Monday, October 11, 2021

Sermon for Deven

(A sermon I preached for Deven's installation)

 

D’s Sermon

 

 

          A hot air balloonist set off one fine May day from just outside London. He expected a calm trip but a sudden storm blew in off the English Channel that took him north for over an hour. When his balloon was deflated, he found himself suspended in a tree beside a small Anglican Church. Looking down from his precarious perch, he saw the Vicar leaving the church and heading for the Vicarage.

          “Father, Father,” the balloonist called out, ready to dial his cell phone and tell his friends where to pick him up, “Father, can you tell me where I am?”

          The priest looked up and smiled, “Yes, my son,” he said, “you’re stuck in a tree.”

          “Just like a priest,” the man muttered to himself, “what they say is often TRUE but it is seldom helpful….”

                                                ****

          It is my hope that this sermon will be more “True” than “helpful”. And it is my sincere and devout prayer that Deven’s ministry in your midst will be like that as well—more TRUE than HELPFUL.

                                                ****

          Another story.

          A group of wealthy Americans are on a safari in Africa. Things are going well except that the natives who are carrying much of the equipment stop every hour or so and sit quietly on the ground for 15 minutes.

          Finally, one of the Americans goes to the head guide and says, “look, we’re paying you a great deal for this safari, yet your workers stop too often and rest too long. What do they think they are doing?”

          The head guide, being as polite as possible, tells the impatient American this: “Our tribe believes that if you move too quickly you will outrun your soul. So we must sit on a regular basis and let our souls catch up.”

          Well, the rich American is outraged. “That’s the craziest thing I’ve ever heard,” he says.

          The head guide nods, “Of course you think that, having long ago left your soul far, far behind. But our souls hover near and we will wait for them to join us again.”

                                                ***

          It is humbling to be with you this morning. I thank you for your hospitality. I thank Bishop McKelvy for allowing me to preach in his diocese. There will be some heresy spoken today, Bishop, but not so much or not of any ilk that you will have to report back to Bishop Smith in Connecticut. That is my hope.

          Mostly, I thank Deven, your new Rector, for the privilege and honor of “coming north” to celebrate with her and with all of you about this new ministry you have begun. I’ve known Deven longer than either of us wants to admit. She has been an important part of my life and my ministry. And it is with unspeakable joy and not a little trepidation, that I bring to all of you, this morning, the “good news” about this relationship between a Rector and a Parish.

          I’ve been a parish priest since 1975. I have served three of the most remarkable congregations in this church—the present one, St. John’s on the Green in Waterbury for 16 years. So, I’m not just a guy you met at a bar when it comes to parish priesthood. I do know what I’m talking about. I only pray that God will give me the grace and the words to speak to your hearts and your souls about this “love affair” you and Deven have begun.

 

          Two things, I hope, she will bring to you as precious gifts and you will accept them in that spirit are these:

          I hope she will give you Truth rather than Helpfulness. And, I hope she will make you stop in the midst of your shared ministry and shared lives—as often as necessary…and it may be very often indeed—to let your souls catch up with you.

          You see—from one who’s not a guy at a bar—the parish church exists for this and this only: TO FIND AND BE FOUND BY GOD.

          That’s all you are here for, that’s all your common life is about. Finding and being found by God is the only reason this church exists. Everything else you do emerges from seeking and being sought by God. So, lean into Truth and make sure you don’t outrun your souls.

                                                ***

          A third story, this one told by John Mortimer in his memoir.

It goes like this:

       A man with a bristling grey beard came and sat next to me at lunch. He had very pale blue eyes and an aggressive way of speaking.

       He began, at once and without any preliminary introductions, to talk about yachting in the North Sea.

       “But isn’t it very dangerous, your sport of yachting?” I asked.

       “Not dangerous at all, provided you don’t learn to swim. I made up my mind when I bought my first boat, never to learn to swim.”

       “Why was that?” I asked.

       He told me, “when you’re in a spot of trouble, if you can swim you strike out for the shore. Invariably you drown swimming for safety. As I can’t swim, I cling to the wreckage and they send a helicopter out for me. That’s my tip, if you ever find yourself in trouble, cling to the wreckage.”

          I want to suggest to you that there are many worse metaphors for the parish ministry of your Rector and for the parish life of this congregation than “clinging to the wreckage”.

          I want to suggest to Deven that her most vital and important role in your midst, as your priest, is to be about her own “soul work”. And “soul work” it seems to me at least, has a lot to do with clinging to the wreckage of life until it becomes, literally, a “life preserver.” It is the wreckage that will save your soul.

          And I want—just like a suggestion—to suggest to you, to this parish community, that “clinging to the wreckage” is an apt paradigm for your life together as the Body of Christ. The wreckage of your individual lives will lead you to new life and the wreckage of your common life together will sustain you and support you and give you, in the end, a wholeness and salvation you could not imagine.

 

          Finally, here at the end, I want to turn to scripture.

          In John’s Gospel this morning, Jesus says to his friends, “abide in my love.”

          Back where I grew up, in the mountains of Southern West Virginia, people actually used the word “abide”. They didn’t pronounce it that way, but if you were walking down the street in front of their house and they were on the front porch in rocking chairs and a swing, they would say to you, “Come on up and bide a spell.”

          “Biding a spell” meant simply this: just sit here and “be” with us.

          “Abiding” is a passive verb—it implies nothing more and nothing less that simply “being there”.

          What I want to suggest to you—to Deven, of course, but to all of you as well and as passionately—is that you have entered into a “love affair” with each other and what you need to do…most need to do…always need to do is this and this only: “Abide” in each other’s love.

          There is much to “do” and many “tasks” and lots of “committees” and a multitude of “works”. All that will take care of itself if you simply “abide” in your love of each other and God’s unbridled love for you.

          Some advice for the journey:

                    Long more for Truth than helpfulness,

                   Stop often and wait for your souls to catch up;

                   Cling to the wreckage together;

                   Abide in love; and

                   Seek always to find and be found by God.

          There is nothing else. That is all there is. May your life together in ministry be filled chocked full of Truth and Waiting and Clinging and Abiding and Seeking.

          That is enough. That is more than enough

Sunday, October 10, 2021

A Sunday without church

 As a 'Priest-in-charge', I'm only supposed to serve on three Sundays a month. So, since October has 5 Sundays, I was off today and will be again on the 31st.

A Sunday without church is like a day without chocolate.

I don't go to church unless I'm preaching or celebrating.

I often say, "If I'm not 'doing it', I probably won't go to church."

And that's true.

But a Sunday without church is disconcerting.

It's like I don't know what day it is.

I sleep in, as I often do, and wonder where I'm supposed to be.

I look at my calendar to remember it's a Sunday without church.

I wander around all day since 'church' takes up my mornings on Sunday.

I like a day off.

But it's odd and strange.

I've been doing this for 40 years--more than half my life.

So, a Sunday without church throws me off badly.


Saturday, October 9, 2021

I burnt the hell out of my hand!

I fixed marvelous swordfish steak for dinner.

I seared it on both sides after rinsing and patting it dry, adding olive oil, lemon juice, salt, pepper, sage and parsley.

Then I put it in a 400 degree oven for 12 minutes.

I took it out of the oven with an oven glove, but trying to get it nearer the plates, I took the metal handle of the cast iron skillet in my right hand.

I threw a fork I was holding across the kitchen, screamed obscenities and ran across the room to put my head on the wall.

Bern told me to hold it under cold water and put a wet paper towel on it.

I did that.

We both agreed it was magnificent swordfish, but my hand still hurts after several doses of cold water and antibiotic salve.

My 'right hand', I might add--the hand I do everything with from opening doors to writing with a pen to wiping myself after going to the bathroom.

I'm getting antibiotic salve on my keyboard writing this.

I may have blisters by morning.

400 degrees us Hot! Hot!

 

"Winter is coming...."

I'm a great fan of "Lord of the Rings"--so that "Winter is coming" quote is dear to my heart.

But the truth is, winter is coming.

The first week or so of October felt like September here in southern New England. But now the temp is in the low 50's/high 40's at night and today it never reached 60.

Leaves are falling everywhere.

A chill is in the air.

Even when the sun shines--not much--the chill is there.

It's only a matter of time, John Snow....

Winter is coming....

 

Friday, October 8, 2021

It's time again

...to share my first post again so you'll know where this blog comes from.

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 called "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.

 

 

Thursday, October 7, 2021

Some quotes to ponder...

 "Daring ideas are like chessmen moved forward;/They may be beaten,/ but they may start a winning game."  --Goethe

"Happiness,/ Not in another place.../ Nor for another hour,/ But this hour."    --Walt Whitman

"Ever tried.
Ever failed
No matter.
Try again.
Fail again.
Fail better."   --Samuel Beckett

"Twenty years from now you will be more disappointed by the things that you didn't do than by the ones you did do. So throw off the bowlines. Sail away from the safe harbor. Catch the trade winds in your sails. Explore. Dream. Discover."    --Mark Twain

"There is no need for temples, no need for complicated philosophies, my brain and my heart are my temples; my philosophy is kindness."
                                                            --Dalai Lama

"Strive for that greatness of spirit that measures life not by it disappointments but by its possibilities."  --W.E.B. Du Bois

"A word ought to be tested before it is spoken." --St. Ambrose

"The only way to get it together is together."  --Rabbi Zalman Schachter-Shalomi

"It takes a life to realize what life is all about. And life is all about this moment."  --John Wallowitch

"Love is not an emotion. It is a policy."  --Hugh Bishop

(Thanks to the Mastery Foundation for my box of quotes. Shalom. Jim)


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About Me

some ponderings by an aging white man who is an Episcopal priest in Connecticut. Now retired but still working and still wondering what it all means...all of it.