Friday, November 27, 2020

Something I wrote years ago that touched me today

 

The View from the Left Coast…

 

           “Vocatus atque non vocatus, Deus aderit.”

                --quote on the tombstone of Carl Jung

 

     “Why don’t you stay for a while?” Bishop William Swing of the Diocese of California asked me on the plaza outside Grace Cathedral, San Francisco, during the reception for the three priests and six deacons he had just ordained.

 

     “I don’t know, Bishop,” I answered, trying to be truthful, “I think I have to ease my way into being on the West Coast. I’ve been here less than 24 hours and I already feel a little anxious….”

 

     Bishop Swing and I have a history—it’s not “shared” history, but it is a history all the same. We are both West Virginia boys, born and raised and ordained to the priesthood in the Mountain State. When Bishop Swing and his wife were visiting Yale/Berkley Divinity School, Jennifer Hornbeck brought them to Waterbury. We walked around St. John’s and had lunch together. The West Virginia history connected the Bishop and me. Whenever I meet someone from West Virginia, we tend to know each other in a complicated way. It’s not like “being blood”, as West Virginians refer to relatives—but it’s something like that. The shared story of strangers in strange lands.

 

     And San Francisco was a “strange land” for me. I wasn’t ready for the brown hills of the Bay Area. I expected greenness and lushness. But it is, in the odd northern California calendar, the dry season when everything is brown. Jennifer told me that spring and summer in New England astounded her because it was so green and alive. Such color and  vitality comes only in the fall and winter in San Francisco.  Two coasts: two different worlds.

 

     Going to Jennifer’s ordination to the diaconate was an impulsive decision. Bishop Swing was right—flying to the West Coast on Friday and back on Sunday wasn’t a logical thing to do. On Monday morning I woke up on both Pacific Daylight Time and then, three hours later, on Eastern Daylight time! I’m too old to throw my systems into such shock in so short a time.

 

     But it didn’t make much more sense to ride an Amtrak train to Richmond and then back the next day for my cousin Bradley Perkins’ memorial service. And when I got back, there was Ed Jefferson’s funeral to worry about. Too much dying in too confined a space—eight, or was it nine, funerals in May? Maybe I needed to fly across the country and back for a little new life.

                                *

 

     Bradley Perkins was my Aunt Georgia’s son. Brad and his younger sister, Mejol, were, along with my four Pugh cousins, what passed for my older brothers and sisters as I grew up. Mejol went on vacations with my parents and me. Gayle Pugh—the only girl of the four Pugh cousins—was a baby sitter for me. All this was concentrated around my grandmother’s house up on the hill in Conklintown, West Virginia. All six cousins lived on that hill as well. At Bradley’s “celebration”—which was what his family called his memorial service—they were all there: Mejol, Gayle, Duane, Marlin and Joel. I’m not sure when we were last all in the same room together—perhaps at my father’s funeral almost 15 years ago. I was overwhelmed with memory and nostalgia. Someone—Gayle’s husband, I think, took a picture of us all together.

 

     Maybe I should do a View from Mamaw’s hill next month and tell you more about them. But suffice it to say, what I did not, perhaps could not, say to them—“bidden or unbidden, God is present.”

                                *

 

     Then there was Ed.

 

     “O’ Ed…o’ Ed o’….”

 

     I was flying over South Dakota when Ed’s death really hit me. I was looking down from 37,000 feet on a landscape that is as barren and empty as anything in this world. Somewhere to the north was Mount Rushmore, but I couldn’t see it, we were simply too high and it was simply too small. Perspective is everything. From that height, the world looks different. And it was then I realized how utterly different my life was going to be without Ed Jefferson in it. Ed was Treasurer of St. John’s when I arrived a dozen years ago. And, through hook and crook, I had convinced him (never a hard job!) to stay on year after year. I learned to respect his opinions and follow his advice. And he and I never agreed on much of anything politically or theologically. We were Ying and Yang—the two opposites that completed each other. He filled up a space in my life as large as Mount Rushmore is from the ground. And suddenly, the landscape was bleak and vacant without him.

 

     And, 7 miles above the earth, I grieved for him.

 

     And I knew, in an inexplicable way, that “bidden or unbidden, God is present.”

 

     Jen’s ordination was glorious. Grace Cathedral’s impeccable Gothic architecture echoed the sounds of joy and hope and wonder and new possibility. Along with her parents, three children, her friend from Tennessee and the Rector of her home church, I presented her for ordination. My anxiety at being three time zones away from what I know and understand left me for an hour or so. Vocatus Deus aderit—my fellow West Virginian, Bill Swing, called on God to be present and the Spirit swirled around Jen and me and the 1500 people in that glorious cathedral. In my own way, I prayed for my cousin, Brad, and my dear friend, Ed. And, in ways I neither understand nor profess to be able to explain, a good 3000 miles from Richmond and Waterbury, God was present. And the Spirit swirled beyond my knowing to include Brad and Ed and all those “we love but see no more.”

 

     Reason enough for two long rides on airplanes. Reason enough and more….

 

                                Shalom,

 

                         

Thanksgiving was good

We went to J. and S's.

Their son, R., was there.

As were A. and J., our friends.

We were outside a lot and ate in two different rooms. Bern and I were at the two person kid's table, but we could all hear each other.

Too much food at 3 p.m. I didn't eat any more that day.

We came home to let Brigit eat late.

We slept well.

All was good.

As Thanksgiving should be.

Be thankful, always.

 

 

Wednesday, November 25, 2020

A Thanksgiving sermon

(This was given at a inter-denominational service.)

THANKSGIVING SERVICE

 

       Do not 'worry', Jesus says in tonight's gospel. Do not 'worry' about what you should wear or eat. “Worry,” I believe, is the opposite of 'being thankful'. That is why Jesus tells us not to 'worry', because Jesus wants us to be thankful.

       In my tradition of Christianity, we celebrate the “Eucharist” on each of the Lord's days, each Sunday and many other times we gather as the People of God. “Eucharist” in Greek, means “to give thanks”.

       Giving thanks, it seems to me, is the very heart of being a Christian.

       The older I get, I have told people, the fewer things I find I HAVE to 'believe'. I think I've got it down to the basics of my creed.

       *God loves me (and US) unconditionally. Everyone, no matter how twisted, or even evil, is a child of God. I believe that.

       *Treat others as you want to be treated. No matter what. I believe that.

       *Welcome the stranger always, even if the stranger may mean you harm. I believe that.

       *Give to those in need—always and however you can. I believe that.

       *And this: be thankful always, for everything, even things that challenge you and give you pain. Be thankful always, for everything. I believe that.

       Not that many years ago, there was the song and the saying, “Don't worry, be happy.” I would change that to “Don't worry, be thankful. Always.”

       Consider the lilies of the field....Consider the birds of the air....

       Why should we worry? We should be thankful.

       In our Eucharist service, there is a prayer after communion. It is a prayer of thanksgiving. But it is very general. So often, I invite the congregation into a time of silence and ask them to give thanks to God in their hearts and minds, for the many gifts God has given to each of us and all of us.

       In my heart and mind, in that silence, I picture my family and my friends, the people of the congregations I serve and have served, my dog and cat and parakeet, the freedom and prosperity of my life, my life itself, and all the good those I know and love have done in this dark-ling world. I sometimes give thanks for Key Lime Pie and sausage gravy and biscuits, but the seems a little selfish.

       But that's the thing—being thankful for God's goodness isn't selfish at all. Key Lime Pie and sausage gravy and biscuits are gifts that merit our thanks.

       Remember, in my short list of beliefs, I said to be thankful for everything, always.

       It pains me, in a way, that we get so involved in being thankful in November of each year when we should be 'thankful to everything, always'. All the time. Every moment of life, we should be thankful.   

 

       Don't worry, be thankful.

       Consider the lilies of the field, consider the birds of the air...they do not worry, they do not fret. And we are worth more to God than flowers or birds.

       Be thankful.

 

       I practice the prayer of the heart—also known as the “Jesus Prayer”.

       It is a prayer of breath—and since we breathe always, we can pray always.

       The Jesus Prayer goes like this: as you inhale, you say in your mind and heart, “Jesus Christ, Son of God” and as you exhale you say, “have mercy on me a sinner.”

       It's that simple, as simple as breathing, which we do all the time.

       But some time ago, being an Episcopalian and not being fond of being reminded I am a sinner, I changed the way I prayed the Jesus prayer.

       I started saying, in my heart and mind, as I inhaled, “Lord Jesus Christ” and as I exhaled “thank you so very much”.

       When I'm driving, I pray that. I give thanks with every breath.

 

       We should, I think, give thanks, not just at this time of year, but with every breath.

 

       Why don't we try it for a minute or so? Join me in paying attention to your breathing, what keeps you alive. We should give thanks for breath as for so many things.

       Join me for a while.

       When you breathe in say in your heart and mind: “Lord Jesus Christ”. And as you exhale say in your heart and mind: “thank you so much”.

       Let's try it, if you don't mind.

       Inhale: “Lord Jesus Christ”.

       Exhale: “thank you so much”.

 

       Happy Thanksgiving to you all. Give thanks always. Don't 'worry', give thanks.

 

Amen

 

Tuesday, November 24, 2020

One of my surprises from cleaning up my office

                Almost two hours

I didn't think of you for almost two hours tonight.

You're away for the weekend.

I watched "House" on TV,

Cleaned the kitchen.

Made chicken salad with pickles for my lunch tomorrow.

I listened to the end of the Yankee's game on radio.

And watched it rain on the kitchen porch.

And, in all that time,

Almost two hours,

I didn't think of you once.

But, I wouldn't be writing this if

After that time

I hadn't thought of you then.


Lovingly.


4/28/08


Monday, November 23, 2020

Being surprised

 Surprised is not enough to gauge what I'm feeling.

Bern asked me, as I've told you before, to clean out my little office so she can re-arrange it.

I have only two more things to go through--a grocery bag full of pages and the files in my file cabinet that I haven't looked at for years.

I started with the file cabinet and found two things I don't remember writing from living New Haven nearly thirty years ago.

One is a novella called The Old Gods Go and a short story called Eliza like a light.

Reading them is like reading what someone else wrote.

How could I have forgotten writing them?

And they are only the first two things our of my file cabinet.

What surprises remain?

What lost words, forgotten words, will I find?

I feel like an out-of-body experience right now.

I'll share some of what I find, digging deeper into the past, here on my blog.

Watch for it.

 

 

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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.