Hope you're doing well.
We've been home now a month and it's not so bad.
But then, except for a couple of trips a week--to my group in Waterbury and to Church twice--I'm not out and about much.
Bern's women's group meets on Zoom a couple of times a week.
Neither of us were out in the world much before this started. I read a book a day before this--I read a book a day now. We used to go to the grocery store every day, now we go every three days or so. The Consignment Shop, that Bern frequented, is closed. I buy enough wine at a time to last 3 or 4 days, used to buy it almost daily.
Bern watches TV, I'm on line a lot.
But we were before the virus.
We've always talked to our neighbors at a distance and we still do.
So, we aren't as freaked out as some folks are by all this. Not so different as before.
I really feel for people who are at home with kids. The kids are the ones' whose routines have been smashed.
Bern talks to Eleanor or face time every day for an hour to give Tim and Mimi a break.
The Bradley girls in Baltimore told us on Zoom on Easter that they 'love' this. They do school work on line but also bake and cook and talk to their friends on line.
But I'm sure it's a very trying time for many, many people. Pray for them and reach out to the single people you know.
At least Bern and I can have social time with each other. I worry about those isolated and alone.
As a Buddhist would say, "this too shall pass". But the cost to some is enormous.
Wash your hands. Wear a mask when you go out. Shalom.
Tuesday, April 14, 2020
Monday, April 13, 2020
Easter Sermon
(Not the one I gave this year, just one I had from 2008)
EASTER
Dying
is an astonishing thing.
And,
as far as I know or can tell, the only living creatures on this planet who
“know” they are going to die are human beings, like you and me. My dog, God
bless him, has no idea he is going to die someday.
But
you do know, don’t you…I know you do…somewhere in the back of your mind…that
you’re going to die? You do know that, don’t you? Sooner or later, in one way
or another, you will say your last words, take your last breath and shuffle off
this mortal coil….
Just
like that….Here today, gone tomorrow.
Each
of us will, some day or another, ‘kick the bucket’, ‘buy the farm’, ‘pass
away’, ‘exit the stage’, die.
I’m
sixty years old—older than I ever imagined being, by the way—and it was just a
few months ago when I finally admitted to myself that I am mortal, that I will
die.
When
I turned onto exit 3 of Interstate 91, going to the Episcopal Church at Yale to
celebrate a Eucharist and realized that the rain back up on the Interstate was
black ice on the exit, I knew, in my heart, I was about to die. It was a moment
I will never forget. The car started sliding out of control as soon as I hit
the ice, and as I was spinning around in a 360 degree arc, I had two thoughts:
The
first thought was, much more calmly than I ever imagined it would be, simply
this: I AM ABOUT TO DIE.
The
second thought followed hard on the first one, because things were happening
very quickly…that thought was this: I’M ABOUT TO MESS UP CHRISTMAS FOR A LOT OF
PEOPLE THIS YEAR….
Obviously,
I didn’t die. And, beyond the two plates in my left arm that gave me some
impressive scars, I’m pretty much back to ‘normal’—though more people that you
might think have commented that what is ‘normal’ to me is up for grabs….
Herbert
Hoover, the only president we’ve ever had who was known for not ‘saying much’,
was stopped as he came out of church one Sunday by a reporter who asked, “Mr.
President, what did the preacher talk about today?”
Hoover said, simply,
“Sin.”
The
reporter asked what the preacher said about sin and the President replied,
“He’s agin’ it….”
That’s
what I have to say about dying. “I’m agin’ it.”
I’ve
lost some dear, lovely friends in the past year because they died. And “I’m
agin’ it.”
But
there it is, waiting for us somewhere down the road—death.
Jesus
died.
He
died a horrible death—suffocation is what killed people who were crucified. The
loss of blood and the nails and even the beating before that wasn’t what killed
him. He died because, hanging on a cross, his diaphragm could no longer push
air out of his lungs and he suffocated to death. Sometimes the executioners
would break the legs of those being crucified to make sure death would come
more quickly since the victim couldn’t hold himself up and make his diaphragm
work.
This
is obviously not the Easter Sermon you came to hear. I’ve said nothing cheery
yet.
But
there is this—after Jesus died…died as all of us will…--after that and after he
was sealed in a tomb, he simply wasn’t dead anymore. In an instant that must
have rocked the universe, he was alive again…and forever.
That’s
the Easter message: Life conquers Death.
That’s
what we should all carry in our hearts—today and always.
LIFE
CONQUERS DEATH.
No
matter what befalls us—life conquers death.
No
matter how dark the day is—life conquers death.
No
matter how things fall apart—life conquers death.
Now
and forever and forever—life conquers death.
That
is my Easter message: Life Conquers Death.
Alleluia,
he is risen! He is risen indeed, Alleluia.
Amen
and Amen.
Joyful
Easter to you all.
Sunday, April 12, 2020
Every once in a while
I like to re-post my first post, the one that started this off over a decade ago and 2600+ posts ago. Here it is.
Sitting under the Castor Oil Tree (March 7, 2009)
The character in the Bible I have always been drawn to in Jonah. I identify with his story. Like Jonah, I have experienced being taken where I didn't want to go by God and I've been disgruntled with the way things went. The belly of a big old fish isn't a pleasant means of travel either!
The story ends (in case you don't know it) with Jonah upset and complaining on a hillside over the city of Nineveh, which God has saved through Jonah. Jonah didn't want to go there to start with--hence the ride in the fish stomach--and predicted that God would save the city though it should have been destroyed for its wickedness. "You dragged me half way around the world," he tells God, "and didn't destroy the city....I knew it would turn out this way. I'm angry, so angry I could die!"
God causes a tree to grow to shade Jonah from the sun (scholars think it might have been a castor oil tree--the implications are astonishing!). Then God sends a worm to kill the tree. Well, that sets Jonah off! "How dare you kill my tree?" he challenges the creator. "I'm so angry I could die...."
God simply reminds him that he is upset at the death of a tree he didn't plant or nurture and yet he doesn't see the value of saving all the people of the great city Nineveh...along with their cattle and beasts.
And the story ends. No resolution. Jonah simply left to ponder all that. There's no sequel either--no "Jonah II" or "Jonah: the next chapter", nothing like that. It's just Jonah, sitting under the bare branches of the dead tree, pondering.
What I want to do is use this blog to do simply that, ponder about things. I've been an Episcopal priest for over 30 years. I'm approaching a time to retire and I've got a lot of pondering left to do--about God, about the church, about religion, about life and death and everything involved in that. Before the big fish swallowed me up and carried me to my own Nineva (ordination in the Episcopal Church) I had intended a vastly different life. I was going to write "The Great American Novel" for starters and get a Ph.D. in American Literature and disappear into some small liberal arts college, most likely in the Mid-Atlantic states and teach people like me--rural people, Appalachians and southerners, simple people, deep thinkers though slow talkers...lovely for all that--to love words and write words themselves.
God (I suppose, though I even ponder that...) had other ideas and I ended up spending the lion's share of my priesthood in the wilds of two cities in Connecticut (of all places) among tribes so foreign to me I scarcely understood their language and whose customs confounded me. And I found myself often among people (The Episcopal Cult) who made me anxious by their very being. Which is why I stuck to urban churches, I suppose--being a priest in Greenwich would have sent me into some form of shock...as I would have driven them to hypertension at the least.
I am one who 'ponders' quite a bit and hoped this might be a way to 'ponder in print' for anyone else who might be leaning in that direction to read.
Ever so often, someone calls my bluff when I go into my "I'm just a boy from the mountains of West Virginia" persona. And I know they're right. I've lived too long among the heathens of New England to be able to avoid absorbing some of their alien customs and ways of thinking. Plus, I've been involved in too much education to pretend to be a rube from the hills. But I do, from time to time, miss that boy who grew up in a part of the world as foreign as Albania to most people, where the lush and endless mountains pressed down so majestically that there were few places, where I lived, that were flat in an area wider than a football field. That boy knew secrets I am only beginning, having entered my sixth decade of the journey toward the Lover of Souls, to remember and cherish.
My maternal grandmother, who had as much influence on me as anyone I know, used to say--"Jimmy, don't get above your raisin'". I probably have done that, in more ways that I'm able to recognize, but I ponder that part of me--buried deeply below layer after layer of living (as the mountains were layer after layer of long-ago life).
Sometimes I get a fleeting glimpse of him, running madly into the woods that surrounded him on all sides, spending hours seeking paths through the deep tangles of forest, climbing upward, ever upward until he found a place to sit and look down on the little town where he lived--spread out like a toy village to him--so he could ponder, alone and undisturbed, for a while.
When I was in high school, I wrote a regular column for the school newspaper call "The Outsider". As I ponder my life, I realize that has been a constant: I've always felt just beyond the fringe wherever I was. I've watched much more than I've participated. And I've pondered many things.
So, what I've decided to do is sit here on the hillside for a while, beneath the ruins of the castor oil tree and ponder some more. And, if you wish, share my ponderings with you--whoever you are out there in cyber-Land.
Two caveates: I'm pretty much a Luddite when it comes to technology--probably smart enough to learn about it but never very interested, so this blog is an adventure for me. My friend Sandy is helping me so it shouldn't be too much of a mess. Secondly, I've realized writing this that there is no 'spell check' on the blog. Either I can get a dictionary or ask your forgiveness for my spelling. I'm a magna cum laude, Phi Beta Kappa ENGLISH major (WVU '69) who never could conquer spelling all the words I longed to write.
I suppose I'll just ask your tolerance.
Sunday, March 8, 2009
My first post
Sitting under the Castor Oil Tree (March 7, 2009)
The character in the Bible I have always been drawn to in Jonah. I identify with his story. Like Jonah, I have experienced being taken where I didn't want to go by God and I've been disgruntled with the way things went. The belly of a big old fish isn't a pleasant means of travel either!
The story ends (in case you don't know it) with Jonah upset and complaining on a hillside over the city of Nineveh, which God has saved through Jonah. Jonah didn't want to go there to start with--hence the ride in the fish stomach--and predicted that God would save the city though it should have been destroyed for its wickedness. "You dragged me half way around the world," he tells God, "and didn't destroy the city....I knew it would turn out this way. I'm angry, so angry I could die!"
God causes a tree to grow to shade Jonah from the sun (scholars think it might have been a castor oil tree--the implications are astonishing!). Then God sends a worm to kill the tree. Well, that sets Jonah off! "How dare you kill my tree?" he challenges the creator. "I'm so angry I could die...."
God simply reminds him that he is upset at the death of a tree he didn't plant or nurture and yet he doesn't see the value of saving all the people of the great city Nineveh...along with their cattle and beasts.
And the story ends. No resolution. Jonah simply left to ponder all that. There's no sequel either--no "Jonah II" or "Jonah: the next chapter", nothing like that. It's just Jonah, sitting under the bare branches of the dead tree, pondering.
What I want to do is use this blog to do simply that, ponder about things. I've been an Episcopal priest for over 30 years. I'm approaching a time to retire and I've got a lot of pondering left to do--about God, about the church, about religion, about life and death and everything involved in that. Before the big fish swallowed me up and carried me to my own Nineva (ordination in the Episcopal Church) I had intended a vastly different life. I was going to write "The Great American Novel" for starters and get a Ph.D. in American Literature and disappear into some small liberal arts college, most likely in the Mid-Atlantic states and teach people like me--rural people, Appalachians and southerners, simple people, deep thinkers though slow talkers...lovely for all that--to love words and write words themselves.
God (I suppose, though I even ponder that...) had other ideas and I ended up spending the lion's share of my priesthood in the wilds of two cities in Connecticut (of all places) among tribes so foreign to me I scarcely understood their language and whose customs confounded me. And I found myself often among people (The Episcopal Cult) who made me anxious by their very being. Which is why I stuck to urban churches, I suppose--being a priest in Greenwich would have sent me into some form of shock...as I would have driven them to hypertension at the least.
I am one who 'ponders' quite a bit and hoped this might be a way to 'ponder in print' for anyone else who might be leaning in that direction to read.
Ever so often, someone calls my bluff when I go into my "I'm just a boy from the mountains of West Virginia" persona. And I know they're right. I've lived too long among the heathens of New England to be able to avoid absorbing some of their alien customs and ways of thinking. Plus, I've been involved in too much education to pretend to be a rube from the hills. But I do, from time to time, miss that boy who grew up in a part of the world as foreign as Albania to most people, where the lush and endless mountains pressed down so majestically that there were few places, where I lived, that were flat in an area wider than a football field. That boy knew secrets I am only beginning, having entered my sixth decade of the journey toward the Lover of Souls, to remember and cherish.
My maternal grandmother, who had as much influence on me as anyone I know, used to say--"Jimmy, don't get above your raisin'". I probably have done that, in more ways that I'm able to recognize, but I ponder that part of me--buried deeply below layer after layer of living (as the mountains were layer after layer of long-ago life).
Sometimes I get a fleeting glimpse of him, running madly into the woods that surrounded him on all sides, spending hours seeking paths through the deep tangles of forest, climbing upward, ever upward until he found a place to sit and look down on the little town where he lived--spread out like a toy village to him--so he could ponder, alone and undisturbed, for a while.
When I was in high school, I wrote a regular column for the school newspaper call "The Outsider". As I ponder my life, I realize that has been a constant: I've always felt just beyond the fringe wherever I was. I've watched much more than I've participated. And I've pondered many things.
So, what I've decided to do is sit here on the hillside for a while, beneath the ruins of the castor oil tree and ponder some more. And, if you wish, share my ponderings with you--whoever you are out there in cyber-Land.
Two caveates: I'm pretty much a Luddite when it comes to technology--probably smart enough to learn about it but never very interested, so this blog is an adventure for me. My friend Sandy is helping me so it shouldn't be too much of a mess. Secondly, I've realized writing this that there is no 'spell check' on the blog. Either I can get a dictionary or ask your forgiveness for my spelling. I'm a magna cum laude, Phi Beta Kappa ENGLISH major (WVU '69) who never could conquer spelling all the words I longed to write.
I suppose I'll just ask your tolerance.
Alleluia, He is Risen!
Virtual church is a lot better than no church at all on the highest Hoy Day of the year.
We were on both Zoom and Facebook live and had well over 100 viewers. It went great. That's from 3 little churches that average, between them, less than 70 a Sunday. We'll do it again next week (called 'low Sunday' in the Episcopal Church because so many folks are apparently exhausted by Easter and take a week off) then decide whether to be totally virtual or go back to streaming from one of the churches.
We also zoomed with our family: Josh and Mimi, our children, Cathy and Tim, our children's spouses, and our granddaughters--Eleanor, Tegan, Emma and Morgan.
Josh, who is a partner in one of the largest law firms in Baltimore, gave himself a mohawk hair cut and grew a beard. He wondered why his bead was gray. My beard turned gray many years before my hair. I colored it for several years then though, 'what the hell?' and let it grow in. People would look at me and say, "are you feeling alright?" having no idea why I looked different.
It wasn't like being with them for dinner--but it was fun and lively and full of laughter.
I swore off being political for Holy Week, but that's over!
A President's rating go up in a crisis. Bush 2 was over 70% after 9/ll as was Obama during his virus outbreak. The current president who will not be named here, is still short of 50%, though it is his highest approval ratings ever.
This administration has so mangled the response to this virus that we are in much worse of a mess than we could have been. Lack of supplies, lack of tests, delays in isolating us, not making 'staying at home' a national order rather than leaving it up the the governors--all in all a disaster.
Now he wants to reopen for business on May 1. Give us all a break! I'm waiting until our Governor, Ned Lamont, tells us it's ok.
Reports today said that the president suggested 'doing nothing' and letting us build up a 'herd immunity' until the people that really 'know stuff'' told him millions would die and talked him back from that plan.
Thank God that they were there to save us.
The president never would.
Go, Biden!
He is Risen indeed, Alleluia!
Happy wield Easter.
We were on both Zoom and Facebook live and had well over 100 viewers. It went great. That's from 3 little churches that average, between them, less than 70 a Sunday. We'll do it again next week (called 'low Sunday' in the Episcopal Church because so many folks are apparently exhausted by Easter and take a week off) then decide whether to be totally virtual or go back to streaming from one of the churches.
We also zoomed with our family: Josh and Mimi, our children, Cathy and Tim, our children's spouses, and our granddaughters--Eleanor, Tegan, Emma and Morgan.
Josh, who is a partner in one of the largest law firms in Baltimore, gave himself a mohawk hair cut and grew a beard. He wondered why his bead was gray. My beard turned gray many years before my hair. I colored it for several years then though, 'what the hell?' and let it grow in. People would look at me and say, "are you feeling alright?" having no idea why I looked different.
It wasn't like being with them for dinner--but it was fun and lively and full of laughter.
I swore off being political for Holy Week, but that's over!
A President's rating go up in a crisis. Bush 2 was over 70% after 9/ll as was Obama during his virus outbreak. The current president who will not be named here, is still short of 50%, though it is his highest approval ratings ever.
This administration has so mangled the response to this virus that we are in much worse of a mess than we could have been. Lack of supplies, lack of tests, delays in isolating us, not making 'staying at home' a national order rather than leaving it up the the governors--all in all a disaster.
Now he wants to reopen for business on May 1. Give us all a break! I'm waiting until our Governor, Ned Lamont, tells us it's ok.
Reports today said that the president suggested 'doing nothing' and letting us build up a 'herd immunity' until the people that really 'know stuff'' told him millions would die and talked him back from that plan.
Thank God that they were there to save us.
The president never would.
Go, Biden!
He is Risen indeed, Alleluia!
Happy wield Easter.
Saturday, April 11, 2020
Wierdness continues
Tomorrow is Easter.
I don't know when I didn't go to a church on Easter. I'm sure there was a year or two, but I can't, for the life of me remember when.
We're doing a zoom/face book Easter service because one of the members of the Cluster churches, Ted, knows how to do it.
Very odd. But better than nothing. I'll get to see faces I haven't seen for a month and get to tell them how much I miss them and love them.
We'll have organ music and a solo and I'll bless bread and wine for anyone who has it before their screens or phones. Who knows if it will be 'consecrated'? But it will be a virtual sharing of bread and wine.
We have a zoom call set up with our children and their spouses and children for 3 tomorrow.
Mimi texted Bern that she's didn't remember an Easter when she wasn't here. I'm sure there have been a few, but like me and church, Mimi can't remember.
Easter is about Resurrection, which we all need in these Covid-19 days.
We need to know we can be full of life though cut off from the world in a way we've never known before. We need to know we can be safe and be 'alive' at the same time.
The on screen service tomorrow will begin with the affirmation, "Alleluia, Christ is Risen" and the response, "The Lord is risen indeed, Alleluia."
Say that when you wake up on Easter.
Say it and know Life conquers Death and courage conquers fear, and safety conquers danger.
We are risen too, tomorrow.
Truly. Truly.
I don't know when I didn't go to a church on Easter. I'm sure there was a year or two, but I can't, for the life of me remember when.
We're doing a zoom/face book Easter service because one of the members of the Cluster churches, Ted, knows how to do it.
Very odd. But better than nothing. I'll get to see faces I haven't seen for a month and get to tell them how much I miss them and love them.
We'll have organ music and a solo and I'll bless bread and wine for anyone who has it before their screens or phones. Who knows if it will be 'consecrated'? But it will be a virtual sharing of bread and wine.
We have a zoom call set up with our children and their spouses and children for 3 tomorrow.
Mimi texted Bern that she's didn't remember an Easter when she wasn't here. I'm sure there have been a few, but like me and church, Mimi can't remember.
Easter is about Resurrection, which we all need in these Covid-19 days.
We need to know we can be full of life though cut off from the world in a way we've never known before. We need to know we can be safe and be 'alive' at the same time.
The on screen service tomorrow will begin with the affirmation, "Alleluia, Christ is Risen" and the response, "The Lord is risen indeed, Alleluia."
Say that when you wake up on Easter.
Say it and know Life conquers Death and courage conquers fear, and safety conquers danger.
We are risen too, tomorrow.
Truly. Truly.
Friday, April 10, 2020
Holy Saturday
Read Matthew's gospel 27.57-66
Holy Saturday is the most solemn day of the year.'
It is as if the church is dead and in the tomb with Jesus.
Holy Eucharist cannot be celebrated and the bread and wine consecrated on Maundy Thursday must be totally consumed.. Not even reserved sacrament can be shared this day.
The liturgy for the day is contained on page 283 of the Book of Common Prayer. One page only.
And instead of the Prayers of the People we say the Anthem "In the midst of life", which is part of the Burial Office.
No blessing is given by the priest on this day.
Liturgically it is a day of solemnity and silence.
It is a day to 'be still and know.' that tomorrow will be a very different day....
Holy Saturday is the most solemn day of the year.'
It is as if the church is dead and in the tomb with Jesus.
Holy Eucharist cannot be celebrated and the bread and wine consecrated on Maundy Thursday must be totally consumed.. Not even reserved sacrament can be shared this day.
The liturgy for the day is contained on page 283 of the Book of Common Prayer. One page only.
And instead of the Prayers of the People we say the Anthem "In the midst of life", which is part of the Burial Office.
No blessing is given by the priest on this day.
Liturgically it is a day of solemnity and silence.
It is a day to 'be still and know.' that tomorrow will be a very different day....
Thursday, April 9, 2020
Another gift of the virus
I got an email and then a call from M and V M--people I haven't seen for over 30 years.
They live in New Orleans and M survived Covid 19 and is fine. V is fine too, so far as they know in that epi-center of disease, not infected.
They are still staunch Episcopalians, as they were when I was their parish priest so many years ago.
M is on the vestry of his church and at least 7 members have died from the virus.
Mimi was older than their daughter but played with her a lot.
They had a son after they left CT and he lives in New Orleans with a child and wife. There daughter lives in Richmond with her husband, son and daughter.
What a hoot to hear from them!
Another gift of the virus, to hear from people from long ago....
They live in New Orleans and M survived Covid 19 and is fine. V is fine too, so far as they know in that epi-center of disease, not infected.
They are still staunch Episcopalians, as they were when I was their parish priest so many years ago.
M is on the vestry of his church and at least 7 members have died from the virus.
Mimi was older than their daughter but played with her a lot.
They had a son after they left CT and he lives in New Orleans with a child and wife. There daughter lives in Richmond with her husband, son and daughter.
What a hoot to hear from them!
Another gift of the virus, to hear from people from long ago....
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