In paradisum

Note: Today, on the Feast of Christ the King, St. George's Chapel in Harbeson, DE will also be celebrating its anniversary in something they call "Heritage Sunday." I am delighted to have been asked to preach. The 1684 Book of Common Prayer is used and Elizabethan language spoken throughout the service. Everyone dresses up in period costume - including the clergy. I have a black cassock, white surplice, tippet, academic hood, preaching tabs, and will, of course, be wearing a Cappa Nigra and Canterbury Cap. Oh, yes. And a powdered wig. Of course. I'll update this post of my sermon with pictures when I return from the day's festivities early this evening.


They say they do this every year here. It's entirely more fun than is absolutely necessary. (Can you tell I'm already getting into character?)

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"Verily I say unto thee, Today shalt thou be with me in paradise.”

(Luke 23: 33-43) – The Feast of Christ the King

Heritage Sunday – November 21, 2010

St. George’s Chapel – Harbeson, DE

(the Rev’d Dr.) Elizabeth Kaeton

Good morning. First, I should like to thank your Vicar-for-the-day (Ahem, your rector any other day), on this Heritage Sunday at St. George’s. On this day, we use the 1684 Book of Common Prayer and all English is spoken in its Mother Tongue – from Elizabeth I, the Sovereign Mother of the Church of England.

I’ve been listening to Helen Mirren and Dawn French for days - and we saw the latest Harry Potter movie last night - so if I sound like a cross between Queen Elizabeth I the Vicar of Dibley and Lord Voldemort, I shall be ever so grateful for your kindness and mercy.

It’s an odd thing – no doubt a great perplexity for some – that a woman should be in this pulpit, preaching the Word of God – in any tongue – to the assembled faithful. In 1719, when this church was built, such an event would be so preposterous as to be considered heresy worthy of severe punitive measures, lest the church by schism be rent asunder.

Indeed, my thoughts this morning go back to our historic sister in Christ, one Anne Marbury Hutchinson, a Puritan with the Massachusetts Bay Colony, who met a tragic, horrific, violent end and is now numbered among the saints and resting deservedly and eternally in the arms of Jesus. One of her descendants, one Sam Beling, writes of her thusly:

“Anne Marbury, my 10th great grandmother, was the daughter of Reverend Francis Marbury and Bridget Dryden and was born in 1591 in Alford, Lincolnshire, England. She married William Hutchinson, a merchant, 9 Aug 1612 in London. She and her husband came to America in 1634 with Reverend John Lothrop's group on the ship "Griffin" and settled in Boston.

No stranger to religion, Anne grew up during the persecution of the Catholics and Separatists under Elizabeth and James I. Her father, Rev. Francis Marbury, had been imprisoned twice for preaching against the incompetence of English ministers, though he later became the rector of St. Martin's Vintry, London, rector of St. Pancras, Soper Lane, and finally rector of St. Margaret's, New Fish Street. He was holding two of these offices simultaneously when he died in 1611.

Anne began her involvement with religion quite innocently, using her intelligence to interpret the only book available to her - the Bible. She had followed her beloved minister, Reverend John Cotton, whose removal to New England a year earlier, had been, she said, "a great trouble to me...I could not be at rest but I must come hither."

The religious climate in the Massachusetts Bay Colony was oppressive. As the colony took hold, ministers emphasized everyone's pious duty to pray, fast and discipline oneself. Noting that the male members of Boston's church met regularly after sermons to discuss the Bible, she started to hold similar meetings for women in her own home. At first the women discussed the previous Sunday's sermons, but before long Anne began telling them of her own beliefs which differed from those of the Boston ministers. She attracted hundreds of women - aided by her reputation as a skilled midwife - and men, too, soon joined her discussion group.

Brilliant, articulate and learned in the Bible and theology, she denied that conformity with the religious laws were a sign of godliness and insisted that true godliness came from inner experience of the Holy Spirit.”

Ann taught (because she wasn’t allowed to preach), that salvation came by grace, not works. Good Pauline theology, that. However, it was anathema to the Puritans.

Anne further exacerbated the local elders by claiming that only two Boston ministers were "elect" or saved, John Cotton and her brother-in-law, John Wheelwright.

Well, there it is, then! A religious upstart, just like her father before her! So you see, ‘tis a true saying and worthy of all to be received: “The apple doth not falleth far from the tree.”

Or, in the sacred words of Holy Scripture, as found in the Book of Sirach, chapter 26, beginning at the 10th verse: “If thy daughter be shameless, keep her in straitly, lest she abuse herself through overmuch liberty.” (RSV translation: “Keep strict watch over a headstrong daughter or else, when she finds her liberty, she will use it.”).

Anne did just that. And thus began her troubles. As her reputation grew, the gatherings attracted men, too, including the governor, Henry Vane.

In addition to stepping outside the bounds of conventional women's behavior, her denunciation of the colony's ministers and her belief that "he who has God's grace in his heart cannot go astray" set her at odds with the religious establishment. They moved to prosecute the woman.

Massachusetts's new governor, John Winthrop, criticized for having "a very voluble tongue, more bold than a man." Despite her vigorous defense of her beliefs, she was excommunicated and banished in 1638.

Then Reverend Wilson, whom she had once tried to evict from the Boston church, delivered her excommunication. "I doe cast you out and in the name of Christ I doe deliver you up to Satan, that you may learne no more to blaspheme, to seduce, and to lye."

"The Lord judgeth not as man judgeth," she retored. "Better to be cast out of the church than to deny Christ." She moved with her husband, all sixteen of her children and 60 of her followers to Rhode Island, where they purchased land from the Narragansett Tribe and founded the area now known as Portsmouth.

She is considered one of the founders of that colony, the first to establish complete separation of church and state and freedom of religion in what would become the United States.

After her husband's death in 1642, Anne Hutchinson moved to Long Island, in New York in what is now known as Pelham Bay. Tragically, she and all but her five eldest children were killed the next year in an Indian raid. If you’ve been following her story carefully, you will note that her death came only nine years after she first landed in America. She was 52 years old.

Mindful as I am of the history of women in the church, it is, then, that I proceed with great caution to this morning’s gospel which proclaims Jesus as King of King and Lord of Lords – a radical claim for the first century as well as our Mother Country of England – or anywhere else in the world that has a monarchy, for that matter.

The Episcopal Church would not come into being until 1789 – a full seventy years after the establishment of this chapel in the “first state” of Delaware – so proclaiming an earthly monarch would not cause much difficulty by observing this day as the Feast of Christ the King.

Still, it is a fearful thing to my trembling heart to note that Jesus himself spoke from the cross of salvation by grace.

I trust your vicar will not have me expelled from this pulpit and this community for what I am about to preach – although, as this gospel clearly indicates, one can never be too certain of the consequences of preaching the Good News – no matter the century or setting – or, one’s gender.

We meet our Lord this morning at the place called ‘The Skull’, where he had been crucified with the criminals, one on his right and one on his left. Many in the crowd mocked him, including the religious leaders of his day, as well as the soldiers who stood guard.

Here, you will be pleased for me to quote scripture:

“And one of the malefactors which were hanged railed on him, saying, ‘If thou be Christ, save thyself and us.’ But the other answering rebuked him, saying, ‘Dost not thou fear God, seeing thou art in the same condemnation? And we indeed justly; for we receive the due reward of our deeds : but this man hath done nothing amiss.’ And he said unto Jesus, ‘Lord, remember me when thou comest into thy kingdom. ‘And Jesus said unto him, ‘Verily I say unto thee, Today shalt thou be with me in paradise.’”

Well, there it is, then, isn’t it? Straight away and full stop, from the lips of our Sovereign Lord. Even criminals shalt be allowed entrance into Paradise. Not by things which they hath wrought – or, not. Yeah, verily I say unto thee, thou cans’t earn one’s way into heaven. It is a gift, this grace of God, given freely and clearly to all – whether deserved or not – judged as we might be by earthly standards. For it is God alone who judges and decides.

As the Outline of the Faith,which would eventually be articulated, centuries later the 1979 Book of Common Prayer states, echoing St. Paul, “Our assurance as Christians is that nothing, not even death, shall separate us from the love of God which is in Christ Jesus our Lord.”

I know it may be considered quite impertinent of me, a mere woman, to say, but I would suggest that nothing – not even the institutional church, shall separate us from the love of God which is in Christ Jesus our Lord. Nothing. No man. No woman. No government. No church tribunal. Nothing shall separate us from the love of God which is in Christ Jesus.

And that’s the greatest heresy, you know, of which I speak with boldness and certainty of faith. That we shall all one day, in that great by and by, be welcomed into heaven by our Lord, Jesus Christ.

I think the greatest cosmic joke that awaits us, one and all, is that when we arrive at the gates of heaven and peer in, we shall all be thoroughly scandalized by who is there. Yes, even drunken great, great Uncle Josiah and that scoundrel great Aunt Amelia. Even some here present this very day whom you dislike and distrust. Yes, it’s true! All of us – each and every one – shall one day be in Paradise with Jesus – who loves us whether or not we like each other.

Indeed, I believe that today, yes, this very day, we are in a paradise with Jesus. The greatest sin is that we don’t believe that and behave accordingly. Just think of it, dear friends.

If we truly believed that this earth, this marvelous gift of God’s creation, were our paradise here on earth, just think of how differently we would treat Mother Earth. Think of the pollution we would not havoc on this planet. The toxins we would not unleash. The good food and water we would have for everyone in abundance.

Think of how we might treat each other differently, if we knew that we would, one day, be spending eternity with one another. Now, there is a thought that would sober even the most severely anesthetized dolt.

Does not our Lord say, “Today, shalt thou be with me in Paradise”? How would life be different if we believed that today was that day?

"Courageous Exponent of Civil Liberty and Religious Toleration" says the inscription at the bottom of a statue raised in her honor in my hometown of Boston.

But the most fitting tribute to Anne Hutchinson's influence – proof that her ideals ultimately prevailed over her opponents' – is the First Amendment to the U.S. Constitution: "Congress shall make no law respecting an establishment of religion, or prohibiting the free exercise thereof.”

Yes, yes. I know. There is a certain lady from this great state who recently questioned that First Amendment. Never mind. Even lack of intelligence and education will not separate us from the love of God. Jesus loves her, too. And yes, she too will one day be in Paradise.

I know these are scandalous things to proclaim. Heresy! Some will shout. Making such proclamations may well result in my being pilloried in the churchyard latter this afternoon by your Vicar. I may well be run out of this fair state and sent packing back to New Jersey, from whence I most recently hailed or to my home state of Massachusetts.

Indeed, some may try to burn me at the stake for such heresy. Such as been the lot of women far greater than I.

As Anne would say, “"Better to be cast out of the church than to deny Christ."

Nevertheless, I speak of my faith with "a very voluble tongue, more bold than a man." I am assured, however, that, when I meet Jesus, my Sovereign and my Lord, at the gates of Heaven, I shall hear Jesus say unto even one such as I, as he once saith unto Ann Maubry Huntchinson, and will say likewise to every one of you – even those who persecute me, - "Verily I say unto thee, Today shalt thou be with me in paradise.”

"S/he who has God's grace in his or her heart cannot go astray."

This is my belief, founded on the scriptures. I have no other.

Here I stand. I can do no other.

Amen.

Activism Against Gender Violence

The 16 Days of Activism Against Gender Violence is an international campaign originating from the first Women's Global Leadership Institute sponsored by the Center for Women's Global Leadership in 1991.

Participants chose the dates, November 25, International Day Against Violence Against Women and December 10, International Human Rights Day, in order to symbolically link violence against women and human rights and to emphasize that such violence is a violation of human rights.

This 16-day period also highlights other significant dates including December 1, which is World AIDS Day, and December 6, which marks the anniversary of the Montreal Massacre.

The 16 Days Campaign has been used as an organizing strategy by individuals and groups around the world to call for the elimination of all forms of violence against women by:

* raising awareness about gender-based violence as a human rights issue at the local, national, regional and international levels.
* strengthening local work around violence against women.
* making a clear link between local and international work to end violence against women.
* creating a method to share and develop new and effective strategies.
* showing the solidarity of women around the world organizing against violence against women.
* creating tools to pressure governments to implement promises made to eliminate violence against women.

Three Christian women's organizations: The Episcopal Women's Caucus (EWC), The Episcopal Church Women (ECW) and Anglican Women's Empowerment (AWE) have joined together in this 16 Days of Activism Against Gender Violence.

The Rutger's Center for Women's Global Leadership is helping to organize the Campaign.

You can find TONS of information at the Rutger's Website here, including "How to Get Involved". Click on the link to download a "Take Action Kit" (available in PDF or Microsoft Word documents in English, Spanish and French) which will take you, step by step, through the process.

You can also find the Episcopal Version of the 16 Days Blog where  you can share the stories of your activities and read those of others well as find resources for prayers and liturgies and homilies.

You will be joining millions of women, world-wide, who have been doing what they can, since 1991, to bring us together and inspire us to do something - one thing - to raise awareness in our communities about gender-based violence.

Yes, you'll be hearing a lot more from me about this. I have lots of stories to tell. First, I want to get the word out so you can do the same in your communities. 

Here's some background information which I hope will be as inspiring as it is educational:

DESCRIPTION OF DATES

International Day Against Violence Against Women

Why November 25?

November 25 was declared International Day Against Violence Against Women at the first Feminist Encuentro for Latin America and the Caribbean held in Bogota, Colombia, July 18-21, 1981. At that Encuentro women systematically denounced gender violence from domestic battery, to rape and sexual harassment, to state violence including torture and abuses of women political prisoners. November 25 was chosen to commemorate the violent assassination of the Mirabal sisters (Patria, Minerva and Maria Teresa) on November 25, 1960 by the dictatorship of Rafael Trujillo in the Dominican Republic. In 1999, the United Nations officially recognized November 25 as the International Day for the Elimination of Violence Against Women.


What are the feminist encuentros?

The "feminist encuentros" are conferences of feminists from Latin America who come together every 2-3 years in a different Latin American country in order to exchange experiences and to reflect upon the state of the women's movement. Sexuality and violence in their wide ranging forms and contexts have always been included in the wide ranging themes of these gatherings. These encounters have stimulated the creation of regional networks, workshops, video and radio programs, women's studies curricula, and a growing number of women's documentation centers throughout the region which are dedicated to collecting and making available information about the history and priorities of the women's movement. They have also provided a space for formulating and discussing the focus of a growing number of women's magazines and newsletters, which contain articles, analysis and reports of the wide ranging actions being undertaken by women throughout the region.


Who were the Mirabal sisters?

Patria, Minerva, Maria Teresa and Dedé were born in Ojo de Agua near the city of Salcedo, in the Cibao region of the Dominican Republic to Enrique Mirabal and Maria Mercedes Reyes. The Mirabal sisters - "Las Mariposas (the Butterflies)" - were political activists and highly visible symbols of resistance to Trujillo's dictatorship. They were repeatedly jailed, along with their husbands, for their revolutionary activities toward democracy and justice. On November 25, 1960 three of the Mirabal sisters, Minerva, Patria and Maria Teresa were murdered along with Rufino de la Cruz by members of Trujillo's secret police. The three women were being driven by Rufino to Puerto Plata to visit their imprisoned husbands. The bodies of the three sisters were found at the bottom of a precipe broken and strangled. The news of their murders shocked and outraged the nation. The brutal assassination of the Mirabal sisters was one of the events that helped propel the anti-Trujillo movement. Trujillo was assassinated on May 30, 1961 and his regime fell soon after.

The sisters have become symbols of both popular and feminist resistance. In the years since their deaths, the Mirabal sisters have been commemorated in poems, songs and books. An exhibition of their belongings has been mounted at the National Museum of History and Geography, a stamp in their memory has been issued and a private foundation is raising money to renovate a family museum in their hometown. On March 8, 1997, International Women's Day, a mural was unveiled on the 137-foot obelisk (that Trujillo had erected in his honor) in Santo Domingo. It depicts the images of the four sisters. The painting on the obelisk is entitled "Un Canto a la Libertad" (A Song to Liberty).
For more information see Julia Alvarez=s fictional account of the Mirabal sisters in her 1994 novel, AIn the Time of the Butterflies; "Bernard Diederich's book "Trujillo: The Death of the Dictator;" and "The Mirabal Sisters," in Connexions, an International Women's Quarterly, No. 39, 1992.

World AIDS Day

World AIDS Day is observed every year on December 1. This day marks the beginning of an annual campaign designed to encourage public support for and development of programs to prevent the spread of HIV infection and provide education and promote awareness of issues surrounding HIV/AIDS. It was first observed in 1988 after a summit of health ministers from around the world called for a spirit of social tolerance and a greater exchange of information on HIV/AIDS. World AIDS Day serves to strengthen the global effort to face the challenges of the AIDS pandemic.
For more information about World AIDS Day and the current theme, contact UNAIDS Secretariat, 20 avenue Appia, 1211 Geneva 27, Switzerland, ph: (41-22)791 3666, fax: (41-22)791 4187, e-mail: , website: .

The Montreal Massacre

On Wednesday, December 6, 1989 a 25 year-old man, Marc Lepine, walked into the University of Montreal's School of Engineering Building at about five in the afternoon, with a .223 calibre semi-automatic rifle. He began a shooting spree during which he murdered fourteen women and injured thirteen others: nine women and four men. Marc Lepine believed it was because of women students that he was not accepted to the engineering school. Before killing himself, he left an explanatory letter behind which contained a tirade against feminists as well as a list of nineteen prominent women, whom he particularly despised.

The fourteen women who were murdered in the massacre were: Anne-Marie Edward, Anne-Marie Lemay, Annie St. Arneault, Annie Turcotte, Barbara Daigneault, Barbara Maria Klueznick, Genevieve Bergeron, Helen Colgan, Maud Haviernick, Maryse Laganiere, Maryse Leclair, Michele Richard, Natalie Croteau and Sonia Pelletier.

These women became symbols, tragic representatives, of the injustice against women. Women=s groups across the country organized vigils, marches and memorials. There was an increase in support for educational programs and resources to reduce violence against women. Both federal and provincial governments made commitments to end violence against women. In 1991, the Canadian government proclaimed December 6th National Day of Remembrance and Action on Violence Against Women. In 1993, an organization calling itself the Dec. 6 Coalition set up a revolving fund for women leaving violent situations to establish themselves and their children in a safer, more secure environment. Also in 1993 a campaign called Zero Tolerance was launched offering men the opportunity to show solidarity with women against violence against women. As a direct result of the massacre, several mothers of the victims began groups to restrict gun laws and promote awareness of the continued violence against women

International Human Rights Day

On December 10 peoples and states the world over celebrate the adoption, in 1948, of the Universal Declaration of Human Rights. On this landmark date in contemporary history, the nations of the world joined together to try and bury, once and for all, the spectre of genocide raised by the Second World War. This document was one of the first major achievements of the United Nations and provided the basic philosophy for many legally binding international instruments to follow. Resolution 217A (III) by the General Assembly, proclaims the "Universal Declaration of Human Rights as a common standard of achievement for all peoples and all nations, to the end that every organ of society, keeping this Declaration constantly in mind shall strive by teaching and education to promote respect for these rights and freedoms..."

Organizations and individuals use Human Rights Day as an opportunity to both commemorate the signing of this historical document and to promote the principles which are enumerated throughout the document. Human Rights Day, according to High Commissioner for Human Rights, Mary Robinson, is "an occasion to demonstrate that the principles of the Universal Declaration of Human Rights were not theoretical or abstract."

To obtain a copy of the Universal Declaration of Human Rights and to see a description of activities the United Nations has planned for Human Rights Day, please visit the UN website here .

The New Math of Ministry

Last weekend, I spent Friday evening and most of Saturday with a group of eight interns from Newark ACTS, the Young Adult Urban Internship Program of the Diocese of Newark.

I had a wonderful time.

It reminded me of my first call as Chaplain at University of Lowell in Massachusetts. I love working with this age group. I love the energy of inquiry and curiosity in the room. I love their honesty.

I love their keen ability to spot what they perceive as BS and dismiss or confront it, as may be appropriate (or inappropriate) to the situation. I love the youthful arrogance and aloofness that sometimes communicates itself as, "I'm only here because I have to be, I'd rather be in bed or at the beach or anyplace else, but okay, look, I'm here. Okay? Show me what you got and it better be good."

I suddenly found myself reminded of the New Math I studied in High School. What ever happened to that?

Don't remember New Math? It didn't come to a school system near you? Well, it emphasized mathematical structure through abstract concepts like set theory and number bases other than 10. Beginning in the early 1960s the new educational doctrine was installed, not only in the USA, but all over the developed world.

In the system of New Math, the important thing was to understand what you're doing, rather than having the right answer. Everything else was just details.

Apparently, the system was abandoned sometime in the early to mid 80s because even teachers didn't understand it, and parents complained that valuable time was being wasted on theory rather than arithmetic.

You might also remember that those were the "Regan Years". You know, when ketchup was counted as a vegetable in school lunch programs, and vats of #13 cans of Peanut Butter and huge slabs of what we sarcastically called "Uncle Ronny's Cheese" were unceremoniously distributed from the back of a truck while hungry people - mostly women and children - waved slips of paper and quietly took their "monthly allotment".

This was, of course, the Regan Administration's response to the cut backs in the Food Stamp Program. It was just simple mathematics, is all. I remember it being a humiliating and embarrassing scene - like something out of a news clip of NATO troops distributing food in a war-torn nation.

Mathematics has never been my strong suit. That's probably why I liked New Math, which valued understanding the theory over getting the "right" answer. I understood what I was doing, but I rarely got the right answer, which was okay because, for once, I got a decent grade in Math. Worked for me.

All kidding aside, I think we missed an opportunity here. A life lesson hidden behind mathematical formulations.

That opportunity was apparently not lost on the Newark ACTS interns, who were obviously born after New Math had come and gone. They got it. Straight up. No question. Except, the questions they faithfully follow and the questions that greet them on the path toward the answer.

So, my presentation was a mixture of stuff from my doctoral dissertation - an approach to pastoral care which begins with understanding the self before trying to pastor others - and some reminiscence of the ministry I've been blessed with in the urban setting.

One of the stories I remembered and told the interns was a parable about New Math. Actually, it was about what it means to be in urban ministry - or, in fact, ministry in any setting - and being someone who tries to provide - or be a vehicle of - "help" - whatever that means.

At the time, I was working as Executive Director of St. Barnabas AIDS Resource Center and Vicar of St. Barnabas Episcopal Church, a poor church in a poor neighborhood in the North Ward of the inner city of Newark. The church also shared its parish hall with a community agency that ministered primarily to the neighborhood's elderly.

The week before Thanksgiving was an especially busy time. From the Monday before to the eve of Thanksgiving Day, both organizations, along with the church, combined efforts to put together a Thanksgiving Day Basket - a frozen turkey, a box of stuffing, cans of sweet potatoes and green beans and corn, fresh sweet potatoes, kale and broccoli when we had it, a bag of potatoes or box of rice, and some pie - sweet potato, pumpkin or apple.

We worked with local supermarkets and stores and bakeries to donate the food. Some of it came from a grant from the city to supplement the Food Stamp Program, which had undergone some cutbacks.

We also solicited donations from suburban congregations who would drive their contributions into the church yard, quickly empty out their station wagons or mini vans, stay for a few minutes of anxious chatter - looking around to see who might be around the corner - while we thanked them profusely and tried to make them a bit more comfortable while actually being in Newark.

As they drove back to their safe suburban homes, you could see a mixture of satisfaction and relief combine in the dust that followed them out of the driveway.

The first year we distributed or delivered over 200 baskets. Three years later, we had almost doubled our efforts.

The parish hall was always a buzz of activity that time of year. Some of the more courageous of the suburban folk would come and help us pack up the brown paper bags or cardboard boxes for the "Thanksgiving Basket."

One affluent family from South Jersey - father was a Wall Street banker - would come up with their six kids and actually deliver the food to the 20 or 30 families I had identified as being in need.

I LOVED that family. Not even a whiff of affluent arrogance. Several members of the congregation and I would drive them around the city. The kids and their parents actively engaged the recipient families in conversation. Had a proper visit with some who served tea and packaged ShopRite cookies. It was wonderful.

Other volunteers helped to take the applications from folk in the neighborhood who simply had to tell us how many people were in their family and testify that the need was genuine.

If they had a social worker at AFDC (Aid to Families with Dependent Children) or DYFS (Division of Youth and Family Services) or received Food Stamps, that agency would send along a form from that office. Sometimes, the social worker would call in a request.

The system worked well because we worked to make the system work as smooth and as uncomplicated as possible. If you said you had a need, we believed you. Well, sometimes with a raised eyebrow, but we took you at your word.

The only folks who needed accountability were the folks from the government agencies. We understood. There should be accountability for government spending in any amount. Thankfully, it was such as small part of our efforts as not to be more than a minor annoyance.

Hey, everybody! It's Thanksgiving! Relax! Everybody eat! Abundantly!

One year, we had just finished delivering or distributing the last Thanksgiving Basket. The Parish Hall was swept clean and ready for Sunday morning. The freezers and refrigerators were bare. The shelves in the food pantry had a few boxes of cereal and cans of fruit and vegetables. I think there were even a few packages of toilet paper, paper towels, disposable diapers and sanitary napkins.

I was the last one left in the building, just putting on my coat and sighing a weary but contented sigh when she walked in. All out of breath and in near panic mode, she was, as I tried to push down a wave of anxiety.

"I'm homeless," she said, pulling herself up to the counter in a small gust of anxiety and attitude. "I - my family - we - needs a Thanksgiving Basket."

I looked at her face and into her eyes. She wasn't high but she was a little 'jiggy'. I thought, "Hmm. . . probably just got herself out of bed. Needs a drink. A little 'hair of the dog' and all that."

She had already done the classic math: Poverty multiplied by guilt equals charity.

"I'm so sorry," I said, feeling the guilt already starting to rise, "We don't have any Thanksgiving Baskets left."

She looked stunned, "What?" I repeated the sad truth, "We don't have any Thanksgiving Baskets left. Gave the last one away about half and hour ago."

"But, we homeless!" she pleaded.

"I'm so sorry. I understand. But, well, maybe we've got some canned vegetables left in the food pantry. Maybe some canned fruit. I can check."

The thin line of her jigginess couldn't hold back her anxiety and desperation. "What? I been watchin' peoples with bags of food leave this place all week. I know you got one for me."

"Really," I said, "I don't have anything. That's the honest, straight-up truth. Perhaps if you had come earlier this week, we would have been able to help you."

Now I was getting caught up in another theorem of the classical math of the situation: Righteous indignation divided by a sense of "charity" equals frustration.

"What?" she insisted, "My social worker told me to come down here. Told me the people at the church would help. What kinda church is this that doesn't help people?"

"Really? Your social worker?" I asked, hating the sound of the words that were coming out of my mouth more than I hated asking the question.

Another mathematical theorem emerged: Frustration multiplied by frustration equals cynicism.

"Yes," she said, matching my tone, "my social worker. Call him." She ruffled through her pockets, producing a wrinkled card. "Name and number," she said, as she slammed it on the counter. Her indignation and frustration were palpable.

I sighed and looked at the clock. Three pm. I was already runny late. The Wednesday before Thanksgiving. What did this woman expect would happen after I called her bloody social worker? Was I supposed to pull a Thanksgiving basket out of thin air?

Hey, I had done a good job all week. Had worked hard. Physically and mentally and spiritually. I had my own family to go to. My own Thanksgiving meal to cook.

I picked up the phone and dialed the number. If nothing else, I would show her that I had tried to get her a damn turkey but, you know, there just weren't any.

If I had had the money, I would have gone to the store and bought it for her - just to get her out of my hair. But, I didn't. What did she think? That I made a lot of money doing this? I didn't. We were on a tight budget as well. Damn.

I was thinking these things as she paced back and forth in front of me, muttering things like, "Damn church. Say they gonna help peoples. They don't. Just take your money is all. Spend it on cars and clothes and . . ."

Every now and again, she would stop, mid-mutter, look at me with a pointed finger and say, "We HOMELESS."

To my surprise, the social worker answered the phone. I explained the situation to him and, to my further surprise, he also gave me grief.

"What? You can't help her? Look, she's been a client of mine for years. She and her son are now homeless. I can testify to the need. Can't you at least allow her the dignity of a meal at Thanksgiving?"

Jesus! I thought. Are you kidding me? Even the bloody social worker is giving me the blues and laying on a guilt trip. Jesus! What am I supposed to do?

Desperation multiplied by desperation equals panic.

I could feel the panic begin to rise above my guilt and shame and anxiety. So, I did the only thing I knew how to do: Pray.

I had the phone to my ear and my eye on the woman in front of me while I opened my heart and said, "Okay, Jesus. You gotta help me out here. What am I supposed to do now? I have no money. You know I don't carry my credit card with me. Give me a sign. A word of knowledge. Just one word. Help me, Jesus. Help me help her."

I don't know whether it was the woman in front of me screaming, "We homeless!" or the social worker on the phone saying loudly, "She's homeless!" or it was in fact, Jesus, but I finally heard the word:

HOMELESS!

I heard it clear as a bell.

"HOMELESS!"

The Christ in them had spoken to the Christ in me. Suddenly, everything added up.

"Wait. Wait. Wait," I said to the woman and into the phone receiver. "You are homeless, right?"

She rolled her eyes and said, "Ain't that what I been saying for the last ten minutes? Are you deaf? Yes, we HOMELESS."

The social worker spoke slowly and loudly, as if I were stupid or deaf, "Yes, I've told you. She's HOMELESS."

"Okay, okay," I said, clearing my voice as I took a deep breath and tried to remain calm.

"So," I continued, looking at her and talking into the phone, "Let's say I was able to find a turkey. Find all the fixin's. Let me ask you a question."

They both stood silent, waiting for the question. "You say she's homeless. I believe you. So, if I got the turkey, and she's homeless, where would she cook it?"

Silence. On both ends.

I quickly did the classical math in my head: A sense of entitlement added to romantic notions about helping equals insanity.

"Look," I said, "I know that the Parrot Brothers over at the Lighthouse Temple are having a big Thanksgiving Dinner tomorrow. Everything cooked and served. All you can eat. I'll be there, with some of my family, helping out before we have our Thanksgiving meal. I'll wait for you and your son - your family - and make sure you sit together during dinner. How does that sound?"

The woman shook her head in bewilderment. She, too, was trying to figure out what had just happened. So was her social worker. Finally, she said softly, "Okay. Okay. Lighthouse Temple? That on Washington?"

"Yes," I said. "I'll be there. I'll look for you."

Her social worker muttered an embarrassed, "Thank you, Reverend. For your help."

She still looked disappointed and sad but she nodded as she gathered her things and got ready to leave.

"White or dark?" I called after her as I hung up the phone.

"What?" she said, startled.

"Do you like breast meat or drumstick? I'll see if I can put some aside, especially for you."

"Drumstick," she said as a small, sad smile came to her face. "I never had one as a child. My daddy always took one and gave the other to the oldest brother. Then, my husband . . . well . . . he always ate both."

"I'll talk with Dennis first thing tomorrow morning," I said, watching years of deep disappointment with her life etch deeper into the lines in her face. "See if we can set one aside, just for you."

She nodded, sadly. I knew she was thinking, "I wish I had my own damn house and my own damn table where I could eat my own damn drumstick."

I wished that for her, too. Prayed for it, right then and there.

I suddenly remembered Kip Tiernan, an amazing woman in Boston who was an independent Dorothy Day "Catholic Worker" who had started 'Rosie's Place' - a drop-in, emergency shelter for homeless women - the first in the nation.

I once heard her preach at the Jesuit Center in Boston, not far from the church where I was a seminarian. She was frustrated about the church's response to poverty. She was angry. Man, was she angry. It was like hearing one of the prophets rage.

She looked over at the good clergy, and then at the congregation and said, "Poverty is not just about not having food and shelter. Ministry is not just about providing 'three hots and a cot'," she growled.

"Real poverty is about not having your own key. When you want to talk about that, come see me." And then, she left.

Rosie’s Place provided poor and homeless women with warmth, pots of piping hot coffee, nutritional meals, a safe place to rest from the dangerous streets, and perhaps most comforting - companionship.

Kip’s vision helped Rosie’s Place evolve from simply providing shelter to offering solutions: a drop-in center, extended stay housing, permanent housing, meals, and a multitude of on-site opportunities for what she always called her "guests".

Kip personified the underlying philosophy of Rosie’s Place that together we can change the world if we are only willing to care enough and, in her own words, “to take the risk of being human.”

Are you getting this New Math of ministry - Christ's ministry?

It requires that you understand abstract concepts and set theory like abundance vs. scarcity, the liberation of Christ, the power of the Holy Spirit, and the Realm of God.

You've got to deal with number bases other than 10 so that a few seeds scattered on the ground can yield thirty, sixty, a hundred fold.

It's not about getting the right answer, but doing the right thing, even when that leads you to take the risk of being human without counting the costs.

It goes like this:

The Christ in others plus the Christ in you equals Christ's ministry.

Everything else is just details.

The Anglican Covenant: Some Resources

Some of you may know that the Anglican Covenant will come before the Church of England's General Synod on November 24 to be "considered". The process there is that the vote to "consider" this historic document must be taken before it is actually "considered" for a vote up or down (How very polite, eh?).

If General Synod approves the Covenant, it will then go to the various dioceses in the Church of England where it must receive a simple majority before coming back to General Synod for final adoption of this "final draft".

In The Episcopal Church, Presidents of both houses - Bonnie Anderson, President of the House of Deputies and Katharine Jefferts Schori, Presiding Bishop and President of the House of Bishops - have urged diocese to study The Anglican Covenant prior to our General Convention in 2012. The ENS story is here.

The ever brilliant Simon Sarmiento of Thinking Anglicans has posted a leaflet drafted by Modern Church and Inclusive Church. Modern Church was formerly known as the Modern Churchpeople’s Union. You can find it here.

I have appended it below for your perusal because I think it sums up quite succinctly the reasons to oppose the Anglican Covenant.

I will also recommend the following two blogs as rich resources for your consideration:  "Comprehensive Unity: The No Anglican Covenant Blog".

"Not The Same Stream" is running a daily series "Reasons to vote for/against the Anglican Covenant". You can read it here:

If you have not read the Anglican Covenant, you may find it, along with all other Covenant-related institutional documents - such as Lambeth Resolution I.10, The Windsor Report, various communiques from the Primates, and the Episcopal Church's Study Document - here.

Just this morning, the Anglican Communion News Service published an article entitled, "For a fair and accurate debate on the Covenant, read it first," says Unity, Faith and Order director. You can find it here.

If you are not part of a study group, perhaps this list of resources will inspire you to join with a few other members of your community of faith to consider what the Anglican Covenant will mean to you, your church, The Episcopal Church, the Anglican Communion, and the very heart and spirit of Anglicanism.

What will the Anglican Covenant do to the Church?

As a General Synod member you will soon be asked to cast your vote on the Anglican Covenant. This leaflet explains why you should vote against it.

The Covenant is designed on the presupposition that the proper way for Anglicans to resolve disagreements is for a small committee to decree the Anglican position and for the rest of us to believe what we are told. It would produce tighter restrictions on General Synod’s powers to introduce changes — whether on women priests, or new liturgies, or moral judgements like contraception and the remarriage of divorcees.

You may find this so un-Anglican as to be incredible. The Covenant’s proponents know it will be unpopular in England, so until the vote is taken they will present it as a small bureaucratic matter. In other parts of the world church leaders are much more open about the intention to decree Anglican doctrine and forbid dissent.

The background

An Anglican Covenant was first proposed by the Windsor Report in 2004 after one diocese in the USA had elected an openly gay bishop and another in Canada had approved a same-sex blessing service. Opponents could not legally expel the North Americans, so the Covenant in effect redefines the Anglican Communion with a view to excluding them. The final draft was agreed at the end of 2009 and it is now up to the 38 Provinces of the Anglican Communion whether to sign it.

From the Windsor Report onwards the clear intention has been to establish a new regime with power to decree Anglican doctrine. However the provinces are self-governing and cannot be forced to sign it. The text therefore stresses that each province will still be self-governing and the Covenant will only affect its relations with other provinces. However its very purpose is a regime sufficiently centralised and authoritarian to forbid certain actions. The small print therefore makes it possible.

What would the Covenant do?

Signatories undertake not to introduce any new development if another Anglican province opposes it, unless granted prior permission from the Standing Committee of the Anglican Communion. This is a body of 15 people, legally the trustees of the Anglican Communion.

The Covenant describes itself as ‘foundational for the life of the Anglican Communion’ and states that ‘recognition of, and fidelity to, the text of this Covenant, enables mutual recognition and communion’ – which until now has applied anyway across all the provinces. In other words, recognition and communion would be withdrawn from non-signatories.

Thus the Anglican Communion would be redefined as the new international structure, to which the provinces — even Canterbury and York! — will only belong if they sign up. For the first time since Henry VIII the Church of England would be subordinated to an outside international authority. This would create serious conflict with its role as the established church. The text denies that there is any subordination as provinces may leave at any time; but if they do, they will no longer be part of the Anglican Communion. In effect each province is being told: either you sign up and allow other provinces to intervene in your internal affairs, or you will no longer count as part of the Anglican Communion.

How would it change the Church of England?

By signing the Covenant the Church would commit itself ‘to act with diligence, care and caution in respect of any action (our italics) which may provoke controversy’; and, if any province objects, the Standing Committee will have power to decree the Anglican teaching on it. This would affect the Church of England in many ways.

It would become more dogmatic as each new ruling lays down a new official Anglican teaching. The effect would be felt not only nationally but also in parishes, as open-minded clergy came under increasing pressure to toe the line.

It would become more timid as new proposals could be blocked by objections – possibly from just one archbishop the other side of the world. Thus decision-makers would feel obliged to conform to international Anglicanism instead of responding appropriately to local situations.

It would become more backward-looking. Instead of Classic Anglicanism’s balance of scripture, reason and tradition, which allows for new developments, the Covenant reduces Anglicanism’s authorities to ‘the Scriptures, the common standards of faith, and the canon laws of our churches’, thus making it harder to justify changes. If it had been in force in 1944 when the first woman priest was ordained, it would almost certainly have prevented Anglicanism ever having women priests.

It would become more centralised and clerical. Though the text denies it, in effect General Synod would be subordinated to the new centralised authorities, mostly bishops and archbishops. The voice of the laity would be significantly reduced.

It would hinder mission. Many younger people are put off by the Church’s apparent reluctance to change and backward-looking stance on many issues. Whether or not they are right, to turn this stance into an essential feature of Anglicanism is bound to alienate many and create a new obstacle to mission.

It would hinder ecumenism. Proponents of the Covenant hope it will help international discussions; but local initiatives would be subject to objections from far distant Anglicans who do not know the local situation.

It would be expensive. Substantial additional funds be needed to administer it and these have not yet been identified. As its main purpose is to create the means to expel The Episcopal Church (USA) and the Anglican Church of Canada from the Anglican Communion, this will probably mean losing their generous contributions.

The theological context

Behind this debate lies a longstanding theological disagreement. Reformation Puritans believed Christians should submit to the supreme authority of the Bible, that every question has a single biblical answer, and that therefore there should be no disagreement between Christians. Their successors today therefore welcome a central hierarchy with power to decree the Anglican teaching on each issue. Anglicans with different theologies sometimes support them in the mistaken hope that this will avoid schism.

Classic Anglican theology, rooted in Richard Hooker and his successors, values reason and thus expects Christians to learn from others. We have therefore been better at staying united because we accept disagreements as normal and debate them openly within the Church, without threatening schism, until such time as consensus is reached.

The way to keep united is to insist, as the Church of England has normally done, that differences of opinion may be freely and openly discussed within the Church, in the interests of seeking truth, without invoking power politics or threats of schism.

Want to know more?

Visit http://www.modernchurch.org.uk/anglicancovenant/ and follow the links.

To contact the authors email covenant@modernchurch.org.uk or write to Jonathan Clatworthy at 9 Westward View, Liverpool L17 7EE.

This leaflet is sponsored by Modern Church and Inclusive Church. Modern Church was formerly known as the Modern Churchpeople’s Union.

Blessing

Sometimes, when I'm at a low point in ministry or feeling that my field of ministry is fallow, I've always been uplifted by reading the Parable of the Sower.

It's one that can be found in all of the Synoptic Gospels (at Mark 4:1-20, Matthew 13:1-23, and Luke 8:1-15) as well as in the non-canonical Gospel of Thomas (Thomas 9). In the parable, a sower dropped seed on the path, on rocky ground, and among thorns, and the seed was lost; but when seed fell on good earth, it grew, yielding thirty, sixty, and a hundredfold.

I've taken heart that the Jesus Seminar rated the parable as probably authentic ("pink"). Like authentic sayings of Jesus, it uses simple imagery and an oral (rather than written) style. The seminar, however, rejected the allegorical interpretation in Mark as an elaboration originating not with Jesus, despite it being restated in Matthew.

Jesus explains the parable to his disciples in this way:

* The sower sows the Word
* The seeds falling on the road represent those who hear the word but dismiss it straight away - the synoptics state that the wicked one (Matthew's wording)/Satan (Mark's wording) is what takes the word away
* The seeds falling on the rocks represent those who hear the word, but only accept it shallowly - the synoptics state that these sorts of people reject the word as soon as it causes them affliction or persecution
* The seeds falling on thorns represent those who hear the word, and take it to heart, but allow worldly concerns, such as money, to choke it.
* The seeds falling on good soil represents those who hear the word, and truly understand it, causing it to bear fruit.

The problem with the ministry of being a Sower of the Word is that you can't always tell where the seeds are going to scatter or what will happen when it finally takes root.

Some seeds may land on a path or on rocks or thorns, only to be blown away by the wind, later embedding themselves in good soil where they my flourish and bear fruit.

The pathway of life has many twists and turns. Hearts of some may be hardened or made jagged by grief or pain, only to be later softened and the seed of the Word, which had been waiting, and can now be implanted.

More often than not, the Sower of the Word may never see the fruits of her hard work. That's part of the job description written in invisible ink. You only get to see it after you've been at it for awhile - often after you've hit a low point of frustration or fallowness in your ministry.

But, sometimes . . . sometimes . . . there comes a glorious moment when you are blessed to see some of the fruit of the seeds you have scattered. It can come at any moment - high or low or when you think you are fallow. And then. . .and then . . . the blessings abound.

Well, that moment came for me just the other day.

I received a package in the mail which contained a CD and some sheet music and a handwritten note with the picture of a Wild Larkspur on the front. It was from a young woman who has been a parishioner of mine for the last eight and a half years.

She's a musician - composition is her passion - but she is quite an accomplished pianist. She used to perform some of her pieces at St. Paul's when she was home from college. She's won quite a few awards, including the top prize in NJ for one of her compositions when she was a senior in high school. Indeed, the choir performed that piece in church one Sunday before she went off to college.

Her name is Dale Trumbore and she's presently in grad school at USC, majoring, of course, in music.

This piece is called "Blessings" and it is written to be performed by an a cappella choir. The words are adapted from a poem by Henri-Frédéric Amiel and the Doxology.

Actually, I adapted the words and used them in the Benediction I gave at the end of the Eucharistic Service. Every Sunday, Sunday after Sunday, I would say the words to this Blessing.

The words are:

Life is short, and we do not have much time to gladden the hearts of those who make this earthly pilgrimage with us. So, be swift to love, and make haste to do kindness. And the blessing of God, Father, Son and Holy Spirit be upon you this day, and always. Amen.

Dale took these words and set them to music, writing in her note:

"Thank you for bringing this text - and all of the good work that you did at St. Paul's - into my life. I'm working on getting this piece performed - your piece, because it's dedicated to you! - but for now I'm including a computer-generated version of the piece so you can hear it."

Wait. Wait. Wait. MY piece? Dedicated to me?

I can barely write these words without my hands trembling. Careful where you step. That puddle on the floor would be me - still weeping.

So, now follow me on this so you'll see how this parable works.

Henri-Frédéric Amiel, a Swiss philosopher, poet and critic, penned these words sometime during his life (28 September 1821 – 11 May 1881). I don't know what exactly inspired him to write these words, but I hear an echo of the words written in Colossians (3:14-15):

"Above all, clothe yourselves with love, which binds everything together in perfect harmony. And let the peace of Christ rule in your hearts, to which indeed you were called in the one body. And be thankful."

Amiel's words were scattered around for centuries, finding their way onto all sorts of terrain.

The words found their way into my heart years and years ago when I first heard Marcus Borg use them (or a version of them) as part of his benediction at a Eucharist he celebrated at the conclusion of one of his presentations at a Jesus Seminar I attended while a young priest in Baltimore, MD.

Over the ensuing years, I have often used them, but most recently as the benediction at St. Paul's, Chatham. There, they found their way into the heart of one quiet, shy young woman who sat in the pew - or in the choir loft - with her mother. Every Sunday. Sunday after Sunday.

The words have now found their way into music which will find their way through human voices. The seeds of these words have become notes scattered on a page, seeking to be implanted in other terrain.

Oh, but wait! There's more!

So, this morning, I'm having an "IM" conversation on FaceBook with a young man named Jonathon Moyers-Bradford. Jonathan is a seminarian - quite brilliantly creative with a heart filled with passion for Jesus and the church. He and I have never met, face-to-face, but we've chatted a great deal over the past year or so. He has become very dear to my heart.

I was telling him about this piece and asking him how I might be able to post it here, on my blog or on FaceBook. I told him that Dale's mom had sent me an Mp3 version of the piece. He asked me to email him the Mp3 version, along with the text, which I did.

Less than thirty minutes later, he had put the music together with some of his own pictures and the words and sent me the link to YouTube.

I am absolutely in awe. And, here it is. Ta da!

The church is the Methodist Church where he grew up in the faith and preached his first sermon at age 15. The rock is in the State Park outside his home in Charleston, West Virginia. The picture of the water was taken outside Des Moines, IA, and the field is in Meppen, IL... on the peninsula where the Illinois and Mississippi Rivers come together.

Oh, wait. Remember the Larkspur? On the front of the note written to me by Dale? It grows especially abundant in central and western Illinois. More on this later.

So, are you following this parable, now? How the words scattered by a Swiss philosopher and poet penned in the late 1800's, found their way into a benediction, which found their way into the heart of this priest, then living in Baltimore, MD, which found their way into the heart of a young musician from Chatham, New Jersey, now living in Los Angelus, CA, which found their way into the heart of a young seminarian in Charleston, West Virginia, which now will find their way into the ears (and hearts, please God) of many, many more.

If I've done nothing else in 24 years of ministry as a Sower of the Word, this blesses all the rest.

Oh, a final word about the Wild Larkspur. Oddly enough, a number of plants in this family are named for birds, such as crowfoot, yet the larkspur's Latin name, Delphinium, comes from the fact that the Greeks thought the nectar of the flowers resembled a dolphin, and because of a myth about a dolphin facing death in spite of its good deeds, was rescued by the gods by being turned into this plant.

Resurrection. Redemption. Salvation.

There are no coincidences. Or, as they say in 12 Step Programs, "Coincidence" is one of the names God uses when S/he wants to remain anonymous."

Jesus tells another parable about seeds - the Mustard Seed - just a few chapters before talking about the Parable of the Sower:

He set another parable before them, saying, "The Kingdom of Heaven is like a grain of mustard seed, which a man took, and sowed in his field; which indeed is smaller than all seeds. But when it is grown, it is greater than the herbs, and becomes a tree, so that the birds of the air come and lodge in its branches." (Matthew 13:31-32)

Just a small seed. Just one. Scattered in faith.

You may not see it grow, much less taste of the fruit it might bear.

But, when you do, the blessings will abound. Full measure. Pressed down. And, overflowing.

And then, continue to scatter where it will grow, yielding thirty, sixty, and a hundredfold.

And, I say to you, you will not see a more glorious moment.

Welcome to the 'hood!

There's a new Blog in the 'hood I'd like you to check out.

Look for it here.

The posters are the members of the No Anglican Covenant Coalition, an international group of Anglicans - including moi - who are opposed to the adoption of the Anglican Covenant now before Communion churches.

If you have not visited our Web site, please do so now and bookmark it for future reference. It contains a wealth of information about the Anglican Covenant and about how the Covenant could change both the Anglican Covenant and even Anglicanism itself forever.

Our blog will be a convenient place to announce changes to our Web site, to take note of other interesting material on the Web related to the Anglican Covenant, and to provide a place where Covenant issues can be discussed.

More information about the Coalition can be found on our Web site, including our purpose and membership and ways of contacting us.

We are happy to have you join us. Be sure to bookmark this site or subscribe to its syndication feed.

We look forward to a lively conversation!

Lessons from Nature

Hurricane Tomas has been bringing exceptionally high tides accompanied by very strong winds to Rehoboth Bay.  It's been awesome to watch it.

This is the view from my deck. You'll note the marsh grass is almost all under water, lapping up against the retaining wall.  In less than half an hour, the water was so high, it began to spill over into our front and side yards.

 Here you can see the water starting to flood the yard. This view looks toward the South East, toward Indian River. There was some flooding on Route 24. Cars were slowing down as they tried to navigate through the rising water.

High tide. You can now see the water lapping over the retaining wall and into the yard, carrying away our gravel as the wind pushes the water into strong waves.

From the time I took that first picture to the time I took the last one above, about 40 minutes had elapsed.

The odd thing was that the whole time, the sun was shining brightly. The water was behaving as if there were a storm, but the blue skies and bright sun told a different story.

The rest of my neighborhood was oblivious to the rising water and the little dramas that were happening all over the marsh. Baby ducklings were being cast out of their homes in the safety of the marsh blinds, and their mamas were trying to manage their newly discovered swimming techniques, being sorely tested in the rough surf, so they could settle into relative safety under some of the moorings in the lagoon by the side of our house.

I thought I heard a Great Blue Heron harumph as s/he flew by, her usual morning snack interrupted by the water lapping up onto the spot where I usually scatter the bread.

This happened Thursday and again on Friday.

I'm in Bradley Beach, NJ this morning, getting ready to walk down to the ocean where a group of eight Urban Interns and I will say Morning Prayer together with their two Directors, who will lead us in prayer.

It will be interesting to see what the ocean is doing further north.

After Morning Prayer, we'll come back and have some breakfast and then I've got the day to spend with them, talking about pastoral care with those who are marginalized - especially those in urban settings.  

I have a wee bit of information to give them, but mostly we'll just talk about what they are seeing and hearing and where they feel powerless. They are all in their early to mid 20s. Young. Strong. Idealistic. Altruistic. Bold for Christ.

They're all college graduates, all committed to urban ministry, all passionate about living in an intentional Christian community, all eager to figure out where it is God is calling them to be and what God is calling them to do.

Part of learning how to do that - providing pastoral care to those who have been pushed to the margins of society - is learning how to claim your own powerlessness so that you might be able to empower others.

I know. That doesn't make any sense, does it? It probably won't make much sense to these eight amazing young people, either. Frankly? It doesn't make much sense to me.

I don't know how it works. I only know that it does.

You know. The way prayer doesn't change anything - except you.

I think it may have something to do with the powerful gift of Easter coming only after the powerlessness of Good Friday.  And something Paul once said about God's power being perfected in our weakness.

I am keenly aware, as I begin this new day, that I am so blessed to be living on Rehoboth Bay where I get to see this played out for me right before my very eyes, day after day.

Nature provides lessons that classrooms simply can not.

Traveling Incognito: A Modern Parable on Stewardship

Wherever I've lived, I've always made it a point to wear my clerical clothing around town.

There are a few reasons for that. First, I wanted to be known and clearly identified as one of the "local" clergy. I considered it a form of evangelism.

However, the NE Corridor is heavily populated by the Roman Catholic Church. It seemed important, as a woman, to be clearly identified as an ordained member of the church. See also: evangelism.

Now that I live in Lower, Slower Delaware, I rarely wear my clergy shirt or collar. Oh, it's unavoidable if I'm heading off to a church meeting or service and have to stop into the local convenience store or pick up my mail.

For the most part, however, when I'm in "the hood," I'm usually dressed in "civilian" clothes.

There are benefits, I'm discovering, to traveling incognito.

Just the other day, I was over to Perry's One Stop, the local "mom and pop" convenience store at the top of the street in the community development where I live. I was looking for something . . . don't even remember what it was . . . that might save me the 10 minute drive to the local Harris Teeter's Supermarket.

What I got was a "view from the pew" about Stewardship. It was the kind of stuff they never tell you about in seminary - or in those evangelism workshops.

There's a little luncheonette near the deli which is part of the store. There are three small tables with some chairs, and one picnic table where some of the folk gather to have breakfast or lunch. I think it's called "The Nook".

The tables are near the bank of shelves with coffee, cake mixes, and toiletries, which block off a bank of large refrigerators filled with milk, soda, juice, yogurt, eggs, etc.

I was over in this section when I caught a bit of a conversation being held by three men who were sitting at the picnic table. They don't know who I am and were, in fact, oblivious to my presence.

"I don't know," said one, clearly perplexed "I've always been taught to support the church, but. . . . this year. . . . I don't know . . . ."

"I know," said another, "I mean ten percent. He's talking TEN percent of my income."

A third man chimed in, "Right. And this one wants us to take 10% off the top - before we pay our rent or food or clothing for the kids. I never heard THAT before."

"First fruits!" the two chimed in, their voices dripping with sarcasm.

"What the hell is that?"

"Something about what the Bible says about how it used to be . . . people would bring the 'first fruits' of their crop to the Temple."

"What would happen then?"

"Well, I suppose they would give some of it to the Temple ministers, but most of it to those who were hungry."

"Yeah, right. Like that's going to happen today."

"First of all," said one, "you better believe that the pastor doesn't figure his tithe that way."

"Right," said another, "he doesn't have to pay rent or a mortgage. Or electricity or heat. He lives in the parsonage." They chortled softly.

"Even so, I'm betting that the wife figures out how much they need for food and clothing and insurance and a vacation and THEN figures out the tithe."

"Well, that only makes sense," said the first man, the man who was clearly still trying to figure this out. "I don't think that's what the pastor was saying."

"Yes it was!" his two friends chimed in.

"He said - from the pulpit - that we need to give our FIRST FRUITS to the church. Then, he read from that passage in the bible. Then, he said that we should go home and figure out the first fruits of our budget and give it to the church so the church could take care of those who didn't have as much as we do."

"Well, that may have been the way it was in the days of the Bible, but that's not the way it is today. The church isn't the 'United Way'. It can't provide all the services that the community needs."

"We do our part. We contribute to the Food Pantry. The Men's Group brings scriptures to the prisons with our Bible Study. The Ladies Auxiliary does a wonderful job raising money for various charities. The kids do a yearly Mission Trip. We have Global Mission Sunday where we help people in Africa or Asia. But, that's just the tip of the iceberg of the world's needs."

"He's right, you know," said the other man. "If you look at the budget, most of our money goes to the pastor's salary and benefits, and to running the church, and keeping up with the building. That's not taking care of the world."

"Yeah, and the pastor does pretty good. Drives that Subaru Wagon. Wears fancy suits and always smells of cologne. At least our last pastor drove an American car - that beat up old Chevy - and I used to see him buying his suits at Sears, just were I get mine."

"Why should we sacrifice and keep things from our own families just to support him and his lifestyle? I mean, what does he do all day? No, really. Can you tell me? Just what does he do all day? Except go to committee meetings? Spend time holding hands with old people? Maybe visit a few people in the hospital but when was the last time any one of us was in the hospital? Really, I'd feel better if I knew the man broke an honest sweat once in a while."

"I don't know," said the first man, "he's a real stand-up guy. He's always there whenever we need him. It's like, he's on call 24/7/365. Truth is, we really don't know what he does, do we? I mean, I heard he counsels lots of people. He can't really talk about that. Besides, I heard some of the ladies fussing about his suits, how he needed better ones. Shortly after, he got some nice suits. The wife told me that his in-laws have money and that they help them out some. I mean, the guy really can't win."

"Yeah, well I don't have no in-laws helping me. We're on our own out here. And, if you hadn't noticed, it's rough out there. Where will the church be if I lose my job? Where were they when Harry lost his job? Had to give up their home and move in with his in-laws. Was the church there for them?"

"Well," said one of the men,"I don't know about you, but the most generous thing I can do is keep my tithe the same this year as it was last. That's still going to be a stretch, but I'll do it."

"Not me," said the third,"I'm cutting my tithe. Cost of living has gone up and I know I'm not getting a raise. Lucky to keep my job. I'm going to have to cut mine just so I can break even. We'll make it up in other ways - I'll do some extra "time and talent" and a little less on the treasure."

"I don't know what I'm going to do yet," said the first man, "but whatever I do won't be about the pastor's suit or car and it won't be about what the church does or doesn't do."

"Then, what is it about, if it's not that?"

"I don't know, but I'm going to have to pray about this some more. Bottom line: this is about me and God. That's what it's about for me."

The other guys mumbled something about him being a "really good guy" and "you're a better man than I am" and "that's what I call a real Christians" and "I guess I'm not a very good Christian."

He said, "Hey, this isn't about you. This is about me. I told you, I don't know what I'm going to do yet. I may have to cut my offering to the church just to make ends meet. But, whatever I do, it's going to be about me and God. Then, whatever I do, I can look myself in the mirror in the morning."

I wanted to drop the roll of paper towels I was holding, run over and give that guy a big hug.

But, I couldn't of course. I was traveling incognito. Not to mention, eavesdropping.

I don't know what Stewardship message you've heard in church, or what Stewardship message you've been preaching, but I think his bottom line IS the bottom line of Stewardship.

It's not about keeping the church running - although that's an important benefit. It's certainly not about the clergy - a raise for good performance or a demerit for saying or doing what you don't what to hear or see.

Bottom line: A tithe is a personal covenant between a person and God. It's a reflection of your relationship with God and a mark of your personal character.

Turns out, a tithe does not depend on the size of your wallet but the contents of your soul.  It's not about how you budget, but how you love.

The bottom line for you of the Church Stewardship Campaign may have a dollar sign, but for God, there's a mark of your baptism in Christ sitting right there, staring right back at you.

As Terry Parsons, who used head up the Stewardship and Evangelism Desk for the Episcopal Church, would ask, "What do you do with all that you have after you say, 'I believe'?"

Time to get that question out of the pulpit, beyond the pews, over the deli counter and onto the picnic tables at the local convenience stores in our neighborhoods.

Then, travel incognito and listen to the answers.

"It's on the altar now."

Bishop Jim Swilley, pastor of Conyers’ Church in the Now, a mega-church in Georgia, has publicly announced that he is gay.

Swilley is 52 years old, has been married twice, and has four children. In an address to his congregation - a folksy, personal, sometimes rambling talk that lasts about an hour - he reports that he's known he was gay since he was a young boy.

You can watch the address in its entirety here.

Indeed, he says that before he and his second wife, Debye were married 21 years ago, he told her of his sexual orientation, but she was not concerned. "I love you," Swilley reports she said, as Debye looks on, nodding her head in agreement,"we'll work this out."

"We've been living like brother and sister for years," he says, "which is probably more information than you need or want, but there it is."

The couple kept their secret for 21 years, but earlier this year, Swilley said Debye told him it was time to stop living a lie and they divorced.

She said he should practice what he preaches and follow the church’s motto, “Real people experiencing a real God in the real world.”

So, Swilley came out to his kids and his congregation. He said he knew he might risk everything, but the recent rash of gay teen suicides pushed him over the edge.

“As a father, thinking about your 16, 17 year old killing themselves. I thought somebody needed to say something,” Swilley said through tears.

"I know a lot of straight people think orientation is a choice. I want to tell you that it is not," Jim Swilley said in the video.

"Those of you who are people of color. How do you like it when a white person says, 'What is the deal? What are you so unhappy about? You've got a black president already, isn't racism over?' Doesn't that make you want to say, 'Thank you but you really have no idea what you're talking about.' … It's very easy for people who have never experienced something … to have opinions about it."

"I've always known two things about myself," he says, "that I have received an anointing and I've always known about my orientation. . . . Every day of my life, I wake up with a "To Do "List": Pick up the Dry Cleaning, Get Milk, Don't be yourself."

He pleads with his congregations, "Please, spare me any more Leviticus. You need to get beyond the nine 'abominations' about homosexuality and take a look at all the abominations in that book. There are so many, about so many things, you couldn't get through a day without committing one abomination."

"Those who bark most about scripture know the least about it," he says.

He reports that his bishop has asked him to resign from the "College of Bishops", saying that while he personally supports him, "it won't go well with the other pastors."

He has not yet been asked to resign as pastor of the church, which he admits could happen, saying, "This is my whole life. My whole adult life has been about this ministry. I don't want to lose it, but it's on the altar now."

He also says, "This whole thing could fall down, but, if that happens, well, we'll just move someplace else, and, with Debye as my partner in ministry, together with my staff, we'll build it up again."

At that point, as in several points during his address, the congregation rose to its feet in warm, supportive, enthusiastic applause.

He does note, however, that some people in the congregation had walked out of the church while he was speaking.

At least they left quietly.

The interesting thing is that the internet has been relatively quiet about this story. Indeed, I didn't know about this story until my dear, sweet brother-in-Christ David, from Montreal, sent me the link to Swilley's testimony, for which I am deeply grateful and profoundly edified.

Well, that probably says more about me than it does about the internet, but I suppose a good part of the reason is that there is no "scandal".

Swilley didn't get caught with another man. He wasn't messin' around with little boys. Indeed, he remained celibate in his marriage these last several years rather than use his gender and sexuality as a weapon, acting out, as so many closeted gay men have done.

So, a pastor - a bishop - of a mega church with thousands of members and mission churches in Uganda comes out as a gay man.

Yawn.

Well, yes. That's exactly right. Except, this man has quite a story to tell, and it is infused with his obvious love for God and his passion for the Gospel of Jesus Christ and His mission and ministry in the world.

I'm struck by the man's obvious integrity and humanity and openness. He didn't deal publicly with his sexual orientation until he was personally touched by the deaths of all those young adolescent gay men. And, for them, in their memory and for future young LGBT people, he took an incredible risk.

I'm also deeply impressed with this southern Evangelical congregation and their willingness to embrace their gay pastor. That's not easy for any congregation to do, but, in that particular climate and culture, it speaks volumes about their love for him as their pastor and their love for God and Christ Jesus.

I'm aware that I make that statement by way of confessing my own sin: I have my own stereotype of the hardness of heart of Evangelicals in general and southern Evangelicals in particular. I have never been more delighted to have been proven wrong - or had the hardness of my own heart broken open by the love and warmth and support of this Evangelical congregation in Georgia for their pastor.

Oh, someone is now fussin' about, "Well, he has been in the closet for most of his life and all of his adult professional life. If he had come out sooner . . . ."

Well, you know what? That's between him and Jesus. He didn't come out when you or I would have liked him to - or, perhaps when we need him to. He came out when Jesus asked him to.

Whenever anyone comes out and frees themselves from the bondage of hypocrisy and duplicity and embraces the fullness of his or her identity as a child of God, it's the right time. And, it is a good time.

God is clearly using the gift of this man's sexual orientation as a vehicle of healing and restoration and renewal - for him and countless others. I hope the parents of all those young adolescent gay men who were bullied into suicide find some solace and comfort in the courage their tragic deaths inspired in Swilley.

He is pastor of "The Church in the Now". How prophetic.

It's now the 'Church in the Know' and there's no turning back now.

I encourage you to watch the entire testimony here.

Jim Swilley is a real hero. He has slain a few of his own demons as well as a few of those who belong to others. Now he just has to get on with the hard part: loving and embracing a world that, for the most part, will not reciprocate that love. Indeed, some will return that love with hate that will lead others to violence or threats on his life.

Of your mercy and kindness, I ask that you please keep this man, his family, his church and their ministry in your prayers.

If you don't know how to pray for LGBT people, here's one I'll be praying for Jim Swilley and his family, and sending along to him with a note of encouragement. Believe it or not, I found it on the website of The Archdiocese of LA Ministry with Lesbian and Gay Catholics.

I hope you'll join me in this prayer:

Lord, you are my shepherd, the one who knows my voice, recognizes me, and calls me by my name. You gather me up, hold me close, and feed me.

You strengthen me when I am weak, heal me when I am sick, and bind up all my wounds.
Lord, you are my shepherd, the one who refreshes my soul, invites me to the table, and welcomes me to dwell in your house.

I am your homosexual child, baptized into your flock, O Lord.

My family and I cry out to you for shepherds here on earth — your church and among ourselves — who, like you, know us, feed us, care for us, and invite us to your table. Amen