Come in! Come in!
"If you are a dreamer, come in. If you are a dreamer, a wisher, a liar, a Hope-er, a Pray-er, a Magic Bean buyer; if you're a pretender, come sit by my fire. For we have some flax-golden tales to spin. Come in! Come in!" -- Shel Silverstein
Good Sunday morning, good citizens of The Epiphany Season. Some will argue that this season ends today, with the Feast of the Presentation. If you haven't taken down your Christmas tree, today is the day to tackle that chore. It is also required that you take down and put away your nativity (creche) sets. We have four. We'll be busy this afternoon.
Other scholarly sources claim that the Tuesday before Ash Wednesday marks the end of The Epiphany Season. It should be noted that we do have three more "Sunday(s) after The Epiphany" to celebrate, so it is perfectly acceptable to leave the green or white/gold vestments/hangings up before switching over to the purple for Lent.
There will be endless squabbles about these finer liturgical points, reminding one again of the truth in the old saying that the difference between a liturgist and a terrorist is that you can negotiate with a terrorist.
Today is Groundhog Day, the day when Punxsutawney Phil, the meteorologically talented rodent (also known as a woodchuck or whistlepig) from Punxsutawney, PA, is rudely awakened from his slumber so that men of great wisdom and insight wearing black tuxedos and top hats will determine whether or not this lowly of God's creature will have been presented to the Baby Jesus in the Temple who will whisper in Phil's ear whether there will be six more weeks of winter or whether Spring will arrive.
Or, something.
I understand that Phil's wife, Phyllis, has divorced Phil and is living in Florida. She claims that Phil is a compulsive liar.
I have it on good authority (sez Ms. Conroy) that Phil did, in fact, see his shadow. this morning. So, don't start soaking those sweaters just yet, and keep your snow boots handy. Just in case.
Today is the second day of Black History Month. Today, I want to lift up, celebrate, and call the name of Claudette Colvin (1939- ) Before Parks refused to give up her seat on a bus in Montgomery, Alabama, on December 1, 1955, there was a brave 15-year-old who chose not to sit at the back of the bus.
That young girl was one, Ms. Claudette Colvin. On March 2, 1955, touting her constitutional rights to remain seated near the middle of the vehicle and not give up her seat to a white woman, Ms. Colvin challenged the driver and was subsequently arrested.
At school, she had recently learned about abolitionists, and later recalled that “it felt like Sojourner Truth was on one side pushing me down, and Harriet Tubman was on the other side of me pushing me down. I couldn’t get up.”
Colvin’s arrest was not the first instance of a Black person in the South refusing to give up their seat on a bus to a white passenger, but it did come at a pivotal moment for the civil rights movement.
Fred D. Gray, a prominent Montgomery lawyer and activist, took Colvin on as a client—his first civil rights case—with the aim of filing a federal suit to desegregate Alabama's bus system. Local civil rights leaders, however, decided not to proceed, in part due to Colvin’s age but also because, by her own assessment, she was too dark-skinned and soon became pregnant at age 16.
These factors, some feared, would hurt her chances of winning the case—unlike the known community figure who soon followed in her footsteps: Rosa Parks.
As I was taught by the Rev Dr. Eleanor McLaughlin, to understand history, like understanding scripture, one has to understand its context because history, like scripture, is contextual.
Today is the Feast of the Presentation of Jesus in the Temple, which marks 40 days from the Nativity of Jesus to his mother's purification in the temple, as required by Mosaic Law. It is in this story that we meet two fascinating people, Simeon and Anna, both of whom had prayed and fasted and waited to be able to see the manifestation of the incarnation of God, the Messiah come to rescue Israel from occupation and oppression.
I'm fascinated by the two very different responses to answered prayers. I don't think they are bound by gender but they are very different. Simeon sees the infant Jesus and says, "Oh, thank God. Now, I can die!"
I've certainly said something akin to that. Indeed, I clearly remember when SCOTUS allowed as how LGBTQ+ people did, in fact, have the Civil Right of Marriage. I think I said, "I never thought in my lifetime that I would see this happen. Now, I can die and go to heaven."
Glad I didn't. As lovely as heaven sounds, I have learned what Simeon learned. Even though the battle has been won, it doesn't mean the war is over. Idaho Republican legislators have called on the Supreme Court to reverse the ruling on same-sex marriage. Indiana, Florida, Utah, and Virginia: have also attempted to repeal or limit same-sex marriage rights.
And then, there's Anna, the daughter of Phanuel, of the tribe of Asher, one of the 12 Tribes of Israel, named after the 8th son of Jacob. The tribe was known for its prosperity, fertile land, and oil production. Asher means "happiness".
Perhaps, then, it was in Anna's DNA to break out into a joyous dance upon seeing the infant Jesus, despite being "of a great age, having lived with her husband seven years after her marriage, then as a widow to the age of eighty-four."
She became the first recorded woman evangelist of the Incarnation, who began, "to speak about the child to all who were looking for the redemption of Jerusalem."
There's a lot in all of that to digest. Good thing it's the first day of the week and the Sabbath, so we have the time to sit and let that all digest. Or, as it was said of Mary, to "ponder all these things in our heart."
I hope something good happens to you today.
Bom dia.
Good Saturday morning, good citizens of The Epiphany Season. It's the first day of the second month of 2025, which means, "Rabbit. Rabbit. Rabbit."
For those who don't know, saying "Rabbit rabbit rabbit" is a superstition found in Britain and North America wherein a person says or repeats the words "rabbit", "rabbits" and/or "white rabbits" aloud upon waking on the first day of a month, to ensure good luck for the rest of it.
"The More You Know . . . . "
This is also the first day of Black History Month. Every day I'll be remembering one of the bright lights of those of the African Diaspora who have contributed so much to so many. My particular focus, as often as I am able, will be on Black women.
Today, I wish to lift up and celebrate Shirley Chisholm (1924-2005). Congress is more diverse now than it's ever been. However, when Chisholm was attempting to shatter the glass ceiling, the same couldn't be said.
During the racially contentious period in the late '60s, she became the first Black woman elected to Congress. She represented New York's 12th District from 1969 to 1983, and in 1972, she became the first woman to run for the Democratic Party’s presidential nomination.
Her campaign slogan "Unbought and unbossed" rings even louder today. Senator Kamala Harris paid tribute to Chisholm in her 2020 presidential campaign announcement by using a similar logo to Chisholm's.
Here's a prayer for today.
Do For me God
Oh, God, you know I have no money, but you can make the
people do for me, and you must make the people do for me. I will
never give you peace till you do, God. - Sojourner Truth
Today is also the Feast day of St. Brigid of Kildare. No, she's not on the Calendar of Lesser Feasts and Fasts in The Episcopal Church, but she should be. She is revered in Ireland even more than St. Patrick. Many there, in the olde sod, Catholic and Protestant alike, wouldn't think of starting the day without eating bannock (a thick, oat flatbread with dried fruit) slathered with fresh, sweet Irish butter, or a plate of colcannon (mashed potatoes and cabbage), with a side of dandelions, and a cuppa rosemary tea in her honor.
St Brigid was born in 451 in Dundalk in Ireland and died in 525. Born to a Christian slave who had been baptized by St. Patrick and a father who was both pagan and a wealthy chieftain in Leinster, she shares a name with the Celtic pagan Goddess of fire. She was a slave from birth, and was returned to her father as a child to be his servant.
Brigid would go on to become a nun and a disciple of St. Patrick. She founded several monasteries, including a vital center of religion and learning in Kildare, as well as a school of art that taught metalwork and illumination.
Her feast day marks the traditional beginning of spring in Ireland
February 1 was originally celebrated as a pagan festival called Imbolc, marking the midpoint between the winter equinox and spring solstice, and the arrival of longer, warmer days.
February 1 is when the daffodils start to bloom, the evenings start to lengthen, and the gloom of winter goes on its way. Brigid would be symbolically welcomed in Irish homes on the day, with a symbolic offering of food and drink. It is also traditional to make St. Brigid’s crosses out of rushes (a straw-like plant); people believed in olden days that these crosses would protect their thatched homes from fire.
My favorite story about Brigid is that, when the bishop came to make her the Abbess of her order, he apparently read the wrong prayer of consecration, making her, instead of Abbess, a bishop.
When later told what had happened, the bishop reportedly said, "What I have done, I have done."
So, you may notice that in many stained glass windows, icons, and statues, she carries a shepherd's crook, as is befitting a bishop.
There's a lot wrong in the world today, but at least we can stop and honor these two women who tried their best to make things right.
I hope something good happens to you today.
Bom dia.
Tomorrow is the Feast of St. Brigid of Kildare (Brigit, Bridget, Bridgit, Bríd or Bride) (c. 451–525). Yes, it's also the Eve of the Feast of the Presentation - one of the rare times it actually falls on a Sunday.
Actually, Brigid begins quite a Triduum of Feast Days on the first three days of the second month: It's Brigid on the first of February, the Feast of the Presentation on the second (which some celebrate as the Feast of St. Anna the Dancing Queen), and the Feast of St. Blaise on the third.
I'll have more to say about Brigid tomorrow (there are so many wonderful stories about her, she deserves her own day), but I do want to say something about this one aspect of The Feast of the Presentation, also known as Candlemas.
So, Candlemas is on the Feast of the Presentation, which was also known as the Feast of the Purification of Mary, even in the 1549 BCP.
Back in the day, you know, before we completely eradicated sexism and misogyny and the Equal Rights Amendment was not only passed but published by the (woman who is) US Archivist, the church celebrated sexist events like the Purification of Mary - the ancient ritual wherein a woman had to be "purified" of the Icky Stuff of Childbirth, according to Mosaic law, known as the mikvah.
If you are so persuaded, you might count the days from the Feast of the Nativity (12/25) to the Feast of the Presentation (2/2) and come up with 40 days, exactly.
According to the Law of Moses, a woman who gave birth to a son was considered "unclean" for 40 days, at which time she would have typically completed the normal flow of blood after childbirth. She would have to take a mikvah - a ritual bath - which every woman took after her menses - and then go to the priest for special prayers of purification.
This ritual, sans mikvah, was carried out in the Church of England 1549 BCP which occurred at the entrance to the church, with the following prayer:
"O ALMIGHTIE God, which hast delivered this woman thy servant from the great payne and peril of childbirth: Graunt, we beseche thee (most mercifull father), that she through thy helpe may both faithfully lyve, and walke in her vocacyon accordynge to thy will in thys lyfe presente; and also may be partaker of everlastyng glorye in the lyfe to come: through Jesus Christ our lorde. Amen.
There follows this rubrical note:
"The woman that is purifyed, must offer her Crysome (a white cloth, anointed by the priest with holy oil and used for baptism) and other accustomed offeringes. And if there be a communion, it is convenient that she receive the holy communion.
But, you know, communion only if it is "convenient".
The service was renamed The Thanksgiving of Women after Childbirth in the 1552 BCP and renamed, again, A Thanksgiving for the Birth or Adoption of a Child in the 1979 BCP.
We don't have any prayers for purity for women or men in the BCP, except the prayer on the 4th Sunday of Advent: "Purify our conscience, Almighty God, by your daily visitation, that your Son Jesus Christ, at his coming, may find in us a mansion prepared for himself".
"Purify our conscience," comes from Hebrews 9:14 which refers to the idea that Jesus's blood cleanses people's consciences from dead works. Which is odd for the 4th Sunday in Advent, but hey, as it will say on my tombstone, "Nobody asked me."
It is meet and right, I think, that we have shifted our emphasis to the presentation of Jesus in the Temple as the fulfillment of the prophecy of the Incarnation, as testified by Simeon and Anna.
Candlemas originated in Jerusalem in the late 4th century as a celebration of the light of God in Christ. The name comes from the custom of blessing and distributing candles before Mass. The festival was celebrated in the Western church to honor the Virgin Mary, and in the Eastern church to honor Christ.
Today, in the Episcopal Church, we bless candles in church and take them home to remember Jesus as the Light of the World. We might use them to bless throats on the Feast of St. Blaise, but I'll save that story when it's her feast day.
My rector tells me that he will be blessing candles for distribution on Sunday. I can't remember the last time I was in church when that happened. There's something that excites something in the middle of the middle of my soul about participating in the ancient customs of the church.
It doesn't change a thing. Nobody is "purified" or "cleansed" - except in the collect, we do pray that "we may be presented to you with pure and clean hearts by Jesus Christ our Lord."
I much prefer the new, reformed Collect, which is more to the point. It comes to us from the Canterbury Book of New Parish Prayers by M J Kramer (which I recommend highly).
"God of all nations, whose servant Simeon saw in the child Jesus the revelation of your ancient promises, and whose servant Anna spoke of his truth to all who were seeking redemption, stir up within us your gift of faith, that our eyes may see our salvation in Jesus Christ and our lives be turned to his service, in words of conviction and deeds of compassion, through the same Jesus Christ our Lord. Amen."
So there, now that you know almost everything you need to know about Candlemas, your palate has been cleansed for the stories of the Triduum of Women Saints: Brigid, Anna, and Blaise.
I hope something good happens to you today.
Bom dia.
This year, this particular feast happens to arrive on Sunday but it always falls on February 2nd because it is 40 days from the birth of Jesus on December 25th. Forty days would have been the prescribed amount of time, according to the law of Moses, for this ritual to take place.
My thoughts this morning have followed the memory of my heart and my time spent, five years ago, in Israel and Palestine. Images like Polaroid pictures keep cascading before me. Bethlehem. Nazareth. The road in the desert between Jerusalem and Jerico. Eucharist at sunrise in the desert. Jerusalem. Gaza. The Wall.
These images intrude on the images of today. The release of Israeli and Palestinian hostages - each one an innocent victim of war - holding each other tightly in wild abandon of hopes realized and prayers answered. One family will return home. The other family has had their home demolished by bombs. Still, they will be where their hearts are - in Palestine.
Other images: Brown-skinned people being rounded up, torn from their families, and boarded on military cargo planes. We're told by ICE and government officials that these are "dangerous criminals" but investigation reveals that this is true for only half of the men who are being deported.
Innocent victims of another kind of war.
In the second chapter of Luke's gospel, Simon, "a righteous and devout man" who had been promised that he would not see death before he saw the Messiah, greets the parents of Jesus with these words, "This child is destined for the falling and the rising of many in Israel, and to be a sign that will be opposed so that the inner thoughts of many will be revealed-- and a sword will pierce your own soul too."
I can't imagine how Mary and Joseph felt, hearing those words.
Then again, danger and death have always hovered near everything about this child. The announcement and circumstances of his conception. The odd assortment of visitors to the newborn: shepherds with their flock, the three Intellectual Asians who called him King. The visitors had no sooner left when Joseph had a dream of danger and "went home by another way," taking the new family to live for a time in Egypt for safety.
The memory of my mind's eye keeps bringing me back to the Garden of Gethsemane. This is a picture I took when I was there. I wonder if it has suffered any destruction in the war.
The Garden of Gethsemane is on the Mount of Olives, overlooking the Kidron Valley and the Temple Mount. The area is aptly named due to the abundance of olive trees on the mount.
I suddenly remember our guide telling us that "Gith Shemen" means oil press in Hebrew.
There is an ancient olive press in the Garden of Gethsemane. We had several opportunities to see how oil is pressed out of the olives. The olives are crushed, ground, and put through the pressing process more than once to extract every last bit of oil.
Thinking about the process of crushing olives and considering that this garden is where Jesus came to pray before his arrest, our guide read from Isaiah 53:5 "He was crushed for our iniquities," and Isaiah 53:10 "But the LORD was pleased to crush Him." He then left us to consider that the evening Jesus spent in the garden was a time of agonizing prayer, absolute betrayal, and ultimate desertion. And that was only the beginning of the crushing of Christ.
My mind wanders again to images on the news. "Crushing" is a good descriptive word.
The weight of xenophobia and tribalism is crushing an entire community of people who have come to this country to escape the evils and corruption that are the result of crushing years of colonialism.
Greed, fueled by a spirit of lawlessness and the removal of societal and cultural guardrails, is crushing the pillars of democracy.
The firehose of misinformation and disinformation and flat-out lies is crushing the understanding of the truth, along with the truths we have long held to be self-evident: That we are all created equal. That we are endowed by our Creator with certain unalienable Rights. And that among these rights are Life, Liberty, and the pursuit of Happiness.
The "shock and awe" attack on every facet of how we know ourselves to be Americans seems an intentional strategy, meant to distract and distress us, exhausting us and crushing our spirits and our will to push back and resist.
I think, almost forty days out, we are far from Bethlehem and Nazareth, now. We are at Gith Shemen - in the olive press. The process has just begun. Danger and death hover near.
In my mind's eye, I find myself back where I was five years ago. I see all those magnificent, ancient olive trees and the hope written in ancient rocks and stones that cry out for peace.
We are about to find out what we're really made of. We are about to discover our real worth. We are about to see, once again, the crushing tension between the desire for Liberation and the seduction of Empire. Death and danger hover near. It has ever been thus for those who follow Jesus.
The key has changed but the music is the same.
Will we rejoice like Simon that we can depart in peace, or will we dance like Anna because we know our redemption is near? Or, will we return home like Joseph and Mary, so that Jesus can grow strong and wise, and live our lives of faith until our time has come and we can take our part in the ongoing, ever-revealing Story of the Liberation and Redemption of the Human Spirit?
Or, has that time already arrived?
I hope something good happens to you today.
Bom dia.
They had just celebrated their 24th wedding anniversary on January 12th. Bishop Gene Robinson presided at the marriage one day after it was legal in New Hampshire, and very soon after General Convention approved same-sex marriage. That's Ellie on the right.
In the coming days, there will be many tributes written about Elie. Many will be heartfelt. Most will be true. I have always thought that one of the definitions of "Divine Punishment" is that we never get to hear what people say about us after we die.
Here's the real tragedy, for me, about Ellie's passing. There are so many young women and men, newly ordained and not, who have no idea who Ellie was. And while that's a loss for them, the tragedy is that they don't know the history - or herstory - of which she was such an important part.
Here's the thing about Ellie. She was a church historian and served as Associate Professor of Church History at Andover Newton Seminary. She was also on staff, briefly, at St. John's, Bowdoin Street in Boston, where I was a seminarian.
She was a devout Anglo-Catholic, and in many ways, closer, actually to Rome than Canterbury in a lot of her theology. At least, at the beginning. Before her own transformation.
Because of those two factors - history and catholic theology - she was adamantly opposed to the ordination of women. Mostly, because it didn't make sense to her - or, what she knew - historically and theologically.
It wasn't until Ellie began to look beyond the context of history. As she wrote, "In order to understand the tradition of male priesthood and evaluate its continuance or alteration in the twentieth century, we need to broaden our view, for historical understanding is frequently contextual understanding."
Historical understanding is frequently contextual understanding.
Here is the key that unlocked her mind - and her own vocation - to the ordination of women:
"Priesthood, amongst other things, has to do with the realm of the Holy, its representation and communication to God’s People. We propose therefore to look beyond the traditions surrounding women in Holy Orders to the presence or role of the female or the feminine in the words and images used by medieval Christians for God, whom the priest in some way symbolizes."
Where she had once been touted around church and seminary and academic circles as The Leading Voice in opposition to the ordination of women, when she had her own conversion and vocational experience, the same folks who praised her intellect and academic credentials could not now dismiss her humble but enthusiastic support for the ordination of women, based not only on her own experience but the results of her intellectual inquiry.
Ellie was ordained to the diaconate in February of 1980 and to the priesthood in May of 1981, both by Bishop John Coburn. He was the same bishop who had presided over the vote in the House of Deputies (when he was a priest) to allow women deputies as well as to regularize the ordination of women.
I can not tell you the effect this had on the opposition to the ordination of women. It is not an exaggeration to say that the effect was something akin to a second-wave aftershock following an earthquake. Any remaining false gods of the patriarchy left standing were toppled or seriously damaged.
The silence of objection was glorious. Oh, it was only momentary, followed by the gasp of realization, but it was still highly effective.
Ellie did that. I want you to know that.
It's important that this part of our history is known and understood. Especially since it is entirely possible - indeed probable - for men and women to attend seminary and not be aware of the struggle women had in the first decade after Philadelphia Eleven.
They may have talked about the Philadelphia Eleven as an event in history, but nobody really talks about what happened in that first 10-year wave of women who were ordained - especially the story of the bitter, ugly, cruel, and often violent manifestations of sexism and misogyny for those who were not ordained.
Indeed, it may help us to understand the struggle women continue to have in the church in terms of equal employment opportunities as well as equal compensation.
Ellie was a huge influence on my formation as a priest. More than anyone else, she helped me to navigate the often choppy theological waters between Rome and Canterbury.
I will never, ever forget the Saturday she made available to the women in my seminary class who were about to graduate and be ordained to teach us how to preside at Eucharist.
As I recall, there were five of us. She took exquisite, elegant care to help us understand what it was we were doing - the enormous privilege we had - to be keenly aware of and grateful for it every time ("Every. Singl.e Time," I still hear her say) we presided - as well as all the rubrical considerations.
I can still hear her say, "The way you hold your hands, the tone and volume of your voice, the slight movement of your body as you notice that it will sway, slightly, to the presence and power of the Spirit as you recite or chant those the ancient words, all of that is part and parcel of the sacramental act over which you preside. You are inviting God's people deeper into the mystery that is God. Don't let anything distract you or them from that. You are a vehicle of God's grace. Never forget that. Ever."
I know Ellie said those words all those decades ago because when I prepare myself for the extraordinary privilege of presiding at Eucharist, I hear her voice, reminding me. Encouraging me. Teaching me. Entreating me, with the intense passion that marked everything Ellie did.
I will forever be grateful and blessed that she agreed to be one of my presenters for priestly ordination at St. Ann's Episcopal Church, "The Mill Girl Church," in Lowell, MA, which was built by the owner of the Lowell Textile Mills who imposed a tithe (as in 10% of their salaries - without their consent) on the women who worked the mills in order to build the church.
To "honor" their contribution he named the church after his wife. Whatta guy, huh? I'm sure he thought he was being generous.
I am the daughter and granddaughter of "Massachusetts Mill Girls." Ellie was fascinated by that. "You have to write a book," she said. "You have to tell the story of your grandmother and mother and aunts."
I never did. If I ever do, it will be dedicated to the Rev. Dr. Eleanor McLaughlin. I owe her an enormous debt of gratitude for which she never wrote an invoice and never expected to collect.
One last thing. At the end of their wedding ceremony, Ellie and Betsy sang together and asked the congregation to join them in an old, old hymn that is not in our hymnal. I hope is also sung at her funeral mass. The second verse of "Never Grow Old" is:
When our work here is done
And the life's crown is won
And our troubles and trials are o'er
All our sorrow will end
And our voices will blend
With the loved ones who've gone on before
Never grow old, never grow old
In the land where we'll never grow old
Never grow old, never grow old
In the land where we'll never grow old
Ellie, the person and priest and scholar she was, the theology she believed in, the history she enjoyed, the lessons she taught, the example she lived, and the role model she provided will never grow old. She will live forever in my heart.
I hope something good happens to you today.
Bom dia.
Good Sunday morning, good pilgrims of The Epiphany Season. It's the third Sunday after The Epiphany and, over in the lectionary page, Jesus has gone home to Nazareth and preached his first sermon in his hometown temple.
The sermon went fine. Short. Sweet. To the point. It was the feedback that almost killed him. But, we don't get to hear the way that episode in that story ends. Not this week.
That gospel story reminds me of the experience I had, years ago, at St. Edmunds, the Roman Catholic Church in Rehoboth Beach. Before we bought our own wee cottage, we vacationed for two weeks in a rented home in Rehoboth Beach. I loved to get up early, get over to daily mass, and then walk a bit along the boardwalk before going back home for breakfast.
In those days, there were quite a few priests on staff at St. Edmunds. So, every day, you would get a different priest. I don't think the service lasted more than 30 minutes but there was this one priest - he was my favorite - who preached the shortest sermons in all of Western Christendom.
I remember a few but my favorite was the time he stood up and read the Gospel where Jesus turns over the tables in the Temple. He read the story with particular passion. It was compelling.
And then, he closed the book and we sat down. He paced for a few seconds - but it seemed like a long minute - and then took the time to look us all in the eye.
Then, he opened his mouth and said this: "Jesus is really angry. I wouldn't mess with him."
And then, the priest sat down. He gave us a full minute - but it seemed like it took a long hour - to think about everything before he stood up and continued the service.
One of these days, I'm going to get that good.
I hope something good happens to you today.
Bom dia.
January 25, 2025
Good Friday morning, good pilgrims of the Epiphany Season. So, there have been an interesting few *things* happening on social media as responses to the homiletic moment between The Bishop and the Old King.
One is that, apparently, a good deal of the citizenry think that because the Cathedral Church of Saint Peter and Saint Paul is more popularly known as "The National Cathedral," it belongs to the government of The United States of America, the way, say, The Cathedral of Notre Dame belongs to France.
Nay, nay. It is the cathedral church of the Episcopal Diocese of Washington, DC. The "cathedra" - the chair of the bishop - is kept there, as a symbol of episcopal power and authority.
So, no, children. The POTUS can not "fire" the bishop. Nor can he control what happens at The Cathedral. He can't, for example, order the ashes of Matthew Shepherd, which are interred in a columbarium there, removed, as some on social media have apparently called for.
No, really. They have. Some of the members of the Flying MAGA Monkeys are a vicious lot, aren't they?
Oh, but the viciousness doesn't end there. There's a meme going 'round with a picture of Bishop Mariann with the words, "Deport Illegal Anglicans."
Vicious? Yes. Here's the rich irony of that. That meme is being promoted in the dark, ugly corners of the internet where those who have left the Episcopal Church over the ordination of women and LGBTQ+ people tend to lurk, to nurse their wounds even as they pick at the scabs to keep them open and bleeding.
They have reformed themselves into what they like to call "Anglican churches" - except, they haven't been officially recognized by the Archbishop of Canterbury, so they are not "legal Anglicans."
It would be hilarious if it weren't so pathetic. And so very, terribly un-Christ-like.
Oh, you're going to love this: One particularly snarky, sad "Anglican" inferred that Bishop Mariann was "racist" when she talked about "the people who pick *our* crops and clean *our* office buildings . . .". As if she were supporting a caste system versus naming the reality that exists in our society.
This is what happens when you eat a steady diet of the Bread of Discontent and Resentment. It can turn young people into crabby old men and women, clutching their cardigan sweaters and shouting, "Get off my damn lawn."
Then there are the inevitable memes with illusions to the game of chess. In that game, of course, there are two bishops, one near the king and one near the queen. A king can move one square horizontally, vertically, and diagonally, one unoccupied square at a time. The king can capture an opponent's piece if it's undefended.
Bishops can move any number of squares diagonally as long as there are no pieces in the way. The long-range diagonal movements of the bishop can be used to protect pawns and threaten the opponent's pawns.
I know. It was too delicious not to meme.
And then, there's the "evangelism moment" this presents for The Episcopal Church. Some are comparing it to the opportunity presented when Michael Curry, then Presiding Bishop of The Episcopal Church, preached at the Royal Wedding.
Umm . . . well, yes, that was a moment. And, while there was some controversy, it was more about the "American Black Church Style" of preaching in a traditional Church of England royal wedding when there was already controversy about the biracial status of the divorced American commoner who was marrying the Prince.
This controversy with this diocesan bishop is different. First of all, the bishop is a woman. And, she spoke directly to the POTUS who would be King. In her two-minute ending to her sermon, she pleaded for "mercy" for "those who are scared right now".
The Bishop moved diagonally over several squares to protect the pawns in the game. The King was notably outraged. This was all to the absolute delight of some and the great distress of others.
So, some are asking, Is it wise to seize the moment for evangelism when you are only going to appeal to 49.8% of those who voted for the King?
Only half? Isn't half more than we have now?
Is it reasonable to expect that our appeal will be 100%? Didn't Jesus say, "Let those who have ears hear?" I suspect he knew that some are simply incapable of hearing the Good News.
In a time of the "official governmental demise" of DEI, what percentage of the population will be attracted to our slogan, "The Episcopal Church Welcomes You"?
How many will be offended by our ad campaigns, many of them showing women and people of color smiling and laughing and standing shoulder to shoulder with Caucasian men and women?
Or, is that the appeal of denominationalism? Different angles on the same gem? If you don't like our sparkle, try another denominational prism.
Here's another concern: Are we promoting the Gospel of Jesus Christ or are we promoting those who promote the Gospel?
Which brings us to the essential question: Why do people come to church? Is it to hear the Gospel or to hear the particular person who is proclaiming the Gospel?
How much of the leader's personality is a healthy part of the church's appeal?
I'm thinking here of that passage from 1 Corinthians 1:12-13 "What I mean is this: One of you says, “I follow Paul”; another, “I follow Apollos”; another, “I follow Cephas[a]”; still another, “I follow Christ.” Is Christ divided? Was Paul crucified for you? Were you baptized in the name of Paul?"
It's an interesting dance, isn't it? Apparently, it's as old as the early church. Evangelism vs a promotion/marketing thing based on the leader's personality.
I don't have any answers. It's just an endless fascination for me. And, apparently, for the church.
I've said it before and I'll say it again: This is a great time to be a Christian. Indeed, I think it's a great time to be a person of faith. That's because this time is calling us to look closely at what it is we say we believe and who it is we say we are. And, to stand up and speak out for both.
Rahm Emanuel said, "You never want a good crisis to go to waste." I think the man makes a good point.
I hope something good happens to you today.
Bom dia.
Good Friday morning, good pilgrims of the Epiphany Season. So, there have been an interesting few *things* happening on social media as responses to the homiletic moment between The Bishop and the Old King.
One is that, apparently, a good deal of the citizenry think that because the Cathedral Church of Saint Peter and Saint Paul is more popularly known as "The National Cathedral," it belongs to the government of The United States of America, the way, say, The Cathedral of Notre Dame belongs to France.
Nay, nay. It is the cathedral church of the Episcopal Diocese of Washington, DC. The "cathedra" - the chair of the bishop - is kept there, as a symbol of episcopal power and authority.
So, no, children. The POTUS can not "fire" the bishop. Nor can he control what happens at The Cathedral. He can't, for example, order the ashes of Matthew Shepherd, which are interred in a columbarium there, removed, as some on social media have apparently called for.
No, really. They have. Some of the members of the Flying MAGA Monkeys are a vicious lot, aren't they?
Oh, but the viciousness doesn't end there. There's a meme going 'round with a picture of Bishop Mariann with the words, "Deport Illegal Anglicans."
Vicious? Yes. Here's the rich irony of that. That meme is being promoted in the dark, ugly corners of the internet where those who have left the Episcopal Church over the ordination of women and LGBTQ+ people tend to lurk, to nurse their wounds even as they pick at the scabs to keep them open and bleeding.
They have reformed themselves into what they like to call "Anglican churches" - except, they haven't been officially recognized by the Archbishop of Canterbury, so they are not "legal Anglicans."
It would be hilarious if it weren't so pathetic. And so very, terribly un-Christ-like.
Oh, you're going to love this: One particularly snarky, sad "Anglican" inferred that Bishop Mariann was "racist" when she talked about "the people who pick *our* crops and clean *our* office buildings . . .". As if she were supporting a caste system versus naming the reality that exists in our society.
This is what happens when you eat a steady diet of the Bread of Discontent and Resentment. It can turn young people into crabby old men and women, clutching their cardigan sweaters and shouting, "Get off my damn lawn."
Then there are the inevitable memes with illusions to the game of chess. In that game, of course, there are two bishops, one near the king and one near the queen. A king can move one square horizontally, vertically, and diagonally, one unoccupied square at a time. The king can capture an opponent's piece if it's undefended.
Bishops can move any number of squares diagonally as long as there are no pieces in the way. The long-range diagonal movements of the bishop can be used to protect pawns and threaten the opponent's pawns.
I know. It was too delicious not to meme.
And then, there's the "evangelism moment" this presents for The Episcopal Church. Some are comparing it to the opportunity presented when Michael Curry, then Presiding Bishop of The Episcopal Church, preached at the Royal Wedding.
Umm . . . well, yes, that was a moment. And, while there was some controversy, it was more about the "American Black Church Style" of preaching in a traditional Church of England royal wedding when there was already controversy about the biracial status of the divorced American commoner who was marrying the Prince.
This controversy with this diocesan bishop is different. First of all, the bishop is a woman. And, she spoke directly to the POTUS who would be King. In her two-minute ending to her sermon, she pleaded for "mercy" for "those who are scared right now".
The Bishop moved diagonally over several squares to protect the pawns in the game. The King was notably outraged. This was all to the absolute delight of some and the great distress of others.
So, some are asking, Is it wise to seize the moment for evangelism when you are only going to appeal to 49.8% of those who voted for the King?
Only half? Isn't half more than we have now?
Is it reasonable to expect that our appeal will be 100%? Didn't Jesus say, "Let those who have ears hear?" I suspect he knew that some are simply incapable of hearing the Good News.
In a time of the "official governmental demise" of DEI, what percentage of the population will be attracted to our slogan, "The Episcopal Church Welcomes You"?
How many will be offended by our ad campaigns, many of them showing women and people of color smiling and laughing and standing shoulder to shoulder with Caucasian men and women?
Or, is that the appeal of denominationalism? Different angles on the same gem? If you don't like our sparkle, try another denominational prism.
Here's another concern: Are we promoting the Gospel of Jesus Christ or are we promoting those who promote the Gospel?
Which brings us to the essential question: Why do people come to church? Is it to hear the Gospel or to hear the particular person who is proclaiming the Gospel?
How much of the leader's personality is a healthy part of the church's appeal?
I'm thinking here of that passage from 1 Corinthians 1:12-13 "What I mean is this: One of you says, “I follow Paul”; another, “I follow Apollos”; another, “I follow Cephas[a]”; still another, “I follow Christ.” Is Christ divided? Was Paul crucified for you? Were you baptized in the name of Paul?"
It's an interesting dance, isn't it? Apparently, it's as old as the early church. Evangelism vs a promotion/marketing thing based on the leader's personality.
I don't have any answers. It's just an endless fascination for me. And, apparently, for the church.
I've said it before and I'll say it again: This is a great time to be a Christian. Indeed, I think it's a great time to be a person of faith. That's because this time is calling us to look closely at what it is we say we believe and who it is we say we are. And, to stand up and speak out for both.
Rahm Emanuel said, "You never want a good crisis to go to waste." I think the man makes a good point.
I hope something good happens to you today.
Bom dia.
Then again, to read some of the comments on social media after the Inauguration and Bishop Mariann's sermon on Monday, you'd think we were back in 1950 - or, at least, that's where some people think we ought to be.
I was actually on one thread where one brilliant woman insisted that Bishop Mariann was not a bishop because - duh! - women can't be bishops. Says so right in the B I B L E. According to her brilliant logic, if The Bible says it can't be, it isn't.
Ever notice how the very people who make pronouncements like this have absolutely no credentials so to do? People who've never been to seminary much less Bible College are suddenly expert theologians.
These same people are also experts in economics, public policy and immigration and, without ever going near a medical or dental school, are experts on immunology, diabetes, heart disease, and preventing tooth decay, with special proficiency in horse medicine for contagious diseases.
Yes, they're baaaack. Actually, they never went away. They are just now emboldened to give us their wisdom because they have the King they've been praying for who has placed similarly qualified "experts" in positions of authority and power.
Look, it's going to be a long four years. Even if - WHEN - we take back the House and/or Senate in two years, it's going to feel like an eternity.
Hear me: We can do this. We've done it before. We can do it again. Yes, this time we are not up against one man but a regime. Yes, that makes it much more difficult.
Hear me: We can do this. We will do this. And, we will do it with humility and grace, kindness and compassion, and great strength
and clarity.
There will be moments like we had this week, divinely inspired moments when an Episcopal bishop, a woman, stands up to The Old King and pleads for mercy for all who are scared right now. .
These moments will lift our spirits and provide us the inspiration to keep on keeping on. Some of us who were in for the long haul have gotten fat and lazy over the past few years of progress. Others of us have never had to develop our "gospel muscles".
Time to get in shape. Time to spend more time with Jesus, sitting at the feet of the master. Indeed, time to spend time with Spiritual Masters like Buddha and Abraham Heschel and Thich Nhat Hanh and Pema Chodron and the Dahli Lama and Desmond Tutu and Martin Luther King, Jr. and Howard Thurman.
Just last week, my friend, Mark Harris, reminded me that Mao Tse-Tung once wrote, "Everything under heaven is chaos; the situation is excellent."
There's no better time to be a Christian than right now.
Let's do this.
I hope something good happens to you today,
Bom dia.
I'm speaking, of course, of Bishop Mariann Budde, who preached the Gospel into the very face of the most powerful man in any government in the so-called "Free World" - or, what's left of it because it is tilting again to the Right.
Some want to make her a hero. She is not. She's a Christian.
We've so tamed the Gospel, so domesticated Jesus and turned him into a lovely, purring lap cat that we've forgotten that the Gospel of Jesus Christ is dangerous. We've lost sight of what a huge risk it is to live out the important lessons that Jesus taught.
Leadership 101: The leader sets the standard. Old King Donald is dangerous because he has set the standard of cruelty and violence, revenge, and retribution.
Bishop Mariann Budde is dangerous because she has set the Gospel standard of self-sacrificial love, of speaking Truth to power, and of giving a voice to the voiceless.
The Flying Maga Monkeys will do exactly as their leader asks them to do. Of this, there is no question.
Will Christians at least strive to meet the standard set for us by Jesus and demonstrated for us by a bishop in the church? Now, that's the question.
Some of us have rushed to make her a hero, even circulating a picture of her in a stained glass window with a bible verse, just like those we see in our churches.
We don't need a hero. We need Christians.
Not White Supremacy Christians. Not the kind of Christians who use the bible to defend slavery and promote a return to it. Not the kind of Christians who use the bible to oppress women, and LGBTQ+ people, and those who are strangers seeking hospitality in a foreign land until they can make it their home.
No, we need Christians who have actually read the Bible and studied it and understand its context as well as its application for the world today. We need Christians who try to live out the standards set by the teachings of The Incarnation of God, the Messiah known as Jesus the Christ.
You want a hero? See that Blue Heron there, in the picture, bundled up against the wind by staying in the tall seagrass? That right there is a hero.
This morning, I was on a Zoom call with my sibling clergy. We were studying the lessons from this Sunday's lectionary. Someone had just started to read Paul's Epistle (1 Corinthians 12:12-31a) about how we are all part of the amazing interconnected web of relationships that make us part of the Body of Christ.
Just then, I happened to look out my sunroom window. A duck had flown in earlier and landed on the ice. Now, he was sitting down on the ice and flapping his wings wildly as he called out in clear distress.
Suddenly, several Merganser ducks - maybe five or six - flew in and surrounded the duck. They started flapping their wings wildly and stomping their webbed feet. I assume they were trying to free their friend from the frozen ice, but to no avail.
Then, the Blue Heron stepped out a bit from the seagrass and began to peck at the ice with his enormous bill. It didn't take long before the thin ice cracked and the duck was free. Several of the ducks fell into the water with him but they soon were able to get back up on the ice and fly the short distance into where the current and sun had melted the ice.
And, there it was. Right before my very eyes. Mother Nature was providing a parable to exemplify the words of Paul about how to live in community.
Everyone did what they could, everyone took part, including the Blue Heron. "To whom much is given, much is expected."
The Mergansers and the Blue Heron were heroes.
Bishop Mariann is a Christian. Just like you. Just like me.
She saw a chance to use what power and authority she had to speak truth directly into the face of power. That's exactly what Jesus asks her to do.
That's exactly what Jesus asks us to do. And, I submit that we have more power and authority than we think we do. We just need to learn how to work together.
Is it dangerous? You bet it is. That's in the very DNA of the Gospel. We've just gotten so comfortable with it, not had to pay the price of it for so long, we've either forgotten or we never really understood.
Bishop Mariann helped us to remember that. Or, learn it for the very first time.
It's not to late to say that I hope something good happens to you today.
Bom dia.
According to the weather service, at least 4 to 6 inches of snow are possible from southeastern Texas into southern Louisiana. California expects 70 mph Santa Ana winds today, making it difficult for firefighters to douse the fire that is, last I heard on NPR, 61% contained.
The governor of Mississippi declared a state of emergency ahead of today's anticipated storms as the state grapples with freezing temperatures and Central Mississippi could see up to 2 inches of snow. Further east, ice totals between a tenth and a quarter of an inch are forecasted in south-central Georgia.
There's more but, well, as Bob Dylan sang, "You don't need a weatherman to know which way the wind blows."
It's as if Mother Nature is giving us a preview of coming attractions in our political life.
As cold and cruel as the weather is this morning, it can not compare with what is inside the hearts of some people who sit in elected and appointed seats of government in our Nation's Capital, giddy with the power and authority now in their hands.
They will do stupid and cruel things simply because they can. As I learned in Leadership 101, the leader sets the tone.
I woke up this morning, and the realization slowly dawned on me that our biggest problem is not Old King Donald and his Royal Court or the House of Lords.
No, our biggest problem is the people who elected him. As if that were not enough, they also gave him the majority of the House and Senate to aid and abet (vs advice and consent) the implementation of Project 2025.
No, I didn't vote for him, but *we* did. He won by a majority of less than 1% but, in this country, the majority rules. *We* elected him. Like it or not (and I don't) he is *our* president.
As I considered that epiphany (or, was it, as The Car Talk Brothers would say, a "stupiphany" - the sudden realization that you've been an idiot) I heard myself say, right out loud, "This really IS the best time to be a Christian."
Followers of Jesus have always risen to their best moral selves in the face of evil. Scripture is filled with such stories. So are the history books of the foundation and formation of this country.
There's an old saying I've heard repeated by some of my older Hospice patients, especially those who grew up with "that old-time religion," deep in the rural farm areas of Delaware.
Those old chicken and cash crop farmers who didn't have pensions or 401Ks or consulting gigs or seats on Boards of Directors lived on the meager income of their social security checks, as well as the food they still grew and the eggs from the chickens they still raised.
They didn't have much education after high school - if they were lucky enough not to have been pulled out to help on the farm - and mostly got their Master's Degree from the University of Life, School of Hard Knocks.
They would tell me that in times of distress or crisis if you pray to Jesus and "feed on his word," he will give you three strong bones: a wishbone, a jawbone, and a backbone.
You need a wishbone, they said, to imagine a life that's different than right now. A life of abundance when everyone else is talking about scarcity. A life where people share what they've got instead of hoarding things for themselves. A life where people are kind and help each other, like when Jesus sat everybody down and they found that two fish and five loaves were enough so no one would go hungry.
Jesus will give you a jawbone so you can ask for help when you need it, speak your mind when you have to, and speak up for others when they need help, too. A jawbone helps you to raise questions so you can feed your curiosity and actually use the intelligence that God put in your head.
Finally, if you listen to Jesus, he will strengthen your backbone so you will have the courage, strength, and determination you need to follow the teachings of Jesus and walk and talk and live like a Christian.
A wishbone. A jawbone. A backbone.
Guess you know what my prayers are today - and for the next four years.
As Dr. Martin Luther King, Jr., once preached, "We may have all come on different ships, but we're in the same boat now."
I hope something good happens to you today.
Bom dia.
Between the long lines of millions of people and the several security checks, it took two hours to get to a place where we could see the Capitol Building, there, in the distance, but we watched the inauguration on one of the many Jumbotrons out on the lawn.
It was C O L D. Dangerously so. But, I was bundled up in warm clothing, several pairs of socks and warm boots, a hat, a scarf, and gloves. The joy and delight in my heart were irrepressible and all the fuel I needed to keep me warm.
The nice lady who now runs The Geranium Farm published a prayer today for MLK, Jr., and the Inauguration. She called it "an extraordinary coincidence". I suppose it is. Or, it is just as it was intended when the possibility of this confluence of events first showed up in the heavenly Lottery Drum of Calendar Events.
The prayer for MLK, Jr, from the Book of Lesser Feasts and Fasts asks that "your church . . . may resist oppression in the name of your love, and may strive to secure for all your children the blessed liberty of the Gospel of Jesus Christ. . .".
I prayed that prayer fervently this morning.
The source of the prayer for the Inauguration was listed as "Prayerpedia". Bless their hearts. I'm sure they meant well.
I suppose someone had to write it. And, for any other inauguration, it would be a good prayer. An appropriate prayer. A prayer that contained reasonable petitions to an omnipotent, all-powerful God.
The first petition: "May your Holy Spirit instill our president of righteousness and the values and principles of your kingdom to exercise the sacred trust of administering the nation."
The second: "Give our new president, his administration, and Congress the ability to honor you by doing what is right, fair, and just for all citizens, especially the poor, hungry, and marginalized."
By the time I got to the third, I had to stop: "We ask that all the people in our nation, irrespective of race, gender, ethnicity, or religious faith be treated with dignity."
I could hear my grandmother say, "Yeah, and people in hell want ice water, too."
It's just that it hurts my heart to have to pray for these things which I know are possible to obtain only through the miraculous power and intervention of God.
It makes my head ache to have to pray for the things that I understand are central to - baked into - the fiber and fabric and DNA of this "one Republic, under God," which is governed by a system of government known as a "participatory democracy".
And, it hurts to know that I am asking for things that this particular elected official is "constitutionally incapable" of achieving.
Hear me, now: There is nothing in the world wrong with praying this prayer. And, there is something to the sentiment that says if you don't ask, how can you expect to receive? And yes, I know that Our God is an Awesome God and that Jesus told us, "with God, all things are possible".
I was sixteen once and sang "Dream the Impossible Dream" from a heart that was filled with altruism and nobility and adolescent hope. And then, I grew up and realized that most miracles happen when your sleeves are rolled up, your work boots are on, and there's a bead of sweat on your brow.
You may even have a few bruises on your body and scars on your heart, and your faith may be shaken, but you know, deep in every fiber of your being, that "this bridge called my back" will be part of what carries us from where we are to where we hope to be - one day, a day we may not see with our own eyes but through the eyes of our children and our children's children.
God works through our work. And, God loves us enough to let us make our own mistakes so we can learn the lessons we couldn't
learn any other way.
So, this is a day when I'm going to "keep my eye on the prize". When I'm going to stay focused on the last words of the poem I heard Amanda Gorman recite at Joe Biden's Inauguration in 2021:
"We will rise from the golden hills of the West.
We will rise from the windswept Northeast where our forefathers first realized revolution.
We will rise from the lake-rimmed cities of the Midwestern states.
We will rise from the sun-baked South.
We will rebuild, reconcile, and recover.
And every known nook of our nation and every corner called our country, our people diverse and beautiful, will emerge battered and beautiful.
When day comes, we step out of the shade aflame and unafraid.
The new dawn blooms as we free it.
For there is always light, if only we’re brave enough to see it.
If only we’re brave enough to be it."
We are still locked in a battle for the soul of this nation. The spiritual war is still waging.
Let's do this.
I hope something good happens to you today.
Bom dia.
The first was the visit of the Magi. The second was his Baptism (a bit off the timeline, but whatever). This week is the miracle at the Wedding Feast in Cana of Galilee. Next week will be Jesus' first sermon in the Temple.
Back to the Wedding. My friend Lindy - a brilliant writer, especially of biblical reflections - calls this story "The Secret Life of Miracles". As she points out, this miracle, his first public miracle, was done in secret - down where the water used for ritual was kept.
There was no wine. Mary, his mother, points that out to him. Why? Dunno. Except, of course, she knew. She knew he could do it. How? Dunno. Maybe he had been practicing around the house?
"Jesus? Jesus, we're out of ketchup. I've got some tomatoes here. Be a good boy and turn them into ketchup for me, please. No, that wood you're sawing for your father can wait. Now, son. I need it right away for the meatloaf."
Or, something.
It's important to note that Cana, like Nazareth, is a little town of absolutely no import. About 10 kilometers from Nazareth, it seems to have been a place most people only passed through on their way to somewhere else. Indeed, it is never mentioned in Hebrew Scripture but three times in Christian Scripture.
So, it is in this out-of-the-way, sleepy little town where nothing ever happens that Jesus performs his first miracle. In secret.
There's another aspect of this story that strikes me. Timing. The wedding hosts didn't know how to pace the serving of the wine so that it would last. Mary knew it was time for Jesus to perform his first miracle, but he, apparently, didn't.
And then, he did. Or, at least, he was convinced by his mother that his "hour had come". When Jesus finally decided that the time was right, he changed approximately 120 gallons of sacred water into wine.
It wasn't just wine, it was primo, top-shelf stuff. Even the wine steward mentioned it to the bridegroom, saying, "Everyone serves the good wine first, and then the inferior wine after the guests have become drunk. But you have kept the good wine until now."
That Jesus. Such an over-achiever! He got an A++ on his very first miracle. Which may have been the reason for his sense of timing. He wanted to be sure he could do his best.
Nah. I think the reason Jesus decided to listen to his mother can be found in the last part of the last sentence. " . . .and his disciples believed in him."
Me? I think he did it because he realized his mother was right. It was time. He needed to do this for his disciples. So they could believe in him. So they could believe in themselves. That, they could have the epiphany that they were right.
Jesus is the Anointed One.
Jesus is the Messiah.
Jesus is the Incarnation of God.
Off I go, then, into this day when yet another snowstorm is predicted.
In the meantime, please enjoy The Rowan Atkins translation of John's Gospel of the Wedding Feast at Cana. It is not (yet) approved by General Convention as an authorized text for public worship, but it is certifiably hilarious.
I hope something good happens to you today.
Bom dia.
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=mfRbtaoddIA
