This is the link to the video version of this reflection:
https://saintandrewsobx.com/uncategorized/poem-reflection-for-sunday-march-22/
Poem/Reflection for IV Lent St. Andrew's Episcopal Church, Nags
Head, N.C. March 22, 2020 Thomas E Wilson, Supply Clergy 1 Samuel
16:1-13 Ephesians 5:8-14 John 9:1-41 Psalm 23
Eyeless On The Outer Banks
Last
week on a very cold and very dark predawn morning I took a walk. It was
overcast and the light of the crescent moon was hidden. My neighborhood
has no streetlights and with many of the homes of part time residents
empty and dark; it was darker than ever.
Being a person who,
like half the people on this earth, has a Y chromosome, I did not start
off paying attention to how cold it really was. But when the cold wind
started blowing even more cold, I started to give up my macho pose and
zipped up my coat and then reached inside the coat pockets to pull out
my gloves. When I put them on; they did not feel right. I assumed that
since I had not exercised regularly, I might have found some of the
weight that I had lost. But I suspected that I had not gained that much
weight. I them realized that I had put on each glove on the wrong hand. I
did not have enough light to see. and my male pride kept me from
admitting my own mistake as I was misinterpreting the environment in
which I lived and moved and had my being. That is good metaphor for that
is going on in the lessons for today; walking with darkness and willing
to misinterpret the environment.
In the Hebrew Testament lesson
from Samuel, Samuel, the last of the Judges of Israel is looking for a
replacement for Saul as King. He looks over the sons of Jesse in
Bethlehem and his vision is stuck on the brothers who look like they are
straight out of Central Castings’ pick for a King. Samuel want to hold
on to his old ideas of how things should be. However, God keeps telling
Samuel (and us) not to look with the darkness of the eyes of humans but
with the renewed eyes of the Spirit of God. Finally, Samuel sees the
blindness in his own vision as he finds the boy, David, a most unlikely
candidate by any human measure, but God has this habit of seeing things
differently than we tend to. Samuel trusts in the Spirit of God and
anoints David as the King in waiting.
In the 23rd Psalm, the
Psalmist sees with his, or her, vision that s/he is walking in the
valley of the shadow of death, but with the eyes of the vision of God
s/he is able to see that s/he is not alone and whatever happens s/he
will dwell in the House of the LORD forever. The Psalmist is telling us
to look not just with human eyes but with the renewed eyes of faith.
Like a sheep to a shepherd, the Psalmist trusts in the Spirit of God.
The
author of the Epistle to the Ephesians writes: “Once you were darkness,
but now in the Lord you are light. Live as children of light— for the
fruit of the light is found in all that is good and right and true. . .
but everything exposed by the light becomes visible” The writer is
telling the Ephesians not to look with human eyes but to walk with the
renewed eyes of faith; trusting in the Spirit of God in the Risen
Christ.
In the Gospel story from John, the community of the
Beloved disciple tells a story of the healing by Jesus of a blind man.
The story is full of twists and turns about who is the one who is really
blind and the convolutions gone through as each side accuses the other
of sin. It is a slapstick
comedy that the community tells itself
and passes on to the larger church about the need to not look with only
the human eyes of tradition but to open oneself up to see with the
renewed eyes of faith trusting in the Spirit of God in the Risen Christ.
Years ago, in Seminary I learned to sing a South African song,
“Siyahamba”, in the Zulu language, the first line is “Siyahamb'
ekukhanyen' kwenkhos'”, or in English “We are Marching in the Light of
God.” It is an infectious call and response song and the word “marching”
can be substituted with “walking”, “clapping”, “singing”, “dancing”,
“laughing”, “praying” or whatever you chose. God gave me many gifts but
singing on tune is not one of them, and over the years the Zula words
have fled my memory. However, I make a joyful noise when I sing that
song in English.
We are marching in the light of God,
We are
marching in the light of God,
We are marching in the light of God,
We
are marching in the light of,
The light of God,
We are marching,
marching,
We are marching, marching,
We are marching in the light of,
The light of God,
We are marching, marching,
We are marching, marching,
We are marching in the light of God
The song was written down in
the 1950’s but it was already a popular street song in the Black
Townships during the time of Racial Apartheid in South Africa. It was a
song of faith in the middle of difficult times. Although the whole world
seemed wrapped in darkness; they sang in hope.
As I was walking
in that darkness that morning, I started to sing that song. I realized
that the darkness in front of my eyes was an outward and visible sign of
the darkness in front of the world at this time.
The church services
here at St. Andrew’s and on the other churches on the Outer Banks were
canceled. The Virus has had, as the British say, “thrown a spanner in
the works” method of walking in the light of God, that we use to give
hope; combinations of receiving communion together, with person to
person contact, communal worship services, community building and
pastoral activities. The method is not available currently in the old
form. However, while the method is unavailable, we must adapt to the new
reality if the emergency is with us. This is the task of the church of
how we can find a way of living in the light of God.
We may not
be able to have Eucharist together for right now, we may not be able to
have person to person contact right now, we may not be able to sing
together, dance together, eat together, laugh together, welcome guests
together, work together on projects but the light of god shines in the
spiritual space between us. We will have to use phones, letters, social
media but we continue to share God’s light.
I use a phrase from a
19th Century Swiss Philosopher at the beginning of my final blessings
during the services which I share with you now: “Life is short and we do
not have much time to gladden the hearts of those who travel with us;
so be swift to love and make haste to be kind.” We are walking in the
Light of God
Eyeless On The Outer Banks
Mismatched gloved, walking in darkness,
he was so sure of himself, all puffed up;
lucky he was that he didn't trip himself up.
Yet, not for the luck but undeserved grace.
Spirit has her hands full with blind fools,
who “know” all they need, want, to know,
stumbling in ignorance wherever they go,
claiming a superior wisdom as best tools.
As he’s walking, a Zulu song came to mind,
a hymn to sing when darkness seems near,
threatening a peace which he longs to hear,
“Siyahamba” springs to heal his time blind.
Knows while he thinks he is walking alone,
he is mistaken; new seed of hope are sown.
Friday, March 20, 2020
Saturday, March 14, 2020
Cara's Note
Poem/Reflection
for III Lent St. Andrew’s Episcopal, Nags Head, N.C. March 15,
2020 Thomas E. Wilson Supply Clergy
Exodus
17:1-7 Romans 5:1-11 John 4:5-42 Psalm 95
Cara’s
Note
Last
week I began my reflection with some announcements. The first was a
sharing of joy in that Cara Ellen Modisett, a seminarian,was going to
preach in my place the next week, today. I thought it was going to be
a new voice not faded with years of being a professional Christian,
but a voice inviting us to see this Jesus experience in a new
light.She is different than I am,and I think the Gospel is like a
diamond that can be viewed in so many different facets. She spent a
lot of time on vacations on the Outer Banks coming to this church
campus playing the piano, keeping in touch with her art, and coming
to weekday services. She has served in different churches as a Church
Musician in Virginia before she went to Seminary. She knew some of
the same people whom I admired,and I enjoyed talking with her and
though you would enjoy listening to her.
So
now I tell with great disappointment that Cara has had contact with a
person who had contact with another person who has tested positive
with the Covid19 Virus and she is self-quarantined for two weeks at
the Seminary, and will not be here today. Episcopal Churches in the
Washington Diocese will also be closed for two weeks out of an
abundance of caution. On Friday afternoon our Bishop gave his pastoral direction that all our churches in this diocese also suspend all services until the end of March.
We urge
you all to avoid crowds, wash your hand regularly, avoid touching your face with
your hands and use hand sanitizers regularly. If you feel sick, stay
home and I can visit you and take you communion at home. My
reflections and poems are online at my blog site. I will try to tape
them in the coming weeks and make them available at the church’s
website.
Last
week, we tried an exchange of the peace which we dialed down asking
people to refrain from hugging and hand shaking, which caused a
degree of laughter at our own clumsiness and feeling a bit silly. We
have placed hand sanitizers in plain sight to be used when coming
forward to receive communion. We had planned this his week and for the next two weeks to try a different practice at communion. I will stand in the aisle in
front of the altar rail with Chalice Bearers at my side. I will give
you a wafer of bread and if you wish to instinct—have the bread
dipped in the wine, I will dip it and place it in your hand. If,
however, you wish to drink from the Chalice, the other Chalice Bearer
will serve you. As the Bishop’s letter reminds us,we have more
germs on our hands than in our mouths. If you wish to not partake of
the wine; that is perfectly all right. It will be clumsy,and we might
feel silly, but it is an attempt to come to grips faithfully with a
new reality.It reminds me of the 4th grade in upstate New
York when I first learned how to ice skate. I felt foolish and looked
silly. But after more than a few falls and tears, I was able to play
Ice Hockey in the iced over flooded cove close to our house or to find
a real sense of peace skating up the river for miles.
Cara,
in her note, wrote me that the title of her Homily she was writing
before she got news of her need for self-quarantine was to
be“Cartwheel In Compline” about a situation that while she was
trying to be extra holy while doing compline one evening, the small
congregation saw a 40 year old woman in the same room doing
cartwheels. She said “The Holy moment turned into laughter which
was just right.” When I looked at the lessons again, I saw where
Cara might have been heading; about the tension between living in a
broken world and trying to hold on to hope.
Aristotle said the difference between Comedy and Tragedy is that Tragedy has to do with Heroes and the powerful who let Hubris lead them into prideful mistakes in judgment which ends in downfall and calls for pity and fear from the audience. Comedy on the other hand deals with ordinary people who, while they have faults are struggling to succeed and the audience feels relief and hope. W. C. Fields once tried to explain humor when he did a bit in a film of trying to play pool with a warped cue stick. If the cue stick broke it would be a tragedy and only loss. However, if it was bent it was comedy as we held on to hope that we could win, and we lived our life as it that were true. We live in a warped world but we believe that there is a hope in the middle of all days.
Aristotle said the difference between Comedy and Tragedy is that Tragedy has to do with Heroes and the powerful who let Hubris lead them into prideful mistakes in judgment which ends in downfall and calls for pity and fear from the audience. Comedy on the other hand deals with ordinary people who, while they have faults are struggling to succeed and the audience feels relief and hope. W. C. Fields once tried to explain humor when he did a bit in a film of trying to play pool with a warped cue stick. If the cue stick broke it would be a tragedy and only loss. However, if it was bent it was comedy as we held on to hope that we could win, and we lived our life as it that were true. We live in a warped world but we believe that there is a hope in the middle of all days.
In
the Hebrew Testament lesson for today, the Hebrew Children are
incredibly thirsty for water as they wander in the dry wilderness of
Sinai, longing for the old days when they were slaves and water was
always available from the Nile River in Egypt. With this disruption
in their lives, at first,they treated it with good humor as a minor
difficulty,but then, as the time went on and the fear increased,they
wondered if God was with them or not. Water then flows from the rock
and hope returns, flowing like a river, more water than they will
ever need, as they get the answer that God is there in the space
between them.
In
the lesson from John’s Gospel for today, the Samaritan woman is
out, alone, in the heat of the day getting water. As the old Noel
Coward song goes “Only mad dogs and Englishmen go out in the noon
day sun.” She has a strained relationship with her fellow
inhabitants of the town and she probably spent the first couple weeks
going out in the noonday sun with feeling silly and clumsy about how
her world had turned upside down. She was defensive and angry, in the
process of wondering if there would ever be a return to normal. Is
there a God that forgives and redeems or is that God only interested
in staying in Heaven? Then this Jewish stranger shows up and asks her
to do him a favor. Jews and Samaritans hated each other, and she was
thinking; “How dare he, a Jew, who looked down on Samaritans as
half-breeds, ask her a Samaritan for anything?” She starts to tell
him off, but he doesn’t get offended. He understands what she is
going through, suggesting that it is peace she longs for. He uses the
metaphor of a spring of water bubbling up in her life instead of the
well from which she must go alone in humiliation. She longs for that
peace. In the conversation, he uncovers her shame and in response,she
reacts in anger, going to the choice that many of us go; picking a
fight about religion! But Jesus does not rise to the bait and
continues to offer peace. She then realizes that God is here in the
space between them. In the middle of things falling apart, she finds
hope. What she saw only as a tragedy turns into a comedy of joy.
Together,
we will be going through some rough times ahead. There will be times
we will wonder if God is with us or not. To which we proclaim, each
day, sometimes looking silly, clumsy, or haphazardly, God is here in
the space between us, with a river of grace washing over us.
I
send Cara a copy of second drafts of my poem and reflection and she
closed her thank you note back writing: “Please
send them my best wishes and prayers for health and peace in the
coming weeks, and that I will miss them - St. Andrew's has had a
place in my heart for years, and I look forward to being back there
again soon.”
Cara’s
Note
Reading
the message, muttering “RATZ” and sighing
something
like a Horeb cry, “Is God with us or not?”
After
all I had my own plans, wanting control of plot,
where
I am the hero, succeeding as if without trying.
Yet,
I had to stop and was granted a moment to pray.
for
healing of my friend and of the world we lived in.
Full
of plague, division, greed, and other kinds of sin,
reminding
us; life’s a journey, not a safe place to stay.
She
was calling her talk, “Cartwheels at Compline”,
holding
a holy living tension, between joy and sorrow,
in
the space between the night and dawn of a morrow,
or
at least, is what I imagined, her coloring outside a line.
We
will now have to wait to hear what she wants to say,
trusting
that the love we send is shared as we pray.
Sunday, March 8, 2020
Leaving
A Poem/Reflection for II Lent St.
Andrew's Episcopal, Nags Head, N.C. March 8, 2020 Thomas E.
Wilson, Supply Clergy
Leaving
As I reflected on the lessons for
today, I was struck on how often an image came forward when a person,
Abraham, the Psalmist, Paul, or Nicodemus, stands at a door, physical
or metaphorical, in the process of making a decision to leave for an
uncertain future that seems to be calling, or to stay where the
present is predictable and safe.
There is Abram, in the Hebrew Testament
lesson, who has a life where he takes his sheep out to pastures near
Ur of the Chaldees where he and his family had pastured over the
generations. Except now he, in his spiritual imagination, hears and
feels a calling to go – where? God knows where, but Abram doesn't.
Ur of the Chaldees had been a womb for Abram and it was time for him
to be born into a new life as Abraham.
There is the Psalmist who sings about
lifting up his or her eyes to the hills where he knows and being told
that he needs to look further and deeper, to look into the soul of
the maker of Heaven and Earth. The early settlers of the Promised
land went to high hills to set up their idols to worship their Gods by
being closer to the sky, the dwelling place of the Gods. The Psalmist
looks at the hills and finds that she or he needs to leave the old
comfortable and domesticated Gods and enter into a new relationship
with the power above, behind, in, over and through all creation.
Before seminary, I lived in the
mountains of western North Carolina where each day I had a chance,
using the King James Version, to repeat to myself, “I lift up mine
eyes to the hills, from whence cometh my salvation!” Most of the
time I ended the verse with an exclamation point rather than a
question mark, leading on to the second verse. The psalm really ends
with the decision to not place my trust in geography, but in the one
who is with me in “my going out and coming in” of my journey. The
Mountains of Western North Carolina had been a cocoon for me and it
was time for me to leave it.
Paul, in the lesson from Romans for
today, uses the image of Abraham to parallel his own journey from
being a Pharisee whose lived his life sure in the rightness of
following the law scrupulously to being tossed off his his high horse
of pride and having to depend on God's Grace. The comfort of the easy
answers of the religious law had been a tomb for Saul and it was time
for him to be resurrected as Paul.
In John's Gospel lesson for today,
Jesus is meeting with Nicodemus, who wants to hold on to the
certainty of the life he had chosen. This is a comedy routine with a
pun, that the Johannine community of the Beloved Disciple used to
laugh as much as I used to laugh at the old Abbot and Costello
routine “Who is on First?” The pun is in the Greek word “anothen”
can mean again, or from the
beginning, or from above. Jesus is telling him that he needs to leave
behind the old dead stuff he is practicing, die to it and then be be
born, live, into a new life based on God's grace not the traditions
of religion. Nicodemus misses the point and gets all literal; being
literal is one of the classic defenses against the spiritual.
Nicodemus asks how can he climb back into his mother's womb and be
born “deutero”, a second time. Nicodemus lives in a womb, tomb,
and cocoon of arrogant religious tradition and as John's Gospel
relates, it was time for him to leave so that he might be born again
in his faith by walking humbly with his God, doing justice in arguing
in the Sanhedrin against the condemnation of Jesus and loving mercy
by helping to bury his friend.
Leaving the past behind is something that happens all through scripture. The Hebrew children had to leave Egypt to go through the wilderness following Moses in order to leave behind injustice and enter into a Promised Land. Centuries later the Jews in exile needed to leave Babylon to come back to reclaim their heritage.
In all of these
cases leaving is not the same as fleeing or escaping. Escaping and
fleeing are based on fear whereas leaving is based on trusting in
something greater than oneself. It is an answer to call to move away
from the safety of the wombs, tombs and cocoons of the past into a
new future that is open, not closed.
Heraclites advised
us that we cannot enter the same stream twice for the person has
changed and the stream has changed. A rich Life is filled with
moments when we leave in order to grow. Many of the people on these
Outer Banks left somewhere to come here. What was it like to begin
again? Did we come here and try to replicate the past or did we
decide that a new life means a new life not a retread of the past
wombs, tombs, and cocoons?
Jesus in Matthew's
Sermon on the Mount advises, “Sufficient to the day is the evil
thereof”. My take is that he means that each night we leave the
past behind us, consigning the day to our dreams to find out what we
have learned. Then in the morning's dawn greet the new day that the
Lord has made, free from the assorted wombs, tombs and cocoons to
which we once clung to, and live into a resurrected life where we can
do justice, love mercy and walk humbly with our God.
We are a
resurrection people, Jesus was not raised from the dead in order to
do the same old, same old but to enter a new dimension of life. We
are the children of the resurrection and the most important part of
the church service is not the sermon, not the lessons, not the
prayers, not the sacraments but the dismissal to leave the church and
share blessings in this world because you know that you have been
already blessed.
As you in this
church are in the search for a new Rector, let us remember that the
search is not a nostalgic exercise of recapturing the comfortable
past but a movement into an unknown future in which God watches over
our coming ins and going outs. Pray for the clergy who are in a place
where they are listening if it is a time to leave, rather than flee,
into a new place. Pray that they and you will have the discernment to
know the difference.
Walking out of that house for the last time
of living in that once home, he knows change
will take him down roads, different, strange,
unknown, but not alone. It’ll be a hard climb
for making sense of an open history, of his life,
yet unwritten, with pages full of quiet moments
of experience; wandering while being homeless,
vulnerable to betrayal, assured of so much strife.
One foot in front of another, he begins that walk
to promised destiny that he’ll change the world.
Unsure he understands; doubts, thoughts whirl
holding on to faith as hours run out of his clock.
Maybe it isn’t as essential that final destination
be known, as journeys become a life’s vocation.
Sunday, March 1, 2020
Moments of Wilderness
Poem/Reflection for I Lent St. Andrew's Church, Nags Head, N.C. March 1, 2020 Thomas E. Wilson, Supply Clergy
Moments of Wilderness
In today Gospel lesson, Jesus goes into the wilderness to wrestle with his calling. There he meets the empty place in the world and in himself. The empty place is not defined as a place where no vegetation grows but it is a place where God's truth meets and enters a space that is filled with the lies that promise easy solutions, with pre-fab answers to feed an ego with a lust for putting our own desires first, adulation and power.
This internal struggle for discernment is played out in a series of visions with the shadow side that all humans have close to hand. The Greek word that is used by Matthew is διάβολος (diabolos) out of which we get the English word “devil. The Greek word means a backbiter, a slanderer, a false accuser. In the Hebrew Testament, Satan is introduced in the Book of Job as one who is like God’s Attorney General, searching out corruption and failings in human beings. By the time of the writing of the New Testament, Satan has evolved to diabolos, a power opposed to God.
Jesus is offered three temptations:
1) His worth is determined by his use of his
energy primarily to gather or transform resources to meet his own desires,
2) His
worth is determined by his ability to impress others,
3) His
worth is determined by how much power he is able to establish. His ministry for
God’s will in his life and the life of the world will no longer belong to him
but is given over to the control of the dark forces in his soul.
Decades ago, I got my first job as a Rector of a church, and I could be in charge. How I loved being in charge. It is an ego thing where I was constantly looking for successes and failures, comparing myself to my predecessors of the last century and a half of that parish's existence. Each success would feed me with pride; “I was able to get this (or that) done! God should be grateful that I am here.” Failures were always someone else's fault. I would console myself with statements like, “Heck, Jesus himself wouldn't have been able to change those people, they who would have been at the front of the line to crucify him!” I was always looking for approval from parishioners or colleagues who would tell me what a wonderful job I was doing. I tended to avoid conversations that might point out my failings. I was a success; but I was getting empty in my faith, because more and more, I was the center of my faith.
After a successful building campaign, it all seemed so shallow. I then made a vow to never, never, ever again be involved in another building campaign. That was a vow I broke when I came to the Outer Banks 16 years ago. The consultant, who we had for raising the money for that first building project, who was himself a Baptist Minister, saw what I was going through and he suggested that I go to a retreat and conference in Texas, with a bunch of his fellow Baptists who were dealing with a need to rediscover why they went into this, sometimes “God forsaken”, business. So, I did a variation of what Jesus did when he went into the wilderness; I left town to reexamine my calling. Pat and I went to Texas and we never argued about theology with any of the other people there. We came to listen, share and grow in our faith. Theology is based on things that you hold in your mind; Faith is based on in whom you have trust.
The core of this retreat was an exploration of four lies in life. They are lies but when we go into stress, we tend to believe them. They are lies because they are told by the Father of Lies, who doesn't have horns and a tail but is as close to us so that the lies can be told in moments of an empty soul. They are lies and they are almost true, and the world tends to believe them as if they were scripture, scripture from an alternative gospel that has nothing to do with Jesus.
My
worth is determined by my possessions.
My
worth is determined by the opinions of others.
My
worth is determined by my performance.
I
must be in control.
Possessions feed our egos and there is a thrill when we are able to buy the things we lust after. But all that stuff is just stuff and our ultimate worth is determined not by what we have in our piles of stuff but in the love of Christ for us. Jesus ended is life by having his clothes stripped from him. He had no home, no place to call his own, but he was the child of God, as you and I are. He made that choice.
It is lovely to have praise and be held in high esteem, but the center of our faith had crowds turned against him, make fun of him and when given a choice, chose a thief and robber as their choice for life. He was declared an outlaw by the forces of law and order. His hope was not based on public opinion but on what it meant to be blessed, as he preached in the beatitudes.
It is good to build, to grow, to do the best you can; but we follow the one who at his death left no buildings named after him, no multibillion-dollar enterprise, no massive faithful congregation. He only had a handful of people who had trouble being counted on to remain faithful or to even pay the rent.
It is good to try to have some control over ourselves and over what we are entrusted of and to be stewards. Sometimes if we are centered on control, it leaves no room for God's grace. It is God's vision that is the core of our lives, not our own viewpoints and prejudices. We believe that God will redeem and forgive anything, even our attempts at being in control.
Is there a voice that speaks to you in the wilderness? What is he/she whispering to you? In whom do you have your trust?
Moments of Wilderness
The voice comes to him, quiet and seductive:
“You know, you would be happier if you just
had someone who could fill your need for lust,
tell you that you are the best, and, instructive!
You know, I can tell that you need more stuff,
having more things to fill the rooms you have,
so you won't see what is empty, but it'll calve
more again, because you can't ever have enough!
Oh, and lets get some more diplomas and degrees,
you'll always be reminded of how smart you are,
and your fame will spread, be touted near and far,
experts come, say, 'O share your wisdom please!'”
Wilderness come and go, tempters inside his head,
whispering, inviting “Turn those rocks into bread.”
will always visit to ask him to get inside his head.
Wednesday, February 26, 2020
Ash Wednesday Homily
A Homily
for Ash
Wednesday St.
Andrew’s Church, Nags Head, NC
February
26, 2020 Thomas
E. Wilson, Supply Clergy
Years ago, I did six
seasons of Outdoor Drama in a couple different places. Like the Lost Colony, they
are done outside during the summer when rain is not unheard of. In Outdoor
Drama there was this thing called “Rain Pace”. This was when you knew a
rainstorm was coming, but you didn’t want to cancel the show because if you
didn’t get through the first act, you had to give the ticket holders their
money back. On the other hand, if you made it through the first act and started
the second act, then you would give them a “rain check”, which meant that they
could come back another night free. Outdoor Dramas run on shoestrings, and too
many rainy nights mean a difficult time opening next year. Performing at rain
pace meant that you would do every line and hit all your blocking, but you
would say your lines fast and move into your blocking fast. The difference is
like this “Well (thoughtful pause)… Jack, I hate to admit it (small laugh),
Jack- you are right!” In rain pace it would be “Welljackihatetoadmitit (half
chuckle) jackyou’reright!”
The difference between a
good performance and one done at rain pace is that in rain pace, you do all the
lines and the blocking, but the soul of the performance is missing. In a good -
a righteous - performance, the actor is in the character, he understands the
character; in fact, the character is part of him. He knows what the character
feels, how he acts when no one is looking. He knows what is in his
pockets. He knows the backstory of the character, and the emotion conveyed in
the performance comes out of the things the audience does not know but the
actor does. The actor lives in the awe-filled mystery of the character. In rain
pace, the actor is exhausted because all he has done is earn some money and
sell himself out. After a “righteous” performance, however, the actor is
exhilarated for he has lived into another life, and while he might be tired,
his soul is refreshed and alive and he looks at the world and his fellow actors
in Thanksgiving. In that space he really doesn’t care what the critics say for
he has entered into the mind of the playwright, to live fully into the
character that he and the playwright have created.
There is a line from
T.S. Eliot’s play Murder in the Cathedral: “What is the greatest
treason? To do the right thing for the wrong reason.” That is what Jesus is
talking about in the lesson from Matthew for today - doing the right thing for
the wrong reason. His audience knew what the right things were - “to do
justice, love mercy and walk humbly with your God.” The outward and visible
signs of this were to fast, to enter into a hunger for God; to give alms as a
way of giving thanks for your blessings and helping to create a just society;
and to worship and give God the worth of your time and love. He points to some
who perform the outward signs but who have missed the point because they want
to impress people with their piety rather than grow closer to God.
They
exhibit a “What do I get out of it?” mentality. The difference is that doing
the right thing only for the purpose of impressing others or getting a tax
advantage will get you rewards, but they are short-lived rewards because they
fade away over time. Jesus calls these “earthly rewards” where moth and rust
consume, and thieves break in and steal. These are to be compared to what he
calls a “Heavenly reward” which is entering into a full relationship with God,
and he calls that “Righteousness”. The reward of that relationship is here and
now, and he calls that relationship the Kingdom of the Heavens, and it
continues long after we die.
Does that mean that, if
you do all the right stuff and do it in “righteousness”, everything will turn
out rosy for you? Not necessarily. Paul talks about it in the lesson from 2nd
Corinthians where he lists a long, very long list of the things that have gone
wrong in his life. Yet he sees that, even in his defeats, he is more than a
conqueror. Like Jacob in the Genesis story, it is in the defeats, as we wrestle
with God, that we become blessed and live into a whole new way of being.
If we live a life in
which our focus is to impress people, the victories are so small, but if we are
defeated by God’s love, then we grow in faith. Usually I write a poem but today
I am using a poem by early 20th Century Austrian Poet Rainer Marie Rilke
which sums that up:
The Man Watching
I can tell by the way
the trees beat, after
so many dull days, on my worried windowpanes
that a storm is coming,
and I hear the far-off fields say things
I can't bear without a friend,
I can't love without a sister.
so many dull days, on my worried windowpanes
that a storm is coming,
and I hear the far-off fields say things
I can't bear without a friend,
I can't love without a sister.
The storm, the shifter
of shapes, drives on
across the woods and across time, and the world looks as if it had no age:
the landscape, like a line in the psalm book,
is seriousness and weight and eternity.
across the woods and across time, and the world looks as if it had no age:
the landscape, like a line in the psalm book,
is seriousness and weight and eternity.
What we choose to fight
is so tiny!
What fights with us is so great.
If only we would let ourselves be dominated as things do by some immense storm,
we would become strong too, and not need names.
What fights with us is so great.
If only we would let ourselves be dominated as things do by some immense storm,
we would become strong too, and not need names.
When we win it's with
small things,
and the triumph itself makes us small.
What is extraordinary and eternal does not want to be bent by us.
I mean the Angel who appeared to the wrestlers of the Old Testament:
when the wrestlers' sinews
grew long like metal strings,
he felt them under his fingers
like chords of deep music.
and the triumph itself makes us small.
What is extraordinary and eternal does not want to be bent by us.
I mean the Angel who appeared to the wrestlers of the Old Testament:
when the wrestlers' sinews
grew long like metal strings,
he felt them under his fingers
like chords of deep music.
Whoever was beaten by
this Angel
(who often simply declined the fight)
went away proud and strengthened
and great from that harsh hand,
that kneaded him as if to change his shape.
Winning does not tempt that man.
This is how he grows: by being defeated, decisively,
by constantly greater beings.
(who often simply declined the fight)
went away proud and strengthened
and great from that harsh hand,
that kneaded him as if to change his shape.
Winning does not tempt that man.
This is how he grows: by being defeated, decisively,
by constantly greater beings.
This Lent we invite you
to not strive for small victories, but to enter into a struggle with God’s love
and forgiveness, where defeat brings you life.
Sunday, February 23, 2020
Transfiguring
A Poem/Reflection for the Last Sunday after Epiphany February23, 2010
St. Andrew’s Episcopal, Nags Head, N.C. Thomas E Wilson, Supply Clergy
Transfiguring
Last week, I was walking out of the library back to my car with a load of books and there is a woman sitting on the curb, talking on her cell phone. She is plaintively yelling into that phone, “God help me, I tell you. This morning I asked Jesus to fix everything. But today it has gone from bad to worse!”
Years ago, I wrote and gave a couple of sermons where I talked to God and paused to listen. When nothing came back, I repeated my invitation with the same question. Another pause of silence. Then I heard a voice from the back of the church say with a sigh: “I heard you!” and the voice of God started to enter into a dialogue with me. The congregation laughed when they realized that I had written the script and was listening to my wife, Pat, reading the part of God, as the sermon devolved to a skit. “God” told me that I was too busy with my own agendas to stop and listen, so “God” decided she would wait until my brain finished its internal conversation with itself.
In the Gospel story for today, imagine here is Peter, so full of himself that when he sees the Vision of Jesus being transfigured, he thinks it is all about him and how he can create a shrine to hold the holy moment, trapping it in religious amber, as a center point of a religious theme park. God answers the folly of their hearts by saying,
“This is my
Son, the Beloved; with him I am well pleased; listen to him!” When the
disciples heard this, they fell to the ground and were overcome by fear. But
Jesus came and touched them, saying, “Get up and do not be afraid.” And when
they looked up, they saw no one except Jesus himself alone.
When Pat and I were in Israel years ago, we went up on Mount Tabor, one of the hills traditionally claimed as the Transfiguration Mountain. From the top of the Mountain you can see the Valley of Jezreel stretching before you. This is the road of history, a trade route between Egypt and Syria, linking Asia to Africa; from here I could see in my imagination the caravans moving forward in both directions for thousands of years. It is a place that, as the saying goes, “Has too much history.”
I could see armies: from the Book of Judges, on this Mountain, the Hebrew Judge Deborah, sent her commander Barak against the armies of King Jabin, defeating the 900 Iron Chariots under their commander Sisera, bogged down in mud. I could see Sisera fleeing the debacle and finding refuge in a tent where Jael, the wife of Heber the Kenite, drove a tent peg through his skull, nailing him to the ground as surely as his chariots were stuck in the ground. I could see Deborah and Barak coming into the tent later and seeing their enemy defeated.
From the Biblical Books, of Amos, Isaiah, Jeremiah and Kings, in my imagination the armies of the Egyptian Pharaohs, Tutmose III and Necho II marching up, time and again to fight the Assyrians and the Babylonians and being stopped at Megiddo, the city close by which were, only ruins now.
I could see Alexander the Great's armies march down after defeating the Persian Emperor Darius III, on his way to overthrow the 31st Egyptian dynasty, now only a Persian province in 333BC. I could see the blood on the fields of the valley dripping into the ground of of Roman and Byzantine and Arab Conquerors later mingling the blood of soldiers of Crusaders with those of Saladin and other Muslim leaders' armies. In my mind I witnessed Napoleon fleeing from the Battle of the Nile to Syria and Lebanon, the wounded dying on the way. Finally there was the blood of the British soldiers against Turkish soldiers in September1918 at the place called the Hill of Megiddo, or Armageddon, the place where the Book of Revelation prophesied, and the Allied papers hoped, was where the war to end all wars is to take place. Except thirty years later in 1948, the Israeli army fought the Arab League and the battles continue.
It was here in the place of slaughters that were, and were to be, that God tells the disciples to listen to Jesus, the Prince of Peace. Jesus tells his disciples to get up, don't be afraid and go down the mountain to spread healing, justice and peace to a broken world; a journey that begins, ends and saturated daily with prayer.
In his preface to his autobiography Now And Then, Frederick
Buechner wrote about listening to God:
Because the
word that God speaks to us is always an incarnate word—a word spelled out to us
not alphabetically, in syllables, but enigmatically, in events, even in the
books we read and the movies we see—the chances are we will never get it just
right. We are so used to hearing what we want to hear and remaining deaf to
what it would be well for us to hear that it is hard to break the habit. But if
we keep our hearts and minds open as well as our ears, if we listen with
patience and hope, if we remember at all deeply and honestly, then I think we
come to recognize, beyond all doubt, that, however faintly we may hear him, he
is indeed speaking to us, and that, however little we may understand of it, his
word to each of us is both recoverable and precious beyond telling. In that
sense autobiography becomes a way of praying, and a book like this, if it
matters at all, matters mostly as a call to prayer.
Often I find myself in what I think is prayer and then I realize “God” telling me that I am too busy with my own agendas to stop and listen, so “God” decides she'll wait until my brain finishes its internal conversation with itself. When my prayers are nothing but marching orders to my heavenly servant to meet my wants and desires, it is then I realize that the woman on the curb talking about God, that she and I are very much alike for we fear things will always go from bad to worse. It is in those moments when my narcissism falls to the ground. I need to look up and like the disciples, “see nothing but Jesus” at the center of my life and prayer, to listen and then follow where the Divine will lead.
The Transfiguring moments are not limited to one mountain in Israel centuries ago, but they are going on all the time, in every place. We just have to stop with our own agendas and listen, and follow where he will lead.
Transfiguring
The voice behind all life came from the cloud,
thundering loud, knocking those disciples down,
in fear and awe, looking like pratfalls of a clown,
slipping on the banana peel of Peter’s ego proud.
Peter’s narcissism wants to claim his own place
as center of the dance of carpenter and Divine,
like religious theme park, sends chills up spine,
to ensure that dance music is only in this space.
Transfiguration Mount, open for paid sightseer,
calls me, my spirit to pratfall down and recant;
doesn’t seem too different than my own slant,
when I should be listening, I’m filled with fear:
when I’m in the presence of Holy and all I see
or think about, is how prayers will benefit me.
Sunday, February 16, 2020
Soul Observations
A Poem/reflection for VI Epiphany St. Andrew's Church,
Nags Head, N.C.
February 16, 2020 Thomas E. Wilson, Supply Clergy
Soul Observations
Today, we are continuing the journey into what is called by many, “The Sermon On The Mount” as reported by Matthew. Last week, I told you of how Pat and I went to the place in the so-called “Holy Land” where Jesus is supposed to have delivered that Sermon. The whole visit, a month long study in my sabbatical of visiting the places where Jesus walked, was a wonderful experience, a check-off the bucket list, an experience which found its way into sermons, lunches, cocktail party conversations and driving other people into intense boredom. It was my fetish to walk on “Holy Ground” as a tourist, but the true Soul Work is not in places of faraway Real Estate, but in the “Holy Ground” of everyday life.
Most of the Organized Religions focus on outward behavior and following the norms of the community. The word religion comes from the Latin of the act of fastening, to tie together. Religion is what can hold a community together. Many states had the practice of killing people who undermined the religion of the community because that behavior would cast disrespect on the Divine and the subsequent withdrawal of the easily offended God's protection. In Organized Religions the goal is obedience, to follow the dictates of behavior as determined by the leaders of that religious organization who assure us that being a good follower would please the far off Divine deity behind the tenants of that religion. It is about following the rules.
Jesus was not an employee of the organized religion of his time. He doesn't really care if you put a lot of energy into the dictates of religion; but he is especially concerned in moving us from being followers of the rules to being people who understand that their God is not far off up in heaven but right here; here in every breath we take, here in every space between us and our family, friends, neighbors, enemies and creation itself, here in the depths of our very soul.
Matthew, in his remembrance, combines a series of statements that Jesus passed on to his followers about working on their souls. Matthew sets his collection on a “Mount”, because Matthew has a theme of Jesus being the fulfillment of the Law of Moses given on the Mount in Sinai. Luke in his Gospel puts similar instructions on a plain in his emphasis that Jesus is part of everyday life.
Clement of Alexandria tells us that if one really knows oneself, they know God. Jesus in these collections of sayings is telling us to go deeper than just outward behavior. He is leading us into Soul Work, the understanding and illumination of one's deeper self, the land beyond the recitation of laws, and sins. As Thomas Moore in his classic Care of the Soul writes, “ 'Soul' is not a thing, but a quality or a dimension of experiencing life and ourselves.”
Jesus looks at the commandments of Moses and says they are fine as they are, as rules go for obedience's sake, but they do not go deep enough to be part of our very soul where love is the norm. Look at Matthew's remembrance of Jesus' view of adultery. The law is about the wife as a man's, either the father or husband, property and not to be used by others for their own enjoyment without paying for her from the father. It is a fine rule for a male-dominated society and is a clarification, a subset of theft.
Jesus suggests that we go deeper, into the soul's disruption; the disruption where people, other images of God, are seen as disposable and not worthy of respect or commitment to the relationship. In Jesus' view, God does not throw away people, each one is infinitely precious; so precious that truth is sacred, we do not lie to one another. The concern is not about bodies bound together but about souls treating one another with the love that God, who is love, has placed in our very souls.
Love is complex and not always Valentine's day, happily ever after. We live in a world that has its share of darkness and difficulty. Our souls are not immune, and good soul work goes even into the depths of the darkness. Jesus goes there when he says that calling someone a “fool”, or holding on to anger, or allowing an alienation to continue is a sign of a soul flirting with murder. Or looking with lust is a soul's flirtation with adultery, or swearing falsely begins when the integrity of the soul seems not enough.
To do good Soul Work is to daily go deep. Luke remembers Jesus telling the story of the Rich fool who becomes a stranger to his own soul and the souls of his neighbors in need and says: “And I will say to my soul, Soul, thou hast much goods laid up for many years; take thine ease, eat, drink, and be merry. But God said unto him, Thou fool, this night thy soul shall be required of thee: then whose shall those things be, which thou hast provided?”
Moore writes, "Even when I say "I know myself", an infinitesimal ego - the Knowing "I" - is still distinct from myself." To do good soul work is to go even, and at times especially, to the dark sides of our soul for healing. Moore writes about when one is depressed, the first thing we do is to try to get rid of it by medicine and behavior to heal the body and mind. However, Moore suggests, “Melancholy gives the soul an opportunity to express a side of its nature that is as valid as any other, but is hidden out of our distaste for its darkness and bitterness.” Jesus, in the Sermon on the Mount, tells us that disruptions in relationships begin in our souls and that is where true healing needs to visit.
In the 18th Century, in the Anglican Church, there was a small group of people who decided to augment the Anglican Religious Services with time spent in prayerful work in small groups. They used a Method, where each meeting would begin with a question by their leader, an Anglican Priest, Charles Wesley; “How is it with your soul?” They would courageously and truthfully share their soul's progress with each other. Gradually the groups grew, but the establishment of the church sneered and called them “Method-ists”. They took the name as a compliment and broke away from the hidebound Church of England forming the Methodist Church. There they became as hidebound as the church they left, leaving daily soul work for the easier work of being a Religious Organization.
In 10 Days we will begin the season of Lent with Ash Wednesday.
Usually we think we should give up something for Lent, but I'm asking that you take on a discipline of having deep and prayerful discussion with your soul. My brothers and sister; “How is it with your soul?”
Soul Observations
He
heard the joke of how dislocating a shoulder
is a result of always patting oneself
on the back.
Realizing that hearing himself
praised wasn't lack
of pride, but deep desire to make him
look bolder.
How he longs for all the people to be
impressed
with his holiness, intelligence and
great sanctity,
so none could ever suspect an
underlying perfidy,
lurking, hiding, great fear of not
being suppressed!
He was so busy wearing a mask to look
perfect,
that he never quite got around to
fully living
into the gift of his soul; only
taking not giving,
instead of a deep spirit, his surface
was slicked.
It's only when he stopped pretending
a perfection,
he's
able to accept forgiveness or a resurrection.
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