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+