he saw his way clear. 

I can't say with any confidence that any of these things would have made Jeremiah feel better about his plight. I can say that they have worked for me and have helped me overcome some very dark days.

The By-stander Effect

Faith Rowold recently reflected on a phenomenon that social psychologists describe as the "by-stander effect": the more people around a situation that requires action, the less likely anyone is to actually respond. Researchers seek reasons why this happens but it might be reduced to simply thinking that "someone else will do it."

Someone else will give the guy on the corner something to eat. Someone else will organize the yard sale for the parish. Someone else will visit the lonely looking lady that sits in the back pew.

But Scripture call us out by asking, "Why are you waiting to show mercy? Why are you waiting to lend a helping hand?

How often do we think that help will come from some other external source? When we do that, we forget the simple truth that we are literally the "body" of Christ: we are God's hands on earth. Only through us can God show others that they are loved by the God who loves us.

Christ has no body but yours,No hands, no feet on earth but yours,Yours are the eyes with which he looksCompassion on this world,Yours are the feet with which he walks to do good,Yours are the hands, with which he blesses all the world.Yours are the hands, yours are the feet,Yours are the eyes, you are his body.Christ has no body now but yours,No hands, no feet on earth but yours,Yours are the eyes with which he lookscompassion on this world.
Christ has no body now on earth but yours.
                               --Theresa of Avila

New Clothes

As God's chosen ones, holy and beloved, clothe yourselves with compassion, kindness, humility, meekness, and patience. (Colossians 3:12)

It is significant to note that every one of the graces here mentioned by St. Paul have to do with relationships between people. There is no mention of gifts like cleverness or diligence. Not that these are not also important in the Christian disciple's life, but the great values that govern a Christian's life are those that govern human relationships -- Christianity is first and foremost community. 

Compassion. If the ancient world needed anything, it was compassion. It is no wonder that this value was at the very heart of Jesus' teaching. In that world, the sufferings of animals meant nothing. The sick and maimed were pushed to the margin and sometimes even exiled. The feeble were treated poorly. 

Kindness. The word Paul uses here describes the kind if virtue practiced by an individual whose neighbors good was as important one's own. Call to mind the parable of "The Good Samaritan." It is the same word that Jesus used when he described his yoke as easy (Matthew 11:30). Too often goodness taken by itself can be a stern thing. But kindness is the kind of goodness that has been mellowed by compassion.

Humility. It has been said that humility was a virtue created by Christianity. In the ancient world, humility always had a touch of servility to it. To be humble was to recognize that one was "less than." In the gospel way, humility is not a cringing cowering thing. Rather, it is based on the awareness that human beings are creations of God, made in God's image and likeness. Secondly, it is based on the belief that all human beings are the children of God. There is no room for arrogance when we are living among men and women who share a bloodline that is shared with the Son of the Most High God.

Meekness. Aristotle taught that the person who possessed this virtue was the person who lived the happy mean between too much and too little anger. For Paul, this is the person who exercises an appropriate level of self-control: always angry at the right time and never angry at the wrong time, an individual who simultaneously exercises strength and the sweetness of true gentleness.

Finally, Patience. This is the spirit that sees foolishness and seeming unteachability and never reaches to cynicism or despair. Insults and ill treatment never drive it to bitterness or wrath. It is a human reflection of that divine quality that gives us the confidence that God is always ready to withstand our shortcomings and failings and offer forgiveness at every turn.

These are the garments of Christian grace at work in our lives. These are the clothes we put on at baptism and which, during this holy season of Lent, we seek to rediscover and renew.