I went to Milton today

I went to Milton today and met with a couple of parishioners.

Next week, and every week after that, I'll go on Wednesday to lead a Bible study group over brought from home lunch and talk with people afterwards.

I'm going to do a study called "Reading the Gospels Side-by-side", which I've done at OLLI at U. Conn./Waterbury several times.

It is challenging since it brings into question what people 'think' about the gospels.

I look forward to it.

They, as far as I've been able to tell, will be up for it.

We'll see.

There is smoke high up in the air from the forest fires on the West Coast. We really are all in the same world.

I'm beginning to look forward to vacation in late August.

I don't look forward to the drive, though we did it many times when we were younger.

But the time on the beach on Oak Island is worth that.

We are going to have serious work done on our house this summer and fall--the foundation needs work, Bern wants two bathrooms gutted, the upstairs and dining room painted, the carpet upstairs pulled up and Lord knows what done and a new deck.

Luckily we have wonderful credit and can get a loan and have a healthy savings account to dip into.

I'm hoping the carpet and painting can be done while we're in North Carolina because that would be a real disruption.

We'll see.

Bern and I aren't on the same page about some of it--but most of it.

 

Guess what I got?

There was a great couple who lived down the street and to the left of St. Paul's in New Haven.

They both worked at Yale and had a 5 year old son who had never been baptized.

They came to church--both birth Episcopalians--from time to time and I liked them a lot.

Then their parents were coming to visit and wondering why the little one hadn't been baptized. So they came to me and I talked to him for over half-an-hour and decided we could do it.

Both their parents were there for the service.

I baptized the boy and then he came to communion for the first time.

When  he started back to his seat he stopped people coming up and said, very loudly, "Guess what I got? I got the Body of Christ!"

After half-a-dozen remarks like that, one of his grandparents tried to hush him.

I stopped everything and said, "No, don't stop him. We should all go back to our seats telling people we got the Body of Christ."

For a couple of months I heard people whisper to each other on their way back from communion, "Guess what I got?"

I loved that.

We should all do it all the time.

Getting the Body of Christ is worth sharing with other....

 

 

Time

to share my first post again....

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 is 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.

 

 

Long day

Sunday is a long day for me.

Most days I don't get up until 9.

Sundays I have to be at Trinity, Milton, 35 or so minutes away by 9:30. So I set the alarm on my phone.

Tomorrow I have to get up early to go get a blood test.

Tuesday I have my zoom group at 9:45 and then I go to Milton to talk with whoever shows up--a couple of people said they would.

Wednesday, thankfully I can sleep in!

I can't remember when I started sleeping so late--but I'm glad I do. Many people my age have trouble sleeping, but not me.

And I have wondrous--if confusing--dreams, usually after I get up at 6:30 or so. At least that shows my age.

I haven't worked 10 hours a week for over a year. I was sending half my pay back during the pandemic.

So, I have to get used to two days a week of actually 'doing something'.

I hope I will.

I love that little church in Milton--though I wish there was more diversity there.

The three churches I served full-time weren't like that. St. James in Charleston, WV, was a black church. St. Paul's in New Haven had about 1/3 blacks. St. John's in Waterbury had a huge West Indian membership and so many Hispanics we had a Spanish priest to do their service.

Milton is, how can I say it?  White as white can be.

But I love them already though I'm not a month into being their priest.

When I took my 7 year job at the Middlesex Area Cluster Ministry--three little churches--the bishop asked me how it was.

"Bishop," I told him, "I'm not used to being around so many white people."

Each church had one Black person--but two of them were the church musicians!

I thank God every day that I had the experience of inter-racial worship.

 

 

My sermon for Sunday

 (If you go to Trinity, Milton, do not read this!!!)

JULY 18, 2021

          I want to begin with a digression into the Lectionary.

          If you turn to page 888 in the Book of Common Prayer, you will encounter the lectionary for the Eucharist. It’s a three year cycle: Year A, Year B and Year C.

          The years change on the first Sunday of Advent each year. We are in Year B. The lectionary should tell you what the lessons we should read for the 8^th Sunday of Pentecost—BUT THEY WON’T.

          The Lectionary has been revised since the Prayer book was printed, so the one in the Prayer Book is useless.

          Also, in the revision each year was given a Track 1 and a Track 2. You’ll notice on your reading insert that we are using Track 1. The only way to know for sure what the readings are in the go on line and look.

          The people who prepare the lectionary are Biblical Scholars. But sometimes I don’t know what they’re doing!

          One example of my being mystified is in today’s gospel. You’ll notice we read Mark 6 verses 30-34 and verses 53 to 56. What happened to verses 35-52?

          We’ll get to that in a moment.

          What I did read tells us of the apostles returning from the evangelical work Jesus gave them to do and telling Jesus, ‘all that they had done and taught’.

          He wants them to go to a deserted place to be all by themselves and rest for a little.

          But when they get to the deserted place it’s not ‘deserted’.

          People had seen them going and got there by land before they made it by boat—a great crowd of needy people.

          Jesus taught the crowds.

          Then we skip the verses and they are on a boat again. And when they land on a different shore people again rushed them. Jesus began to do great acts of healing.

          To Jesus—beset upon by crowds—the people were like ‘sheep without a shepherd’.

          All well and good but what does the lectionary omit?

          Just this: the feeding of the 5000 and Jesus walking on water to the disciples’ boat!!!

          I looked ahead in the lectionary and John’s story of the feeding of the 5000 comes up next week. So, I see why they left that part of Mark out. John’s story is much more detailed and nuanced.

          But the part about walking on water—why did you leave that out lectionary gurus?

          In Mark, feeding the multitudes left Jesus tired so he went away to a quiet place to pray and sent the disciples on ahead of him on the Sea of Galilee.

          But when he finished praying, he looked out and saw the disciples straining on the oars because the wind was pushing against the. So, he walks on the water to catch them.

          They are horrified, thinking he is a ghost. But Jesus tells them: “Take heart, it is I; do not be afraid.”

          He gets into the boat and the wind ceases and the disciples were utterly astounded.

          We need to hear that part of the story today of all days.

          We need to ‘walk on the waters’ of this world’s divisions and troubles.

          To go into the depths of this world’s waters we will be caught in the flotsam and jetsam of all the confusion and disagreement our nation is undergoing. We will be sucked down to the bottom of the sea of troubles and drown.

          What we need is God’s grace to walk above all that and to, as Jesus did, feel ‘compassion’ for all the lost and wandering sheep who do not know which way to turn, who are hungry for Truth they cannot hear and the bread to make them whole.

          When you come up today to take the Body and Blood of Jesus or to receive a blessing, pray that he will hold you above the flay and give you compassion and wisdom and hope and wonder and truth.

          Pray that he may give you the power to walk on the troubled waters of this world.

          Pray that.

          Amen and Shalom.

 

 

Well, let's take a minute

 Let's take a minute to see where we are--as individuals and as a nation and as the world.

CT is one of the most vaccinated states. I feel safe, though I still wear a mask in public places.

The rest of the country and the world are not so lucky.

This Virus is not gone, beloved!

Remember that.

Lots of sickness and death to come.

When it first started, the whole Covid-19 thing, I thought to myself, "maybe this will erase the human race from the earth".

Then things started to loosen up and I thought, "Maybe we're through it."

But now, with vaccine rates so down in Red states, I'm not sure what I think.

It has been the weirdest year and a half of my long life.

And it's not over.

Bern googled to find out vaccination rates in North Carolina, where we're going in August.

They are good--but Gov. Roy Cooper is a Democrat--so no surprise there!

How this pandemic has been politicized is the worse thing about it.

All Americans should be making sure all Americans are safe from the virus. But we aren't. And it's political.

Alas.

Exhaustion

Here's what the Pandemic has done to me:

    * I did church on zoom for almost a year

    *I only left my house to get groceries

    *Bern--until a few months ago was the only person I talked to most days

    *I still wear and mask in public places and will until I'm mandated not to

Today I went to Trinity Milton for three hours and spent the entire time talking to 2 people, 2 people and one person--and I was exhausted when I got home.

Sunday interactions don't last 3 hours.

I used to be--before Covid-19 came--talking to people all the time.

I had time to become unused to that.

So three hours of human interaction wore me out.

My strength will come back, I'm sure.

But tonight: I'm exhausted from talking.