3 July 2011 - Independence Day (Observed)

As you can tell by these fancy brocade duds, I’m a clergyman. But at heart, I’m an historian. I wound up in this vocation by my love of history. One of the things about history is that it’s written by the victors. History is therefore somewhat subjective. It’s always slanted. But every history has its dark side. From the pages of some obscure journal or other source, one can always find out what the vanquished experienced and from the stories of the victors and the vanquished, a more reasonable facsimile of the truth can emerge.

The American Revolution was a glorious cause. The tyranny and oppression of the British were over the top. The Revolution was long overdue. And yet, even our own Revolution had its dark side. We don’t hear about the atrocities inflicted by the Colonial Army. But they happened. They happen in every war, even for the most just cause.

King George III


I suspect none of us learned in our history textbooks in school how the Church of England in the Colonies suffered. It did. Greatly. Our textbooks omit the fact that not just a few Anglican churches and rectories were burned to the ground, frequently with the occupant inside, by the Colonial troops and the property taken. We hear nothing of the Anglican priest slaughtered at their Communion Tables or those dragged from their high, three tiered pulpits and hanged in the Church yard. We hear little about the throngs of Anglicans, laity and clergy alike, who abandoned the Church during the Revolution for the Presbyterian and newly forming Methodist churches because they no longer wanted to be associated with the Crown. It’s one of the reasons those denominations have always been larger than us.

But when the dust settled and the British had finally gone home, what had been the Church of England in the Colonies was in shambles. There had been really not much organization. The colonial Church had been a missionary district of the Diocese of London and now with those ties broken there wasn’t even that. There were no bishops; just a large mass of demoralized and frightened men.

These men, the priests of the Church of England, took their lives very seriously. Ordination in those days was a pain in the neck. After one had been duly educated at one of the universities, arrangements were made in the autumn for the ordinations to take place. In the spring, after the weather had gotten nicer, these men were put on board ships to make the long, arduous and boring journey across the Atlantic where they docked at Portsmouth or Southampton. There they were met by carriages which took them north to St. Paul’s Cathedral in London where that evening they were ordained deacon and the next morning to the priesthood. Then they were packed back up into the carriages which headed south again to catch the ships and the next high tide. No time for the Tower of London and Big Ben was still not even a dream.

During these ordinations, each candidate took an oath to the death to the King who was, after all, the head of the Church. It was a sacred oath, one not taken lightly and to which each candidate owed his honor and his integrity. This was an oath as important as their marriage vows and could never be broken.

Bishop Seabury


In 1784, the Reverend Samuel Seabury, Rector of Christ Church, Hartford Connecticut, intimidated the local clergy into electing him their bishop. Seabury was an arrogant somebody and somewhat of a bully who made the long trip across the Atlantic to be consecrated bishop. But when he presented himself with all the testimonials to his fitness to be a Successor to the Apostles, the Bishop of London asked him if he would take the oath of allegiance to the King. Seabury replied, “Well, of course not!” The Bishop replied, “Then I cannot ordain you.” Then under his breath, the Bishop said, “But I know someone who can!”

So, The Reverend Mr. Seabury made his way north to Scotland to the Bishop of Aberdeen, a Bishop of the Scottish Episcopal Church, not to be confused with the Church of Scotland, that bastion of Calvinistic Presbyterian heresy which is a whole other sermon in itself! The Bishop of Aberdeen agreed to consecrate Seabury, but on two conditions: 1, that the new American Church be named after the Scottish Church – “Can’t very well go on calling it the “Church of England,” now can you”; and that the new American Church use the Communion of Liturgy of the Scottish Church rather than that of the Church of England. This was actually a blessing to us all since the Communion Liturgy of the Church of England is rather strange – one receives Communion in the middle of the Eucharistic Prayer after the Words of Institution. Go figure. Archbishop Cranmer must’ve been having a bad day. In any event, Mr. Seabury was consecrated and returned to Christ Church, Harford, now Christ Church Cathedral, as the Right Reverend Samuel Seabury, Bishop of Connecticut.

The next year, the Reverend William White, soon to be the first man actually elected by the Church as bishop, called for a conference of what was left of the Anglicans in what had been the Colonies to assemble at his parish Church, Christ Church, Philadelphia, to hammer out what an American Church might look like. Christ Church Cathedral still stands to this day and is a vibrant, active parish in the old part of Philadelphia. It’s an old Georgian building with galleries around three sides, painted white inside with clear glass windows and box pews. It’s gone rather High Church in the last two hundred years. Wonder what Bishop White would think of that? In any event, on a hot, July day in 1785, as many as could attend, filled Christ Church: the clergy on the main floor, the laity in the galleries. The clerk of the conference writes that the first day was total bedlam: those who had taken up the Revolutionary cause vs. those who had remained loyal to the Crown. Of course, it was all very polite. For instance, one clergyman would rise to respond to another by saying, “I would like to respond to my beloved Brother in Christ, the Heretic and Traitor from South Carolina…..” This would be followed by applause and booing and stomping and cat calls. (So much for English gentility!) By the end of the day, soon-to-be Bishop White was at his wits end. Nothing had been accomplished except division and fighting.

Christ Church Cathedral, Philadelphia


And the next day was none the better. After Morning Prayer, the proceeding were take up from the previous day which immediately turned into yet another pie fight. And it got nastier. It wasn’t pretty and Bishop White was by now pulling his hair out. Violence had not yet ensued, but it was well on the way.

Bishop White

In the midst of this nightmare, the clerk handed Bishop White a note which said that the Reverend Mr. George Brown of New Hampshire wished to address the assembly. Bishop White must’ve thought, “What can it hurt?”

The Reverend George Brown was a nobody vicar from a small parish outside Concord, New Hampshire. He was short, fat and dumpy and beginning to go bald. While highly educated, he spoke with a stammer and was quite an introvert. But his parish adored him. What he lacked in physical attributes, he more than made up in abilities as a pastor.

Over the din, Bishop White yelled, “The Reverend Mr. Brown of New Hampshire has asked to address the conference.” Mr. Brown was seated in the back of the Church and began the long trek down the side isle, there is no central isle, of the Church. He bowed to the Communion Table and shook Bishop White’s hand and then began the long ascent into the three tiered pulpit. These pulpits were three-decker styled, the bottom for the “Clerke,” the middle for the Lay Reader and the top from which the sermon was preached. These were the days before public address systems and the pulpit was topped with a sounding board so everyone could, at least in theory, hear.

Mr. Brown looked out onto the sea of men in black and cleared his throat. He must’ve been petrified, but he mustered up some courage and began to speak: “August Gentlemen, I..” From the back, someone yelled, “LOUDER! WE CAN’T HEAR YOU!” That must’ve soothed Mr. Brown’s nerves! But he went on, a bit louder: “AUGUST GENTLEMEN, Fellow Clergymen, Laymen in the galleries, I have spent the last day and a half as a witness to these proceedings which have been painful and filled with much rancor. And I have searched the innermost workings of my heart to come to some resolution about the matter at hand. We are all men of integrity and high minds, now situated in what seems to have become a new nation. Some of us sided with the cause that has prevailed, all good men, men of integrity and pure heart. But I must admit that I have remained loyal to the Crown and continue to do so. I, as you, took a sacred oath, which in my own mind I cannot betray. And many of you have come to a different conclusion, one with which I do not agree, but which I honor, for you are all men of good will.

“But as I have sat and witnessed these proceedings, I have come to the firm conclusion that I cannot pledge my allegiance to Mr. Washington. And at the same time, I realize that I can no longer pledge my heart to King George. For neither George Washington nor George the Third took flesh of the Blessed Virgin and became one of us. Neither George went to the Cross and have his life for the sins of the world. It was Jesus. It was Christ himself who has called us, neither of the Georges, and it only to him that I can give my heart. And when I look at all of this in such a perspective, the rest becomes unimportant. And so I will continue a priest in whatever this Church is to be named, with only one oath, and that to Jesus Christ our Lord.” Mr. Brown paused, “I thank you.”

Mr. Brown descended the long staircase of the pulpit of Christ Church and began to return to his seat. And no one said a word. No one could. The only thing one could hear was the clopping of horseshoes against the cobblestone street outside. One could’ve heard a pin drop. No one coughed. No one rustled. Dead silence. And the silence continued for nearly five minutes – a silence filled with wordless awe and wonder.

After five minutes, Bishop White slowly stood and addressed the assembly: “Does anyone have anything further to contribute to this matter?” There was no response. Bishop White then asked them all to rise, opened the English Prayer Book and offered a collect, and then dismissed the assembly for lunch. “We will reconvene at two o’clock and take up the matter of a constitution.”

Tomorrow we will celebrate the 235th anniversary of the founding of this great nation. And much has changed in that time. We presently live in a nation divided, of anger and vehemence not unlike that assembly gathered in Christ Church on that hot July day of 1785. And we all think we’re right and we demonize those who might disagree with us. There is verbal warfare and adherence to ideologies that do nothing but continue to make things worse. And we all feel it to some degree. And we all have our opinions and our allegiances. Some of us are Republicans and some of us are Democrats. Some of us are screaming, left wing liberals and some of us are right wing conservatives. And I suspect if we took a poll in this Parish Church this morning, we’d find a mixed bag. And yet, the words of the Reverend Mr. Brown are as profound on this day as they were on that hot, July day so long ago. Because our true allegiance isn’t to the elephant or the donkey; it’s not to a cause for the left or the right; it’s not to a party or a person or even to the Church, but, as Christians, it is to Jesus Christ and to him alone. And when we are able to put things in such a perspective, then the Reverend Mr. Brown was right: the rest just doesn’t really matter.

We live in perilous times. If one watches the news, it’s not pretty out there and the future is one, big, giant question mark. We’re in a mess and there seem to be few viable roads out. But for us Christians, if we can keep in mind to whom we owe our ultimate allegiance and to whom we belong, then the future is not so daunting and in the midst of uncertainty and fear we can be beacons of light and hope not only to ourselves but to those who also need it. And if the worse happens, it will happen. And we will survive and thrive because we know who and whose we are.

So, tomorrow, as you slather your hot dogs with relish and salt your potato salad, and put on your parkas to go out and watch the clouds light up, give thanks for this great nation and pray for its future and its leaders. But, at a deeper level, remember to whom you owe your ultimate and willing allegiance. Remember who and whose you are. Remember the One who is our true and only hope; that One who, as the Reverend Mr. Brown said, took flesh of the Blessed Virgin and give his life for the world: Jesus Christ our Lord.

Amen.

The Feast of the Ascension

Link to the lessons

Mary Cunningham was my third grade Sunday School teacher and a woman who should be canonized for her tolerance and kindness. Through the years, I've been tempted to write an icon of her because, at least for me in retrospect, was a mirror into heaven.

Speaking of icons, in Mrs. Cunningham's Sunday School room hung those "icons" from the 1950s of various biblical scenes like Jesus and the little children, the Feeding of the Multitudes, and the like; icons which looked more like cartoons than religious depictions.

One Sunday morning, Mrs. Cunningham was working through her lesson plan when I, the intrepid question asker,, blurted out, "What's THAT?" pointing to one of the "icons" on the wall. It was a depiction of the Blessed Virgin in the middle with six men on each side of her all of whom were looking towards the top of the picture at a pair of feet which hung into the top of the picture. Mrs. Cunningham replied, "That's a picture of the Ascension." "Oh," I replied. "What's THAAAT?" "That's when Jesus went up into heaven after his Resurrection." "Oh, I replied, "Where's THAAAAT?" Mrs. Cunningham pointed upwards with her index finger. I looked up and all I saw were ceiling tiles. But for the moment, it shut me up. I didn't know what to say. Plus, I just figured that she meant "up theres." And Mrs. Cunningham's answer worked for many years until I got old enough to start asking theological questions.

As I matured, at least theologically, I also grew academically. The world view of those who lived in Jesus' time and long after believed that God lived beyond the dome of the sky which wasn't all that far up in the air. In the last half a millennium,we've come to know that the universe is vast and unending; that the earth is a rather insignificant planet in a rural solar system in a galaxy after which we've named a candy bar. Of course, even those assertions are constantly in flux. But we DO know that God doesn't live above the dome. And since our knowledge has grown, the idea of the Ascension as the Acts of the Apostles relates it means that Our Lord is still ascending....and to where, we don't know. Or...he may be in orbit, riding a satellite.

Scripture has its own "code" for certain things. The term "forty days" is a way of saying, "a significant amount of time." In other words, Noah was in the Ark for a significant amount of time as well as was Jesus in the desert. And from what we can tell, the Risen Christ appeared and was present with not all the disciples and the Apostles for some significant amount of time. But, eventually or all at once, the Risen One was not as present as previously experienced and eventually, his presence had entirely vanished.

The Feast of the Ascension

THE SIXTH SUNDAY OF EASTER

Sorry I haven't been able to post lately. It's near the end of the quarter and I'm up to my neck in research papers. Mom's fine but requiring some extra time, which I'm more than glad to give. And life is hectic. I'll be glad when summer gets here.

The sermon is based on the lessons for the day:
Acts 17:22-31
Psalm 66:7-18
1 Peter 3:13-22
John 14:15-21

Enjoy!

Last summer, we were invited to a party of some good friends of ours. Nice people. They throw great parties. They’re not wild parties, but the food is good and we know most of the people who attend and it’s usually the proverbial good time that was had by all.

After we’d made the rounds, another friend flagged us down and invited us to sit with him and some other fellow we’d never met before. After some polite pleasantries, our friend mentioned to the other fellow what I did for a living. I always cringe when people do that: I know what’s coming. The man looked a bit puzzled and then said, “You don’t look like someone who would believe all that stuff.” I replied, “What stuff?” He said, “You know, all that stuff about an infallible book that tells you that women are inferior, that the world was made in six days, six thousand years ago by an old man with a long, grey beard, about some zombie born of a virgin that saves sinners who believe in him, and that all gay people and everyone else who doesn’t believe in him is going to hell.” I smiled and then replied, “I don’t believe any of that stuff.” The fellow said, “But you have to! That’s what Christians believe, don’t they?!”

I have to admit to guilty pleasure over the last couple of weeks: I’ve been following the goings on of Harold Camping and his followers. And for those of you who don’t know, the Rapture has been postponed until the 21st of October. So, Martin, you don’t have to plan anything or All Saints Day or after. I’ve found this whole thing rather fascinating as well as sad. I’m still not sure what to make of the thousands who sold all their belongings and gave the money to Harold and now have absolutely nothing.

In the process, I’ve been watching the discussion boards on CNN and Yahoo as well as just listening to people in the grocery store and on the streets. And it’s become apparent that over the last thirty years or so, due to the influence of such people as Pat Robertson and Jerry Falwell, may he rest in peace, and poor Jimmy Swaggert, not to mention Tammy Faye and Jim Baker and a whole host of other “preachers,” much of the American populace has come to believe what the fellow at the party had articulated. In many ways, the term “Christian” has become a bad word and anyone who ascribes to it is perceived as a naïve, closed minded, bigoted simpleton. Much of this perception is rooted deep in American history which was and continues to be highly influenced by our Puritan roots and the teachings of Calvinism. But I digress.

It is no wonder that Mainline Churches are becoming emptier and emptier. People really don’t know us, what we stand for, what we believe. It’s also no surprise the churches of our Fundamentalist brethren and sistren are bursting at the seams: we live in a world that becomes more complex by the second and cheap answers to complex questions make some feel safe. Being the kind of Christianity the fellow at the party knew about may make one feel good, but doesn’t work.

What has become apparent is that the God to whom Jesus bore witness and what Jesus taught have been replaced by religious and theological systems which are nothing more than reflections and projections of the human fears, values and prejudices of those who hold them. And, since they have the resources to proclaim their message loud and clear, it’s the message that gets heard. And many on this continent and in Europe have decided that they want none of it. And rightfully so.

And at the same time, people wouldn’t be so vitriolic towards Christianity in particular and religion in general if they didn’t give a rip. It’s pretty obvious that people in our time have a deep and chronic yearning for a connection to something beyond themselves, something greater than themselves, something which is timeless, enduring and gives meaning to life. Science has continues to wonderfully articulate and unfold the mysteries of the physical world, but people are beginning to realize that it can’t answer the mysteries of the inner world. And our consumerism and materialism have proven empty at best. We live in a world of a spiritual vacuum yearning to be filled.

In many ways, it feels like St. Paul standing in the Areopagus, which was where the legal courts were located on the Acropolis, preaching to the Athenians. The Athenians and the rest of the Greeks as well as the rest of the ancient world were quite devout people. They offered their devotions to the gods as was required of each deity. But nearly all of ancient religion was based on appeasing the gods so that they’d do what you asked as well as not send some sort of calamity on your on account of your transgressions or just because the gods felt like it. Much of ancient religion was based on the cycles of nature. But it was also based on fear: fear of calamity, fear of famine, fear of war and fear of death. And the Athenians were pretty scrupulous about trying to keep the gods happy. Why, they even had an altar to an unknown god just in case they’d missed one. Don’t want to tick HIM off!

This was just the opening St. Paul needed. Obviously, the Athenians were open to the idea of at least one more god. So, St. Paul took the chance to tell the Athenians about a particular unknown God. St. Paul knew that our knowledge of God is minutely incomplete; that understanding the actual Being of God is beyond the human mind. But he also understood that deep within the human soul is an instinct that is able to connect with its Source and that this connection brings life and hope and peace. And, St. Paul also knew that what we can “know” about God had been revealed in the person of Jesus of Nazareth, his Lord (and ours!) who had preached love instead of fear, compassion instead of greed, mercy instead of vengeance, peace instead of violence, hope instead of despair. It was this Jesus that revealed not just “a” god, but “the” God of the entire universe whose love and mercy and forgiveness are a given, who doesn’t require incense burned at his shrine or sacrifices offered on altars, but requires humans to love the unlovable, to embrace the outcast, to care for those in need, to seek justice for the vulnerable and to stand up to abusive authority, both secular and religious. And to the Athenians, this God was something entirely new. They’d never heard of such a Deity before. Plus the fact that since there was just one, it cut down on the how many gods one had to keep happy!

And so, it is time for us to take on the mission of St. Paul himself as he spoke to the Athenians. I have to admit that the Blessed Apostle is not one of my favorites. He can be a bit rigid and cranky at times. But in this instance, he’s who we need. It’s time for the Church to proclaim to the world the unknown God to our own society, to our own culture; the God who has become unknown in favor of the one we have made, the One whom Jesus proclaimed and the message which he preached. It’s time for those outside the Church to hear an alternative and faithful proclamation of the Gospel, a gospel not based in fear and judgment and guilt, but the Gospel: of love and mercy and forgiveness and peace, a Gospel which can fill the spiritual vacuum to overflowing.

They say that charity begins at home. Well, I believe that the beginning of change also begins at home. I suspect that you are like me: that, when people ask, you too have to explain that you’re not “that” kind of Christian. But then, what do we do?

We need to learn how to articulate what we believe. I know that such a thing is difficult for us Episcopalians. We’re traditionally introverts when it comes to our faith. We verbalize it through ritual and the words of the Prayer Book. And there’s nothing wrong with that. In fact, it’s marvelous and a gift from God. But, we also need to learn to become functional extroverts about our faith. We need to be able to articulate in a concise, frank and unapologetic manner what we truly believe with no strings attached for the one to whom we are speaking. We need to be able to more clearly offer to others the God whom Jesus was and proclaimed because that’s what people in our day and age yearn for and for which they are starving. We need to be like St. Paul and offer the God our culture has forgotten or maybe even never known as the viable alternative to the false gods that our culture and even our religion have created.

In this morning’s Gospel lesson, Jesus says, “If you love me, keep my commandments.” I have no doubt of our love for God. I know that we introverted Episcopalians are “doing” those commandments all the time. We may be introverts at verbally articulating the faith, but we’re extroverts when it comes to living it. We’re keeping his commandments – as best we can. And the promise is that we don’t have to do this alone. Jesus goes on to promise his own Spirit to accompany us, to give us courage to be the heart and the hands to reach out to a world starving for the Divine.

Giving witness to the unknown God, but known to us in Jesus, is something we have to learn to do. Most of us are afraid of doing so and being lumped together with the purveyors of the known god the TV preachers and Harold Camping talk about. It’s a valid fear. So we have to learn to do it in a manner that is non-threatening, inviting and not coercive. We need first to begin to articulate what we hold dear and how God has transformed our own lives to each other. We need find alternatives to apologizing for being people of faith; alternatives which reveal that some, dare I say most, Christians – and people of faith and goodwill in general - are not naïve simpletons but rather people of depth, compassion, open minds and listening hearts.

We have our work cut out for us. And it’s not easy work. In fact, it’s hard work. But it’s the work deeply rooted in what life is all about. And it’s work we will not do alone. We will do it with each other and with the promised Spirit to give us courage and comfort and openness to whatever may come our way. We will proclaim the unknown God with boldness and clarity; that unknown God made known to the world in Jesus Christ our Lord.

Amen.

Happy Mothers Day

I usually find Hallmark Holidays rather annoying. Mother’s Day, Father’s Day, Secretary’s Day, National Hemorrhoid Week and the like. They seem to be holidays made up to sell cards, candy and schlock.

But Mother’s Day does have a less commercial side to it. During the sixteenth century, people returned to their mother church for a service to be held on Laetare Sunday, the Fourth Sunday in Lent. Its widescale revival was through the influence of American and Canadian soldiers serving abroad during World War II; the traditions of Mothering Sunday, still practiced by the Church of England and Church of Ireland (Anglican) were merged with the newly-imported traditions and celebrated in the wider Catholic and secular society. British based merchants saw the commercial opportunity in the holiday and relentlessly promoted it in the UK; by the 1950s it was celebrated across all the United Kingdom. So, in the long run, I think Mother’s Day is a good thing especially in and for the Church. It reminds us of the essence of God and the attributes we assign to “Him.”

In many places, the Blessed Mother is venerated on this Sunday which seems especially appropriate. To me, St. Mary has always been the feminine side of God anyway. I never bought into those strange notions our Roman Brethren and Sistren have like Mary’s perpetual virginity and such. St. Ambrose was so taken with the idea that he claimed Jesus had been born from Mary’s ear in order to preserve her…um…uh….well, you get the picture. What caught my imagination about the Blessed Mother is that she was just that: a mother – and a healthy mother at that. Healthy mothers love their children no matter what. They may not understand their kids or even like what they do, but healthy mothers never stop loving their children. Healthy mothers will gladly give their own lives to save the life of their children. Take the animal kingdom as an example: don’t get between a Mama Grizzly and her cub. It won’t be pretty.

And Mary was no different. There were times when her Son was an enigma. At times he even annoyed her – take the wedding at Cana for example. (In the Greek, Jesus’ response to her is much more nasty than it’s translated into English.) When she and the kids went to fetch him because people thought he was a loonie, he denied her saying that those who do the will of his Father were really his mother and brothers and sisters. But she kept loving him. Why? Because she was a mom and that’s what moms do.

I have this notion that Mary was also the author of the Good News. As an unwed mother, she’d’ve never been totally accepted in Nazareth social circles. She was always an outsider even though Joseph had married her. She know what it was to be on the outside looking in. And one day, when Jesus is about twelve, he comes home with a bloody nose. He says to his mother, “Mom! Do you know what they’re saying about me? Do you know what they’re sying about YOU? Well, I showed’m.” And his Blessed Mother replies, “We don’t behave that way. Let them say what they want. Violence is never an option. AND, they’re God’s beloved children too whether we like it or not. So, no more bloody noses.” Of course, at twelve, it took a few more years for it to finally sink in. And when it did, Jesus went out and preached it from the roof tops.

And that’s why I see Our Lady as the feminine side of God. God has that maternal instinct, if one can say the Divine has instincts, which loves us no matter what. When we’re being saintly, or when we’re being immoral, illegal and fattening, God continues to love us with no strings attached. It’s just the way it is. We might deny God, but God will never deny us. And when life has reached its end, God will welcome us home like mom does when we’ve been away for a long time – no matter what, no matter what we’ve done, no matter who we’ve been.

Maybe I have this concept because I’m fortunate enough to have a great Mom. At almost 92, she’s spry, bright and sharp as a tack. I go to visit her just for fun and we have a grand time. (OK, so I have to hear the stories more than once. Is that such a big deal???) And my Mom loved and loves me like God does: with no strings attached. And I guess that’s who taught me about God.

So, Happy Mother’s Day to all the Moms out there. Happy Mother’s Day to those who are still with us. Happy Mother’s Day to those who rejoice with but upon another shore and in a greater light. Happy Mother’s Day, Mom! You deserve it. You put up with ME all these years. And Happy Mother’s Day, Mother of us All. Your love influenced one heck of a Son.

A RECIPE FOR GROWTH

I ran into this online.  It’s about how to get young people into
Church.  However, the 20th step makes it clear that it works for just about everybody. 

Our parish is growing, but not with the people we'v been told we are to recruit. They're more of the grey heads that seem to populate the pews and it's a good thing; those who seem to come to be with us - those for whom youth, at least physical youth - is a memory.  I can only speak for myself, but I have a tendency to see those who retur

n to the Church in their 40s and 50s as bright, energetic, intellectually astute, successful people.  And usually I’m right.  But my blind spot is that I forget that they’ve returned to the Church because their spirits are hungry.  They’ve begun asking the questions of life that only come with years.  The passion of human love affairs may be of the past, but the passion of God’s love affair with them is becoming clearer.  And they wonder what to do next. 

With these returning folks – of any age but our demographic in mind – we might want to think about offering a community gathering to talk about who we are, where we’re going and what we value.  I find the steps below very hopeful. 

the owls & the angels

silence and breath, we wing to the air, words split open to flight

http://owlrainfeathers.blogspot.com/2010/11/ah-church.html09 November 2010

ah, the church
 
When I was an Episcopal chaplain--for four years--all the time people in the church would ask me, "Why don't young people come to church?" or "How do we get young people to come to church?"  I have some suggestions now, so listen up.

 Here is a step-by-step plan for how to get more young people into the church:

1.  Be genuine.  Do not under any circumstances try to be trendy or hip, if you are not already intrinsically trendy or hip.  If you are a 90-year-old woman who enjoys crocheting and listens to Beethoven, by God be proud of it.

2.  Stop pretending you have a rock band. (Not sure this is pertinent to our situation)
 
3.  Stop arguing about whether gay people are okay, fully human, or whatever else.  Seriously.  Stop it.  (We have and need to be up front about it without being “in your face.”)

4.  Stop arguing about whether women are okay, fully human, or are capable of being in a position of leadership. (Ditto to #3.  We have a woman as a Presiding Bishop!  Hello!)

5.  Stop looking for the "objective truth" in Scripture.  (We’re Anglicans.  Need I say more?)

6.  Start looking for the beautiful truth in Scripture. 

7.  Actually read the Scriptures.  If you are an Episcopalian, go buy a Bible - preferably the New Revised Standard Version) or dust the one on the shelf off and read it.  Start in Genesis, it's pretty cool.  You can skip some of the other boring parts in the Bible (like Leviticus!).  Remember though that almost every book of the Bible has some really funky stuff in it.  Remember to keep #5 and #6 in mind though.  If you come from an evangelical background, you may need to stop reading the Bible for about 10 years.  Don't worry:  during those ten years you can work on putting these other steps into practice.
 
8.  Start worrying about extreme poverty, violence against women, racism, consumerism, homophobia and the rate at which children are dying worldwide of preventable, treatable diseases.  Put all the energy you formerly spent worrying about the legitness of gay people and women into figuring out ways to do some good in these areas.

9.  Do not shy away from lighting candles, silence, incense, laughter, really good food, really good movies and extraordinary music.  By "extraordinary music" I mean genuine music.  Soulful music.  Well-written, well-composed music.  Original music.  Four-part harmony music.  Funky retro organ music.  Hymns.  Taize chants.  Bluegrass.  Steel guitar.  Humming.  Gospel.  We are the Church; we have an uber-rich history of amazing music. Remember Thomas Tallis, Wm Byrd, and the rest of the English Choral Music tradition. Remember this.

10.  Do unto others as you would have them do unto you.  (Hmmm.  Who said that?  I used to remember his/her name.  Now let me see……..)

11.  Learn how to sit with people who are dying.

12.  Feast as much as possible.  Cardboard communion wafers are a feast in symbol only (though actual bread may transcend the cosmos!)  Humans can not live on symbols alone.  Remember this.

13.  Notice visitors, smile genuinely at them, invite them to the 8th Sacrament of Coffee Hour and include them in conversations, but do not overwhelm them (like vultures on fresh meat!)

14.  Be vulnerable.  Jesus was and expects no less from us.  It’s hard, but we’re at least supposed to give it a try. This includes men, including straight men.

15.  Stop worrying about getting young people into the church.  Stop worrying about marketing strategies.  Take a deep breath.  If there is a God, that God isn't going to die even if there are no more Christians at all.

16.  Figure out who is suffering in your community.  Go be with them.

17.  Remind yourself that you don't have to take God to anyone.  God is already with everyone.  So, rather than taking the approach that you need to take the truth out to people who need it, adopt the approach that you need to go find the truth that others have and you are missing.  Go be evangelized.

18.  Put some time and care and energy into creating a beautiful space for worship and being-together.  (We have that already!)  But shy away from building campaigns, parking lot expansions, and what-have-you.

19.  Make some part of the church building accessible for people to pray in 24/7.  Put some blankets there too, in case someone has nowhere else to go for the night.  (Hmm.  We may get flack from Church Insurance, but should that be an issue?)

20.  Listen to God (to Wisdom, to Love) more than you speak your opinions.

21.  (My own)  Have a sense of humor.  Don’t take life more seriously than it needs to be.  Remember God has a sense of humor too – where do you think WE got it from???  

This is a fool-proof plan.  If you do it, I guarantee that you will attract young people (and the young at heart and older in body) to your church.  And lots of other kinds of people too. But remember that growing the Church isn't about butts in pews, pledge cards and such things. It's all about being together in and sharing Christ. It's about living into the Gospel. It's about being a safe and challenging place to grow in love and life.

"Snickering Jesus" by the Blogmeister!

CREDO IN UNUM DEUM

I received a nice email yesterday from a reader who asked what I believed. This wasn't a test of my orthodoxy. I'm an Anglican and for us "orthodoxy" covers a broad spectrum. Personally, I tend to fall on the more Catholic side of that spectrum, all with a sense of humor and knowing that what I know is at best only very slight and partial.

So, I replied with this Affirmation of Faith from my book, New Daily Prayer, www.newdailyprayer.net ( which you have to cut and paste into your address thingy above since the Link tab on this contraption doesn't seem to work) in case you'd like a copy but I'm not really here to be hawking books! The next reprint is in progress.) The text of this Affirmation is below.

I might add that while I am a follower of Jesus of Nazareth, whom we call the Christ or the Messiah, and affirm him as the full Incarnation of God (whatever that really means) I have no doubt that God has been present in the other great prophets and sages through out history with the exception of Joseph Smith who really wasn't either. I also buy into the doctrine of the Trinity as the best we humans can do to explain that which is unexplainable. Ultimately, God knows who He/She/It is which, I guess, is the most important part of it all.

In any event, here goes:


We believe in One God as revealed in the Scriptures
and the ancient Tradition
of the Catholic and Apostolic Church:
the Source of All, the Word made Flesh and Giver of Life;
the Wellspring of all life and mystery
who created and creates all things great and small
n the beauty of holiness.
We believe in Jesus Christ, God With Us,
who was born of Mary, lived, and was raised from the dead;
who reveals God’s heart of peace and forgiveness,
tenderness and compassion, power and might,
which is stronger than even death itself;
We believe in the Spirit who floods us with courage,
and empowers us to be God’s presence in the world.
We believe in our calling to respond to others
as God responds to all:
with mercy, hope, and Grace,
n trust and openness, wonder and joy, peace and simplicity
and in solidarity with the poor,
the marginalized and the outcast.
We rejoice in the new life which bread and wine,
water and oil communicate to us,
and that through them and in us, Jesus is truly present.
We participate in and await the fulfillment of God’s dominion,
in which all find their final rest in union with
the Source of All, the Word made Flesh,
and the Giver of Life,
who lives and reigns, one God, for ever and ever.
Amen.

Rublev's Trinity