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

Friday, February 07, 2025

Epiphany XXII: Song in a weary throat

 (Image source: Schlesinger Library, Harvard Radcliffe Institute.)

Good Friday morning, good citizens of The Remains of The Epiphany Season. Today, in Black History Month, I want to lift up, celebrate, remember, and call the name of one of the saints of God and the Episcopal Church, Anna Pauline Murray, better known as the Rev. Dr. Pauli Murray.

I remember the first time I heard her name. It was 1989 and I was helping out in the little church where she had last been Vicar, Church of the Holy Apostles, Baltimore, MD. She had died of pancreatic cancer in 1985 and the people there were still deeply grieving her loss.

It was after mass and I was hanging out in the sacristy with the Altar Guild. I've learned, over the years, that the "small talk" you make with the Holy Servants of the Altar can tell you big things about the church and Her people.

"She was a force of nature," one of the Altar Guild Ladies said, with unmistakable sadness as she filled a cruet with water at the sink. "A real force of nature. The Holy Spirit just hung around her bony shoulders like Superman's cape."

She began to rattle off her accomplishments. "Oh sure, you heard all about those lunch counter sit-ins that the NAACP organized? Huh! Well, Mother Pauli was doing that in DC years -Decades! - before it occurred to The Boys that it would be a good strategy for a non-violent demonstration."

She shook her head and sighed, "That was just the first of a lot of firsts. First Black woman law school graduate at Howard University, first Black person to earn a JSD (Doctor of the Science of Law) degree from Yale Law School, first Black woman ordained as an Episcopal priest."

She laughed, "You didn't want to say 'no' to Mother Pauli. Huh! She'd just find a way to do it anyway, even if she never got credit for it." She dried her hands and said, "I'll bet you didn't know that she wrote the legal argument for Thurgood Marshall's Brown v Topeka Kansas Supreme Court case that stopped segregation - well, made it illegal, anyway."

I later learned that Murray’s 746-page book, “States’ Laws on Race and Color,” written in 1948, was a definitive work used for decades by jurists and civil rights activists. Marshall called Murray’s book “the bible for civil rights lawyers.”

Her name was also listed as a co-author on the brief argued by Ruth Bader Ginsburg in 1971 in Reed v. Reed. Years later Ginsburg said, “We knew when we wrote that brief that we were standing on her shoulders.”

"You know," I said, "with all due respect, I went to a very progressive seminary in The Episcopal Church. I'm sorry - I apologize - but, I've never heard of this woman before."

"Hmph," she said, looking me right in the eye with steely brown eyes, like a mother about to teach her child an important lesson in life. She shifted her ample weight, tilted her head to one side, slung her cleaning cloth over her shoulder, and said, her voice dripping with sarcasm, "I wonder why that is?"

I got it. Instantly. But, I didn't know just how deep that prejudice ran. It was one of the first times I was aware of the importance and the impact of "intersectionality" and the complexity of issues that make up our total identity.

"You gotta read her book, "Proud Shoes." More people need to. But they won't. Nobody cares. Well, none but Jesus."

"Look," she said, "up there on the shelves. See it? You can't have it - not even borrow it - but they have several copies at the Baltimore Public Library. Some of us made sure of that. And, right next to it is her other book. See? "Song in a Weary Throat". Get that one, too, when you're at the library."

As I looked at the shelf, not only were her two books there but also a few books of her poetry. There was also a three-ring binder of some of her sermons and a pamphlet she, Pauli, had put together which provided instructions on how a poor, inner-city congregation could make its own Afro-centric vestments out of sheets and pillowcases and napkins, trimmed with Kinte cloth.

As I remember, there were also handwritten notes of things Pauli felt were important to include, like the name and contact information of the woman in Baltimore who could get Kinte cloth for you inexpensively.

I realized that that bookshelf was a little shrine in memory of Mother Pauli. There were several books and religious symbols - mostly African-themed - that had probably been in her office and left by the family as keepsakes for the congregation.

She moved closer to me and, as she spoke, I felt her hand at my back. I knew that not only did this woman think that "Mother Pauli" was important enough for her to take the time out of her day to teach this newly ordained White girl something about this Giant of Justice, but she also thought I was worth it.

I got the clear sense that this woman was telling me parts of the story of Pauli Murray in the hopes that I might be inspired - or, at least curious - to know more. And maybe, just maybe, I would be able to tell people about her and the work she had done, so that Pauli would eventually earn her place in history.

I felt awash in gratitude but I also understood the responsibility I was being given. I've tried very hard, all these many years later, not to let her down. What I didn't know - couldn't know at the time - was the resistance I would get from people who would rather just let her name collect dust like the books on the shelves in the sacristy of that old, inner-city Episcopal church.

Back in the day, nobody said the word "lesbian". Even gay men and lesbian women had a hard time saying the actual "L-word". But, to be Black and female and lesbian? Well, that was all just a bit too much for some folks.

It wasn't until a sister priest who was also Black pulled me over and told me about her "gender confusion issues" that I got the full picture. "You mean, she was a dyke?" I said, using the only language I had at the time for masculine-looking women.

"Yeah, I guess that's what you'd call it," she said, deeply embarrassed. "I mean, it was more than that, you know? I don't know how to explain it. It was more than just being gay. I think . . . well, I don't know, but I think . . . well, let's just say that I think, sometimes, she got confused, being a woman in a man's world."

Years - decades - later, I would come to understand that Pauli Murray was what we would call today "non-binary" and "gender fluid." I came to understand that she suffered from the same sexism as writer Zora Neale Hurston, whose brilliant work was deeply controversial in her community because it was feared that her portrayal of Southern Black dialects and folkways out of context furthered racist stereotypes.

I also understood that the same homophobia that denied the brilliant strategic and organizational skills of Bayard Rustin, the principal architect of The March on Washington, and the brilliance of author and essayist James Baldwin also tried to deny Pauli Murray her well-deserved place in American history.

The truth will have out, and their brilliance is now embraced and their stories are being told. I believe that is due, at least in part, to the brilliant work of Black authors like Kelly Brown Douglas who, in her book, "Sexuality and the Black Church," suggests that issues such as homophobia and sexism in the Black church and community are clearly a response to the virulent and dominant White exploitation of Black sexuality.

Today, we have the "alphabet soup" of inclusion: LGBTQIA+++. Today, we continue to work on the racism and sexism that is in the very air we breathe. Today, we continue to work on the unrelenting prejudice against lesbian, gay, bisexual, and transgender people.

Today, movies and documentaries about James Baldwin and Bayard Rustin, and Pauli Murray are made and viewed widely. Today, Pauli Murray - the woman who celebrated her first Eucharist at the altar in the same chapel where her grandmother, then a slave, was baptized - is celebrated and remembered in the Lesser Feasts and Fasts on July 1. (Imagine!)

But, without the foundational, brilliant, courageous, persistent, tenacious, and resilient work of people like Pauli Murray, we would not be where we are today.

I saw a meme on BlueSky the other day that I think, if Pauli were alive today, she, herself, might have authored it. It said,

"You can not take the DEI out of Imgao Dei."

In these dark days when the new administration has declared war on DEI and has prohibited Federal agencies from observing Black History Month, I rejoice that we have bright lights of The Epiphany of Jesus like Pauli Murray to illumine our path.


"Hope is a song in a weary throat," wrote Pauli in one of the first poems of hers I ever read in that raggedy, broken-down old sacristy in that inner-city church in Baltimore, MD.

It's more important, now more than ever, to find our voices and sing out the hope we know in Jesus. And, I'll say to you what that wonderful Altar Guild Lady said to me at Holy Apostles Church, so many decades ago, "And, why do you think that is?"

I hope something good happens to you today.

Bom dia. NB:
I'm going to say this here, again, and I'll keep repeating it: Black History is American History. We need Black History not for Black people but for White people who have been seriously impoverished and do not know or have an appreciation for the contributions Black people have made to American History. We know even less of the Black women who have made enormous contributions at equally enormous cost. So, please, White people: read, mark, learn, and inwardly digest as much information as you can during Black History month, that it may inspire you to continue to learn all the rest of the months of the year and all the days of your life. Especially in these days of the attempted elimination of DEI.

 

Thursday, February 06, 2025

Epiphany XXI: Martyrs


Good Thursday morning, good pilgrims of the Remains of The Epiphany. The Martyrs of Japan are on the calendar of the Lesser Feasts and Fasts today, providing us with yet another example of what happens when religion is perceived as a vehicle of Western imperialism.

The story goes that Jesuits brought Christianity to Japan as a byproduct of trade relations. The movement was led by Saint Francis Xavier, who introduced Christianity to Japan in 1549. Xavier was a founding member of the Society of Jesus.

Initially, many of the warring feudal lords embraced Christianity, viewing it as a way of undermining those in power. At its peak, Christianity in Japan boasted some 500,000 adherents, the majority of them clustered in Nagasaki.

“Oppressed peasants” were attracted to Christianity by the promise of salvation, while merchants and “trade-conscious daimyos” were more concerned with the economic opportunities afforded by the new religion.

However, powerful leaders and warlords in Japan grew skeptical of a belief system with such close ties to foreign powers, especially Portugal and Rome. Suspicions were raised about Western intentions of conquest, particularly on the part of the Spanish, with their nearby presence in the Philippines.

There was a strong reaction against the proliferation of all things "foreign" - people, their culture, their values, and their religion - on Japanese soil, especially by the warlords. Suspicion and mistrust of anything not native to their soil fed a strong movement of isolationism.

(History has so many lessons. Are we paying attention, here?)

In 1587 Christian missionaries were expelled, accused of committing “the illegal act of destroying the teachings of Buddha”—the dominant faith in Japan at the time.

A decade later, on February 5, 1597, the first victims were persecuted. They were twenty-six Christians: six European Franciscan missionaries, three Japanese Jesuits (including Paul Miki), and seventeen Japanese laity, three of whom were young boys. They were executed at Nagasaki in a form of crucifixion by being elevated on crosses and then pierced with spears.

They were martyred for their faith, yes, but that is only one part of the story. They were crucified because their religion was seen as a powerful vehicle of Western imperialism. It seems ever thus when Christianity becomes "the state religion".

The Roman Catholic Church remembers these martyrs on the day of their deaths. The Anglican and Episcopal Churches remember them today, February 6th, to keep remembrance of St. Agatha on the 5th.

Today in Black History Month, we remember one Ms. Audre Lorde a writer and poet known for her radical honesty and fight against racism and sexism. Lorde described herself as a "Black, lesbian, mother, warrior, poet." She wrote about intersectionality long before The Academy recognized the powerful, dynamic interplay at the intersection of our various identities.

In the 1970s she worked as a poet-in-residence at Tougaloo College in Mississippi and began publishing poetry collections. Her works were informed by the intersections of race, class, and gender, and became increasingly more political.


In "Sister Outsider," she wrote,
“Your silence will not protect you," which became the foundation of the spirituality of People with AIDS, who realized that to save their lives and the lives of others, they needed to take the risk and be public about the privacy of their sexual orientation as well as their diagnosis. There followed incredible acts of bravery and courage that still make my eyes sweat and changed and transformed me."
The full context of that quote is even more powerful, especially for us today:
“What are the words you do not yet have? What are the tyrannies you swallow day by day and attempt to make your own, until you will sicken and die of them, still in silence? We have been socialized to respect fear more than our own need for language."

"Next time, ask: What's the worst that will happen? Then push yourself a little further than you dare. Once you start to speak, people will yell at you. They will interrupt you, put you down and suggest it's personal. And the world won't end."

"And the speaking will get easier and easier. And you will find you have fallen in love with your own vision, which you may never have realized you had. And you will lose some friends and lovers, and realize you don't miss them. And new ones will find you and cherish you. And you will still flirt and paint your nails, dress up and party, because, as I think Emma Goldman said, "If I can't dance, I don't want to be part of your revolution." And at last you'll know with surpassing certainty that only one thing is more frightening than speaking your truth. And that is not speaking.”
She also wrote:
“When I dare to be powerful, to use my strength in the service of my vision, then it becomes less and less important whether I am afraid.”
Most powerfully, she wrote:
“For the master’s tools will never dismantle the master’s house. They may allow us to temporarily beat him at his own game, but they will never enable us to bring about genuine change. Racism and homophobia are real conditions of all our lives in this place and time. I urge each one of us here to reach down into that deep place of knowledge inside herself and touch that terror and loathing of any difference that lives here. See whose face it wears. Then the personal as the political can begin to illuminate all our choices.”
I think the juxtaposition of the Martyrs of Japan and the life and teachings of Audre Lorde provide an opportunity to reflect on the nature of personal and political, the cost of silence and the cost of speaking up/speaking out, and the martyrdom that happens at the intersection - the cross - of all of our various identities, especially when it behooves the power structure to keep them separate and in a hierarchy of importance to an order dictated by the dominant social and cultural and religious paradigm.

I hope something good happens to you today.

Bom dia.

Wednesday, February 05, 2025

Epiphany XX: And yet, she persisted

 

Good Wednesday morning, good citizens of the remains of The Epiphany Season. I have two bright Epiphany lights for you today - two uppity women, centuries apart, who "wouldn't do what the man say do," even if it meant injury, and in one case, torture.

The first is the woman on our Calendar of Lesser Feasts and Fasts, St. Agatha of Sicily, one of my grandmother's favorite saints. Agatha was born to rich and noble parents, around 231. She was beautiful, but from an early age decided that she would dedicate herself as a virgin to the service of Jesus.

That, however, did not stop the Sicilian men who are notorious for their ... pursuit ... of beautiful women. One of them, a man of high noble ranking named Quintianus, became obsessed with turning her away from her vow and forcing her to marry him.

Quintianus had her arrested and brought before a judge - him - where he sentenced her to imprisonment ... in a brothel. There, she successfully and gracefully spurned all of her...customers... and made her her vow to the most high.

Quintianus then had her imprisoned where she was tortured. She was stretched on a rack to be torn with iron hooks, burned with torches, and whipped. Yet, the story goes, she endured everything "with good cheer".

Enraged, Quintianus had her breast cut off and sent her back to prison with no medical attention and no food or water. And yet, still, she persisted. She is often portrayed holding a platter which displays her breasts.

She is believed to have passed into heaven around 251. St. Agatha is the patron saint of Sicily, bellfounders, breast cancer patients, Palermo, rape victims, and wet nurses. She is also considered to be a powerful intercessor when people suffer from fires.

The second Bright Epiphany Light is one, Ms. Annie Lee Wilkerson Cooper (June 2, 1910 – November 24, 2010), a member of the African Diaspora who was a Civil Rights Activist.

I first learned of Ms. Annie Lee when I worked in Newark, NJ. I was picking up one of Cooper Deli's almost world-famous hot pastrami sandwiches on the West Side. The Cooper family owned one of the best delis in town. Their son was married to one of the women who was a member of my church.


I don't think I ever paid full price for one of those sandwiches, which was enough for at least three hearty meals.

The Coopers were very proud of Ms. Annie Lee as "the woman who punched Dallas County, Alabama Sheriff Jim Clark in the face during the 1965 Selma to Montgomery marches.

Now, I searched history books to find an account of this story, but - at least at that time - it was not an event any historian found worthy of print. However, I did find the story - told and recorded with great relish - at the offices of my local NAACP.

Apparently, this is how it went down, according to an article in the Journal of Blacks in Higher Education: "On January 25, 1965, Cooper went to the former Dallas County Courthouse in Selma, Alabama to register to vote as part of the Selma to Montgomery marches. While in line, Cooper was prodded by local sheriff Jim Clark with a baton. Cooper turned around and hit Clark in the face, knocking him to the ground. Cooper proceeded to jump on Clark until she was pulled away by other sheriffs."

She was held in jail for 11 hours - singing spirituals at the top of her voice the whole, entire time - before the sheriff's deputies dropped the charges and released her.

Her incident, as well as Bloody Sunday, which occurred six weeks after Cooper's encounter with Clark, were critical steps in passing the Voting Rights Act of 1965.

Though considered a key player in the voting rights movement, her efforts were often relegated to the background because of her gender. She was misrepresented in the media, especially in newspapers, which often presented her as an "aggressor." Some popular headlines in newspapers such as the Lodi News-Sentinel included: "Selma Sheriff Slugged by Hefty Negro Woman."

Ms. Annie Lee Cooper became a registered voter in Alabama.

In June, I am going to be part of the pilgrimage from Selma to Montgomery, led by Bishop Carlye J. Hughes. I am looking forward to learning more about Ms. Annie Lee, who died of natural causes at 100 years of age on November 24, 2010.

I thank God for the courage and persistence of these two "uppity, onery, willful, stubborn" women, who inspire the qualities I think we'll all need "for the living of these days" when the ancient demons of sexism, misogyny, and racism have returned full force.

God grant us the strength and courage to know when to endure and when to turn and slug someone right in the face, no matter the cost.

I hope something good happens to you today.

Bom dia.

Tuesday, February 04, 2025

Epiphany XIX: Manache, Cornelius and Dietrich

 

Good Tuesday morning, comrades of The Remains of the Epiphany. There are three bright lights on the calendar of Lesser Feasts and Fasts, one of whom also provides a lesson for us today during Black History Month.

That would be Manche Masemola, who shares the date with Dietrich Bonhoeffer and Cornelius the Centurian. Today, I'm going to highlight the life of this South African woman described as a "Christian Martyr" who died at the hands of her parents for the persistence of her vocation.

Manche (1913–1928) was of the Pedi people, a Bantu ethnic group in South Africa who are known for their music, storytelling, and dance. She lived her short life to the northeast of modern Johannesburg, with her parents, two older brothers, a sister, and a cousin.

After tribal warfare, it was determined that the Pedi people were to be confined to reserved lands that were barren, and they worked hard to eke out a living there. A tiny Christian community had been formed, first by German and then British missionaries, which was widely viewed with anxiety and suspicion by those among the Pedi who adhered to the faith and customs of their forebears.

In 1919, Manche and her cousin Lucia began taking classes to prepare them for baptism at the Anglican Community of the Resurrection mission. They did so against the strenuous objection of Manche's parents, who feared the girls were being bewitched, that they would leave them, or worse, refuse to marry and continue the customs of the Pedi people.

What were good Pedi parents to do? Especially those who bore legitimate resentment and anger at the British colonists who had segregated them and feared (not without good cause) that the girls would leave their family and traditions and become "Westernized". They saw that the missionaries were the vehicles of colonialism, imperialism and empire, which they experienced as a poisonous triple cocktail to kill their culture.

The parents took Manche to a traditional South African healer, who prescribed a traditional remedy, which her parents made her consume by beating her. Indeed, she was beaten so badly that Manche remarked to her cousin Lucia and her priest that she feared she "would be baptized in her own blood." That turned out to be prophetic.

The mother hid the girl's clothes so she could not attend Christian instructional classes, to no avail. On February 4, 1928, her parents led the teenager to a lonely place, where they killed her, burying her by a granite rock on a remote hillside. She was thought to be about 15 years old.

I don't know about you but I hear multiple layers of tragedy in this story. I also hear echoes of the story of Abraham's sacrifice of Isaac, except there was no dramatic, last minute divine intervention to spare the life of Manache.

A statue of Manche Masemola is one of the ten in the Modern Martyrs of the 20th Century collection adorning Westminster Abbey’s Great West Door. I suspect many see her as a martyr to the Christian faith, an example for all Christians to be steadfast and willing to die for the teachings of Christ.

When I visted the Abbey years ago and saw her statue, I was awash with the sense that Manache is not so much a Christian martyr as a martyr not to the teachings of Jesus but, rather, to the use of Christianity as a tool - a weapon - of colonialism, imperialism, empire and cultural genocide.

I find the juxtaposition of her story with that of the stories of Cornelius the Centurian, the first Gentile to be converted to Christianity, and Dietrich Bonhoeffer, who was martyred by Christian Nationalists in Germany who used their religion as a tool of fascism and genocide, to be a testimony to the evil corruption of the original intent of evangelism.

The three, indivually and together, shine a bright light in which we can examine more closely our beliefs and faith in the True Light of Jesus, who is the vehicle of our ongoing epiphanies and revelations. This has become a spiritual task of critical importance for us in our day and time.

I hope something good happens to you today.

Bom dia.

NB: I wish to point out the obvious - that I am a woman who is Caucasian, Western, and a Christian liberation feminist, who comes from the strong Roman and Anglo Catholic roots of American immigrants who is retelling this story through those particular lenses. I have no doubt my perspective will differ from some Citizens of the Realm, as well as American Christians and even, perhaps, some South Africans. This is my epiphany, my revelation. I trust I have shared my reflection with respect. If your reflection differs, please share it with the same respectful intent. Thank you.

Epiphany XVIII: Blaise and Minnie

 

Monday, February 3rd 


Good Monday morning, citizens of the last few weeks of Epiphanytide. Okay, so many among you will argue that there's no such thing as The Epiphany Season much less Epiphanytide. You will want me to say that this is "Ordinary Time."

Nay, nay, say I. I think we must resist with every single last damn fiber in our being, slapping the label "ordinary" or "normal" on anything that is happening these days. I think we have to cling to the last rays of light in everything, everywhere, all at once.

The days are growing darker. The gathering storm clouds are more ominous. After attacking an Episcopal bishop who had the temerity to preach the gospel and plead for mercy for those who are afraid right now, the first public volley on a mainline Christian denomination has been made.

An ELCA a faith-based charity that has been providing social services to refugees has been accused of "corruption and waste" and is having its payments "rapidly shut down" by Elon Musk, who is not an elected official and was born in South Africa.

ELCA Bishop Elizabeth Eaton has responded to these accusations, speaking the words of the Good News of Jesus with calm clarity, intelligence, and eloquence.

Oh, there'll be hell to pay for that.

The POTUS ordered the secretary of the Treasury to provide Musk with unlimed access to the government's checkbook, so now Musk has access to Social Security and Medicare benefits, grants, and payments to government contractors, including those that compete directly with Musk’s own companies, all of it.

I need to say this loud and clear: This is unconstitutional. As such, it is grounds for impeachment. I know. It's too soon to take action. We need to make sure our elected representatives understand that we understand this. Resistance and pushback and the general outcry from the citizenry are our most effective tools right now. Old King Donald hates to be unpopular.

The Tariff war has officially begun with the announced punitive tariffs of 25% to Canada and Argentina and 10% to China. The long-term strategy of tariffs on Canada is to weaken their economy so that he can make them the 51st State.

Guantanamo Bay is going to be reopened to be able to house 30,000 immigrants who have been waiting and hoping and dreaming to be granted asylum and begin the long process to obtain US Citizenship. They'll do this with the money they save from paying the ELCA and other religious organizations for their services.

I could go on but you'll understand, please, and forgive me for wanting to hold onto The Light, even if it offends the liturgical sensibilities of some of the more, shall we say, "stiff-necked" among us.

I'm warning you right now, don't even ask me what I'm giving up for Lent. You don't want to hear my response. It won't be pretty.

Today is the Feast of St. Blaise. I looked him up by date and name in the Lesser Feasts and Fasts of TEC and he does not appear there. Pity. He used to. He's been replaced by Anskar, or Oscar, who was the first Archbishop of Hamburg-Bremen, and patron saint of Scandinavia.

St. Blaise was a physician and bishop of Sebastea, Armenia in 316, who "worked hard for the spiritual and physical health of his people." Due to religious intolerance, Blaise was apparently forced to flee to the backcountry. There he lived as a hermit in solitude and prayer, but he made friends with the wild animals.

One day a group of hunters seeking wild animals for the amphitheater stumbled upon Blaise’s cave. They were first surprised and then frightened. The bishop was kneeling in prayer surrounded by patiently waiting wolves, lions, and bears.

The legend has it that as the hunters hauled Blaise off to prison, a mother came with her young son who had a fish bone lodged in his throat. At Blaise’s command, the child was able to cough up the bone. The Germans and Slavs hold him in special honor, and for decades many United States Catholics have sought the annual Saint Blaise blessing for their throats.

Indeed, one of the scariest memories of my childhood was being hauled off to mass by my grandmother once a year on February 3rd to have my throat blessed.

The priest had a Very Scary (well, to a young child) . . . thingy . . . which was made of metal and looked like a huge pair of scissors. At the end of each "arm" were two lit candles, crossed. Kneeling at the altar rail as if for communion, the priest would bring the apparatus close so that your throat was in the middle of the crossed, lit candles, say the blessing prayer, and VOILA! you were safe for another year from choking on fish bones, tonsillitis, sore throat, or strep throat.

Blaise is the patron saint of relief from Throat Ailments and, for whatever reason, English Wool Combers.

Today is the third day of Black History Month and I celebrate and call the name Minnie Riperton, a woman who used her voice to entertain millions. Born Minnie Julia Riperton Rudolph (1947-1979)

Mariah Carey is heralded for her whistle register, which is the highest the human voice is capable of reaching. But Riperton perfected the singing technique years before and was best known for her five-octave vocal range. The whistling can be heard on her biggest hit, “Lovin’ You.” The infectious ballad was originally created as a distraction for her daughter, Maya Rudolph (of Bridesmaids and Saturday Night Live fame).

In 1969 Riperton, along with the group The Rotary Connection, played in the first Catholic Rock Mass at the Liturgical Conference National Convention, Milwaukee Arena, Milwaukee, WI. Several of the songs were co-written by Richard Rudolph, who married Riperton in August 1970. Together, they had two children, Marc and Maya.

She was diagnosed with breast cancer in 1976, but she did not initially disclose that she was terminally ill. In 1977, she became a spokesperson for the American Cancer Society. In 1978, she received the American Cancer Society's Courage Award, which was presented to her at the White House by President Jimmy Carter. Riperton died of breast cancer on July 12, 1979, at the age of 31.

I pray that we are able to take these two bright lights into the darkness of the day in these last few weeks of the Epiphantide.

I hope something good happens to you today.

Bom dia.

Sunday, February 02, 2025

The Fourth Sunday after The Epiphany: Presentation.

 

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.

Saturday, February 01, 2025

Epiphany XVI: Rabbits, Shirley and Brigid

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.
 

Friday, January 31, 2025

Epiphany XXV: Purification

 

Good Friday morning, comrades and citizens of the last vestiges of The Epiphany Season. Tomorrow, February 1, begins Black History Month. Yes, for the whole entire month but, in their wisdom, the "powers that be" gave Black History Month the shortest month. And, the coldest. Le sigh and SMDH.

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.

Tuesday, January 28, 2025

Epiphany XXIII: The Presentation at Gith Shemen


Good Tuesday morning, good citizens of The Epiphany Season. I've spent the morning reading over the lectionary lessons for Sunday. The Gospel is from Luke 2:22-40, The Feast of the Presentation of Jesus in the Temple. I'm not preaching this Sunday but old habits die hard.

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.

Monday, January 27, 2025

Epiphany XXII: Ellie

 

Good Monday morning, good citizens of the Epiphany Season. I have some sad news this morning. I've just learned that one of my mentors, the Rev Dr Eleanor McLaughlin died peacefully in the NH home she shared with her beloved spouse, the Rev Dr. Betsy Hess, a clinical psychologist and rector of St. Barnabas Church.

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.

Third Sunday after The Epiphany


 January 26, 2025

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.

Epiphany XX: Never let a good crisis go to waste.

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.