What I won't miss....

I spent a couple of hours today out on the back steps and in the church trying to think of what I won't miss when I leave St. John's.

I came up with almost nothing.

I think I won't miss messing with the diocese and bishops so much--but that's just me and my resentment of authority.

I think I won't miss the stuff about taking care of the buildings--but I don't do that anyway, other people handle that stuff.

I think I won't miss the requests I get to do something or the other because I'm Rector of the big down-town church. But since I ignore most of that anyway, how can I 'not miss it' too much?

Truth is there is nothing much I 'won't miss' about being Rector of St. John's. Almost everything about being Rector of St. John's is stuff I will miss and miss desperately.

So, 'poor me', I guess. I am going to miss all this...all this...so damn much....

If you ever think "you know"--stop it...

You never know. That's my mantra and one that serves me well as the Rector of a remarkably diverse, outreach driven urban parish. You just never know.

A local choral group is singing as a benefit for the Soup Kitchen/Food Closet housed at St. John's. The director of the Soup Kitchen was inviting volunteers to consider coming and one of them, a woman who is probably late 40's early 50's (I hope I'm not too far off) who is a nursing student and volunteers several days a week told the director she's be glad to come and sing.

Barbara had to explain it was a concert that had singers but the woman did a little bit of a spiritual hymn for her so Barbara came to find me. It turns out this woman once was a vocalist for Count Basie's band. She did the first verse of "Swing Low" out in the hall of the church office and it made the hair stand up on the back of my neck.

"What do you do on Sunday morning?" I asked her.

"I go to church," she told me.

"How about coming here?" I responded.

I hadn't known she was working on a nursing degree and I certainly had no idea she could sing like an angel.

Most of the people I run into around here have something that shocks and surprises and delights me to share--and I never imagine that.

You just never know what's all around you, especially in a place like this....

there is a God...

At the 8 am eucharist last sunday, the day of beginning daylight savings time ("Spring forward, Fall back" I had to tell myself a dozen times or more before changing my alarm clock) I was very tired. I'd stayed up until 12:15 a.m. or so watching West Virginia University defeat Georgetown University for the Big East title (Go Mountaineers!!!) When I started to bed I realized it wasn't under 'spring forward' rules 12:15 a.m. at all--it was 1:15 a.m.

(Actually, according to the way we do it, you are supposed to wake up at 2 am and move your clock ahead to 3 am since that is 'really' when DST starts. Does anyone in the universe do that? I think not.)

So, I went to bed at what passed as 1:15 (time being relative, after all) and got up at 6:25. I normally sleep at least 8 hours and more often 9 hours. I love to sleep, perchance to dream, and I do have lots and lots of dreams--many of which these days are 'anxiety' dreams since my life is going to change so radically in a month and a half. But, never mind, I love to sleep. I went through decades of not sleeping well and now I do. I can sometimes, on a Friday, not wake up until 10 am or so. God bless me.

So 5 hours of sleep is not enough, not enough, Great God Almighty, not enough. I was a mess at the 8 am service and just as I was breaking the bread I realized I had to go to the bathroom in the worst way. (Harriet told me never to share this, but I must because I have so few boundaries....)

So I told Fred to distribute the bread and then do the laying on of hands and Bob would do the wine and I'd be back as quickly as possible.

I rushed to the little bathroom off the vesting room, trying to free myself from robes and chasubles and all the accoutrement's of priesthood before I soiled myself.

And that was when I was given a 'proof' of the existence of God....A voice said to me, "TURN OFF YOUR MICROPHONE", and I did, sparing the folks receiving the sacrament from the sounds of my relieving myself of all my burdens.

God, I believe, told me to do that.

So, there is a God, in case you were wondering....God bless God.....

church like it isn't most places

A couple of Tuesdays ago, St. John's shopping cart lady, who has been semi-adopted and mostly tamed by a couple in the church, happened in to our clericus Eucharist in the chapel. She called my "Jimmy Baby" and gave me a pineapple hard candy.

I told her we were having church and she could stay if she wanted. She did and did most of the responses of the people. We pass the elements at that small service, so I passed the plate with wafers to her, said, 'The Body of Christ" and told her to pass it on to David. Well, instead, she decided to carry the paten around the room. When she got to one priest, not used to such on the spot liturgical innovation, she said "Go on, Take one...."

I've decided the next revision of the Eucharist should change the words of distribution to:
Priest: "Go on, take one...."
Communicate: "Thank you, I will...."

Church like this happens at St. John's all the time. I'm not sure it happens in 99.5% of other Episcopal Churches. I wish it did, but I doubt it, woe be unto the church at large....

Go on, take one...taste and see how sweet the Lord can be....

Looking at the Close

"Close" is one of those over fancy Episcopal words for which there are much more simple and understandable words. The "Close" is the 'yard' or 'courtyard' of the church. It is an expansive area en'closed' by a fence and the buildings--hence the term 'close' from 'enclosure'.

Hundreds and hundreds of people walk across it daily, so it is not pristine. There is a labyrinth we build 5 years ago or so which is assaulted by crab grass each year. There is a walk way around it that is quite old and though beautiful, it is made up of large slates that are not conducive to wheelchairs or, really, walking without tripping. And the drainage is terrible in the Close so there are water puddles when it rains that are really lovely, with concentric circles colliding and disappearing from the drops of rain. So, there are charming parts to the Close--not the least of which are the creatures I watch there.

Lots of squirrels, crows, pigeons, starlings, other birds and the occasional seagull some 15 miles, as the gull flies, to the sea. I enjoy watching them do whatever such creatures do. Do you ever, like me, wish you could be inside an animal for a short time--like how long it takes a squirrel run across the Close or a crow soaring up and away from a tree in the Close?

Not for long, of course. I don't want to be my dog or cat or parakeets for long either--but just a few moments.

I haven't seen the urban hawk that visits the Close for quite a while. I hope nothing happened to him 0ver the winter. He could land in a tree and clear the dozen squirrels, flock of crows, 25 other birds out of the area in about 35 seconds.

I'd like to be inside a hawk for more than a few moments, 'cept I might loose myself and just stay, scattering the lesser beings, high in a tree, ruling the roost and the ground, really soaring, with such inexplicable eyesight and such power....I might want to be a hawk for a long time....

"I know I told you this...but...."

An old friend who used to go to the parish I served in New Haven some 25 years ago showed up at the Eucharist on Sunday and after the service said "I remember what you said about 'the burning bush'...."

I was horrified! I'd said the same thing I'd said a quarter century ago about a passage from Exodus!!! Good grief, is there nothing new under the sun?

Truth is, I never look back at old sermons and since we're on a 3 year cycle of readings, most every reading has shown up for me 10 times by now. So, after I got over the shock of repeating myself, I realized there is a finite number of things to say about biblical passages, unless you are really crazy and start making things up.

So, maybe my friend just remembered me mentioning the 'burning bush'--and why wouldn't I mention it since it was in the readings--or else I said it before, what I said yesterday. Who knows?

My wife is always telling me I told her something before already. About 2/3 of the time I suppose I acknowledge she is right. But 1/3 of the time, I know I haven't. KNOW IT, know what I mean? But maybe she's right and I am like a stuck record or an audio tape on an endless loop. Who knows?

The Truth, as I see it, is this--there aren't an infinite number of things to say in sermons about most everything about the tradition and scripture and message of the Christian Faith. There just aren't.

A friend of mine, when he retired, was asked what he had preached about most. "Hope", he said. For me it would be "Love", but Hope would be in there, along with Listening and Imagining and Caring and taking a Journey and something about Strangers.

A dear friend says that there are really only two plots to all of literature (I've probably told you this before...why not?) and those two plots are these:
*a Stranger comes to Town; and
*Someone leaves on a Journey.

She's not too far from wrong.

So, if my friend remembers a sermon 25 years ago about The Burning Bush, I should thank God that she remembers. It is the images and metaphors and symbols of faith that give the meat to the bone, the fruit to the tree, the context to life, the ways of seeing what we should be seeing through the fog of living.

So, I repeat myself. Repetition might be the way to learn and remember the richness and wonder of God's sacred story. Just maybe. At least something to ponder....

Did I tell you about the bush that burned and spoke to Moses lately? Here's how that story goes and what it means to us......

all the porn that fits, we print

Did you ever watch a porn movie? Be honest now...you don't have to tell me but admit it to yourselves.

I've often been in hotels by myself at conferences and such and when you turn on the TV one of the options is "Adult Films"--well, we all know that doesn't mean something so intellectual only college graduates would be interested in it. It means body parts and lots of them, in close-up with no plot to slow things down.

And porn is, if nothing else, 'soulless', brutal instead of romantic. The most lovely and erotic scenes I've ever seen on film usually have both people involved fully clothed. The 'old hollywood' practice of going to black when Doris Day and her co-star were kissing and moving toward the bed was much more romantic and erotic than modern films and in a different universe than porn.

I'm not as big an expert on porn as I might seem, at this point--but I have spent a LOT of nights in hotels alone....

Here's what I'm writing about: the back page of the NEW YORK TIMES Book Review this week has a full page ad for porn. It is framed very nicely as a way for people of all ages to improve their sex life with their life companion. It is presented as "demonstrating' sexual technique that might spice up your relationship. And the photo, which takes up a third of the page, is of a couple you would not quite imagine as the stars of porn movies. But they are both attractive, if a little older than you would expect, and their pose is suggestive enough.

Here's part of the text: "You'll see explicit demonstrations of imaginative sensual foeplay and lovemaking...new positions to try...experimenting with 'forbidden' fun...secrets of the Karma Sutra...."

I don't know about you, but the "erotic fantasy" mentioned later in the ad, sounds a lot to me like dressing up as a French Maid or a nurse in half-unbuttoned uniform or a cheerleader...something like that.

I am not a prude--God knows (and so do you) I'm not a prude. And I don't think there should be any limits on porn when the actors are of age and consenting. I don't even think badly of people who like to watch pornography....(you spend a lot of nights alone in hotel rooms and see....).

My problem is that this ad is on the back of the NEW YORK TIMES Book Review! Great God Almighty, is there not a shred of journalistic standards left? The Gray Lady with an ad for the two bonus DVDs called "Oral Loving" and "Art of Sexual Positions". When is enough enough?

And the Book Review section....that's the unkindest cut of all. Is nothing sacred?

(By the way, once your outrage is over, you can get all 6 DVD for only $29.90 plus six dollars shipping and 'handling'....get it....handling?)

Hey, it's your life--but I am disappointed in the New York Times. A little....