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.

Empathy Comes To Town

Poem/Reflection for 2^nd Sunday after Pentecost (proper 6)     St. Andrew's Church, Nags Head, N.C. June 14, 2020                                                                               Thomas E. Wilson, Supply Clergy

Genesis 18:1-15        Psalm 116:1, 10-17                 Romans 5:1-8           Matthew 9:35-10:8    

Empathy Coming To Town

This is the second of a series of three reflections and poems focusing in on the Trinity. Last week, I shared a metaphor that I found helpful from Dr. Alan Keith Lucas, my Thesis advisor and a Professor at the School of Social Work at the University of North Carolina in Chapel Hill. Keith was writing about the nature of a helping relationship that had to have three elements: Reality, Empathy and Support. He called it a Trinity, because if you leave any part of the relationship out, there is no relationship and we just end up wasting our time, and the time of whomever we are in relationship with.

Born in 1910 in England, and graduating from Cambridge University with Honors in 1931 and a Master's in English in 1935, Keith had started his life as an “Ethical Humanist” and saw no reason for a concept of God to muddy the waters of his life. He started his professional life a teacher and then headmaster of a school where he found himself helping students.  It is in that helping process with the students when he was a teacher and headmaster that he started to experience an awareness of something beyond just business as usual; that we were not placed on this earth to teach subjects or to keep order. He came to the United States in 1937 and got a Master's Degree in Social Work and became an American Citizen in 1943 and joined the US Army during World War II. In 1950 he came to Chapel Hill to join the faculty of the School of Social Work until his retirement in 1975. I was one of the speakers at his retirement because I felt that he had helped me grow Spiritually. I deeply mourned him when he died in 1995.

Over the years of his career, Keith had been deeply interested in the interplay between religion and the helping of people and how people of faith might use their faith to work with people in helping relationships. In conversations with him he would weave in stories of religious people of empathy, like Francis of Assisi in the 13^th century, Reinhold Niebuhr, Martin Luther King Jr. and Dorothy Day in the 20^th and in the 4^th, St. John Chrysostom; all of them always getting into trouble  because they cared. Chrysostom was a Bishop in the nominally Christian Roman Empire and his empathy for the poor would always be disturbing to the authorities who wanted order and business as usual. In a homily on the Gospel of Matthew, Chrysostom preached:

Do you wish to honor the body of Christ? Do not ignore him when he is naked. Do not pay him homage in the temple clad in silk, only then to neglect him outside where he is cold and ill-clad. He who said: "This is my body" is the same who said: "You saw me hungry and you gave me no food", and "Whatever you did to the least of my brothers you did also to me"... What good is it if the Eucharistic table is overloaded with golden chalices when your brother is dying of hunger? Start by satisfying his hunger and then with what is left you may adorn the altar as well.

You may already know Chrysostom's name for it is his prayer we say at the end of Morning Prayer:  

Almighty God, you have given us grace at this time with one accord to make our common supplication to you; and you have promised through your well-beloved Son that when two or three are gathered together in his Name you will be in the midst of them: Fulfill now, O Lord, our desires and petitions as may be best for us; granting us in this world knowledge of your truth, and in the age to come life everlasting. Amen.

In the Gospel lesson for today, Jesus sends out his disciples, telling them to enter into relationship with the people of the land;

“When he saw the crowds, he had compassion for them, because they were harassed and helpless, like sheep without a shepherd. Then he said to his disciples, “The harvest is plentiful, but the laborers are few; therefore ask the Lord of the harvest to send out laborers into his harvest.. . .As you go, proclaim the good news, ‘The kingdom of the  heavens has come near.’ Cure the sick, raise the dead, cleanse the lepers, cast out demons.”

The Disciples came to different towns in Jesus' name armed with Jesus' compassion. The Greek word that Matthew's editor uses is Σπλαγχνίζομαι –  splagchnizomai  which means literally that your insides are in an uproar. The word is also in the aorist tense. We don't have an aorist tense in English, we just have past, present and future. The aorist tense suggests something that is not confined to a moment in time but continuing. The translator you have says, in good English, “Jesus had compassion on the crowds”, as an event in time. With aorist tense I would translate it as “Jesus compassioning” which is not a good English word, but it is true. Being moved with compassion means that you can't just sit there and do nothing. This is a human being who is going through a rough time. Compassion, empathy, is not pity where you are safely removed from the object, so all you feel is sorry for them. Empathy is a continuing act of active imagination where you are feeling in your gut what it must feel like for the other, and for the Christ in you, as you are moving to help. It will always be their problem, but they don't have to carry it alone.

Aristotle suggested that there was an unmoved mover behind all of creation, once the laws of motion and cause and effect are placed into being, where good deeds bring about good rewards and bad deeds bring on bad rewards. Its karma, and in karma there is no room for grace. We just have to accept the situation. You reap what you sew.  God is in Heaven and you are not; all based on what you or your ancestors have done. Don McLean in his song, American Pie casts an image of what that world looks like:

I went down to the sacred store where I'd heard the music years before, but...
The man there said the music wouldn't play
And, in the streets the children screamed, the lover's cried, and the poets dreamed, but...
Not a word was spoken - the church bells all were broken
And, the three men I admire most: the Father, Son, and the Holy Ghost, they...
Caught the last train for the coast the day the music died

But Jesus' message is that the “Kingdom of the Heavens”, Matthew's circumlocution for the presence of God, is coming near. God is not the unmoved mover up above the skies somewhere, or catching the last train to the coast, but right here and now, so close that it is impolite to refer to God in the third person as if s/he were not in the room with us. The Disciples are part of that healing, their insides roiling with compassioning as action is put into play.

16th century Spanish mystic Carmelite nun, Teresa of Avila, had a prayer which reminded her, and us that we are not just to sit back and say, “Ain't it awful.”

“God of love, help us to remember that Christ has no body now on earth but ours, no hands but ours, no feet but ours. Ours are the eyes to see the needs of the world. Ours are the hands with which to bless everyone now. Ours are the feet with which he is to go about doing good, Ours are the eyes with which he looks compassion on this world. Amen.”

In a couple weeks you are going to have your new Rector come to lead worship with you and be with you as a living image of the Trinitarian God, joining with you who are also living images of the Trinitarian God. He and you will enter into a covenant with each other to remind each other that the Kingdom of the Heavens has come near to you and to this community in which we live.

Like God the Father, he will be real with you, to tell you the truth as he has the grace to see it, and not to play “let's pretend”. In response, you will be real with him, telling him the truth as you have the grace to see it. His task as God the Son is to enter into your broken lives without pity or blame but with empathetic compassioning; as you will enter into his brokenness without pity or blame but with empathetic compassioning. His task as God the Holy Spirit will be to offer his support in your walk of faith in this world as you will offer him support.

Next week we will look at what that support will look like.

Empathy Coming To Town

He looking, thinking: “This ain't right!

My gut's telling me, you don't stand by!

Get up! Don't be content with just a sigh

of pity, but rage as compassion might!”

Yet, hold a moment and breathe in deep,

for this passion's needing listening spirit,

guiding action, not reaction without limit,

but in Reality's plan that will healing reap.

We are not in this alone, but heaven's here,

in the space between us. Begin as we must,

knowing the Divine is in whom is our trust,

not in our words and thoughts but in prayer,

in this real world, with empathy and support,

coming to town, Christ's presence to report.