What About Us Goats?

 

Poem/Reflection for the Feast of Christ the King         St. Andrew's-By-The-Sea, Nags Head, N.C.

November 22, 2020                                                      Thomas E Wilson, Guest Celebrant

Ezekiel 34:11-16, 20-24 Psalm 100 Ephesians 1:15-23 Matthew 25:31-46

What About Us Goats?

The Feast of Christ the King began in the 1920's when Pope Pius XI was trying to deal with a world which had changed as a result of the first World War. Kingdoms, which formerly could be counted on to support the church, had been overthrown and democracies were rising as a norm for societies. Pius wanted the people to remember that all people needed to be ruled not be majority opinion but by Christ as King in their daily life. That is not a bad thought; the problem lies in what is the nature of being ruled. Are we being ruled by love or by fear?

Pius had a fear of the future, myopic nostalgia for the past and anxiety of the present. He wanted a return to order and therefore he made alliances, which he came to regret, with people who would impose order by hijacking the past, constructing a comforting myth for the future, and lying about the present; people like Mussolini in Italy, Franco in Spain and Hitler in Germany who imposed order through fear. Their image these rulers gave of Christ the King, was as a warrior prince who ruled by reward and punishment.

A couple of Sundays ago, your Rector preached on Matthew's Parable of the Wise and Foolish Virgins, where the Foolish Virgins who ran out of oil to keep their lamps burning, were not allowed to be admitted to the Feast of the Bridegroom. In this Parable, Matthew remembers Jesus suggesting that the Bridegroom is in the role of the Second Coming of Christ, and in Matthew's remembrance, the Foolish Virgins are told by the Risen Christ that they were not fit to be Christians when the oil in your lamp, your faith, runs low. Your Rector allowed as sometimes the oil in his lamp runs low, when he catches himself muttering non-Biblical un-loving words to an erratic driver who cuts in front of him in the crazy summer tourist traffic. If all your Rector knew about Jesus was the punchline of this parable, then he would indeed be in trouble. But your Rector puts his trust in the full understanding of the Good News.

As I looked over those lessons from two weeks ago and the lessons for this week, I reflected on the Matthean community, out of which the Gospel of Matthew was shared in oral form before it was reduced to written form about forty years after the Death, Resurrection and Ascension of Jesus. If you had been waiting for a long time, forty or more years, for Jesus to come back, you might have had some feeling like your oil of faith was running close to empty. Wilson's theory about how I might act if I had to wait for decades, is that I might be more than a touch cranky and less than comfortable with those who fall short of my expectations. I think I would be tempted to suggest that some people needed to be sent to Hell as goats. That is being a dysfunctional human with a fear of the future, myopic nostalgia for the past and anxiety of the present.

That parable of the foolish virgins suggests that God will exclude those who fall short of the expectations of God. That message can be seen as echoed in today's Gospel lesson for the Feast of Christ the King, where Christ as the King in the Second Coming will divide the sheep from the goats; consigning those who disappoint, the goats, to the fires of Hell; and those who live up to the mark, the sheep, will be rewarded by being allowed to join in the new Kingdom of the Heavens.

What is the difference between Sheep and Goats? I was watching a film on You Tube about one homesteader's opinion. He said that Goats are like teenagers; always wanting to test the limits. They have no fear and will drive you crazy on wanting to be the boss over their own lives. Sheep, on the other hand, having a lot of fear, are more content to stay safe in the flock.

In the human flocks and herds when victors win; “To the victor belongs the spoils!” Victors punish their opponents and reward their true followers. The Victors try not to reward people who challenge their authority. Heck, we just had an election and a lot of people who supported the loser in that election are going to have to find new employment and those who worked hard to win the approval will get prestige appointments. With the exception of Abraham Lincoln, as documented by Doris Goodwin's book “Team of Rivals”, most Victors usually choose safe people, not rivals who might challenge them, for appointments in government.

But what does Jesus do? When Jesus is resurrected, does he come back and read the riot act to his disciples who all let him down? All of them betrayed Jesus; Judas did it for money, the rest of the disciples by denial and refusing to stand with Jesus. They are all, all of them, goats! Yet he gives them his peace. Sheep or goats, it does not matter, he gives them his love. He does not consign them to Hell for their lack of faith; rather he shares his Holy Spirit and blesses those who are not worthy to be blessed. He does not talk about a return to order of the past, but a building of a new creation. He doesn't waste time of strict conformity but chooses all sorts of people, like for instance Paul, the writer of the Epistle for today, who once was his enemy, but the love of the risen Lord changed him. The Spirit of the Risen Christ is changing the world, and he asks them to help change the world from our worship of reward and punishment to claiming love as the fall back position of life. For followers of Jesus, it is not about the striving for rewards and avoidance of punishments after we are dead, but about continuing the redemption of the world.

Jesus understood that forgiveness is not granted as a reward for proper behavior, but forgiveness is a gift given by the one who was hurt to all, even the undeserving, so the one who was hurt doesn't have to keep carrying the hurt around but enters unburdened into a new kind of living.

Dorothy Day, a 20th Century Social Activist wrote about her life’s work serving the poor:

What we would like to do is change the world — make it a little simpler for people to feed, clothe, and shelter themselves as God intended them to do. And, by fighting for better conditions, by crying out unceasingly for the rights of the workers, the poor, of the destitute — the rights of the worthy and the unworthy poor, in other words — we can, to a certain extent, change the world; we can work for the oasis, the little cell of joy and peace in a harried world. We can throw our pebble in the pond and be confident that its ever-widening circle will reach around the world. We repeat, there is nothing we can do but love, and, dear God, please enlarge our hearts to love each other, to love our neighbor, to love our enemy as our friend.

What about those who refuse to accept the forgiveness so freely given? C. S Lewis wrote in his, The Problem of Pain:

I willingly believe that the damned are, in one sense, successful, rebels to the end; that the doors of hell are locked on the inside . . . they enjoy forever the horrible freedom they have demanded, and are therefore self-enslaved: just as the blessed, forever submitting to obedience, become through all eternity more and more free. . . . In the long run the answer to all those who object to the doctrine of hell, is itself a question: ‘What are you asking God to do?’ To wipe out their past sins and, at all costs, to give them a fresh start, smoothing every difficulty and offering every miraculous help? But He has done so, on Calvary. To forgive them? They will not be (accept being)forgiven. To leave them alone? Alas, I am afraid that is what he does.

Thomas Merton, a Monk at Gethsemane Abbey outside Louisville, Kentucky, one of God's beloved sheep, a truly Holy man, not a goat in any way shape or form, except in his own opinion, was running around doing errands, in downtown Louisville on the corner of 4^th and Walnut, in the middle of all those human beings, probably more goats than sheep, when God gave him a vision:

In Louisville, at the corner of Fourth and Walnut, in the center of the shopping district, I was suddenly overwhelmed with the realization that I loved all those people, that they were mine and I theirs, that we could not be alien to one another even though we were total strangers. It was like waking from a dream of separateness, of spurious self-isolation in a special world, the world of renunciation and supposed holiness… This sense of liberation from an illusory difference was such a relief and such a joy to me that I almost laughed out loud… I have the immense joy of being (hu)man, a member of a race in which God Himself became incarnate. As if the sorrows and stupidities of the human condition could overwhelm me, now I realize what we all are. And if only everybody could realize this! But it cannot be explained. There is no way of telling people that they are all walking around shining like the sun.

Then it was as if I suddenly saw the secret beauty of their hearts, the depths of their hearts where neither sin nor desire nor self-knowledge can reach, the core of their reality, the person that each one is in God’s eyes. If only they could all see themselves as they really are. If only we could see each other that way all the time. There would be no more war, no more hatred, no more cruelty, no more greed. . . . But this cannot be seen, only believed and ‘understood’ by a peculiar gift. (Confessions of a Guilty Bystander)

I was here at St. Andrew's for a few months before you got lucky with finding your new Rector. St. Andrew's is like every one of the churches with whom I have been honored to serve. I have never served a congregation of well behaved fear filled sheep. Every church had a healthy combination of sheep and goats who made me lovingly earn this old goat's stipend. It was the goats who made the places interesting. The sheep were a gift, and the goats were a gift, and both groups were in God's heaven on earth. Heaven is not a far off place after we die, but it is this sacred space from before the beginning of creation, in and between each of us, that we experience in each moment in this life to beyond death.

What About Us Goats?

We goats say, “Maaaa-n, I wouldn't have done it that way,

unlike you sheep keeping quiet afraid of being baaaaa-d,

you covet your lives safe, afraid of ending up being sad,

when we could come together to live heaven's space today.”

We all probably'll fail, running out of faith's oil,

some of us know our sins only much too well,

but we'll stop passing consignments to hell,

rather come to hope we're standing on Holy soil.

Saints and Sinners all crammed in, up together,

on this blue marble's time of rampant infection,

blessed sinners and forgiven saints in connection,

sheltering in safe place from the stormy weather.

Why waste time trying to get in above,

when all we are called to do, is love.

MAMITA: a Poem/Reflection for All Saints Sunday 2020

The Gospel lesson for All Saints Sunday is the Beatitudes from Matthew's remembrance of the Sermon on the Mount, about how people find blessings in this world. I was thinking about my grandfather and how he found blessings taking care of my grandmother. She was a difficult woman, presenting a fragile persona. She had a breakdown while attending Mount Holyoke and returned to the home in Western Pennsylvania to recover.  She met my grandfather at a small local college and  he devoted his life to taking care of her and others. 

He had grown up on a farm and his father during the 1880's and 90's kept leaving to go to Gold fields to "strike it rich" in the Yukon,  Arizona, and other locations, leaving his wife and kids behind to take care of the farm. He never struck it rich, but would return for a couple of years and father yet another child before the next strike was made public and he would rush out. All the children did well, but never felt the need to get rich but were raised by their mother with the idea that they had a responsibility to care for others. They all left the farm and had successful professional lives but success was never measured by how much money they made but about the caring for others, even difficult people.

MAMITA

Mother's mother displayed airs of a delicate flower,

with thorns, preparing to prick ripping disapproval,

if we failed to meet her needs of attending approval;

shimmering weakness underlying source of power.

“Mamita” was what we were instructed to call her ,

a diminutive name, implying that she was adored,

while fearful she's walking on a Swiss cheese floor,

which she'd fall through holes should mishap occur.

We were to be careful, as my mother and her father

taught over decades, if life upset her in any way;

resentment, by us, wasn't allowed to imply or say.

When she died, I dreamed relief for my grandfather.

But he did not, for her care was his silken glove;

needing to be needed, was how we show love.

Friends

Friends

Learning, weak by week, friends aren't nouns,

that just sort of sit there and take up space,

but they are verbs, running in our life's race,

with us everywhere we go as love abounds.

We have found what when things get harried,

it is by their acts of simple generous kindness,

that our fogs of self pity lift over our messes,

after being treated with O'Briening, Gualtieried,

and bouts of Tuckering, Joe and May Louing,

Tom and Bething, Nick and Dawning, Wayned,

and treats of Tessed, Sadlering, Browned, Muaed,

Brehonying; all fine fabrics of connection glueing.

Don't have enough lines for all the names reporting

as our verbs, but we'll be to others verbs supporting.

Anniversary 31

 

Anniversary 31

On Holy ground, Moses' lover said: “I AM.”

Wandering in my own wilderness, found you,

I heard, “She is who she is, and that's true!

You'll not give her a heart entrance exam!”

You are who you are; all part of one gift!

My passion? Find ways to give thanks for

wholeness of you without keeping score;

of pluses or minuses that I'd want to shift.

The space between us is as Holy ground,

as any place that we have stopped to pray,

to hear “I AM” urge us take moment to stay,

treasuring each other, all the world around.

More than three decades of memory filled,

past isn't past when we've a future to build.

There Arose a King Who Knew Not Joseph

 

There Arose a King Who Knew Not Joseph

I have a habit of not caring what went on,

before I entered the room, assuming history

begins with my first squalls passing for oratory,

when I dare to command, “Shine out fair Sun!”

Confederate blood runs in my veins, warming

“lost cause” memories passed to me by father

reverently speaking of Jackson, Lee, slaughter,

chivalry and glory of Pickett's charge swarming.

I first have to learn Faulkner's past not being past,

healing begins when I let Word of past incarnate

my very flesh, hopes and dreams. Try sublimate

as much as I can; it must still be faced at last.

Denial, tearing asunder past monuments is easy;

but refusing to change the present is just sleazy.

The tellers of the stories who later collected Joseph stories in the Book of Genesis to lead into the Book of Exodus set Joseph's relocation in Egypt as part of the Hyksos, an influx of Semitic people coming down from Canaan, dominating Lower Egypt, ending the 13^th Dynasty and beginning the Second Intermediate Period. The Hyksos rulers tried to blend in and adopted Egyptian names and manners. When Upper and Lower Egypt were reunited under Egyptian control in the New Kingdom of the 18^th Dynasty, there was a move to purify their History, which is seen with this opening statement of Exodus that the new Pharaoh tries to forgot the past, feverishly working on a version of MEGA,“Making Egypt Great Again”, a racist message of building monuments to glorify himself, to escape the stigma of having to depend on the help of Semitic rulers in the past.

When Pat and I were in Egypt we were so impressed by the building patterns of Ramesses II of the 19^th Dynasty. One of the things he would do is to to take the name of a previous Pharaoh off a monument and replace it with his.

There is an old saying used by people in recovery, “Denial is not just a River in Egypt.” As I thought about this lesson, I was thinking about the individual, and national, habitual need to purify history to fit into our legends, instead of facing the truth with honesty in order to change the present.

The Gospel of John begins with the statement that Jesus is the Word made flesh. My faith journey is to try to be open enough to have the Word incarnate me on a daily basis.

Tom Murphy: Taking the Next Dance

 

Tom Murphy; Taking the Next Dance

Got the word that Tom Murphy died,

a man whose passion I respected and,

shared laughter about, the clergy band,

who pledged having same divine guide.

That guide would take us into the places

our egos would rather not we be seen in,

allied with losers, outcasts who did sin,

except our guide calls holy, sacred spaces.

Tom had trouble with pious professionals,

who wanted to clear the church's riffraff

out of the buildings, so a new golden calf

might be set up to lead the processionals.

His calling wasn't to preach and altar prance,

but to joyfully join in God's compassion dance.

Trying On Joseph's Shoes

Trying on Joseph's Shoes-- Poem for 16 August, 2020

The Joseph story continues in the Lectionary. The name Joseph comes from the Hebrew meaning God adds, God increases. In the story this week, Joseph reveals himself as the loving brother to the ones who had hated him. Five chapters later after their father, Jacob, dies the brothers are afraid that Joseph will now unleash vengeance on them. But Joseph tells them that no matter what they had done, they have all been able to increase through those difficult times. A reminder that it is when I have been hurt that I have been able to grow, and when there is honest forgiveness both sides grow.

Genesis 45:15 And Joseph kissed all his brothers and wept upon them; and after that his brothers talked with him.

Genesis 50:20 Joseph said: “ . . . you meant evil against me, but God meant it for good.”

Trying On Joseph's Shoes

Looking at the Joseph story, I am both;

one who sinned or one sinned against,

wants it forgotten, or, to stay incensed,

but it is forgiveness that brings growth.

The hard part is to give up being right,

like Joseph I learned that in being hurt,

wasn't a time that I'd give up as introvert

stuffing everything down, or go for fight.

I had to learn a third way, how to love,

to work to do what's in my enemy's best

interests and still be honest and blessed,

as if we're both under a descending dove.

Indeed, enemy and I both, an image share

of Divine un-rationed love, increases care.

Thanking God For Helen Van Laer

Helen Van Laer

She and Nick'd sit correcting each other

over items small or large or between

as if it were a really important scene

to see who first conceded out, “Mother”!

Both of them used to being the smartest

person in the room, so they were perfect

for each other to be the one either picked

to perform together before host or guest.

We got used to her because there's balance

in how she was opening their hearts to us,

and to those who needed some help, plus

working against greed's grasping advance.

Remembering how she'd plead for trees, deer,

raccoons and God, not being overlooked here.

Like Joseph's Brother

Like Joseph's Brother

He had been used to hearing that tone

in others, so he knew how it sounds,

cringing when it's now, making rounds

in his own prayers, “not to heaven” flown.

That quality making home was a whine,

of “Oh, poor me! On brother lay a curse!

I'll feel soothed and my resentment nurse,

crying in, and drinking of, salted wine.”

His brother love was twisted, dark wry,

not wanting him dead, but out of the way,

while brother hate wasn't black, but gray,

mirrored with envy out of a golden eye.

Reuben laments the doing of past deeds ill,

while brother in “Egypt”'s, spirit is here still.

The Lectionary for the 9^th of August, 2020 continues the Jacob Saga in Genesis with the rivalry in Jacob's own household, between his sons. His children repeat for him what he had thought was long past. The Jacob saga continues now with a novel about Joseph. The story may have been heavily influenced by an Egyptian novel of the XII Dynasty, The Tale of Sinuhe. It is a story of man who is forced to leave Egypt and goes to Canaan where he become rich and powerful, and then is able to return to Egypt to live his life out and be buried in his homeland. Joseph, like Sinuhe, like Jacob, due to the forces of envy, has to leave his home to find himself with a descent into a kind of hell, but finds himself, as always under God's care, even in the hells we find ourselves in. All of the brothers, and Jacob himself, have to go down to Egypt. Like the Moses story, all of us have to make a trip down to our Egypts to find a way to be free.

It is a universal story of how competitive envy is replaced by grace and forgiveness. Reuben is the oldest child of Jacob, the one who is “Turbulent as waters” according to his father's last blessing. He was the one who did not want Joseph to be killed, but envied Joseph so much that he wanted him out of the way, suggesting instead selling him to go down to Egypt in slavery. Reuben, the first born, is the Liberal of the brothers; he does not want to fully face his complicity of the sins of the past and yet longs for reconciliation. As historical atonement, the tribe of Reuben create cities of refuge for those under threat.

I am trying to get into Reuben's heart and how that heart would react to what is happening today. That is where my reflection would go, if I were still in the preaching habit.

Thanking God For Bob Morisseau's

Thanking God For Bob Morisseau's

Throwing open trunks of stories and tales,

decades of clerical life, but of sage advice

he dispensed by a dropper once or twice

when he feared egos going off the rails.

Flinging open that never ending larder

of hospitality to those wishing to be fed,

by him of that twice blessed daily bread

which he's able to give with great ardor.

Extravagantly unpacking love's truck loads,

dancing among us to remind us worth's

not dependent on perfection, but births

into life, walking on all sorts of roads.

Bob; faithful priest, a loving husband,

doting father to generations and a friend.

Emptying Out, In Time of Distance

Emptying Out, In Time of Distance

Finally, it is just the Other and me.

I was used to having others around,

couldn't figure out up from down,

failing to see the Other as a “Thee”.

How do we share our vulnerability,

under all the heavy layers of habit,

keeping each other amused? Grab it

away, unmask our tired pleasantry!

Holding each other fast at the Ford

of our Jakkob, we make a promise

to not let go until we give to bless,

binding ourselves with a new cord.

We'll not cross alone dark rivers;

but long for what a future delivers.

The Hebrew Testament Revised Common Lectionary Lesson for Sunday the 2^nd of August, (Proper 13 A, Ninth Sunday after Pentecost) continues the Jacob saga. Jacob must meet his future with the brother Esau, whom he betrayed decades before. He is at the Ford of the river Jabbok, named for the Hebrew word for “emptying out”. Here, he will separate himself from his family and all his possessions, empty out. Here, he will empty himself out to meet with God in the darkness. Here, he will wrestle with an “Angel”, which I see as a circumlocution for God by the editors of Genesis. In this struggle, Jacob will not let go until he is blessed. When I have seen sculptures of this wrestling, it is difficult to tell if this is struggle of mastery or an embracing struggle of love; or it is both/and. To me, it is also a story about how we have a relationship with others and how we have a prayer life with God. Every night is a River of Jabbok night, when we have to cross the next day into an unknown future.

In this time when we have the Pandemic and we are intensely isolated. The old habits we have of spending time with our neighbors, going to work, randomly running across aquaintences in the daily rush of life, are dying. Things are not the same. We are used to the pattern of returning howe to ask and answer the question, “What's new?” But as we have not left the house, we have to go deeper into ourselves to share what is “new” to us.

Church has changed with the concepts of Physical Distancing and we miss the old ways. Another way of looking at this time is of a birthing of something new, because we have this nagging belief, that while things do die; there is a resurrection.

Beloved Scoundrels In Love

Poem for July 26, 2020

Pentecost 8 A, Proper 12-A

“So Jacob served seven years for Rachel, and they seemed to him but a few days because of the love he had for her.” (Genesis 29:20)

Beloved Scoundrels In Love

Jacob, beloved scoundrel, fell into love,

prefiguring Einstein's collapsing of time,

where it had no real meaning; to climb

another ladder, being with heart's dove.

I think how the thirty plus years together,

have been spent like a drunkard's spree,

in that holy space between her and me,

drinking in moments; more the better!

When we met, weren't close to young,

but pretended that we had all the time

we could possibly use, up the ladders

which we're given to climb each rung.

Now, we are older, each rung is harder,

and yet time hasn't dimmed that ardor.

Wandering Into Beth-el

Poem: for Proper 11, Year A  in the Revised Common Lectionary. 

For almost 9 years my Sunday reflections began with a prayer for a poem to show me the way through what God may be saying to me through the lessons in the Lectionary for the coming Sunday. I don't have the need for a finished reflection since I am not called to preach at a church now. But I find that I miss the prayer for a poem. Today's poem begins as I focused on the line from the Jacob's Ladder Dream story: “Surely the Lord is in this place and I did not know it.” ( Genesis 28:16) Jacob after his dream at what he called the Gateway to the House of God (Beth-el).

Wandering Into Beth-el.

When did I wander into Beth-el this morning?

Was it when after our dog snuggled to wake me,

wanting to walk eastward into the breeze of sea,

outside boring space to leave his scent adorning?

Was it in bed resting against my wife's back,

feeling sleeping warmth, debating to wake her,

to get her to prove her love could, to me assure,

my worth as husband, lover with nothing lack?

Was it when I decided to let my ego take a rest,

affirming that people are my gifts on this earth,

not as objects manipulated for perceived worth,

but to treasure without them having pass a test?

I wandered into Beth-el when I walked around

into the world where all of it, was holy ground.

This was the poem three years ago:

Question for 23 July: What has God been saying in your dreams?

If Jacob’s Were My Dream

But this isn’t right; sins call for damnation,

stern look, freezing glance, burning threat;

all are appropriate as chasing of a bad debt

not the soft caresses of seeming adoration.

Now God’s house fills the space between us;

once fleeing from my sins to places unknown

resting on rocks where pillows can be stone

where flowing love brings new blessing thus.

God’s angel arms wrapped round holding tight

until our ragged breaths join in becoming one,

 deep inhaling of the oaths we shared and done

as new dawn’s rosy fingers call an end to night. 

When divine truths shimmer in unbidden dreams

they can show new starts washed in love streams.

Jacob and Esau; Poem for 6th Sunday after Pentecost

Poem for 6th Sunday after Pentecost.                         Jacob and Esau

The Hebrew Testament Story from Genesis for this coming Sunday is about the struggle between the brothers Esau and Jacob. I thought of my brother and I. The market place alluded to in the poem was in San Salvador, the Capital of El Salvador, and the maid or cook, would take us us two boys, three and four, to the Market Place to give my mother a chance to take care of our younger sister alone, or my mother would take us to give my sister a nap. I had red hair and chubby cheeks and it was considered good luck to rub a copper headed child and my bother had black hair and was thin and athletic. “Ay que Lindo! is Spanish for “Oh this is beautiful” and “Ay guapo!” is “Umm, . . . Handsome!”

Jacob and Esau

Looking at my brother and wanting to be,

him, instead of the quiet, awkward one,

I was turning out to be ,as second son,

in his shadow, one whom others didn't see.

When my mother would take us downtown,

market ladies would laugh, “Ay que lindo!”

rubbing my red hair for luck. “Ay, guapo!”

they'd sigh, envious for him as their own.

Time came to move away from his shadow,

yet, packing that shadow with me, unknowing

he carries mine deep into his own fate going:

brothers locked together as distance did grow.

When he died, I sighed, “What a waste!

To not stop competing, to give love a taste!”

Commemoration of Liberty July 3, 2020 Reflection

Commemoration of Liberty                    July 3, 2020                               Reflection

The Episcopal Church's Collect for the Celebration of the Declaration of Independence is:

Lord God Almighty, in whose Name the founders of this country won liberty for themselves and for us, and lit the torch of freedom for nations then unborn: Grant that we and all the people of this land may have grace to maintain our liberties in righteousness and peace; through Jesus Christ our Lord, who lives and reigns with you and the Holy Spirit, one God, for ever and ever. Amen.

At the time of the Declaration of Independence in 17176 the forerunner of the Episcopal Church, The Church of England, in the American Colonies, was in a mess. There were no Bishops in the Colonies, because Bishops stayed in their palaces in England. If you wanted to get confirmed or ordained; you had to go to England. Priests were officers of the Crown, and if they wanted to advance in their clerical career, they needed to stay or go back to England where it was safer. In some colonies, the Church of England was the Established Church supported by tax money and mandatory attendance. The mid-18^th Century Revivals of the “First Great Awakening” of 1730's and 1750's weakened further the allegiance of the citizens to this Crown Institution. For a Priest to join the rebellion was to throw away a livelihood.

Some like William White of Philadelphia, where the Anglican Church was not state supported, became a Chaplain to the 2^nd Continental Congress while Samuel Seabury, a Priest in New York, who was extremely vocal in his opposition to the rebellion, was arrested and jailed by the rebels for a period of time. After his release he signed up as a Chaplain to the British forces in New York until the end of the war. After the surrender of the British in 1783, with him being persona non grata in New York, he then moved to Connecticut.

During, and after, the war, many Anglican churches in those states in which they were Established, were confiscated by the new rebel governments as enemy property. The remnants of the struggling church came together in each new independent state. Under the Articles of Confederation, each state was a Sovereign State in a loose confederationm and in Connecticut the gathering of remnant Priests elected a person to go to England and be made a Bishop of the Independent State of Connecticut. That elected Priest turned down the offer and Samuel Seabury was elected in his place. Seabury thought his support for the British Crown would be a sales pitch for the Bishops in England to approve him. It wasn't and in Plan B, he went to Scotland and got a dissident group of the Non-Juror Scottish Church Bishops to approve his consecration in exchange for Seabury's promise to incorporate elements of the Non-Juror Prayer Book. Upon his return he pushed that agenda.

There was now a movement for a stronger National identity, as different states worked on creating an American Prayer Book for 1785. In that culled together Proposed Prayer Book there was a Prayer for the commemoration of the 4^th of July. The first called national Episcopal convention was held to approve the draft, but it's moderator, William White of Philadelphia, overruled that commemoration, because he thought that the wounds were still too fresh and he set the tone of how to live together in peace. The Prayer was omitted in the 1789 Prayer Book and did not come back in until the 1928 Prayer Book revision and then made a Commemoration in the 1989 Revision. White and Samuel Provoost of New York were dispatched to England, where those Bishops who had refused Seabury agreed to consecrate White and Provoost.

So, we have this prayer where we ask for grace to maintain the liberties for all the people of our nation. We are still working on it. The Prayer is not just about a time past but a present of Commemoration working for a future, living in peace and righteousness with each other.

Tom Wilson+

Peace of God Be With My Enemy, Daily Reflection

Peace of God Be With My Enemy           Daily Reflection                 June 2, 2020

In today's reflection, I am led to continue using the lessons from the Lectionary for the 4^th of July, from the Book of Hebrews: “If they had been thinking of the land that they had left behind, they would have had opportunity to return. But as it is, they desire a better country, that is, a heavenly one”.

Those of you who have heard me prattle on over the years, know that my definition of heaven is not a place above the sky where you go after you die as a reward for a holy life. For me the word “Heaven” is a circumlocution for being in the presence of God, where time and space are irrelevant. Therefore, in this Wilsonian definition, Heaven is not a future fantasy theme park where we are hoping to be admitted, but an ever present time and space of the deeper reality. To me, the meaning of the commandment of condemning the taking of the LORD's name in vain is not about cussing, but about referring to God in the third person as if God had left the room. God is here in us, in creation and in the space between us. This means to me, that I have to practice seeing God in the person with whom I disagree, or who is my enemy.

There is a Hindu greeting, “namaste” which comes three different sounds; na = not, mas = me, te = thee. It means “I am open to you”, “this is not about me”, “the God in me greets the God in you”. In the Episcopal Church, our version is in the exchange of signs of the Shalom of God, the Peace of the LORD with members of the congregation, which we do before receiving communion. If you have trouble sleeping and/or want to know more about that, I wrote a long scholarly article on that practice, “A Pax On Both Your Houses”, for the Sewanee Theological Review when I was in Seminary 37 years ago, which is probably mouldering on the dusty back racks of some Theological School Libraries.

Today's newspaper headlines have to do with the naming of the aircraft carrier John C. Stennis. Stennis was the longtime chair of the Senate Armed Services Committee and was heavily involved in appropriations for our military. The naming of the Carrier was in honor of his support over the years of the Navy. Stennis was also a through going racist.When black sailors whose parents and grandparents Stennis fought against having their voting rights, or going to equal schools, or having representation on juries, or advancement in the military, or living in the place of their choice, or being able to make a living above poverty, or having due process in court, or having a fair trial; when the sailors salute the ship they are also saluting the man whose name it carries. It would be like saying namaste, the Shalom of God, the Peace of the LORD to him. If I were black, the words would choke in my throat and I would need a power greater than myself to do it.

My own private politics have been extreme left wing, and I have had to keep them out of my statements as a Priest in the Episcopal Church. But I am retired now. I went to seminary right after Ronald Wilson Regan was elected President and it was difficult for me to lead prayers when we prayed for the leaders of our nation. I disagreed with almost every thing he did, but I prayed for him, sometimes gritting my teeth. One thing that helped was saying his full name, his middle name is the same as my last name; so we might be cousins, maybe 47^th cousins, eight times removed, but we were connected in my mind. I have a hard time with our current president; but prayers with his name, the namaste, the Shalom of God, the Peace of the LORD, are offered for him, sometimes with gritted teeth, but offered because we are all connected. I do not choose my God, or my neighbor; rather God's Peace is in the space between us if we choose to give it.

Daily Reflection, July1, 2020; Evil Living After

Evil Living After                     July 1, 2020                              Daily Reflection

In the Gospel lesson for the 4^th of July, the editor of Matthew is weaving a series of sayings attributed to Jesus in what has been called “The Sermon On The Mount.” One saying was; “You have heard that it was said, ‘You shall love your neighbor and hate your enemy.’ But I say to you, Love your enemies and pray for those who persecute you, so that you may be children of your Father in heaven; for he makes his sun rise on the evil and on the good, and sends rain on the righteous and on the unrighteous.”

The Sermon on the Mount is one of the most beautiful, most admired and least followed parts of the Gospel, which is about loving your enemy. The usual dismissal is a petulant scowl: “So you want me to let him, (her, them), that scum of the earth, walk all over me! Do you have any idea how much evil he (she, they) are doing?”

Blindness is not a requirement to love; love is not blind, but it puts things into context. The reality is that we are both bad and good at the same time. The task of Christian love is to know we are broken and sacred at the same time, as Luther used to say “simul justus et peccator” and so are our enemies.

The task is to love the enemy and work against the evil. The evil is the target not the enemy. Evil lives long after us as we are reminded Shakespeare's Julius Caesar in Marc Antony's funeral oration speech: “The evil that men do lives after them;/The good is oft interred with their bones.”

My father was one of the kindest, gentlest, most honorable men I have ever known. He loved my mother and his children and worked for the betterment of his community. But he was a product of his time and heritage. When he was a child, he related to me in a story when we were watching a clip of the Silent film, of D. W. Griffith's Birth of a Nation, a masterpiece of art and hate. In the film, the defeated noble Confederates must stand against those greedy Carpetbaggers and scurrilous Yankees and uppity buffoonish former slaves. The noble Confederates take to the Klan to avenge the disgrace and uphold the honor of the fragile women of the south; death before dishonor! My father laughed about when he was a young child in 1920's Asheville, N.C., he and his friends would steal the sheets from the clothes line and mount their maid's broomsticks and ride to uphold Southern honor. They were punished for messing up the sheets and brooms. Later, he considered the Klan of his day as an organization that was a Ponzi scheme to make money off of people rooted in fear and hate. But, the idea of Southern “honor” and white supremacy was reinforced daily by the school systems and governments in North Carolina. He believed the “Lost and Glorious Cause” Myth of the Confederacy.

My father, a product of his time, was a gentle bigot and we got into many of an argument about race, especially after I started to attend meetings of CORE (the Congress of Racial Equality) in the nearby city in Upstate New York. His main fear is that my future might be blighted by membership in Left Wing groups as so many of his colleagues had seen their futures cut short by the McCarthy witch hunts.

The good of my father is interred in his bones and in the hearts of his sons and daughter who survived him, but the evil, the tacit acceptance of white supremacy continues to live; and it is that we must stand against before it keeps being passed on.Tom Wilson+

Irresponsible Actions

Irresponsible Actions              June 30, 2020 Reflection

The fireworks season began last night. My wife woke up and said she heard someone firing a gun and our dog, Yoda, the Wonder Dog, was hyperventilating. I told her to go back to sleep because this happens every year the week before July 4^th. Every vacationing renter to the Outer Banks gets a notice in their rental package:

“North Carolina prohibits the possession of any pyrotechnics which launch or propels into the air, or which explode making a sound or "report." Sparklers, fountains and ground displays are allowed only with adult supervision and when exercising extreme caution and fire prevention. Fireworks are illegal in Dare County, including all towns and villages.”

Last week, as always, the week before the 4^th of July, the parking lot in front of the local Walmart a tent is set up to sell fireworks and it does a brisk business. Last night was a Monday night, all the renters have moved in for the week and boredom sets in; and a sure fire cure for boredom is to do something that is irresponsible!

Yesterday, the top health officer of the County said, that despite what we locals want to believe, the highest number of newest cases of Covid – 19 virus were from locals giving it to locals at large gatherings without maintaining proper physical distance and wearing facial covering. She urged against irresponsible behavior by locals.

The collect for the service for the 4th of July understands that liberty is not just “freedom from” but “freedom for” responsibilities of that liberty. The Prayer goes:

Lord God Almighty, in whose Name the founders of this country won liberty for themselves and for us, and lit the torch of freedom for nations then unborn: Grant that we and all the people of this land may have grace to maintain our liberties in righteousness and peace; through Jesus Christ our Lord, who lives and reigns with you and the Holy Spirit, one God, for ever and ever. Amen.

Yesterday, Pat and I were walking on the circle of our street and one of my neighbors' cars was running. There was no one in the car and probably she left it running to go back into the house to pick up something. Suddenly, I had this incredibly stupid thought cross my mind. Why not get in and drive the car away? Maybe just for a little ride and park it not so far away as a warning to her to not do that. I was flummoxed by that thought and I told Pat what had just passed through my mind. She looked at me, horrified that I would even consider such a dastardly deed. Yet, that part of me is indeed part of me. Oh yes, I could try to justify it be saying I was doing it to protect the environment, or as a gesture to “teach her a lesson”. But all that kind of excuse would be garbage. The thought crossed my mind because - why? Was it because I was bored with retirement, frustrated that Pat was not getting fully better and annoyed that so many things had needed to be fixed on the house and there was still more. There are lots of possible excuses! Or, was it that the irresponsible part of me, that always been there and seems to stay long after the “sell by” date, keeps coming back to invite me to take a ride on the wild side?

One of the Desert Fathers warned his monks; “You can't keep the birds from flying over your head, but you can keep them from nesting in your beard.” My prayer for today is to have “ grace to maintain our liberties in righteousness and peace.”

Bunting Going Up ---- Daily Reflection for June 29, 2020

Bunting Going Up                            Reflection for June 29, 2020

As I walked my dog this morning, I noticed the beginnings of red, white and blue bunting going up on some of the houses in the neighborhood as part of the Civil Religion we have about our nation. Pat, when she had more energy, would have dug out some the decorations and then start buying pastries and maling cakes with patriotic sentiments. I would usually haul out the flag and hang it from the deck. When we lived in Lynchburg and Macon, and in summers working on my Doctorate in Sewanee, towns that had orchestras, we would go to the outdoor 4^th of July Patriotic concerts where the concert would start with the National Anthem, have some pieces by Charles Ives, John Phillips Sousa, Aaron Copeland, Irving Berlin, and old standards like America the Beautiful, America, and others, and end with a fireworks display. On the Outer Banks there was usually a patriotic concert at a church or three and a couple of fireworks displays.

This year there will not be a fireworks display or concert because of the pandemic. With the increase of summer visitors we have doubled the number of Covid-19 cases in the last 8 days, we went from 47 to 93 cases. That is but one symptom of what happens when people come to a place in order to spend time, money and energy solely on their own agendas with an “I deserve it” mentality.

I am a loyal American, but I agree with what the writer of the New Testament Book of the Epistle to the Hebrews. Which in my humble opinion, and most scholars, is not written by Paul, is not an Epistle and is not addressed to the Hebrews, but it has a wonderful phrase when the writer speaks of Abraham and others: “They confessed that they were strangers and foreigners on the earth”

There are several ways of looking at that passage. One is to say; “I am only passing through on this earth, but I have a rent to pay of making this a better place to live for everyone.” Another is to say; “I am only passing through and I have to get as much out of this place as I can with no thought of the future.”

In 1989 Stanley Hauerwas and William Willimon, wrote Resident Aliens, a tome, an extended reflection on that passage from Hebrews and the work of the church before, and after, it became established as part of the state by the Roman Emperor Constantine in the 4^th Century. What I got out of reading it , was the thought that churches should not be involved in getting out the vote for so-called “Christian Candidates” who promise to pursue a nostalgic agenda of a return to the “Good Old Days” of yesteryear of a Christian Nation. 

That vision of the “Good Ole Days” is an idol we worship when it is inconvenient to serve God and follow Jesus. Instead that vision makes God and Jesus into the image of ourselves; people of privilege with a passion to increase our own comfort, power, riches and control over others. It was the MAGA of the 1970's-80's. It is an attractive vision and very popular, and in my worst days - it sneaks into my fantasies. I was working at a Parish in Lynchburg at the time and about a half a mile to the west was one of the main proponents of that agenda, the “Old Time Gospel Hour ”, of Jerry Falwell and his Thomas Road Baptist Church. 

Rather, the authors suggest churches should spend their energy by being models of how communities can be changed, by doing justice, loving mercy and walking humbly with our God. The difference is between changing the outward structures and decorative buntings of coercive government, or reclaiming our souls and acting as catalysts for change in the soul of communities; local, national, and world wide in which we live. I have been preaching that Gospel over the last 30 years at around this time of year.

LP MUA Black Lives Matter

Black Lives Matter                Thoughts for Friday           26, June, 2020

From the Gospel less this coming Sunday Matthew 10:40- 42 “Jesus said, “Whoever welcomes you welcomes me, and whoever welcomes me welcomes the one who sent me. Whoever welcomes a prophet in the name of a prophet will receive a prophet's reward; and whoever welcomes a righteous person in the name of a righteous person will receive the reward of the righteous; and whoever gives even a cup of cold water to one of these little ones in the name of a disciple-- truly I tell you, none of these will lose their reward.”

Yesterday, I got a Facebook Post from friends of mine, It shows a picture of Louis Patrick Mua putting a Black Lives Matter Sign in their yard in Davie County. Louis Patrick, likes to be called “LP” now, and his family were members of my parish in Georgia. LP is well over 6 feet tall, muscular, recent college graduate where he played on Varsity Basketball team, and will be starting seminary in the fall to prepare the the Priesthood in the Episcopal Church. He and his family have a deep faith and they have been good friends to Pat and I all of LP's life. The post from his mother said:

My children wanted me to place this sign in a visible part of our yard. We did, and unfortunately we were met with strong pushback from two families who see us daily and make a point to never acknowledge us. They both live a few houses away from me. The father of one family rode his bike in our yard and commented loudly, while the other family made gestures to let us know that this wasn’t wanted. It was the children who said, “but dad, they are our neighbors!” Perhaps their children will teach the adults about love.

Lp, that behemoth of a Black Man, I cannot look at without remembering him as a small baby I held in my arms, changed his diapers, held him when he cried, fed him while he was sitting in my lap, and even held him in my arms as he came up for a blessing at communion and the n held him in my armsas I gave out bread to others to whom he smiled.

I remember Louis Patrick being deeply spiritual. On a family visit to his father's native country, Cameroon, as a three year old, his parents told me how he sat on the tomb of his grandfather and had a conversation with the grandfather's spirit. I remember listening to him talk about the God he knew and asking questions. I remember him growing up and taking care of his little sister, Izoma, now a college student. I remember the family coming to visit us on the Outer Banks several times over the years. I remember our staying several times over the years as their guests in the house where the sign was to be posted. I remember attending LP's High School graduation and the casual bigotry of display of confederate flags on his fellow students cars. I remember the stuggle they had at that school when the administration realized that Rebel with a Confederate Flag was not the best Mascot for ALL the students and after a long process the mascot was changed to “War Eagle”. I remember how he refused to rise to the bait when he played on the High School basketball team when he was a recipient of physical fouling by white opposing players, but he calmly gave as good as he got until they wised up that he was no pushover. I remember deciding I did not need to give him a lecture, but we did have a moment of prayers for those who need to be healed of hatred.

This is a family I love and THESE BLACK LIVES MATTER. But we don't live in a vacuum, we live in a time when casual bigotry is excused, open racial hatred is given a nod and a wink, and violent oppression is too often excused. This has to stop and we all need to speak and stand against it!

I consider the sigh in their yard as the work of a prophet, and a heralding of righteousness, As Jesus suggests to those who would follow him, and at the very least “ whoever gives even a cup of cold water to one of these little ones in the name of a disciple” receives the one who sent them out to do God's work of doing justice, loving mercy and walking humbly with our God

Jerry Lee Boteler Reflection

Jerry Lee Boteler,      25 June, 2020

The Psalm for this coming Sunday's lectionary: Psalm 13:5 But I put my trust in your mercy; *my heart is joyful because of your saving help. 6 I will sing to the Lord, for he has dealt with me richly; * I will praise the Name of the Lord Most High.

Longtime friends and former parishioners in the church I served in Lynchburg, Virginia for more than a decade, called me last night to tell me of the death of Jerry Boteler. It was a shock, for I was one day older than Jerry. Jerry and I started off being a thorn in each other's side. He was an English teacher who worked hard for his students: He loved teaching, beautiful Liturgy, Poetry and Shakespeare which I also loved. However, he had highly approved of the way my two previous predecessors had handled the services in a High Church formal manner and he missed them. In an aggressively Low Church Diocese, the church stood out and many of the parishioners were proud of that difference. I came with an idea of needing to move the church out beyond Sunday morning into the community and that is where my energy went, and what I would arrogantly dismiss as “Chancel prancing” was way down on my list. My seemingly cavalier attitude toward worship services hurt Jerry and some others who had been drawn to the beauty. I had a tendency to forget the advice of one of my seminary instructors; “Not every idea that occurs to you is a good idea.” I publicly said that it was about broader possibilities---- but, of course, like all insecure clerics, I wanted to make changes-- it is an ego thing to try to make my mark – not too much unlike what my dog does in the morning when I take him for a walk.

I was in middle age, second career, and had been working as a Chaplain with college students and youth groups as a Curate in the first Parish after ordination. Some of the kids would call out to me, “Hey Mister Wilson!”, in a Dennis the Menace style. I felt uncomfortable being called “Father” because I did not want the responsibility of walking into a “Good Father” role for people with Daddy issues. I asked to be just called Tom. Jerry would refuse and always call me Father Wilson – and in his accent it came out with what I heard as a hint of disapproval as FAAAAther Wilson. It was part of his way of holding on to the old relationships he had with the previous two Rectors. Finally I told him: “Jerry, the title “Father” is an honorific, a sign of spiritual relationship which You do not have for me.” His response was: “It is like the Armed Forces where one salutes the uniform and not the man.” He was on the worship committee and mere frosty politeness ruled for about four years as we worked together and disagreed regularly. He was faithful to the church and he and his mother would come and endure.

Then Pat came to town and she broke down his walls and he would laugh with her. She got along famously with him for they shared lots of tastes in art. Jerry decided that if Pat loved me, it would not be that difficult for him to love me as well. I learned to live into being “Father Tom”. I became very fond of Jerry and it was hard to leave him behind for God had dealt with me richly by giving me Jerry.

As a Priest, I recite to Jerry, my brother in Christ:

Depart, O Christian soul, out of this world;
In the Name of God the Father Almighty who created you;
In the Name of Jesus Christ who redeemed you;
In the Name of the Holy Spirit who sanctifies you.
May your rest be this day in peace,
and your dwelling place in the Paradise of God. Amen

As a friend, I echo Horatio who says when Hamlet dies:

Now cracks a noble heart. Good night sweet Prince

And flights of angels sing thee to thy rest.

Where is the Lamb? Thoughts for Wednesday June 25, 2020

Where is the Lamb?

I woke up this morning with a memory of a dream. In the dream, I am trying to judge if a home is suitable for a child to live. I did things like that decades ago, when I was a Social Worker working with abused and neglected children. But when we look at dreams, usually the dream is not about the past but about what God is telling us about the present. I make the assumption that all elements of the dream are parts of me; I am the critical judge, and the defensive parent, and the confused child, and the dysfunctional home in which I live and move and have my being. God is the space between all our characters.

When I study scripture I put myself into each of the characters, as in the story from the Hebrew Testament of Abraham and Issac: “Isaac said to his father Abraham, “Father!” And he said, “Here I am, my son.” He said, “The fire and the wood are here, but where is the lamb for a burnt offering?” Abraham said, “God himself will provide the lamb for a burnt offering, my son.” So the two of them walked on together.”

Looking at a dream is the same way I look at scripture, both are tales sent to me, to dwell in my unconscious, which I work to bring into deeper awareness to help me find out more about my connection to God and the creation. Like Issac, I am trying to figure out what is going on in my life in this new retirement, with a suspicion I cannot name that the absent Lamb and I have a lot in common.

I did my morning walk and I reflected on the passage and the dream. I am making the assumption that the dream and the scripture are synchronistically related. They are rationally independent of each other, yet I give a meaning to them both showing up in my awareness at the same time.

If I were still working for a living, I would probably invite people to live into being the Issac who trusts but holds on to some anxiety that the one in whose Image he is created has a plan going on that Issac hasn't quiet figured out yet, but the two of them keep walking together.

Today's walk was good, I love walking alone in the morning because I know that I am really walking together. “Vocatus atque non vocatus, Deus aderit.” Invoked or not invoked, God is present.”

I just realized that today, the Feast of John the Baptizer, was the day I was ordained as a deacon in 1984 at St. Luke's Church in Boone, N.C. My theme in the lessons I chose was from Luke, when Jesus gets up from washing the disciples feet; “For who is greater, the one who is at the table or the one who serves? Is it not the one at the table? But I am among you as one who serves.”

There is this thing about synchronicity; it is a God thing!

Saying "No"

Saying "No"

When I woke up this morning, it was not raining so I tried to sneak out to do my walk for a couple of miles before I had to take Yoda, the Wonder Dog, for his morning walk. It had stormed last night, so he was not going to be left behind and rushed down to the door a head of me. I told him “no” but he would not be dissuaded. MY walk for my health had to be postponed for a half an hour until we went through the ritual of his sniffing, looking and marking territory. I have a hard time saying no to my dog, or to my wife, or to my parishioners, or to beggars off the streets, or to myself.

As I walked with Yoda, the Wonder Dog, I got to thinking about Warren G. Harding, a President of the United States during a particularly scandal ridden administration in the early 1920's, who could not say “no” to his friends as they robbed the country blind. Warren was good looking and amiable, but his father had told him: “Warren, it is a good thing you were not born female for you would be in the family way all the time since you can't say “no”! Harding fathered at least two children by his at least four mistresses, one of whom was able to blackmail the Republican National Committee to keep quiet during the Presidential election of 1920. Harding, before his term was over, got food poisoning from crabs on a trip to Alaska and died because of the over-enthusiastic treatment of it by his homeopathic doctor. Some rumored that he was poisoned by his wife who refused to allow an autopsy be done.

When I took Yoda, the Wonder Dog, back home, I lit out for my own walk and I started to reflect on the lectionary for this next week. From the beginning of the Hebrew Testament Lesson for this coming Sunday: “God tested Abraham. He said to him, “Abraham!” And he said, “Here I am.” He said, “Take your son, your only son Isaac, whom you love, and go to the land of Moriah, and offer him there as a burnt offering on one of the mountains that I shall show you.”

There are certain parts of the Bible I consider obscene and this is close to the top of my list where the insecure, like an adolescent in heat, deity pleads: “If you love me you will! How much do you really love me?” When we were in Jerusalem years ago, we went to the Temple Mount , to the Dome of the Rock and here we heard people religious experts speak obedience in praise of Abraham who loved God so much that he agreed to sacrifice Issac (for Jews) or sacrifice Ishmael (for the Muslims) or the sacrifice of Jesus as the second Issac (for the Christians).

There are times to say “no”. As I walked in prayer, I thought of the times when I said “no” and when I refused to say “no”. In Improvisational Comedy, the whole Idea is to not say no. Tina Fey in an address to college graduates, related in her bookm Bossypants gave rules for Improv and work:

    Rule #1 — Agree

        The first rule of improvisation is AGREE. Always agree and SAY YES.
          The Lesson: Respect What Your Partner has Created?
   Rule #2 — Not Only Say Yes… Say Yes And
         The Lesson: Contribute Something
     Rule #3 — Make Statements
        Lesson: Don’t Ask Questions All the Time
    Rule #4 — There Are No Mistakes… Only Opportunities
        Lesson: Stay Positive, Learn to Adapt

I guess saying “no” or “yes” depend if you see life as a pre-ordained tragedy or an improv comedy.

Welcoming

A Thought for, Monday, June 22, 2020: Welcoming

“Jesus said, “Whoever welcomes you welcomes me.” (Matthew 10.40a)” First line of the Gospel lesson for Sunday the 28 June

Jesus is talking to his disciples as they go out to do ministry. I am adjusting to find my new ministry on this the first day of my second retirement. After the rains, I took my dog, Yoda-the Wonder Dog, this morning about 3:30 AM for about a half an hour walk -- the rain had bothered him. When I got back Pat was up and we decided to get up and binge watch to stay out of bed. I fixed us breakfast and then about 7:00 AM Yoda, having wolfed his breakfast down wanted to go for another walk.

When we go for a walk when other people are walking he searches for all the treasures of the universe. He knows who might have a dog treat in their pockets and will rush forward to greet them to complain how he is ill cared for. But power walkers and runners, especially girls, as they are passing us, he wants to sniff the air as they pass and enjoy all the pheromones left in the air. As I walked him he saw two young healthy women taking a power walk on the other side of the street and he headed toward them to get into step behind them. They saw him and cooed “Hey sweetheart, You are so cute!” and they kept on power walking as I said “Good morning”. I realized they were talking about Yoda and not me, and so, exhaled letting out my old fat man gut.

A few minutes later we stopped and I talked with a neighbor out on her walk. Yoda laid his body down after he realized she had no treats for him and I did not suck in my gut because I did not need to hope to impress her. She knew me as a neighbor, whose father in law I had buried, she was a volunteer, as had been my wife, at the Southern Shores Volunteer Fire department where I had been a Volunteer Chaplain for years, until the first retirement and she was asking about my wife's health. The space between us was not filled with ego stuff about what is in it for me, but about honesty and care.

I realized that often, when I was working for a church, I was aware that I was not just being me, but I was a paid representative of the church and anyone with whom I came into contact's opinion of the church would be shaped by how I acted towards them. I no longer had that agenda. What was going on, if what Jesus is saying is true, and whoever welcomes me welcomes him, is that God was there in the space between us. Jung used to have a motto carved above the door of his house: Vocatus atque non vocatus deus aderit, which is Latin, for “Summoned or not summoned, God is here”. It was the inscription on the shrine at Delphi where ancient Greek pilgrims would go to consult with the Oracle of Apollo to get direction for their lives.

God has been here today as I walked the dog, or fixed breakfast, or talked with my neighbor. God was even there, laughing, when I sucked in my gut.“Summoned or not summoned, God is here”

Support Coming To Town

A Reflection and Poem for 3^rd Sunday After Pentecost (Proper 7)                            June 21, 2020   St. Andrew’s Episcopal Church, Nags Head, N.C.                    Thomas E. Wilson, Supply Clergy

Romans 6:1b-11                      Matthew 10:24-39  Hymn: 503

Support Coming to Town!

This is the 3^rd part of a Trinity of reflections and poems about helping relationships, which according to one of my Social Work Professors, Alan Keith Lucas, is a Trinity of Reality-  an aspect of the Creator God, Empathy- an aspect of the Christ who enters into daily life and Support- an aspect of the Holy Spirit who gives us strength to work together.  Using that outline I also use the insight of  Pittman McGehee, an Episcopal Priest, Jungian Therapist and Poet who in a conversation described the “mystic expectation of seeing the  Transcendent in everyday life; a Trinity of  experiencing the extraordinary in the ordinary, the miraculous in the mundane and the sacred camouflaged in the profane.” 

The work of the mystic is to be curious; a curiosity about oneself, about one's neighbor, about one's enemy, and about God working in this world; all with an expectation of finding wonder. The mystic calls upon the Holy Spirit and waits for, and expects an answer to her Prayer. My favorite Prayer is the 9th century hymn, Come Holy Ghost Our Souls Inspire, a fourteen line Sonnet, found in the 1982 Hymnal - Hymn 503, which I have had sung at  my 2 ordinations, my 3 installations as Rector of a church and at every Confirmation for those which I presented and prepared.

1 Come, Holy Ghost, our souls inspire,
and lighten with celestial fire.
Thou the anointing Spirit art,
who dost thy sevenfold gifts impart.

2 Thy blessed unction from above
is comfort, life, and fire of love.
Enable with perpetual light
the dullness of our blinded sight.

3 Teach us to know the Father, Son,
and thee, of both, to be but One,
that through the ages all along,
this may be our endless song:

4 Praise to thy eternal merit,
Father, Son and Holy Spirit.                    Amen.

For my own confirmation in 1959, I memorized the sevenfold gifts: “wisdom, understanding, counsel, fortitude, knowledge, piety, and fear of the Lord.” I memorized them, but it would take decades before I tried to put asking the Holy Spirit for these gifts into practice.

Next week you are having the new Rector show up here to do services. He and his family are already in town, but you began the spiritual journey together months ago.  This journey together began as you started to pray together. You asked the questions to find the answers of who you were, and are, and hope to be, as a congregation and how can you be explained to others? Nathan and his family did the same thing of asking themselves who they were, and hope to be, as a partner with you in the support of mutual ministry. It begins with curiosity of looking deeper than the usual surface for answers about yourselves, your church, your community and the creation of God in which you live and move and have your being.

Years, decades ago, when I was in training as a Psychiatric Social Worker, I remember when I was in the initial session with the mother of a child I was working with, and I asked her to tell me about herself. Her reply was “I am a catatonic schizophrenic.” I replied that the label doesn't tell me anything. Her response was to stand up, ramrod straight, and stare at me . . . and stare . . . and stare. After a few minutes, I thanked her and she sat down again. She thought the label was everything I needed to know. It was what the insurance company needed to know for billing purposes. However, if my task was to help her deal with her son, and he with her, I needed to support them and support begins with curiosity. Who are they beyond the labels, the roles, the behavior, the beliefs, the prejudices and the habits.

In the past several weeks we have been confronted with massive demonstrations and violence which are an outward and visible manifestations of our persistent inability to be curious across racial and ethnic lines. Let me read you a poem, Praise, by a  Black Poet Angelo Geter, published online on June 15^th last week, as a way of his finding praise in the middle of chaos

Today I will praise. I will praise the sun For showering its light On this darkened vessel. I will praise its shine. Praise the way it wraps My skin in ultraviolet ultimatums Demanding to be seen. I will lift my hands in adoration Of how something so bright Could be so heavy. I will praise the ground That did not make feast of these bones. Praise the casket That did not become a shelter for flesh. Praise the bullets That called in sick to work. Praise the trigger That went on vacation. Praise the chalk That did not outline a body today. Praise the body For still being a body And not a headstone. Praise the body, For being a body and not a police report Praise the body For being a body and not a memory No one wants to forget. Praise the memories. Praise the laughs and smiles You thought had been evicted from your jawline Praise the eyes For seeing and still believing. For being blinded from faith But never losing their vision Praise the visions. Praise the prophets Who don’t profit off of those visions. Praise the heart For housing this living room of emotions Praise the trophy that is my name Praise the gift that is my name. Praise the name that is my name Which no one can plagiarize or gentrify Praise the praise. How the throat sounds like a choir. The harmony in your tongue lifts Into a song of adoration. Praise yourself For being able to praise. For waking up, When you had every reason not to.

William Glasser in his Choice Theory says that we have choices in our habits between what can bring us closer together or drive us apart. We can choose to encourage deadly habits or caring habits. We can choose to support the relationship or destroy it:

Seven Deadly Habits                          Seven Caring Habits

Criticizing                                       Supporting

Blaming                                          Encouraging

Complaining                                       Listening

Nagging                                          Accepting

Threatening                                         Trusting

Punishing                                        Respecting

Rewarding to control                      Negotiating Differences

It is my understanding that this is how God the Holy Spirit deals with us as part of our relationship with the Triune God; the seven deadly habits point fingers and the seven caring habits are gifts given in grace.

In Paul's letter to the Romans passage in today's reading, Paul would have referred to those seven deadly habits as sin, in his greek αμαρτία, (h'amartia). It is a technical term in archery which means that the arrow you are shooting is missing the target. It is not about being good or bad; it is just missing the point, a waste of the precious gift of life. Also in the Greek words, Μη γένοιτο, a negative “may” of a genitive term of being, “genoito” that the translator has written “By no means” is too nice. In the context of what Paul is saying in this chapter, Paul would not be nice here and the best translation that I could use in mixed company would  be a Wilsonian translation of Paul's Letter to the Romans 6:1b-2: “Should we continue in this garbage of condemning others, beating them up in the hope they will turn into better people by our abuse? Hell NO- are you out of your ever-loving mind? That's a fact, Jack.” 

Paul is at the end of his rope in this letter to the Romans and the language he uses is an example of how we tend to be drawn into being rough with each other in church situations. The way out of that kind of relationship is to be curious of the other person; listen and go deeper with the person with whom you disagree. It doesn't matter if your viewpoint is “right.” Being “right” is an ego thing; being right and a buck fifty will buy you a busted relationship and a cup of coffee.

We love pointing out other people's sins, but we need to leave that love. To remember the old Paul Simon song, 50 Ways To Leave Your Lover:

“You just slip out the back, Jack
Make a new plan, Stan
You don't need to be coy, Roy
Just get yourself free
Hop on the bus, Gus
You don't need to discuss much
Just drop off the key, Lee
And get yourself free”

The relationship you will have with Nathan and his family is a model of your relationship together with this church and this community. Can you be graciously curious with one another, sharing your shared ignorances and asking for, and giving of, forgiveness for not knowing all the ready answers? Can you respect and negotiate the real differences in each other? Can you spend time listening together to God, and each other, and to the space between, and behind, the words we say and hear? Can you learn how to laugh graciously with each other at blessings, and to shed tears together when you mourn? Can you work together to encourage the breaking down of the barriers of race and class and work for justice and peace which passes all understanding? Can you find ways to redeem the past, accepting the responsibility for comfortably condoning past violences, greeds and fears, but making changes in order to live into a new future? Can each day you, together, work to continue to care for God's creation in this, the “Goodliest land under the cope of Heaven?” Can you work to build a greater trust that Jesus is giving the daily bread we need for each day? Can you together ask for, and expect, the wonder of the gifts of the Holy Spirit on a daily basis?

I will leave you with a poem as a suggestion for your conversation with your new Rector.

Support Coming to Town!

Hi! My name tag tells you my name,

but I am more than that, and my dream

for these next years is; we'll be a team,

of mutual healing, setting love aflame.

For this community, world and church,

I don't corner the answers or solutions,

but I ask for help, seeking absolutions

for shared sins as we're ending search.

Help claim shared home in God's love,

in the Holy Space in, and between, us,

expanding beyond, singing in a chorus,

of praise beyond walls, to heavens above.

Share how we might be a support to you,

as we share our support for what is true.